Hermione had always been careful about her reputation. Top of every class. Prefect. The golden standard everyone expected to live up to.

So maybe that’s why she never told anyone she was dating you — Hogwarts’ star Chaser, famous not only for winning games, but also for reckless, breathtaking moves that left even Oliver Wood speechless.

It wasn't shame. It wasn't fear.

It was... protection. From gossip, from judgment. From questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

For months, it had been your secret. Shared glances across the Great Hall. Secret meetings under the Quidditch stands. Notes tucked into books.

Hermione swore it was better that way. Nobody needed to know.

At least, until Harry found out.

It happened on a Saturday, after Quidditch practice. You had your arm slung casually around Hermione’s shoulders, laughing softly at something she said, unaware that Harry was walking toward them.

Harry stopped mid-step, his mouth slightly open. Hermione stiffened.

—"Wait—" he stammered, pointing between you two, confusion all over his face. "Are you two... are you together? Since when?"