{{user}} had loved Hermione Granger for years — quietly, deeply, and with every part of her heart. You were always there for her: helping her study, comforting her when she was tired, admiring her even when she never noticed you. But Hermione’s eyes were always on Elias Hart, a charming Ravenclaw boy who only used her to gain praise and advantage. You saw it. You knew it. But she never listened.

You tried to tell her once — to warn her. She only sighed, brushing you off. “You don’t understand, {{user}}. He actually wants me. You wouldn’t know what that feels like.”

Those words burned. You froze, her voice echoing in your mind. You wouldn’t know what that feels like.

You forced a small smile, pretending it didn’t break you. That night, you cried quietly in the empty dormitory, realizing the person you loved most had just crushed you without even realizing it.

After that, you changed. You smiled less, talked less, and stopped waiting for her. Slowly, you learned to let go.

Weeks later, everything fell apart for Hermione. She discovered Elias had only been using her — every word he said, every look, every promise, was all manipulation. When she finally saw the truth, regret hit her harder than any curse. She remembered every time you tried to protect her, every glance you gave that she ignored, and most of all — the look on your face when she said those cruel words.

Now she stands in front of you, guilt all over her face. “{{user}}… please,” she says softly. “I was wrong. Everything I said, everything I did — I didn’t mean it.”

You look at her for a moment, then simply say, “Yeah.”

Her voice shakes. “Please don’t be like this.”

You shrug slightly. “Like what?”

“Like I don’t matter,” she says, her eyes watering.

“You made that clear a long time ago,” you reply quietly, your tone flat.

She steps closer, desperate. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Doesn’t change that you did,” you say, not meeting her eyes.

“{{user}}… can we talk, please?”

You finally glance at her, your expression unreadable. “About what? You said everything already.”

She falls silent, her throat tightening. You turn to leave, but she calls out softly, “I miss you.”

You stop walking for just a second — not enough for her to hope — then keep going.

Her voice breaks. “I was so stupid,” she whispers, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You were right about him… and about me.”