Needfire

Chapter 31 – The Girl Whose Heart Is the Shape of a City

\"I had no choice but to hear you
You stated your case time and again
I thought about it
...
I\'ve never wanted something rational
I am aware now
I am aware now\"

-- Head Over Feet, Alanis Morissette


Chloe was sitting on the windowsill, legs drawn to her lean frame, now closed like a fisted hand. While Hermione\'s own body had often felt like a burden – a mass of flesh, bones, muscles and tendons that needed to be constantly trained in order to be as invisible and obedient as possible – Chloe used her body much like a Platonic idea: Chloe Nott\'s body as Chloe Nott\'s ideal realization. The long flexible limbs; the elastic, thin frame- flexing and arching to host its owner; her expressive face altering and changing to reflect every shift of her mood. She carried her body gracefully, moved inside it like a gastropod moves within its shell: as if it was her home.

At first, Hermione found the other girl intimidating, holding her hollow-eyed pet to her body and making it known that if Hermione couldn\'t bear the drooling disgrace in their room, she might as well find herself another place to sleep.

Six months earlier she would have accepted the offer and stumbled out of the four poster bed in her weakened state. But after falling in love with a man who washed his hair with a bar of soap, she had been changed. Why is it that you say you gave me nothing of substance, Snape? She thought bitterly. You offered me everything of substance, and not only in your white arms and your greasy hair. You have broken all my paradigms, so they can be rebuilt again. So that I could see the mercy in Chloe Nott\'s eyes when she holds Jervy- so that I could see how beautiful they are. Even if we are never to reunite in this world, I\'ll be grateful to you.

And so she nodded, and accepted Chloe Nott and Jervy Skyhalter, two of the lepers, two of the Severus Snapes of this world, into her life.

She supposed she would never be fond of Jervy: his eyes, huge and haunted in their empty depths, were the kind of thing to follow a person into their nightmares. Not to mention his permanent fixture of drool, set in the right corner of his mouth, which made her shudder whenever she looked at him. Nevertheless, he was a quiet, introverted creature, and hardly ever pestered her. He would sit for hours on Chloe\'s bed, staring into space or chewing on his fingernails, purring at the tall girl\'s casual petting.

Chloe, however, was different. From her first evening on the ward, when nearly all of the place\'s inhabitants attempted to sneak into their shared room in order to get to know the new girl, Hermione realized Chloe had a certain charisma that made people obey her. She wasn\'t a social leader- the blue-eyed girl was too grumpy and isolated to attain the kind of popularity Patil or Brown had in Hogwarts. She did make, however, her own social center – a social north, perhaps – in her righteousness, brilliance and beauty. Looking at her, Hermione wondered whether it was her own simple looks that prevented her – although her discernable similarity to Chloe – from becoming the similar kind of persona among her peers in Hogwarts.

Nevertheless, she did not fool herself into thinking so. Distanced enough from her younger self to view it with more objective eyes, she could see the thing that Chloe Nott lacked but that Hermione had in abundance: ostentation. Chloe was not a show-off: she seemed to have never felt the same urge to prove herself, and so, was never laughed at because of her intelligence the way Hermione so often had been.

Chloe was bitter and angry, expressing her emotions with a clarity Hermione had never allowed herself to demonstrate, and in Chloe\'s sincerity was something… charming. Or perhaps it had been Chloe herself that was charming. It was hard to tell. Perhaps it was Hermione who found Chloe\'s outspoken manner charming: so much like a boy\'s.

In a sense, Chloe was a boy locked inside a girl\'s body. Even her occasional frenzy of movement was boyish.

She supposed Chloe\'s resemblance to a boy might have been the thing to finally make the idea of befriending a girl possible. This, and the fact this certain girl was not the prettifying, giggling, slithering type, who would wear a beautiful skin of lush make-up in the morning only to replace it with another the following day.

In retrospect, she had no idea how they became friends. There was no specific point – no certain occasion that united them – and Hermione never acquired the ability to make new friends. When she occasionally wrote to Snape – a one-sided correspondence she had initiated in which she would update him concerning her progress – she found herself talking about this as well:

\"When I think about it, \" she would write. \"I realize I am a complete ignoramus when it comes to human interactions. Sitting here on one of the overstuffed armchairs (as if \'overstuffed\' means \'comfortable\', I tell you!) placed all over the ward and watching the other teens mingle, I am only able to decipher this fine social game in scientific language, and even this, only if I try hard. They seem to me like a flock of peacocks in their courting season, circling each other, estimating each other; each gentle swish of the eyelashes meant to stimulate a certain reaction. I am tracing patterns while they… they are dancing their small, silly minuets, unaware of the social cripple lurking among them, watching with their drool flooded eyes…\"

She was groping, casting about, feeling her way in the dark towards the one person in many years to have captured her attention. Nevertheless, saying she wished to befriend Chloe Nott simply because she found the other girl interesting and sharp, would have been an exaggeration. There was an end to her own existence; a sharp, hollow chasm, that needed to be filled. It is not good that the man should be alone, she remembered. Hermione Granger, or so it seemed, was no exception to this rule.

Nor, luckily, was Chloe Nott. For the first few days, they would lay in their beds at night, talking in hushed voices so as not to be heard by the crew. They didn\'t talk about personal topics, mainly because of Hermione – who did not know, didn\'t want to- could not… she wasn\'t sure – share the intimate details of her life with someone she barely knew. Chloe, however, did make a point of telling her the exact nature of her illness.

\"People come and go,\" she remembered Chloe\'s husky, not unpleasant alto reaching her in the abysmal darkness of her first night in the ward. \"I am bound to stay. Jervy and Chloe, together forever. Muggle call it Catatonic Schizophrenia,\" she said at last. \"I don\'t think it actually has a wizarding name. I suppose a schizophrenic wizard would be A Very Crazy Person. It\'s an ancient family curse, passed down every three generations- the Notts have a nasty streak in them. I believe my uncle is serving the current Dark Lord if you need proof of our nature. One time, an ancestor went too far, and angered the powers of light. The dragon cursed him, so no one, ever again, would be tempted to repeat his mistake. He was twenty-four at the time he was cursed, and healthy as a bull. By the time he was forty, his cognition was erased so that he became no more than a drooling, motionless babe in the body of a forty-year old; a muscle in his cheek twitching hysterically and his hands shaking. This is the fate awaiting me, if I ever left St. Mungo\'s power shield.\"

Hermione blinked. Then blinked again, looking for Chloe\'s features sketched by the pale moonlight. \"But can\'t you… can\'t you… not even for several hours… every now and then?\"

\"What for?\" the other girl said quietly. \"So that I can be intoxicated by what can never be mine? The power shield is only useful as long as it\'s permanent. And I would only be taunting myself, breaking out every several months for few hours of delusional freedom, only to come back here. Leave it, Granger, it\'s no good.\"

Then they were back discussing Kant\'s introductions to metaphysics, and Chloe\'s husky voice brightened again, as she began to carefully set her arguments.

It was the blue-eyed girl\'s intellectual fitness that made Hermione comfortable enough to finally disclose certain parts of her story to her. Not much at first – she had only been in the ward for several days, and she was just beginning to acclimatize – but enough to reinforce the shaky, intellectual foundations of their relationship.

Words- she had always been so clever with hers, emptying flasks full of words over blank parchments. But then, it must have been something more that she did not know how to do and Chloe did- the fine art of toning and outstretching them, winding paragraphs of ivy around a person so they were enthralled. Was this befriending? The mere extension of writing an essay to Professor Binns? Hermione shook her head, knowing she head never felt so insecure attempting to write an essay to her History of Magic Professor. She did fear, however, Chloe Nott\'s rejection.

Pure-blood though she was, Chloe seemed to lack her kind\'s detestation of Muggle-borns and half-bloods, and thus seemed indifferent to Hermione\'s heritage. When asked about the matter, she only shrugged, saying prejudice is a matter of education and not of birth. \"Amanda is more of a mother to me than my real mother,\" she said quietly. \"And she\'s half-blood.\"

Hermione sighed. \"I wish some of my classmates would have seen it the way you do.\"

There was a stifled titter from the other bed.

\"What is it?\" she inquired.

\"I tell you Amanda is like a mother to me and you talk about your classmates.\"

\"Are you insinuating I am self-centered?\"

\"No, no,\" Chloe whispered, though there was affection in her tone. \"You aren’t self-centered, and you are not egotistic. You are…\" and her voice somehow sharpened, yet gained that certain crispiness of deep concentration. \"You have ears, but somehow you can\'t hear my longing. You\'re not egotistical, Granger, just blind to me. Too full of yourself to contain the notion of me as well.\"

She swallowed. \"I\'m sorry, I won\'t bother you with my-\"

Chloe cut across her. \"Don\'t be an idiot. I want you to bother me. I enjoy our conversations. Now tell me more about Hogwarts- tell me how you viewed the Wizarding World as a Muggle-born. Tell me about those classmates, who won\'t understand.\"

And she did. She told Chloe about the need to prove herself; about the mocking Slytherins and Draco Malfoy who had taunted them from the first ride in the Hogwarts express. She told her about being friendless; shunned; lonely; laughed at, and about befriending Harry and Ron due to a set of bizarre circumstances, which was her salvation. The following night, she told Chloe about the Dark Lord and being Harry Potter\'s friend; about the Chamber of Secrets and the summer in Grimmauld Place, when she could no longer take it and cut herself. Then she told her about the training program and Ron. Chloe, in return, talked about her life in the hospital, her relationship with the crew: about Jervy, who was like a brother to her, and mostly, about Amanda, who would never be her mother, and yet, was the closest thing to a mother she would ever have. It was two more days before she reached Snape and Hermione\'s Druid training, and the other girl, seated on the windowsill had looked longingly into the distance, her index finger writing obscure patterns on the frost-covered glass.

Moonbeams filtering through the enchanted windowpane touched Chloe\'s cheek. They entwined in her hair like solid carbon dioxide and poured into the collar of her shirt, much like the enraptured gazes of teenaged boys. At this hour of the night, it was only the two of them in the small room, and Chloe would become pensive. She would remove the charm concealing the city from the window with a flick of her wand, and her eyes drifting with longing, she would sit for long hours on the windowsill. Sometimes she talked to Hermione; sometimes she simply sat there quietly, allowing the hushed sounds ascending from the city and filtering through the enchanted glass to envelop her whole being.

\"What is it like to have sex?\" Chloe wanted to know, one night.

There was no topic, she learned quickly, that her roommate was embarrassed to discuss. Whenever Hermione found herself baffled or blushing, Chloe would only lift her brow, sometimes clenching her chin, reminding the other girl she had no such privilege, or otherwise daring her to talk about the subject. She hardly giggled- it never occurred to Chloe Nott there was something worth giggling about, which Hermione found refreshing. However, her lips would usually curl in amusement and both of her eyebrows would rise up, as if saying: really, I can\'t believe that!

Never before had she met a girl like Chloe, and she drank in her company, absorbing her with inebriating, inflamed gulps, as if it was a thirst impossible to slake, and yet sometimes, when Chloe looked at her like that, her eye like two open palms with all her words scattered, Hermione would find herself retreating to her own body, another metaphorical shell: one meant to conceal and obscure rather then reveal and emphasize. \"To have sex?\" she echoed Chloe\'s question.

\"Yes,\" the other girl nodded. \"How is it to have sex? To have another person inside your body.\"

\"It… depends,\" she answered after a while. \"I won\'t be prudish- I love sex. I need sex. Not merely masturbation, but the meeting of bodies… of… what you said, having another person inside me. I have my own issues. Perhaps it\'s my own way of being touched, I don\'t know. It\'s different, you see. Masturbating and fucking. Having sex with a partner is the full realization of the act while masturbation is merely reaching an orgasm – much like reading the edited version of a text in comparison to the full version – and…\" She frowned. \"Don\'t you ever feel these cravings? You know, for having… something inside you? When you touch yourself, that something is not… not as it should be?\"

Chloe moistened her lips. \"I think I do.\"

\"Well, that\'s it, I suppose. That\'s sex, to have this void, these cravings, fulfilled. But then, there is bad sex, and there is good sex, and there is sex with someone you love, and sex with someone who understands you, and those are… altogether different things.\"

They immersed into a fluid, shadow-swept silence, tinted with the voices ascending from the city, four floors below them.

\"Why do you want to know?\" Hermione asked after a while.

\"I am a hormonal eighteen-year old, now aren\'t I?\" Chloe mocked herself, then her features sharpened in concentration, and she sobered at once. \"When you spoke about your Professor-\" she began, clearly contemplating her words, \"you were more alive than I have ever felt. You are… your face glowed with your enthusiasm. I never felt the urge to slit my wrists,\" she admitted. \"I had bursts of spiritual shredding before I was moved to St. Mungo\'s, but I suspect that even so… my gulf isn\'t as abysmal or as dark as yours. But neither is my exultation…\" The curly-headed girl wiped her eyes, uttering a bitter laugh. \"You infect me with your longing, is all. I should have known better.\"

* * *

\"No.\" Two of Chloe\'s long, wide knuckled fingers tapped on Jervy\'s head, which rested in her lap. The boy only gurgled, and snuggled closer. \"I disagree with you,\" she added. \"Just because Arithmancy determines the numeric breakdown of certain kinds of wizardry, it doesn\'t mean it can also set scientific parameters to magic. Your attempt to compare Arithmancy to arithmetic is erroneous.\"

Hermione breathed in frustration. \"But don\'t you see? Once we are able to relate to all branches of magic in one language, idiom and numbers, it automatically places Arithmancy as-\"

A light tap on the partially opened door of their room (in the ward, she learned, all doors, aside from the lavatory\'s must be kept open) cut the flow of their conversation. Lifting her eyes, her gaze fell on a short, lean trainee who had been working in the ward for six months now, and was relatively liked by the place\'s inhabitants.

\"We\'re talking, Patrick,\" grumbled Chloe.

\"Why, hello to you too, Chloe,\" the young man answered. Both of his arms were spread, hands grasping the lintel\'s wooden planks. His body was hanging loosely between his arms, like a soaked piece of linen put out to dry in the open air. Smiling, he watched the two girls with something akin to the distanced, prolonged nonchalance of a teenage boy. In Hermione\'s estimation, he couldn\'t be much older than twenty-four.

Chloe gave him a contemptuous look. \"Get a life.\"

Patrick didn\'t seem to take offense. The staff, she quickly learned, was used to Chloe\'s bursts of nastiness. All but Amanda, whose eyes would cloud for a moment before she\'d shrug, her scanty lips curling in both amusement and distaste at her protégée\'s behaviour.

The trainee flashed another smile at them. \"Of course. I would only inform Miss Granger here that she has a visitor, and I\'m on my way. Hope to see both of you at dinner.\" And with that, he briefly detached himself from the lintel and gracefully regaining his balance, left the room and stalked up the hallway.

\"Visitor?\" the other girl intoned in her upper class drawl, which had often reminded Hermione of Draco Malfoy.

\"Harry,\" she answered. \"I wrote him earlier this week- we ought to remove the Fidelius Charm.\"

Chloe frowned. \"You didn\'t tell me.\"

\"I\'m sorry… I totally forgot.\"

\"Never mind.\" Chloe\'s shining crown of brown curls trembled like an organic substance as she shook her head.

\"Chloe…!\"

\"Well,\" she said, entwining her fingers in Jervy\'s sleek, dark hair. \"People here wait ages for a friend\'s visit. But then, Granger… it might be just like you to \'totally forget\' such thing. So… as aforesaid, never mind it.\"

She was about to protest when she noticed Chloe\'s eyes turn opaque, her hand stroking Jervy\'s head in a monitored, soulless rhythm: the doves perching in her soul flew away, or perhaps had been locked inside, flying above the breathy London of her inner body. Yes, Hermione sometimes thought- where some people had a small village, or rye field, or even a snow covered moor in their heart, Chloe\'s soul was the shape and the colours of a vivacious, bustling London. And it was warded and closed now, with only Chloe, Jervy and the products of Chloe\'s imagination roaming the rambling streets.

It then occurred to Hermione, the way it occurred to her many times on the previous days, that only a year before, she would have been tempted to convince Chloe to talk to her, would have tried to coax the city\'s gates open, only to fail miserably and wallow in her frustration.

She sighed. Later she might be able to explain to Chloe that Harry couldn\'t be specific as to his time of arrival: if he\'d asked permission to leave Hogwarts grounds in order to visit her, he would have to reveal her whereabouts to at least one of the teachers. At that, her parents would doubtlessly be notified – something which she was clearly unready to do, yet. She knew that the removal of the Fidelius Charm would automatically leave her exposed, but she also knew it would take the Ministry a while before they\'d start looking for her magical tracks again, not to mention that once the Fidelius was removed, her therapy could begin. She did not expect any sort of magic: at eleven, she believed the Wizarding World had a charm to make every discomfort better. Sixteen and harmed- sixteen and realistic, she didn’t believe in magic. Perhaps she believed in Arithmancy. But not in magic. Not anymore.

She wrote Harry the moment she decided to take Healer Morrow\'s offer and admit herself to St. Mungo\'s, asking one of the healers who worked on the ER to send the letter for her as she was too weak to do so herself. The healer, in awe when she noted the sendee\'s name, had immediately granted Hermione her wish. Harry, who even at the best of times wasn\'t an exemplary correspondent, sent her a scrabbled, excited letter, torn between the conflicting needs to maintain secrecy and spill his heart out. He promised to wait one week, then come and visit her the moment he was able to, and knowing Harry to be true to his word, Hermione had quickly forgotten about everything.

Truth be told, she had been too immersed in her own grief over the love she lost, simultaneously enthralled by the intellectual delight and emotional enigma which was Chloe, to have the mental capacity with which to contain the excitement over Harry\'s upcoming visit. Reminded of it, she felt tremors of anticipation creeping up her spine. The slithering snakes of fear and the fluttering doves of pleasure mixed into a hazy blend of bluish-grey uncertainty.

Rising to her feet, she made a halfhearted attempted to smooth the wrinkles in the worn-out robe she had been given until she could send for her own things. Chloe, still seated on her own bed, didn\'t bother to look at Hermione as she exited their room.

* * *

Harry, jumpy and as easy with a smile as ever, was waiting for her in the living area. Somehow, she mused, he managed to be a freak even in Freak-land: the one healer currently in the ward had been peering at him from the staff station, while the two patients exuberant enough to recognize the mighty Harry Potter, were unabashedly flooding him with questions. A third patient, a girl named Dorothea, simply ogled Harry, swaying on her feet in a catatonic ecstasy that probably frightened him more than the other two\'s enthusiastic attention.

Hermione rolled her eyes. \"You ought to learn to deal with your fans someday,\" she told the desperate-looking Harry.

The light mirth, she knew, served to conceal much deeper emotions. Nothing, perhaps, but a thin rope stretching over an abyss, but a much-needed one at that. It could have been that the gulf was abysmal and the rope was thin only for her to tumble – because she needed to be broken upon reuniting with him. But not yet, though. She knew that facing Harry in the open, she needed at least her expression intact. Never being the thickheaded git certain people deemed him to be, Harry was also aware of it.

\"Oh, well,\" he answered good-humouredly, \"perhaps I just love being everybody\'s favourite guy.\"

She merely tapped on her lower lip. \"I hardly think someone\'s favourite guy would enjoy your being everybody\'s favourite person.\"

He blushed, glancing at his two newfound fans that were obviously deaf to the content of their conversation. \"Is there any private place we can talk?\"

\"Sort of.\"

Signing Harry to follow her and glaring at Lindsey and Grover who attempted to follow her as well uninvited, Hermione led Harry to the room she shared with Chloe at the end of the hallway.

The tall, blue-eyed girl was still angry. Hermione did not expect it to be otherwise, yet she had a favour to ask of her.

\"Chloe-\" she began.

No answer came.

Harry gave her a quizzical look but she made clear everything was all right. \"Just give me a second,\" she said quietly. \"I promise to explain everything later.\"

\"Chloe,\" she made a second attempt. \"It\'s important. Please talk to me.\"

\"What, Granger?\"

Hermione took a calming breath, forcing herself to think. She mustn\'t mess it up. \"This is Harry,\" she said. \"He is very dear to me. Harry, this is Chloe- she is very dear to me too. I would be immensely happy if you two could…\" she moistened her lips. \"I don\'t know, I suppose I would have been happy to see you two befriending under different circumstances- no, I take it back: I\'ve had my share of triangles for a lifetime. But having you two to like each other could be nice.\" She knew she was babbling, and yet, could not stop herself. \"Chloe,\" she said at last, imploring the lovely, blue-eyed girl to listen to her. \"Would you please do me a favour and be angry with me later today?\"

Chloe\'s lips curled. \"You owe me.\"

Hermione nodded briefly. \"Right. Now this is Harry.\"

Gently shifting Jervy, Chloe rose to her feet, coaxing the curled Jervy to stand up as well. Still somewhat drowsy, the dark haired boy followed her orders, and now the two of them stood in front of Harry Potter, unaware or uncaring as to his identity. Just a proud girl and her human pet, Hermione reflected. The Boy Who Lived was irrelevant faced with those two. Here, confronted with Chloe and Jervy, he was only Harry, and looking at his face, she suspected it was the single thing Harry Potter really wanted from people. How odd it should be, for all of us to wear masks in order to hide our true identities while all this one boy wants is to have his masks thrown away.

\"Hello, Harry,\" She heard Chloe greeted him in her direct, dry tone. \"I\'m Chloe, this is Jerv. We\'re glad to meet you.\"

\"G-glad,\" echoed Jervy.

At her side, the messy haired boy smiled. \"Hello Chloe, Jervy,\" he said, and to Hermione\'s surprise, pulled a somewhat stained handkerchief out of the pocket of his robe. \"A pleasure to meet you.\" And with that, he leaned over Jervy\'s twisted form, and without making any fuss, wiped the boy\'s mouth in a gesture that left Chloe Nott gaping.

Hermione frowned as she watched Harry straighten, absentmindedly folding his handkerchief. It had been much like watching someone\'s private memory as she knew this moment did not belong to her, and yet she was curious, more than curious – something much like an interested observer, knowing both of the parties involved. And so she looked for Harry\'s reaction, ignoring the tug of guilt claiming that she should avert her gaze.

She watched the two staring at each other. Chloe\'s blue, sheen coated eyes took the measure of the small, delicate looking boy, who answered her with a confused, yet thoughtful gaze. Then Harry\'s hand reached to wipe a trail of moisture staining Chloe\'s cheek, his lips forming a crooked, familiar smile. \"Shall we all sit now?\" he asked.

Chloe answered with a crooked smile of her own. \"Sure. Granger?\" she turned to Hermione, who had been leaning against the lintel.

She sighed. \"Chloe, I still have something to ask of you. Better say- of Jerv.\"

The tall girl shrugged her shoulders. \"Ask him, then.\"

She made an effort to suppress her repulsed expression. She might have actually partially succeeded, as Chloe didn\'t seem angrier than she usually did on such occasions. \"You know he won\'t listen to anyone but you, Chloe.\"

Her retort was a sharp glare. \"Fine, Granger. What do you want from Jerv?\"

\"I need him to patrol the hallway- let us know if anyone shows up. No one can hear what Harry and I are about to say. Absolutely no one.\"

\"Oh,\" Chloe gave her a scornful look. \"And what about me? Are you about to banish me from the room?\"

She shook her head. \"You I trust. But I want you to swear on your wand you\'re not going to tell any detail of this conversation to anyone. Not even to Amanda.\"

\"Come, on, Granger!\" the other girl snared. \"Don\'t be such a drama queen.\"

\"I\'m not,\" she answered quietly. \"If anything of what Harry and I are going to say to each other would leave this room, our lives and other people\'s lives would be at risk. You know who Harry is; you remember everything I told you about my history in Hogwarts. Don\'t play the innocent with me.\"

Chloe exhaled slowly, her stomach flattening under the tricot cloth of her shirt. \"Very well. I swear to you on my wand that not a word you say here will leave this room. Jerv,\" she said, tilting her head towards the small boy. \"Come here. I need you to do something for me.\"

\"S…sure,\" stuttered the drooling, little monkey-boy, lips twisting and humping in a pitiable attempt to mimic human speech.

Wide-eyed he stared at his mistress as she explained what was wanted of him, then hopped up the hallway, seated himself on the parquet floor and howled at anybody who dared to roam too close to the last room.

Harry smiled. \"He\'s cute.\"

Chloe\'s face brightened at once: a candle flickering behind the temporary illusion of her face. For a moment, Hermione was almost envious of Harry\'s ability to cause her friend this kind of joy, then felt petty and wretched in her jealousy. The love I have known was so great, that all I am capable of now are small, trivial emotions, she reflected sarcastically. Well, Snape, nothing about you can be simple, now can it? I miss you so fucking much.

Blinking back her tears, she retreated to sit on her bed, her thoughts fallen like scattered parchments on the floor. Distracted, she didn\'t notice Harry had crawled to lie down besides her, resting his head in her lap, or that she had been clutching the hand he offered her; damp and warm and inspiring an odd sense of security. Only after a while did it occur to her, and she was surprised to understand his proximity had been tolerable, as if some pricking edge inside her– this tooth she had to keep tonguing when she was younger even though she knew she mustn\'t – had grown numb.

Chloe, at her other side, was absentmindedly playing with Harry\'s messy hair, running her fingers through the soft, fine locks.

\"Well.\" Rolling on his back, Harry scanned her through the thick lenses of his spectacles. Trying them on, once, she had been overwhelmed to realise that without his eyeglasses, the boy who lived was practically blind.

\"Well what?\" she snapped.

\"It\'s been a while.\"

\"Yes.\"

\"I figured…\" he began, \"I thought he was good for you.\"

\"He was.\"

Harry moistened his lips. \"Then… why?\"

She was trying to figure out a why to speak without letting the anguish distort her features. It was impossible. Giving up at last, she felt every muscle in her face screw up, angry that there would be no relief in letting go. \"Perhaps… perhaps the cupboard- perhaps it\'s simply too deep.\" Breathing, Hermione felt tremors moving through her body. \"Too dark.\"

A muscle in Harry\'s jaw clenched. \"I\'m sorry.\"

\"Don\'t be,\" she told him. \"It\'s water under the bridge now.\"

He shook his head. \"You know it isn\'t. You know it\'s never going to be.\"

\"Still, I don\'t want to talk about it. Why don\'t you tell me about Draco?\"

Biting on his lower lip, he frowned. \"I don\'t know if we talk about the things that really matters, or if we simply try to ignore them.\"

\"Perhaps we do both,\" she answered quietly. Chloe, at her side, was staring at the window, where an invisible, silenced London was bustling away behind an enchanted glass.

\"Yes,\" Harry nodded. \"I suppose I can understand that. I missed you a lot, you know?\"

She returned the nod. \"I missed you a lot as well, though I did not know it at the time. I\'m glad you came, Harry.\"

He smiled. \"Glad to be here.\"