Sang Sacré

Chapter 21

Hermione landed outside of Grimmauld Place and stared up at the monstrosity of a house, crossing her arms across her chest as a cool gust of wind sent a chill down her spine.

She prayed silently that by some stroke of luck she'd find Harry. The witch spent a few long minutes collecting herself as she stood on the pavement in front of the main door.

It had been long enough since their last conversation that Hermione worried about what this one might hold. Things felt tense and off between them, and she bit her bottom lip as she considered it.

What would she say to him? Would he even stick around long enough to listen?

"You know, you can't stand out here all night," a haggard, raspy voice called from behind her, startling her enough to jump. She barely suppressed the squeak that betrayed her shock.

She whipped around, hand automatically dropping to the wand stashed at her side on instinct. Based on the rough, gravelly voice that called out to her, Hermione gasped at the sight of Harry. He sat on the curb, looking worse for the wear with his elbows resting on his knees and he fidgeted with his wand in between his fingers.

He was anxious. It was one of his tells. Only someone that knew him as intimately as she did would pick up on.

"Harry," she breathed, and her feet moved on their own accord until her toes almost met his.

"Hey, 'Mione," he smiled tiredly, the expression not quite reaching his eyes.

"What are you doing out here?"

Hermione suppressed a shiver as the breeze rolled through again. Harry noticed it and rolled his eyes. He started to move his wand, opened his mouth, but then his wand arm fell limply to his lap with a frown. He coughed, carding a hand through his hair before looking back up at her.

"Why don't you just cast a warming charm? You're a witch, remember?" He attempted a joke.

Hermione huffed, cast the charm over both of them, and fell to a seated position next to him. A tense silence fell around them as they fidgeted with nervous energy and stared up at Grimmauld Place. Something was wrong. Harry seemed... off. It was unsettling.

"What are you doing here, Hermione?" Harry asked, his voice low and uncertain, sounding more like a sigh than anything else.

"I came here for you," her eyes flickered to his face, frowning as it crumpled with emotion before he squared his shoulders and set his jaw.

Hermione sighed internally as she recognized his defense mechanism taking over and shut her out.

"It's not like you actually care," he chuckled, waving his hand dismissively in front of them. "It's been more than a month since we last spoke. You would have been around sooner otherwise, so what is it that you need from me?"

Hermione gasped, feeling the sting of his harsh words prick at her heart even after preparing herself for this conversation to go poorly. "Surely you don't mean that."

When he faced her, he snarled. "You're too busy with your new top-secret life, just like Ron. It's fine, I can take a fucking hint. You don't need to worry about me tagging along like a lost puppy with no family. That's been my whole life, hasn't it?"

Hermione stared, jaw slack, feeling waves of indignation rise within her. "Harry James Potter, of course not! You have no ide-"

"Exactly. That's exactly it, Hermione." His voice was cold, devoid of emotion, and she watched as the depth of his pain shimmered under the surface. "I have no idea what's going on with you anymore. Just the way you want it."