harry.exe has stopped working ━ hp x tmr | lv

20.

whoop whoop dOUBLE UPDATE ALERT!! i am so high on my pain meds rn i am so sry sobs

Chapter Twenty:

Seamus Finnigan does in fact live.

But only because Harry drags Hermione away before she can start throwing hands.

The rest of their day is spent in double Transfiguration and after that their little group splits apart. Draco leads Ron towards the dungeons, hopefully to confess. Harry has suffered enough of their feelings already. Pansy, Blaise and Theo head for the great hall while Tracy stays behind to ask a few questions. Meanwhile, Harry trails behind Hermione who, as usual, takes them to the library.

Hermione heads for the shelves and Harry takes a seat at their usual table, hidden from prying eyes. He stretches out his arms above his head and yawns. A nap would be great right around now, he internally mulls.

Unfortunately, his nap plans are ruined the moment Hermione settles down four thick tomes onto the table. She takes her seat opposite him, leans her chin into the palm of her hand and stares at him with curious eyes.

"So," she starts, voice low and calm. For a moment she is quiet and Harry worries for the worst. Does she know he's not supposed to be here? Not supposed to be in this world? Dammit. He knows she's clever but what the actual fuck.

"I saw you leave the ball with a man," Hermione drops her words like a bomb and Harry blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"Huh?"

"Oh, don't act stupid Harry." Hermione leans forward and her dark eyes significantly narrow. "Tall. Wavy hair. Good looking."

"Um, right," Harry struggles to talk, "you see..."

"Well?" Hermione pries. "You can't tell Pansy because she wouldn't be able to keep it to herself and Draco would immediately tell it to his father. Blaise and Theo would hold it over your head and Tracy wouldn't be interested. I'm your last option, so tell me."

"There's still Ron," Harry points out weakly.

"He's too innocent," Hermione shoots him down instantly. She is nothing if not thorough if she wants something.

The green eyed male sighs. "Are you sure?" He asks.

Hermione nods, not looking the least bit embarrassed for prying. "Absolutely."

"Ok..."

Harry raises his hand and drags it through the air. A simple silencing ward washes over them. Hermione's eyes visibly darken. Harry settles his hand back down to his lap. "I'll teach you," he says, "but first... that wasn't just any man. That was Voldermort."

Silence looms over them. Harry purses his lips and fiddles with his fingers for a solid minute before Hermione reaches for something in her bag. It's the daily prophet. She rolls the paper into a tube and then swiftly hits it over Harry's head.

"Ow!"

"You idiot!" Hermione scolds. "You went into a private room with a killer!?"

"He's not so bad," Harry defends, rubbing the top of his head. Talk about deja vu.

"Not Bad?" Hermione uses the paper to hit him again, this time the side of his shoulder since he evades the hit in the last second.

"Again," Harry scowls, "ow!"

"He tried to kill you, Harry. I'm sorry if me worrying hurts you."

"This is you worrying?" Harry mutters, rubbing his shoulder. "It doesn't feel like it. You know, worrying over me isn't supposed to be you hitting me with the daily prophet. You should be hugging me right now, thanking Merlin or whatever that I survived."