Hermione?"
Harry's voice snapped her back into the present. She slightly shook her head and blinked. "I zoned out, yeah?" she asked, followed by a small chuckle. "I'm sorry. I'm just thinking about... a lot of things."
His eyes scrutinized his best friend. She seemed... tired and it made him worry. Sighing, he cleaned his spectacles before wearing them once again.
It was unfair for them, some bunch of seventeen-year-olds, to experience things teenagers their age do not normally experience. Fate... these seemed like a sick joke from fate. And Harry blamed it for thrusting them into a world where they were expected to act maturely than their age for the sake of surviving this seemingly cruel world. If he was given a choice, he'd rather choose to live forever in the cupboard under the stairs of the Dursleys, oblivious to his true identity.
Everything that was happening to his best friends, he blamed them to himself.
Sometimes, just sometimes, he wished he was not The-Boy-Who-Lived.
Sometimes, he wished he was not Harry Potter at all.
"Harry," was Hermione's humorous distraction, waving a hand in front of Harry's eyes. "You're the one who zoned out this time. Are you all right?"
He just shrugged his shoulders and gave his usual boyish smile. "Anyway, I'm here because Dumbledore wants to see you."
Hermione sighed. "I'm assuming it will be about my plan," she said, running a hand through her tresses. "I can already imagine Dumbledore's reaction. I just hope that he'll hear me out. I mean... he almost did not agree of me
faking my own death."
"Hermione," Harry, the ever voice of reason, "you have to understand. You are in mortal danger."
"I under" -
"No, listen to me first," Harry interjected, his right hand raised to stop her from talking. "Hermione, you are the only key to unlock the secrets of the Order hidden in your parents. You should realize that if Voldemort and his bloody minions discovered that the person inside that casket six feet below the ground was just a charmed pillow to look exactly like you, then he would not hesitate but repeat the events that had happened a week before."
A look of pain crossed over Hermione's face. Anything that reminded her of the things that happened on the day her parents were kidnapped was still a touchy subject for her. Any reminder made her blame herself more and more for not saving them.
"Look, I'm sorry," Harry said, his voice softer. "I know what you are feeling right now and allow me to at least help you, Hermione. I just don't want you hurt. You understand me, right?"
"Of course," was her simple reply before pulling Harry into a tight hug. "But I've made a decision already, Harry. This might be... more dangerous than Dumbledore's but I can't just stand aside without doing everything I can to save my parents."
"But Hermione..."
"All I'm asking is for you to trust me," she whispered. "Trust me, Harry. I need that right now."
Harry scowled and held the brunette tighter to himself. "I hate you for making me do this," he groaned, giving the top of her head a kiss. "You know that I will always trust you."
Hermione laughed at that and gave him a kiss on his cheek. Pulling away, she gave him a reminder. "Remember, console Ron and the others for me. I've seen what they looked like in my fake funeral a while ago and... just... just tell them I'm sorry without revealing that I'm alive, okay?"
