"It's been a while."
"Yes, It's been a while."
The air in the Room of Requirement was filled with a faint scent of cedar, while warm firelight flickered across the walls. The soft carpet absorbed all sound of footsteps.
The two young women stood facing each other in silence for a full half minute, the dancing flames of the fireplace reflected in their eyes.
Then they both smiled and opened their arms for a gentle embrace.
When their fingertips touched, they could feel the subtle warmth in each other's palms.
Hermione Granger's hair had been carefully brushed, and the tip of her nose still carried the slight chill from outdoors.
Gemma Farley wore a sharply tailored dark coat, her blue eyes resembling the calm Black Lake on a winter's day.
These two women, currently the closest to Sherlock, had quietly arranged to meet here on this afternoon before Christmas.
Both were remarkably intelligent young women. After a few exchanges about daily life at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary and recent trivial matters at Hogwarts, their conversation naturally shifted to the main topic.
"Thank you, Gemma."
Hermione looked at Gemma, unconsciously gripping her sleeve as she spoke sincerely. "If you had invited Sherlock to be your dance partner first, he definitely wouldn't have refused."
"Do you think I was waiting for you?"
A calm and knowing smile slowly appeared at the corners of Gemma's lips. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze carefully examining Hermione's unusually serious expression, a glimmer of understanding flashing in her blue eyes.
"Yes, I'm very aware that you care about him."
Hermione took a deep breath and looked directly into Gemma's beautiful blue eyes, her tone tinged with emotion.
"After graduation, you went to the dragon sanctuary in Romania and became an excellent dragon handler. And then, precisely this year, the Triwizard Tournament was reinstated. The reinstated tournament was held at Hogwarts, and the first task just happened to involve dragons... I don't know what others think, but... don't you think this is a special kind of fate?
It was these coincidences that brought you back to Hogwarts, and back to Sherlock's side. With your understanding of him and that special rapport between you two, if you had asked him to be your partner first, he definitely wouldn't have refused. He has always trusted and respected you greatly, Gemma."
This was Hermione's heartfelt sentiment.
Ever since Harry had mentioned this to her, she had thought carefully about it whenever she had time, and by now she had long since accepted reality.
Hearing Hermione say this, Gemma didn't immediately deny it.
She turned gracefully and walked to the window, her fingertips unconsciously tracing along the cold window frame.
Although outside the window was a winter forest conjured by the Room of Requirement, with thick white snow accumulated on the pine branches, the scene still set Gemma's thoughts drifting.
"Dear Hermione, you're only half right."
She slowly turned around, meeting Hermione's slightly surprised gaze, her tone as calm as if discussing December weather.
"I was indeed waiting, but... besides waiting for you to act, I was also waiting for him..."
Her words stopped abruptly there.
Gemma knew well that the perceptive young woman across from her would naturally understand the unspoken meaning.
But this was also to be expected.
Even following the Triwizard Tournament tradition that champions must lead the dance with partners, for Sherlock, he was unlikely to proactively invite a dance partner.
And the result was exactly as she had expected.
In the end, it was somewhat regrettable that she hadn't waited for that proactive signal.
Thinking of this, her eyes remained clear and bright, with a hint of playful amusement.
"After all, now the entire school knows he's agreed to be your official partner, doesn't it? Now I'm just waiting in line for that second dance."
Hermione's cheeks instantly flushed with a faint blush, like an apple illuminated by firelight.
But the stone that had been weighing on her heart out of concern that Gemma might mind finally settled, and her respect for Gemma's magnanimity deepened.
She had never imagined that Gemma not only knew about this but could mention it so calmly.
"We both understand him well, don't we?"
Gemma continued.
When mentioning Sherlock, her blue eyes immediately rippled with gentle light. "He's a genius, brilliant and dazzling. In the Muggle world, he can use deduction to catch the true culprit. In the magical world, he can see through the flaws in spells. He's like the sharpest sword, invincible. But just as I told you before graduation, in certain other matters..."
She raised her finger and lightly tapped her temple, making a rather humorous gesture. "Like understanding his own feelings, or realizing what it means to agree to dance with you... He can be as dense as an old stone that's been soaking at the bottom of the Black Lake for a hundred years."
This sentence instantly reminded Hermione of Sherlock's recent precise and brutal assessment of Ron's "lust at first sight." She couldn't help but laugh out loud, feeling that the distance between her and Gemma had closed considerably.
Honestly speaking, with such a perceptive and excellent girl, if she were Sherlock, wouldn't she have been charmed long ago? Intelligent, refined, beautiful, and so good at reading situations.
Thinking of this, she also walked to the window and stood shoulder to shoulder with Gemma, looking at the fictional snowy landscape outside.
"You're absolutely right. He can see through all complex conspiracies and sinister hearts, but when it comes to personal emotions, he's..." Hermione paused, not knowing quite how to put it. "Actually, just recently, Harry was lamenting about this very thing."
She proceeded to briefly recount her recent conversation with Harry.
"Just as our Savior said."
Hearing Hermione's words, Gemma's lips curved into a faint smile, her gaze sincere and warm.
"You're one of the few witches he treats specially—brave, intelligent, with an unyielding tenacity. I've thought it through very clearly. Even if you and I had both invited him, he would only respond with that logic of 'dance partner arrangements optimized, social protocol executing.' Since that's the case, why should I interfere with the process he's already finalized?"
As she spoke, she spread her hands, her smile carrying a hint of indulgent tolerance, as if talking about a child who doesn't understand.
Hermione nodded vigorously.
Now thinking carefully about it, if Gemma had truly extended an invitation to Sherlock, he would indeed have reacted this way.
"But I still need to thank you, Gemma."
Hermione turned her head, speaking earnestly and meticulously.
"I can see that he's different with you. He trusts your wisdom and has praised you more than once in front of me. I even feel that only when he's around you does his cold logic and deduction carry a bit of warmth."
"Dear Hermione, you really underestimate yourself too much."
Hearing this, Gemma couldn't help but laugh.
"You're wonderful—intelligent, brave, and full of strength. Sherlock has long been attracted to you. No, not just him. If I were a boy, I probably would have been captivated by you long ago."
"Gemma, what are you saying!" Hermione reflexively objected, her ears slightly flushed. "I'm just someone who studies too much, with a bit of cleverness."
"If that were really true, how could you have attracted one of the world's best Seekers?"
Gemma's words were like a small stone, instantly stirring up waves in Hermione's heart.
She suddenly raised her head, looking at Gemma with shock, her voice even trembling.
"Gemma, how did you..."
She had never mentioned this to anyone, not even Sherlock!
"Don't forget, that person is quite famous. Wherever he goes, he attracts others' attention."
Gemma laughed lightly. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but I've also been frequenting the school library recently."
Hermione suddenly understood.
"Alright, let's not talk about that anymore."
Gemma patted her shoulder lightly, her tone becoming lighter.
From the beginning of the conversation, she had been guiding the rhythm, but by now Hermione had grown accustomed to this composure.
"Let's talk about the Christmas Ball. In such a high-profile setting, sometimes a small adjustment can make us more confident."
"What do you mean?" Hermione was somewhat puzzled.
"Appearance. Although he's not someone who focuses on looks, if you could make some changes, I think you'd definitely dazzle everyone."
As Gemma spoke, she suddenly winked playfully, a hint of mischief flashing in her blue eyes. "If you trust me, perhaps I could offer a small suggestion?"
Hermione froze, instinctively making a sound. "Huh?"
On Christmas morning, Sherlock, Harry, and Ron received their usual packages from Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh no!"
Ron opened his package and looked like a frost-bitten eggplant when he saw the dark purple hand-knitted sweater inside.
He held up the sweater and wailed. "Why is it dark purple again?"
In fact, he had complained about this many times already.
Unfortunately, his opinion had never been taken seriously by his mother.
Fortunately, the homemade mince pies that came with the sweater weren't corned beef flavored this time.
That was at least some consolation.
However, when he saw Sherlock and Harry's sweaters, his eyes nearly popped out.
Their sweaters were bright in color—Harry's was grass green, and Sherlock's was deep blue.
And besides the large H and S letters on the front that appeared every year, there was even a lifelike dragon.
Ron clutched his dark purple sweater and began to deeply question his existence.
Could someone please tell him who the actual Weasley child was here!
"It seems Charlie told Mrs. Weasley all about the Hungarian Horntail incident."
Harry traced the dragon pattern on his sweater and turned to Sherlock with amusement in his eyes.
"Obviously, my friend."
Sherlock's fingertips brushed over the dragon wings, his tone also carrying a trace of barely perceptible pleasure.
A dragon was much more complicated than a single letter. This sweater had much finer stitching than previous years, clearly showing Mrs. Weasley had put in considerable effort.
As for gifts from others, they were as full of personal character as always.
Dumbledore sent each of them a box of Honeydukes cream-filled chocolates.
Sirius gave each of them a handy penknife with attachments that could open any lock and untie any knot.
Hagrid sent Sherlock homemade rock cakes, and gave Harry and Ron a large box of sweets in all their favorite flavors.
Hermione and Cho Chang both sent books. they gave Sherlock detective novels from both East and West, while Harry's were Quidditch-related.
Almost all the young wizards staying at school spent the morning in their respective towers, happily unwrapping gifts, their laughter floating far along the stairwells.
Christmas lunch was held in the Great Hall and was dizzyingly sumptuous.
At least a hundred turkeys roasted golden and dripping with oil, their bellies stuffed with sausages and apples; mountains of Christmas pudding drenched with scalding brandy that burned with blue flames when lit; plus heaps of Crispy Wizard crackers, mead, and pumpkin juice.
Candlelight flickered on the long tables, making everyone's faces glow warmly.
In the afternoon, the snow stopped.
The Weasley twins came running over excitedly, dragging them out to the grounds for a snowball fight.
The castle grounds were completely covered in white snow, like an enormous white velvet blanket.
Apart from the deep footprints left by Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students when they returned to the castle, there were no other traces.
Sherlock never participated in this type of game.
The others had no objection to this.
Because with his powers of observation and reaction speed, once he joined, the outcome would be a foregone conclusion, and the fun would be lost.
He leaned against the castle's stone wall, hands in his pockets, watching the chaos on the grounds.
Ginny was chasing George with a snowball clutched in her hand, while Harry and Ron took the opportunity to team up against Fred, with snow flying everywhere.
Ginny had really gotten along well with Harry and the Weasley brothers.
Hermione didn't participate either. She sat down on the stone steps next to Sherlock, watching the scene with a smile.
"Why did you suddenly decide to fix your teeth?"
Sherlock suddenly spoke, his gaze falling on her profile.
Hermione's previously somewhat prominent front teeth had obviously become smaller. Now when she smiled with her lips pressed together, her teeth were as neat as carefully arranged pearls.
Hermione suddenly raised her head, a flash of delighted yet shy panic in her eyes. "Ah, when did you notice?"
"This morning when I saw you in the common room," Sherlock said frankly. "Your teeth are much more even than yesterday, and your lip line appears softer as a result."
"I knew I couldn't hide it from you."
Hermione laughed, her eyes crinkling into crescents, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "Gemma helped me."
"So you were with her in the Room of Requirement last night?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow slightly. This was beyond his expectations.
"That's right! She said she had a way to help me adjust my teeth and was very confident about it."
Hermione's tone was full of gratitude. "You know, Madam Pomfrey always says magic shouldn't be used casually for cosmetic purposes—unless my teeth were cursed to grow as long as an elephant's."
Speaking of this, Hermione couldn't help but find it amusing.
How could such a thing possibly happen?
"If she wasn't confident, she wouldn't have said it."
Sherlock stated with certainty.
He knew Gemma—if she weren't sure, she would never make such a claim.
From the results, she had done very well.
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