The clock on her mantelpiece seemed to tick with a deliberate, mocking slowness. Each tock was a hammer blow to Hermione's already frayed nerves. Midnight. The Chamber.
What would she say? What would he say? The scenarios played out in her mind, a frantic, chaotic montage. He would be cold, professional, confirming that their partnership was permanently dissolved. He would be angry, throwing her cruel words back in her face. Or, in the most terrifying and unlikely scenario, he would be… something else.
She changed her clothes three times, finally settling on simple, dark robes—practical, not trying to impress. She tried to eat, but the food tasted like ash. She attempted to read, but the words were a jumble. The only thing that felt real was the frantic beating of her own heart.
At half-past eleven, she could stand it no longer. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder, her hands shaking so badly she spilled half of it. "Hogwarts, Headmistress's Office!" she called, stepping into the emerald flames.
The journey was a nauseating blur. She stumbled out into the silent, circular office. The portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses were all asleep, save one. Albus Dumbledore's portrait offered her a gentle, knowing smile over his half-moon spectacles before feigning a soft snore.
She gave a grateful, shaky nod to his frame and hurried out into the deserted corridor. The castle at night was a different world, a place of shadows and echoes. Her footsteps were the only sound as she descended into the dungeons, the air growing colder with every step.
The two Aurors were gone, replaced by the simple plaque and the powerful Notice-Me-Not Charm. She took a deep, steadying breath that did nothing to calm her, and pushed the heavy door open.
The chamber was lit by a single, soft blue orb, casting long, dancing shadows. And he was there.
He stood with his back to her, facing the Vault, his posture rigid. He was wearing his simple black jumper and trousers, no robes. He didn't turn as she entered, but she saw the tension in his shoulders tighten.
The door clicked shut behind her, the sound final in the utter silence. The hum of the Vault seemed louder than ever, a witness to their confrontation.
She stood frozen, just inside the doorway, her courage failing her. The space between them felt like a mile.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and without its usual edge. It was just… tired.
"You've been reading the book."
It wasn't a question. It was the last thing she expected him to say.
"Yes," she whispered, her own voice thin.
"It's dangerous," he said, still not turning. "To open yourself to that kind of magic without… without guidance."
"I didn't have a choice." The words were out before she could stop them, louder this time, fueled by a sudden surge of frustration. "You left. You took the key with you and you left me with no way to find you."
He was silent for a long moment. "You made it clear you wanted me to."
"I was wrong!" The confession burst from her, raw and painful. "I was scared and I was cruel and I said things I didn't mean. I was trying to… to put up a wall because I didn't know how to handle what I was feeling. What you make me feel."
That made him turn.
In the dim blue light, his face was all sharp angles and shadows. He looked exhausted, the circles under his eyes pronounced. But his gaze was intent, searching her face as if looking for a trick.
"And what is that, Granger?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft. "What do I make you feel?"
This was it. The precipice. She could retreat behind professionalism, she could obfuscate, she could lie. But she had come too far for that. She had shouted his name across a magical void. She had nothing left but the truth.
"Alive," she said, the word a shaky exhale. "Frustrated. Challenged. Seen. In a way that no one else has ever seen me. You look at me and you don't see the 'Brightest Witch of Her Age' or the 'War Heroine.' You just see… me. The messy, complicated, sometimes frightened person underneath. And it's terrifying."
She took a step forward, then another, closing the distance between them until she was standing just a few feet away. The hum of the Vault vibrated through the soles of her shoes.
"I don't want a tidy, orderly life if it doesn't have you in it," she said, her voice gaining strength. "The chaos you bring… it's the most interesting thing that's happened to me since the war ended. I was wrong to call you a complication. You're not a complication. You're… you're a revelation."
The silence that followed was absolute. He just stared at her, his stormy eyes wide, his mask of cold indifference completely shattered. He looked utterly disarmed, as if she had just hit him with a spell he had no defense against.
He took a slow, hesitant step towards her. Then another. He stopped an arm's length away, close enough that she could see the flecks of silver in his grey eyes, close enough to feel the warmth of his body.
"The connection you made," he said, his voice rough with an emotion she couldn't name. "With the book. It was… a revelation to me, too." He swallowed hard. "No one has ever… reached for me like that before."
He lifted his hand, slowly, as if moving through water. He didn't touch her. He just hovered his fingers near her cheek, a breath away from her skin.
"I left because I thought it was what you wanted," he confessed, the admission seeming to cost him dearly. "And because I was… 'scared' isn't the right word. I was… overwhelmed. By you. By this." He gestured vaguely between them, then at the Vault. "By all of it."
Hermione's heart felt like it was going to beat its way out of her chest. She leaned forward, the smallest fraction, until her cheek pressed against his fingertips.
The contact was electric. A shudder ran through him. His eyes fluttered closed for a second before reopening, blazing with an intensity that stole her breath.
"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered.
His hand finally settled against her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. His thumb stroked her skin once, a slow, deliberate caress that felt like a promise.
"Neither am I," he murmured.
And in the humming silence of the chamber, with the ancient, sorrowful Vault as their witness, the last wall between them crumbled to dust.