Hermione didn’t often come and watch Quidditch training. Truth be told, she often found it difficult to sit through a match (if Gryffindor weren’t playing of course) so training just did not appeal to her.

Nevertheless, she now found herself huddled up in her robes, scarf pulled up around her chin in the stands, watching Ron, Harry and the rest of the scarlet and gold clad team practice for Saturday’s match against Ravenclaw.

Again if she honest, she hadn’t come to watch the quidditch, she had come to see Harry. She hadn’t seen him for months; it was just a shadow of the real Harry that was with them all now.


I don’t know your face no more,
Or feel the touch that I adore.

Hermione missed Harry. She missed the way the three of them used to be; chatty, open and at ease. Things weren’t like that now. They hadn’t been since that fateful day in the Department of Mysteries, the day Sirius had died. She had hoped Harry would’ve grieved over the summer and been slightly back to normal now. But no. If anything, their Harry had disappeared even further, you had to really search for him now.


I don’t know your face no more,
It’s just a place I’m looking for.


That was why Hermione was now sat freezing on the castle grounds. Ron had told her that when Harry was flying he was back to being himself. Ron said he could see it in Harry’s eyes. That was what Hermione was watching for now.

Hermione brushed a tear from her pink cheek as the memory came to her. She had never heard Ron speak so plainly and emotively before. It had really moved her. Ron had obviously been hit hard by Harry’s change of character. Hermione was sure that Ron missed Harry even more than she did, if that was possible.

Hermione looked down at the group of hunched over players gathered together on the ground. Harry was stood a bit apart, staring fixedly at his feet.


We might as well be strangers in another town,
We might as well be living in a different world,
We might as well,
We might as well,
We might as well,


There used to be a time when Harry would come to Ron and herself. He would share his hopes with them, his fears with them, everything. Now, nothing.

Well, not nothing, Hermione gently reminded herself, you see something every time you dare to look into those emerald eyes. It was true, she always saw something, but it wasn’t what she wanted to see.


I don’t know your thoughts these days,
We’re strangers in an empty space.


All Hermione saw was pain, and sorrow, and helplessness, and confusion. She tried to reach out to her friend, but she didn’t understand how to help, or even if she could. She had never felt so frustrated and saddened in her life.


I don’t understand your heart,
It’s easier to be apart.

If Hermione could have one wish it would be to see Harry smile. The kind of smile that shows your teeth, wrinkles your nose and makes your eyes sparkle. She would give anything to see that on Harry. She couldn’t bear to see him so desperate, so alone. It was sometimes easier for both of them, in Hermione’s opinion, to be apart. She needed time to think and all she could think of was Harry when she was around him.

She watched intently as Harry straddled his Firebolt and kicked off the ground hard. He zoomed up so fast it made Hermione queasy to watch. She glanced down to see Team Captain Ron watching Harry also.


We might as well be strangers in another town,
We might as well be living in another time.
We might as well,
We might as well,


Hermione’s gaze left Ron and began to search the sky above the pitch for a glance of Harry’s face. He was shooting back and forth along the length of the stadium like a rocket, searching out what Hermione presumed to be the snitch. She couldn’t see it. Nor could she catch a glimpse of her best friend’s face.

Five minutes or more must have passed before Harry finally began to slow down and descend towards his team. Hermione caught a glimpse of gold clutched tightly in his right hand. Still, she was disappointed. She had come to see her best friend, and once again, seen only his ghost.

Hermione felt another tear creep down her cheek. She didn’t bother to brush it away; she knew another one would only replace it. She closed her eyes tightly and pictured Harry as she used to know him.


We might as well be strangers, be strangers.
For all I know of you now.
For all I know of you now.


Hermione slowly opened her eyes and sniffed hard. She looked back down to see Harry staring back up at her, eyes blank, face expressionless.


For all I know of you now.


Hermione attempted a smile at him, but knew how strained it must look. He turned away sharply, threw his broom over his shoulder and began trudging off towards the changing room. The smile slipped off Hermione’s face immediately.

But then, Harry abruptly stopped and turned, hesitantly Hermione thought. He gave her a weak smile. Weak, but not fake. She returned it, just as real.

That’s him, Hermione thought temporarily contented, that’s Harry.

She continued to look into his eyes. Even from a distance Hermione could tell there was something new radiating from those brilliant green eyes; it was almost like gratitude.


For all I know…


Almost like hope.