Someone was already there. She was sitting in his spot, right next to the fire. He stood as still as he could, but his breathing was so loud he was sure she would turn around. He took one more step, just to get to the end of the staircase. Who could it be, sitting alone in the common room at nearly four in the morning?
She turned a little and a bush of curly hair flung around her shoulders.
By Merlin, he thought. It’s Hermione!
He swiftly turned around to go back upstairs, hoping that the blasted second step wouldn’t give off the creak it sometimes did, but alas…'squeak!' the step seemed to yell through the stone cold silence of the room. Her head flung around and she stood up quickly as she noticed him.
“Goodness!” she said.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. He took a step forward, his hands in the air. “I didn’t think any would be down here.”
“No, of course not,” she said. She sounded rather nonchalant but now that she was facing him, he could see that her eyes were red and puffy. There was a tissue was falling out of her pocket. He hesitated for a moment.
“Are you…alright?” he asked.
She nodded quickly and pushed the tissue back in her pocket. He nodded in return and was about to turn around and go back upstairs when something in his mind made him pause. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling she was the same type of alright that he had been lately: the kind which meant you weren’t fine at all, but didn’t want to bother anyone about it.
“Wait,” he said. “Hermione…you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to…but, are you sure? Is something wrong?”
He moved up closer and, in what he hoped was a comforting maneuver, put his hand on top of hers. Suddenly, to his utter mortification, she burst out in tears, silently weeping into her shoulder. He felt how awkward he was as he touched her shoulder, but he didn’t know what else to do.
“It’s alright,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll be alright.”
“But it’s not,” she said, sniffing hugely. “It’s not alright, in fact it’s all wrong and I don’t know if…I don’t know why…”
She broke off, breathing coarsely and wiping her eyes with her hands. Her eyes were wet and tears were trickling quietly down her face, pooling in the bags under her eyes. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept well in a why. That he could certainly understand.
Suddenly, a thought came into his mind. She was sitting in his spot. She certainly seemed to be feeling rather like he had been lately. What if she was…?
“Erm,” he said, knowing that if he was wrong he would sound terribly thick. “Is this about Ron and Lavender?”
Her head tossed around to face him. Her eyes were still wet and they were growing wider and wider as they looked at him.
“How did you know?” she said softly.
He took a deep breath and pushed back the tears he could feel forming in his own eyes. He hadn’t said it out loud yet and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to. But goodness, if anyone would understand it had to be Hermione…didn’t it? She was looking at him curiously and he could feel her gaze penetrating his mind. Then, her eyebrows flew up and she made a little noise of recognition. He blushed, realizing that she knew.
“You like her, don’t you?” Hermione said, quietly squeezing his hand. “Lavender, I mean.”
He nodded slowly and looked down at his feet.
“Since fourth year,” he said.
They sat in silence, both looking at the fire, positioned in the spot in the common room so familiar to the both of them. He could see Lavender’s silhouette dancing amongst the flames…laughing, smiling, joking, taunting him…and he bit his lip. He could see Hermione watching him out of the corner of her eyes and she gave him a small smile.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” she said bitterly.
“Yes,” he said. “She’s the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Nothing had changed, not really. Lavender was still with Ron and he was still the one sitting desperately by the common room fire in the early hours of the morning. But as he stared in the fire, he could feel Hermione next to him, feeling the same things that he was, hoping the same things that he was hoping. It was in the air and it surrounded him “ the desperation, the longing, the wishing…the understanding. They didn’t need to talk anymore. They both knew.
It must have been at least an hour, but it seemed only a few moments later when the sun started peeking through the window behind them. As if a silently recognized sign, they both stood up to return to their beds before their absences could be noticed. He was halfway to the stairs when he heard Hermione call out behind him.
“Seamus,” she started. He waved her off quickly. They locked gazes for a moment and he knew they were thinking the same thing: Thank you.
Seamus walked up to his room and tiptoed across the room. Then he jumped quickly into bed. Neville was snoring louder than ever and Seamus couldn’t fall back asleep. Before long, Dean’s alarm was going off and it was morning. He was quiet as he listened to Dean’s incessant chattering about Ginny. Neville was still asleep and no one had managed to turn off his alarm, which was making a huge racket. Seamus had no sympathy for Ron, who was being awfully irritable about it. He and Harry went off to breakfast first, whispering to each other in the way they always did.
Seamus followed Dean down to the Great Hall. Dean walked briskly to sit next to Ginny, who made room for both her boyfriend and Seamus. A few seats further down the table, Seamus sneaked a glance at Lavender, who had her arms around Ron and was whispering something in his ear. The pit of his stomach rose and he felt a sudden urge to run over to Ron and punch the daylights out of him. Instead, he clenched his fist in his lap and stared much too intently at the porridge in front of him.
With only a few minutes to class, Seamus looked up and reached across the table for the milk. A few seats down, he saw Hermione sitting with Harry and Parvati. She looked up and their eyes met again. Seamus felt a rush of relief as he fully remembered the previous night. Someone knew…and not only did she know, she understood. She really did. She nodded at him quickly and pursed her lips in a thin smile. Seamus raised his head in slow reply before grabbing the milk and looking away.
In some unspoken pact, they never mentioned out loud what had happened. But after that night, Seamus felt a small weight lift off his chest. And he had never been able to look at Hermione Granger the same way again.