To my surprise, Hermione didn’t appear outwardly angry the next day. However, each time I approached, she seemed to withdraw slightly, creating an awkward distance between us. It wasn’t anger, but something equally unsettling—something I couldn’t place.

  Later in the day, Ron, Neville, Hermione, and I gathered in the library for our usual study group. I was deep into a book, quill in hand, marking up every incorrect detail as I read. There’s a certain satisfaction in scratching out false statements and correcting them. However, I noticed Ron and Neville exchange glances.

  “Sorry, Ben, I… have to go help Percy with something,” Ron blurted out, his face reddening.

  “Er, yes, and I need to… go find something,” Neville added, glancing at Hermione as if for approval.

  I raised an eyebrow, amused. “So you need to help Ron’s brother… by finding something in your dorm?”

  Neville stammered, “Well, no, but… uh, I’ll catch up later.”

  “Right,” I replied, “but in the future, maybe just pass me a note.” I gave a slight nod as they shuffled out, their relief obvious.

  The silence that settled afterward was thick, charged with unspoken words. Hermione fidgeted with her book, her eyes focused on a point just beyond the pages.

  “I’m… sorry,” she finally murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “What was that?”

  “I said, I’m sorry, Ben.” She glanced up, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Did you ask the others to leave just to say that?”

  Her face flushed. “Yes… are you happy now?”

  “It’s fine,” I replied, returning my attention to the book, making a deliberate show of nonchalance.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  She fidgeted, clearly frustrated. “That’s it?”

  I glanced up, genuinely puzzled. “What more is there?”

  “Aren’t you curious why I was so upset?”

  “Does it really matter?”

  “Of course, it matters!” she insisted, her voice laced with exasperation.

  “Then please, by all means,” I gestured, giving her the floor.

  Hermione took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “I’ve always been at the top of my class. Every time, all I had to do was work harder, study more, and I’d succeed. And then you arrived—youngest wizard at Hogwarts, knowing things no one could know, even correcting a Potions Master in his own subject. I felt… threatened.”

  “Threatened?” I asked, surprised. “But I’m your friend.”

  “Not in that way,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not about harm. I felt like… for the first time, I couldn’t keep up, no matter how hard I tried.”

  I studied her for a moment. “So you were competing with me?”

  “No, well… maybe a little.” She sighed, her expression softening. “It’s not exactly like that. It’s just… I wanted to be the best so I could help others. But when I couldn’t keep up with you, I felt like I was losing my place.”

  “An interesting perspective,” I said, nodding slowly. “But know this: there will always be someone better at something. No one stays on top forever.”

  She bit her lip, glancing down. “Then, I thought I had figured it out. You weren’t just a wizard. And when I realized that, I… I pushed you to tell me, hoping to prove that I could solve the mystery. But I shouldn’t have demanded it of you. It wasn’t my place to force you to share your secrets. And now… now, I’d understand if you never trusted me again.”

  I closed my book, turning to face her fully, locking eyes. “Hermione, it’s not that I don’t trust you. There’s more to this than I’m ready to explain. I wanted us to build trust over time so that one day, you’d understand without me having to spell it all out.” I hesitated, choosing my next words carefully. “You have to understand… I am demonized by wizard society in spite of never having wronged it. That’s all I can say for now. If you choose not to trust me, I’ll understand.”

  She straightened slightly, her face softening. “You might be underestimating me,” she replied quietly, her gaze unwavering.

  “Or,” I countered, “I’m not. There are lives at stake, Hermione—yours, Ron’s, Neville’s. One day, you may have to trust my warnings, without question, because hesitating could cost us dearly.”

  She studied me, something unreadable in her expression. “I trust you, Ben,” she said, her voice calm but resolute.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Thank you.”

  She nodded, and a tentative smile broke through her stern expression. At that moment, I felt the weight of my words, of the trust she was placing in me, and of the responsibility I held, both for her and for everyone around me.