Amazed by how he managed to get the right answers by some wayward analogy, Harry just sat silently. He wouldn't have just ruined her day. It was like he would be giving up the last eight months or so- the summer, the evenings, the holiday break and the ball- without second thought. He really screwed up this time. "Oh god, I've been a right arse, haven't I?"
"That you have, Harry."
"So now that I've figured out the problem, how do I go about apologizing to her?" Harry asked, staring blankly into space.
"The way I see it, you owe her an entire day. Soon. Valentine's day would be best and the most meaningful, but that's on a Tuesday this year. This might be something worth skiving off the day's classes and getting a few detentions for, if you get my drift."
"Lucky I'm a Triwizard Champion, I can skive off whenever I want, though I don't think Professor Moody will appreciate it too much."
"And you'd better start with an apology right away. She probably doesn't want to look at you, so do it in writing. And promise her something special on Tuesday to make up for it. Did you just say Professor Moody?"
"Yeah, the retired Auror Moody is our DADA teacher this year. I'll tell you about it later; I've got some letters to write. Thanks for the advice, Sirius."
"No problem, pup. Next time you come back, bring Hermione with you."
The sky was dark by the time Harry returned to the castle. It was well past dinner time, but curfew hadn't started yet. Taking a peek at the map again, he saw Hermione on her bed again. Has she had anything to eat? She must have. He decided to visit the kitchens again just in case to pick something up. The elves suggested "comfort food" and brought out a small shepherd's pie and a butterbeer. Wrapping the dish and utensils up in a small box, he also asked for some bacon before heading up to the Owlery.
"Hedwig? I think I'll need your help tonight. Come with me," he said as he stretched out his free arm. Hedwig happily hopped down and they marched back to the dorms.
"Sparkling," was the password he gave to the Fat Lady. The twins had suggested that one to the prefects.
The portrait looked at him, and then to Hedwig, and said, "You know, it's traditional to take your parchment to your owl instead of your owl to your parchment."
"It's almost curfew and I've got a few letter to write," Harry replied dryly as he stepped inside.
"Well, you should just wait until tomorrow to deliver your letters, then!" the Fat Lady cried as she closed behind him. He quickly made his way past the few Gryffindor couples who were brave enough to snog in the common room, which included Fred and Angelina.
"Thanks for the endorsement, mate!" Fred called out to Harry. "We sold out of our entire stock of Valentine's products in one day because of you!" Harry only nodded in response. When he finally made it to his room, Hedwig flew off his arm and settled on the bedpost. Harry immediately sat down on his desk and began writing.
Dear Hermione,
I know I said something completely stupid yesterday. I shouldn't have considered using your device just so I could be reckless with the tournament. If I had to choose between you and winning, I'd choose you any time. I'm sorry for forgetting that. I'm not very good at putting all this down in a letter, so what I'd really like to do is apologize to you, face to face.
I'm worried sick about you right now. I don't mean to sound like Mrs. Weasley, but you should have something to eat. The girls were saying you didn't leave your room. I got some meat pie for you.
Love,
Harry.
Harry then tied the note to Hedwig's leg along with the dinner, and instructed her, "Make sure she gets it, alright? Wait with her until she writes back, but don't pester her about it. Don't peck her or bite her or anything if she doesn't want to write, but stay with her until she does, okay?" Hedwig quickly flew out the window and immediately made her way to the girl's side of the dorm. Ten minutes later, Harry was pacing back and forth in his room, wondering if Hermione would accept his apology. After another ten, he was lying on his bed, dreading the prospect that he'd ruined everything. He was just about to give up when Hedwig came soaring back inside, dropping a piece of parchment on top of him.
Dear Harry,
Do you know angry I am at you right now? You were almost as bad as Ron for a moment yesterday. I was scared you were using me just like Ron used me for his essays. I was scared out of my wits when I thought I had nearly lost both of my best friends at school and I spent the rest of the day wondering if it was worth keeping friends if I was only good for being a tool for them. It took a good night's rest, and some more wallowing in self-pity in the morning before I finally came to my senses and remembered how much you've done for me, too. I finally got ready to confront you this afternoon and then I hear you've run off somewhere! Now we've no time for ANY private discussion until classes end tomorrow evening.
I want to ask you something before you talk to me tomorrow: What is the one thing you want most from me?
Still open to the idea of forgiveness,
Hermione.
P.S. I did have myself some dinner, and I noticed you weren't there either. You didn't really expect me not to eat anything all day, do you? Thank you for the pie anyways.
Harry smacked his head. Talk about bad timing! He had just missed her. She did pose a tricky question for him, though. What did he want from her the most? He was always thankful for her intelligence, which had saved him often, but it wasn't as if he couldn't learn from his professors, other than Snape. She had stuck by him through thick and thin. Her friendship and loyalty was the strongest of anyone he'd befriended, but that wasn't something he could just demand from her. Then there was the time he spent with her. Just spending the time alone with her helped calm him down and wash away his worries. Would it feel nearly as soothing if she wasn't so exceptional in every other way as well? How could he narrow any of it down to just one trait? He dipped his quill into his ink bottle and started on another letter.
.
.
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