Walking down the empty corridor, Hermione let out a long sigh. The nerves that had been taut with fear and anger finally relaxed.
Dumbledore's reassurance was like a sedative, calming her wildly beating heart.
She turned her head to look at Lia beside her. The Cat-girl, still in her cat form, wore an oversized Gryffindor robe, revealing only a sliver of her fair calves and bare feet.
She walked steadily, her azure cat eyes, illuminated by the moonlight, no longer held their usual terror. Instead, they resembled two serene lakes, reflecting the stone walls of the ancient Castle.
"You seem… less afraid?" Hermione couldn't help but ask.
Lia stopped and looked up at her.
Indeed, those eyes no longer held that fragile panic, as if they would shatter at a touch.
She raised her hand and gently touched Hermione's brow, where faint lines from a recent frown still lingered.
"Because, I smelled it."
Lia's voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear.
"Smelled what?"
"Headmaster Dumbledore's scent." Lia's nose twitched slightly. "His scent is like a winter fireplace, and like old books freshly sunned. Very warm, very reliable."
"In his plan, there is no scent of despair. Although the web of death is still there, its edges have been reinforced with golden threads by him. Very tough, not easily torn."
Hermione was stunned. Lia was interpreting the dangers and opportunities of this world in a way she couldn't understand, and she was beginning to believe in the "safety" she perceived.
Back in the dormitory, Parvati and Lavender were already asleep.
The fire in the fireplace had dwindled, leaving only flickering dark red embers.
Hermione took a dry towel from the bathroom and placed it over Lia's wet silver hair, gently drying it for her.
Water droplets ran down the ends of her hair, dampening the collar of her pajamas.
Lia narrowed her eyes in enjoyment, leaning against Hermione.
"Hermione," Lia suddenly spoke, looking up at her while lying on Hermione's lap, "what exactly is this 'love' Headmaster Dumbledore spoke of?"
This question made Hermione pause in her actions.
"He said love is the most powerful magic." Lia's eyes were pure, as if she was exploring a profound magical theory.
"But I've seen Tom's memories. He doesn't know what love is either. Is Headmaster Dumbledore trying to say that 'love' can counteract 'hate'?"
Hermione's heart ached at these words.
She had been too engrossed lately, forgetting about Lord Voldemort.
She had overlooked that the most dangerous war was currently raging within Lia.
"Yes." Hermione leaned down and kissed Lia's forehead, leaving a damp mark. "Love is a kind of guardianship, a selfless giving, a… determination that even if the whole world is against you, I will stand by your side."
"Like you are with me?" Lia asked.
"…Mm." Hermione's voice was a little muffled.
"Then, is what I feel for you also love?"
Lia looked up, their cheeks so close they could feel each other's breath.
"I want to protect you, I don't want you to be harmed in any way. The thought of you being in danger makes the blood in my body run cold. Is this also love?"
Hermione didn't answer, but gently met Lia's lips.
This kiss was no longer as assertive as the one at the ball, nor was it filled with desire like their usual private moments. Instead, it was filled with an indescribable tenderness and comfort.
After a long while, their lips parted.
Hermione rested her forehead against Lia's, looking into her moist blue eyes. "Yes." She gave the answer in a hoarse voice, "This is also love."
…In the following days, the atmosphere at Hogwarts became strangely peculiar again.
The Triwizard Tournament was approaching its final task, and emotions of anticipation, excitement, and tension spread among the students.
However, in Lia and Hermione's eyes, beneath this lively facade lay an undercurrent of murderous intent.
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