A special thank you to Corey for commissioning this chapter—it's always a pleasure creating something unique for you!
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The train rumbled steadily along the tracks, the countryside blurring past the windows of the Hogwarts Express. In a cozy compartment near the middle of the train, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley sat surrounded by an assortment of sweets from the trolley, Chocolate Frogs, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans scattered between them. Ron also had a slightly squashed corned beef sandwich from home, untouched.
The door to their compartment suddenly slid open with a sharp snap. Standing there was a girl with bushy brown hair, already wearing her Hogwarts robes, though they looked meticulously neat compared to Ron's slightly wrinkled ones. Her face was set in a look of mild authority, her gaze sweeping the cabin before resting on Harry.
"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one," she announced briskly, her voice precise and clear.
Harry shook his head, offering a polite, "No, sorry."
Ron, with his mouth full of a Chocolate Frog, shook his head too, barely looking up. "Nope."
Hermione frowned, her eyes narrowing slightly as they flicked to Ron's dirty nose and the half-eaten sandwich on his lap. "You've got dirt on your face," she pointed out with a sniff, clearly unimpressed.
Ron flushed, rubbing at his nose in confusion. "Wha—oh. Right."
Ignoring him, Hermione turned back to Harry, her expression softening slightly. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you? I've read all about you. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. It's nice to meet you."
Harry felt his ears heat up but managed a polite, "Nice to meet you too." He found himself captivated by her bright, intelligent eyes and the confident way she spoke.
Hermione offered a small smile, lingering for a moment before saying, "You're mentioned in at least four different books, Harry. I've read all about you. Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
Harry nodded, feeling both surprised and a bit embarrassed. "Really? I didn't know that."
Ron, determined not to be left out, pulled out his wand and waved it dramatically. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!" Nothing happened. Scabbers remained stubbornly grey and limp in his lap.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's a real spell? It doesn't sound very effective, does it? I've tried a few spells myself and they've all worked for me."
Ron flushed. "Well... it was a joke spell, really..."
Hermione frowned, eyeing Scabbers disapprovingly. "Honestly, a rat? They're hardly magical pets. Cats and owls are much more useful."
Ignoring Ron's deepening scowl, she turned back to Harry and drew her wand. "Here, watch this. Oculus Reparo!"
Harry's glasses instantly mended themselves, the cracks vanishing as if they had never been there. He blinked in surprise. "Wow, that's brilliant!"
Hermione beamed. "It was quite simple, really. You should try learning some spells yourself, Harry."
Harry watched in quiet admiration, feeling that there was something special about Hermione that made him want to know her better.
Harry, noticing the pile of sweets from the trolley between them, held out a Chocolate Frog. "Want one? They're really good."
Hermione shook her head, her lips pressing together in a polite smile. "No, thank you. My parents are dentists. They wouldn't approve of all this sugar."
Harry shrugged. "They're not here to know, are they?"
Hermione blinked, caught off guard by his casual defiance. For the first time, she wondered if Harry might be a bit of a bad boy. Her cheeks tinged pink as she glanced away, brushing her hair back nervously.
Meanwhile, Harry felt an odd flutter in his chest. Hermione was the first girl who had ever paid him this much attention, and he realized he liked it. He couldn't help but remember what Hagrid had told him about his father, James, falling for his mother, Lily. Was this what that felt like?
Harry, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the attention from Hermione, found his thoughts drifting to something Hagrid had mentioned briefly during their first meeting. The words had stuck with him ever since, and now, they resurfaced in his mind as he watched Hermione talk to Ron.
It was the night Hagrid brought him his letter to Hogwarts, the moment Hagrid first told him about his parents. Harry remembered how he had hesitated, then finally asked.
"Hagrid," Harry had said, his voice quiet with uncertainty, "What were my parents like? I don't remember them at all."
Hagrid had looked at him for a long moment, his face softening. "Yer mum, Lily," he had said gently, "she was brilliant, lad—smart, kind, always thinking of others. She had this fierce loyalty to her friends. And yer father, James, well, he was a bit of a handful, always joking around, but when it came down to it, he'd do anything for those he loved."
Harry had nodded, listening intently, craving more. He wanted to know every detail, as though the words might bring his parents back to life.
"They met when they were at school," Hagrid continued. "Lily was clever—she knew a lot of things about magic that even some of the older students didn't. James, though, fell for her the first time he saw her, on the train. He used to say that he knew right then and there she was the one."
Harry had been taken aback. "But they never met each other before this?"
Hagrid had laughed, the sound full of affection. "James didn't care about that. He was madly in love with her, and nothing else mattered. He liked her because she was smart, not because of where she came from. The funny thing is, Harry, yer family had this habit of falling for clever girls. They were always the ones who caught his attention. And Lily—well, she didn't make it easy for him."
"How?" Harry had asked, genuinely curious.
"Oh, she was tough on him at first," Hagrid said, a twinkle in his eye. "She didn't fall for his charms right away, not like the others. But James, he was persistent. He kept at it, making her laugh, doing everything he could to prove he was worth her time. Took him years, but in the end, he got his wish."
Now, as Harry sat in the cabin, he couldn't help but think of the flutter in his chest whenever Hermione spoke. Was this what Hagrid had meant? Was this what his father had felt on his first ride to Hogwarts? Harry glanced over at Hermione, still animatedly speaking with Ron. Could it really be that simple? Could this feeling of warmth, this connection, be something he was meant to experience too?
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It was Hallowe'en morning when Harry, Ron, and Hermione woke to the warm, inviting scent of pumpkin filling the halls. It reminded Harry of cozy autumn days spent back in the Muggle world, but here at Hogwarts, it was a sign of something far more magical. The feast would be later, but for now, there was Charms class to look forward to—a class that had, at least in Harry's eyes, been a complete revelation. They were finally going to try making things fly.
Professor Flitwick, perched as usual on top of a stack of books, beamed at the class. "Today, we'll be starting with levitation, one of the most useful charms in any witch or wizard's repertoire!" he squeaked in his high-pitched voice. "You've all been eagerly waiting to try this, I know. It's time to see what you can do!"
Harry grinned. He'd seen Professor Flitwick levitate Neville's toad earlier in the year, sending it zooming around the room. Now, they'd get to try it for themselves. It was as if they were finally taking a step toward the real magic they had dreamed of since getting their Hogwarts letters.
Professor Flitwick raised his arms. "Pairs, please! You'll be practicing with a feather to start. Harry, you're with Seamus. Ron, you'll be with Hermione."
Harry had a brief moment of panic when he saw Neville glance his way, but then he relaxed when Seamus clapped him on the back, grinning. "Lucky, eh?" Seamus muttered under his breath. "I've got a good feeling about this."
Ron, on the other hand, looked less than pleased. Hermione, standing beside him, had her arms crossed and a sharp expression on her face. It was hard to tell who was more frustrated—Ron, who had been silently avoiding her, or Hermione, who had barely spoken to either of them since the incident with Harry's broomstick.
"Now, remember the wrist flick, everyone," Professor Flitwick reminded, his voice cheerful. "Swish and flick—just like we've been practicing. And don't forget your pronunciation, it's important! We don't want any incidents like poor Wizard Baruffio, who accidentally said 's' instead of 'f' and ended up with a buffalo on his chest!"
Harry barely paid attention to the professor's words. He was already focusing on the task at hand: getting that feather to fly. He and Seamus raised their wands in sync, trying the motion again and again.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry whispered, flicking his wrist with precision, but the feather barely budged. He tried again, harder this time, but still no movement.
"Come on, Harry," Seamus muttered. "Maybe if we get the words right this time, we'll have better luck."
On the next table, Ron was in a similar predicament. He waved his wand wildly, shouting, "Wingardium Leviosa!" His arms flailed about like a windmill, but the feather didn't lift an inch. It just stayed there, unmoved.
Hermione's eyes narrowed as she watched him, and Harry could feel the tension between them building. She couldn't keep quiet any longer.
"Ron, you're saying it wrong!" she said, her voice sharp. "It's Winggar-dium Levi-o-sa! Make the 'gar' nice and long, not 'gar' like you're choking on something!"
Ron glared at her, clearly annoyed. "I'm trying my best, Hermione. If you're so clever, why don't you do it?"
Hermione's face flushed, but she didn't back down. She rolled up her sleeves and, with a flick of her wand, said calmly, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The feather lifted into the air with a smooth motion, rising above their heads. It hovered effortlessly for a few seconds before gently floating back down to the desk.
"Wonderful!" Professor Flitwick cheered, clapping his tiny hands. "Very well done, Miss Granger! Ten points for Gryffindor!"
Ron's expression darkened, and Harry could see the sourness creep across his face. "Typical," Ron muttered under his breath, loud enough for Harry to hear. "Can't even get one simple charm right..."
By the end of class, Ron was in a terrible mood. As the students packed their things, he muttered to Harry, "It's no wonder no one can stand her. She's a nightmare, honestly. Think she's better than everyone just 'cause she knows a bunch of stuff."
Harry's stomach twisted. He glanced over at Hermione, who was hurriedly gathering her things, trying not to let the conversation affect her. Her shoulders were tense, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Harry's heart sank, and before he could think it through, he turned to Ron.
"I think she heard you," Harry said, his voice low and uncomfortable.
Ron shrugged, clearly not concerned. "So what? She's got no friends anyway. You've seen how she acts like she's better than us. It's no surprise she doesn't fit in."
Harry's eyes flicked to Hermione as she turned to leave, her face pale, and his anger flared. He knew Ron hadn't meant to be cruel, but the words had stung—and it hurt to see Hermione so upset. She wasn't like that; she was simply trying to be part of something, to prove herself just like everyone else.
Harry's footsteps echoed in the hallway as he pushed past Ron, a sense of urgency driving him forward. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, every beat an unsettling reminder of the look on Hermione's face as she turned to leave. Her eyes—filled with hurt—had sparked something deep inside him, a protective instinct, and he couldn't just stand there, doing nothing.
He had to find her. He had to make sure she was okay.
"She's not like that," Harry thought to himself, his brows furrowing. "She's just trying to fit in. She wants to be part of something. It's not easy for her, being the odd one out."
He remembered the way Hermione had tried to help them with their charms homework, the way she wanted so badly to be accepted despite everything. She was brilliant, kind, and—despite her sometimes overbearing nature—had a heart that clearly cared deeply for those around her.
Harry's stomach twisted as he pushed through the crowd, eyes scanning every face. "What if she's gone to the bathroom? What if she's locking herself away because of what Ron said?" he wondered, panic creeping into his thoughts.
It didn't take long before Harry spotted her, just ahead, moving toward the girls' bathroom. Her steps were slow, and she didn't seem to notice him approaching.
"Hermione!" Harry called softly, not wanting to startle her.
She stopped but didn't turn around. Harry took a few more steps forward, closing the distance. "Hermione, wait," he said, his voice a little stronger now. "I… I just wanted to apologize."
She stayed silent, her back still turned to him, but Harry could see her shoulders shake as if she were holding back tears.
"Look, I know what Ron said was terrible," he continued, his words coming out in a rush, almost frantic. "But you have to know, he didn't mean it like that. He doesn't understand, Hermione. He's just frustrated."
Hermione's voice was small, barely a whisper as she spoke. "I don't know what to believe anymore, Harry. It's like no one ever really… sees me. Like I'm just too different."
Harry's heart broke at her words. "That's not true. You're not too different, Hermione. You're special. You've got something that a lot of people don't—you're brave, you're brilliant, and you're kind. And I… I'm lucky to have you as a friend."
He stepped closer, his heart hammering in his chest. "I don't care that you're different. I care about you. You don't have to be anything else, you just have to be yourself."
There was a long pause, and Harry wasn't sure if she was going to say anything at all. But then, Hermione slowly turned around, her tear-streaked face softening slightly.
"You really think that?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Harry nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "Of course I do. I… I think you're amazing."
He was standing in front of her now, so close he could feel the heat of her presence, hear the gentle hitch of her breath. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Hermione's gaze softened as she wiped her eyes, a small, uncertain smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I don't… I don't know what I'd do without you, Harry."
Harry felt a warmth spread through him, and without thinking, he reached out to take her hand. "You don't have to worry about that. I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."
Her eyes met his, and in that moment, everything around them seemed to fade away. The noise of the hallway, the confusion, the fear—all of it was gone.
"Can you smell that?" Harry asked, scrunching his nose in distaste.
Hermione sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, it's a girls' bathroom. Honestly, what could it possibly be?"
Before Harry could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps and a low, guttural growl reached their ears. Hermione's eyes widened as the stench grew even more unbearable.
"Do you hear that?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Harry nodded, his heart racing. "Yeah, and I don't think it's just a bad smell."
Harry's eyes widened as he suddenly heard it—an unmistakable low grunting, followed by heavy footfalls echoing outside the corridor. He glanced toward the end of the corridor.
And then it emerged into the moonlight. A creature that could only be described as monstrous—a troll.
But before either of them could react, the troll reached the bathroom door. With a mighty swing of its club, it bashed against the doorframe, splintering the wood with terrifying ease. The sound of the door being battered into the walls made the whole room shake, and the troll let out a low growl of satisfaction, stepping forward as if to force its way inside.
The troll was enormous, its thick, tree-trunk legs pounding against the stone floor as it lumbered toward them. Its skin was a dull, sickly grey, and its bald head perched atop its hulking body like some grotesque coconut. The creature's beady eyes blinked in confusion, its enormous hands gripping a massive wooden club that scraped along the floor with each step.
"Hermione…" Harry whispered, his voice shaky. "We need to get out of here. Now."
"Quick!" Hermione gasped, already pulling Harry toward the far corner of the room. "What are we going to do?"
Harry's mind raced. He had no idea how to stop a troll. He could barely comprehend what was happening as the bathroom door caved under the force of another strike. With a deafening crash, the troll forced its way in, the door splintering into pieces.
The creature stepped into the room, its club raised high, ready to strike. The smell of the troll was unbearable, suffocating.
"Get back!" Harry yelled, pushing Hermione further behind him. His mind whirled, his eyes scanning the room for something—anything—that could help. But there was nothing.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Hermione suddenly shouted, her wand pointing toward a heavy sink. The object rose into the air and she hurled it toward the troll's face. The troll blinked in confusion, its eyes darting toward the flying sink just as it collided with its skull. The troll stumbled back a step, momentarily dazed.
"Nice one, Hermione!" Harry yelled, seizing the opportunity. He grabbed a nearby pipe from the wreckage of the sink and hurled it at the troll's chest, hoping to distract it further.
The troll let out a grunt as it turned toward the new threat, its beady eyes narrowing. It let out an angry roar, shaking the bathroom as it lumbered toward them, but it was slower now, disoriented.
"Keep it distracted, Hermione!" Harry shouted. "I'll figure something out!"
Hermione nodded, and she waved her wand again, creating another distraction by levitating a large piece of debris in front of the troll. Harry's heart raced as he thought quickly. He knew they had to move fast.
With a deep breath, he made a split-second decision. He ran directly at the troll, ducking under its club and leaping onto its back with surprising agility.
The troll let out a screech of surprise, and Harry immediately clung to its rough skin, his wand still in his hand. He jabbed his wand into one of the troll's large nostrils, hoping for a lucky shot. "Stupefy!" he cried.
The spell hit the troll in the face, but it barely seemed to notice. It roared in pain, swinging its club wildly, and Harry's grip tightened in desperation.
"Hermione, do something!" Harry shouted, struggling to hold on as the troll's body jerked beneath him.
Hermione, now more focused than ever, shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!" She levitated the troll's club high into the air and dropped it with a heavy thud onto the troll's head.
The troll staggered and collapsed to the floor with a loud crash, its massive body shaking the bathroom walls. Harry scrambled off its back, panting heavily. They had done it—they had defeated the troll.
Hermione slowly lowered her wand, her breathing as ragged as Harry's. "Is it... dead?" she asked, her voice still shaky from the adrenaline.
Harry wiped his brow, glancing at the fallen troll. "No, just knocked out."
They both stood there in silence for a moment, the adrenaline still pumping through their veins. The bathroom was a mess—sinks were smashed, tiles cracked—but they had survived.
Hermione finally let out a shaky laugh. "Well, that was a bit of a disaster."
Harry gave her a sideways glance, his lips curling into a grin. "Well, if this is your first time fighting a troll, at least it's in a girl's bathroom where I shouldn't be. I guess I'm really a bad boy, huh?"
Hermione snorted, though her expression was still tense. "If that's your idea of bad, I think you need to work on your image. But thank you for coming after me."
Harry chuckled softly, stepping closer to her. "You're welcome. But you should know—trouble follows me around." His eyes twinkled mischievously.
Hermione's face softened, and she shook her head slightly. "You really are a bad influence, Harry Potter."
"Maybe," he replied, his voice lowering as he took another step toward her, "but that's what makes life interesting, don't you think?"
Hermione's heart raced in her chest, and she found herself leaning toward him, drawn to his confidence, the warmth in his gaze. She let out a breath before her lips brushed against his in a gentle kiss.
Harry was taken aback for a moment but then responded with a soft, lingering kiss of his own.
It was gentle, hesitant at first, as though neither of them quite believed what was happening. But when they pulled apart, their gazes locked, and Harry knew—without a doubt—that this was real. They were something more than just friends now. They were a couple. They were together.
And as Harry held Hermione close, he couldn't help but think that, for once, maybe he was exactly where he was meant to be.
When they pulled apart, Harry smiled at her, his breath shallow. "I guess we're both a bit bad, then."
Hermione blushed, meeting his gaze with a smile of her own. "I think so."
After their brief but intense snogging session, Harry and Hermione pulled away from each other, both breathing heavily. Their eyes met, and for a moment, everything seemed to fade away. It felt right. It felt like this was where they were meant to be.
But the quiet moment didn't last long. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the girls' bathroom. Before either of them could react, the door creaked open. Professor McGonagall, followed by a very concerned-looking Professor Flitwick, stepped into the room, their eyes widening at the sight of the two students standing there, breathless and disheveled.
"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" McGonagall's voice was stern, but it lacked her usual sharpness. The sight of the defeated troll in the corner and the wreckage around the room seemed to momentarily stun her.
Flitwick's eyes darted to the broken door. "Did you... defeat that thing by yourselves? In here? Without any help?"
Hermione quickly stepped forward, nervously explaining, "We—well, we saw the troll and... Harry saved me. We didn't want it to hurt anyone."
Professor McGonagall frowned, taking in the scene with narrowed eyes. She paused, glancing between Harry and Hermione before she added, "And then there's the matter of the... kiss."
The sudden shift in her tone made Harry's stomach twist. "You two are in the girls' bathroom, Potter!" McGonagall said sharply. "This is highly inappropriate!"
Hermione immediately flushed, but Harry stepped in quickly. "It's not what it looks like, Professor. We were... trying to fight the troll. The kiss just happened after."
McGonagall looked from Harry to Hermione, then back at the troll, and let out a long sigh. "You both get points for bravery and quick thinking. I'll admit, defeating a troll is impressive. But kissing in a girls' bathroom? Ten points from Gryffindor for that. We cannot condone such behavior."
Flitwick nodded, a bit more leniently, though still a bit flustered. "Yes, yes, well, points for the troll. Ten points for Gryffindor, for managing to deal with the troll and saving the day." He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"And as for the rest of it," McGonagall continued, "you both will need to report to the hospital wing. You've sustained some injuries, I trust?" She shot them a look that brooked no argument.
As Harry and Hermione nodded, McGonagall gave a final, pointed glance at them both. "We'll discuss your behavior later. For now, off you go."
The two students quickly made their way to the hospital wing, still processing everything that had just happened.
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