"Those two things are often mutually exclusive," Hermione said with a smirk.
"If anyone can figure out how to balance the two, it would be you, Hermione." He
wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against his chest—breathing in the scent
of her as she leant into his embrace. It had been a dark night—one that would surely change
the war they were already knee deep in—and yet her comforting touch made him feel like
he was... home.
Knowing that the conversation with Hermione had been something he
remembered from Mia's memories all those years ago gave him hope. Sirius was gone—
there was nothing to be done about that—but perhaps not all was lost. Perhaps he could
still get Mia back, after all. Perhaps his future with Dora was not as bleak as he had
convinced himself it would be a year ago when Sirius died and everything fell to shit.
Hope stirred something inside of him.
"Where've you been?" Dora asked as he rushed down the staircase. "I stopped up
at Gryffindor Tower, and Harry said you'd left ages ago."
"I went up to the Astronomy Tower to think." He inhaled deep and, for the first
time in a year, allowed her scent to envelop him like the drug it was.
"And?"
"I ran into Hermione."
Dora dipped her head. "Is she okay?"
"She will be," he answered with a hint of a smile, something that felt strange
considering what had happened earlier that night. He tried to focus on Minerva and
Hermione's words: Dumbledore would be happy to know that there was a little love left in
the world.
"I think... I think everything might be okay," he said, letting the smile overtake
him.
Dora lifted a suspicious brow and reached for her wand as though she was worried
he had been Imperiused all of a sudden. "What happened?"