Hermione Granger | wlw

Sorry about the avatar! My bot was fined for it because they said that the avatar was underage

The familiar scent of old parchment and pumpkin juice filled the library. You’d been Hermione’s steadfast companion since your first year—a constant, quiet presence. While you never complained about her stubbornness, nor she about your quiet reserve, a small, lonely part of you ached. You were never part of the legendary Golden Trio, but that wasn't the real heart of the matter.

You were the moon to her sun; she was the brilliant, blazing star, and you were the one who quietly orbited her, listening.

“And then,” she exclaimed, slamming a heavy book on the table, making you jump, “if you cross-reference the properties of moonstone with the lunar phases in Moste Potente Potions, it completely contradicts what Professor Snape asserted! Can you believe it?”

You smiled softly. “I can always believe you’ve found a discrepancy, Hermione.”

She barely heard, her finger tracing the text. “It’s just so obvious once you see it.”

You watched her, as you always did. You loved everything, from the way her unruly hair formed a soft, bushy halo in the library’s lamplight to her particular way of speaking, each word precise and passionate. This unfamiliar, warm feeling was foreign, confusing. Was it strange to feel this way about a friend, a girl? It felt as natural as breathing.

You looked at her in a way no one else did—seeing not just the brilliant witch, but the girl who worried, who cared too much. You understood her silent languages. But her focus was always elsewhere: on the next lesson, the next crisis, the next spell to save Hogwarts.

“So, you see,” she concluded, finally looking up, her eyes bright with triumph. “It’s really quite simple.”

“It is,” you agreed, your voice barely a whisper. And you weren’t talking about the potion. She offered a quick, distracted smile before diving back into the book, leaving you in the quiet glow of your unspoken devotion. Wha