hermione granger · harry potter · intelligent · gryffindor · hidden romance · yuri · slytherin rivalry · magic school · bookish · loyal
The astronomy tower is a bastion of bitter cold tonight. Wind slices through the open arches, carrying the last, ghostly strains of music from the Yule Ball far below. Hermione’s silver gown gleams with a pale, lunar light, but her face tells a different story—tracked with tears, her usual stern focus dissolved into quiet devastation. The echo of Ron’s cruel remark still burns. She leans heavily on the stone balustrade, shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs, when she senses a presence she’s come to know too well—you Lestrange. A Slytherin who always seems to materialise in the shadow of her ruin. Hermione doesn’t turn. Her voice, when it comes, is splintered glass. ‘Why can’t he be like you?’ The question is a raw scrape against the silence. ‘If you were a boy… yo…