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Harry Potter and the Second Chance - Chapter 75 - The Chat Part 1
🕑 Added 2025-06-30 20:40:13 +0000 UTCThe next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows in the Gryffindor dorm room, but Harry rolled over and tried to go back to sleep feeling exhausted from the previous night. He was eventually stirred awake not by the light but by a soft knock on the frame of his bed and a voice calling out gently.
“Harry? Just saw Lavender and she said Hermione already went down for breakfast,” Ron’s voice came from just outside the half drawn curtains of his bed. “Her and I are heading down in a couple minutes. You coming?”
Groggy and blinking the sleep from his eyes as he propped himself up, Harry nodded before remembering Ron couldn’t see him. “Yeah, give me a sec.”
Ten minutes later, he found himself walking into the Great Hall alongside Ron and Lavender, rubbing sleep from his eyes and wondering why Hermione hadn’t waited for him. As they approached the Gryffindor table, his eyes scanned for her and found her immediately, seated in the middle of the table, by herself, with an untouched plate of food in front of her, her gaze unfocused and expression distant.
Harry frowned and quickened his pace, sliding into the seat beside her. “Hey,” he said softly. “You alright?”
Hermione startled, her shoulders jumping slightly as if she hadn’t noticed anyone coming near. She turned slowly toward him, eyes wide as she nodded. “I’m okay although when I woke up I thought I should eat,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “But after getting here ... well, I have been staring at the plate for over fifteen minutes and just didn’t feel like eating.”
Ron's eyebrows rose as he looked between them, but, ignoring his protests on wanting to stay there, Lavender gently tugged him along further down the table, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.
Harry looked at her, concerned. He placed his hand over hers gently. “Hermione ... what’s going on?”
She stared at his hand for several seconds, not moving. Then, slowly, she looked at him. “It’s nothing. I’m okay,” she said, but her voice was too hollow to be convincing.
Harry didn’t press but his brow furrowed. “Alright,” he said gently. “Well … you should eat. It’s a long day ahead.”
He slowly began to eat, though his eyes never strayed far from her. After a few minutes, he noticed Hermione picking at her food, slowly taking a few bites. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Eventually, Harry pushed his plate away and turned to her again. “Did you want go now?”
Hermione looked up at him, opened her mouth as if to say something, then stopped herself. She nodded, pushing her own plate aside. “Yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
They rose and left the Great Hall, weaving through the mass of students, some who were just arriving, only to nearly bump into someone immediately after exiting the room. It was Fleur, looking stunning as always with her silvery-blonde hair catching the light and her blue eyes lighting up when she saw them.
“’Arry! ‘Ermione!” she exclaimed, smiling broadly. “Do you ‘ave any plans later? I was going to see if we could go for a walk …”
Hermione quickly shook her head. “Harry and I are going to talk.”
Fleur blinked at the unexpected sharpness in her tone. Her eyes flicked from Hermione’s face to Harry’s and then back again. A flicker of realization passed through her expression.
“Ah,” Fleur said, her confusion softening into something gentler. “If you need anything ...”
Hermione hesitated for a second before shaking her head. “Thanks Fleur but it’s ok, this is just a conversation we need to have.”
Harry looked between the two of them confused. Fleur gave Hermione a brief nod before brushing a hand over Harry’s shoulder and gliding past them into the Great Hall. He turned back to Hermione, his brow creased.
“Are you sure everything is alright?” he asked again.
“There’s just ... a lot going on,” she admitted, her voice slightly subdued.
He reached out and squeezed her hand gently in reassurance, but to his surprise, she flinched. It was a small, involuntary movement, but he noticed. Still, she didn’t pull away. It took a couple of seconds but it appeared that she had to force herself to relax, before her fingers tentatively curled around his.
She looked at him with a conflicted expression before, finally, giving him a small nod. “Thank you,” she said. “You really are amazing.”
Harry blinked, surprised by the compliment. “I … well alright …”
She led him up the stairs, and though he tried once or twice to engage her in conversation, she was unusually quiet answering with one or two word replies. Eventually, he quietly fell into step beside her, giving her hand another small squeeze now and then.
They passed portraits and tapestries, winding their way through the castle until Hermione stopped outside a familiar stretch of blank wall. Harry raised an eyebrow as she walked back and forth three times.
When the door appeared, she stepped forward and opened it, holding it for him.
Stepping into the room, he saw that the Room of Requirement had transformed into a tidy, well-lit classroom. Desks and chairs were arranged in perfectly neat rows, and a blackboard stood at the front of the room. But where he assumed the teachers desk should be, a curtain hung over something tall and rectangular.
Harry chuckled as he looked around. “Of course you’d bring me to a classroom to have a chat.”
Hermione actually smiled faintly at that, even though it was just a brief smile. “I wanted somewhere that I felt comfortable.” She said.
She made her way to the front of the room and approached the object behind the curtain. With a deep breath, she pulled the fabric aside, revealing a tall mirror with a smooth, glimmering surface.
Harry tilted his head. “A mirror?”
“Well … I got the idea from you,” Hermione said softly, glancing at him. “There’s a lot going on in my head right now, and I thought … well rather than try to just explain, it might be easier to show you.”
Harry nodded slowly and took the seat in front of the mirror, where he was quickly joined by Hermione. As they sat, the lights in the room dimmed slightly, and the surface of the mirror shimmered and memories began to play across the surface.
Unlike his memories that only had things that he was focusing on in detail, the clarity of her memories were remarkable.
He saw their first meeting on the train, before that memory dissolved and he watched himself nearly fall off his broom. He sat beside Hermione as they watched handfuls of memories of her noticing him in their classes. Then he watched the moment he rushed through the flames to confront Quirrell.
Next came a moment that hit Harry deeply, Hermione’s memory of waking up in the hospital wing after being petrified in second year, seeing his eyes right above hers. He watched her perspective of himself cast the Patronus to drive off the dementors. Then a quieter moment, that he had no memory had happened. He watched as Hermione and Lavender were having a conversation, a conversation that had either happened at the end of last year or early this year.
Lavender looked directly at Hermione with a smile on her face, “So do you like Harry?”.
Hermione tried to deny it, but Lavender had laughed knowingly. “Oh girl … you like him.”
Then came their first kiss and the Yule Ball, replayed from her perspective.
As the image of the Yule Ball faded, Hermione reached up and paused the projection. The mirror stilled, and Harry turned toward her.
“Hermione that was amazing,” he said honestly, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at the mirror, visibly tense.
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s obvious how much I care about you, how much I’ve always cared for you,” she murmured pointing at the mirror. “But …”
She trailed off, her hands clenched in her lap. She looked back toward the mirror. Under her breath, Harry thought he heard her say, “I hope you don’t think less of me.”
His eyes shot up and he was about to say something when the mirror flickered to life again.
An image of Fleur filled the screen.
Harry froze in confusion.
He glanced at Hermione, who had gone very still.
The memories continued but their focus had obviously shifted. Her and Fleur talking in the courtyard, laughing in the library, sharing quiet moments together. They grew gradually more intimate. And then …
Harry’s eyes widened realizing what this was leading up to before he saw it.
The last memory began to play. In it, Fleur and Hermione were close, their hands brushing. Fleur whispered something Harry couldn’t hear and then they kissed.
The room was utterly silent.
Harry stared at the image, feeling his breath catch slightly in his throat. His mind reeled, trying to process what he’d just seen.
Hermione raised her wand and stopped the memories.
He turned slowly toward Hermione. Her expression was taut, her hands white-knuckled as they gripped the edge of the desk. She refused to meet his gaze.
“... Hermione?” he asked quietly.
She finally looked at him, her eyes wide, vulnerable, terrified.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she said, voice shaking. “And part of me didn’t want to tell you. But I had to show you. I didn’t want to keep it from you You deserved to know.”
Harry took a breath, exhaled slowly, and leaned back, mind racing.
He looked from her to the frozen image in the mirror, Fleur’s face inches from Hermione’s. His brow furrowed in confusion, emotions colliding in his chest. “What … what does this mean?” he asked, his voice rough around the edges. “I thought we were good. Weren’t we?”
Hermione nodded her head vigorously, her curls bouncing as her eyes welled up with tears. “We are … we were … I don’t know,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. “I care for you more than anything, Harry. You’re the best part of my life.”
He stared at her, heart pounding as he watched her wipe at her tears with trembling hands.
She took a breath and tried to steady herself. “I’ve always been a little guarded around people. Even with the few friends I had, I’ve always kept parts of myself hidden. I was always worried what they’d think if they really saw me. What would they think if they saw who I actually was. But earlier this year, for the first time in my life, someone did. You did. You seemed to see who I really was.”
She sniffled and looked up at him, her eyes shining. “And then the Yule Ball happened, and it felt like you completely knocked down my walls. You made me feel like I didn’t need to hide anymore. For the first time in my entire life, I felt comfortable around someone who wasn’t my parents. I finally felt comfortable being myself and I felt like I didn’t care about what anyone else might think. And because of that …” Her voice cracked. “I love you, Harry.”
She froze, mouth open slightly, as though she hadn’t meant to say it. Her eyes went wide, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
Harry’s eyes widened too. “You …?”
“I didn’t mean to say it,” she muttered behind her fingers, then slowly pulled her hand away. “But I do. I love you, Harry James Potter.”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, in spite of everything, Harry smiled. Not a full, smile but one filled with warmth. He reached across the space between them and took her hands gently in his.
She let him, her hands trembling slightly in his grasp.
But after a few seconds, Harry’s expression faltered. His eyes drifted back toward the mirror and the image frozen there. He swallowed hard, then looked back to Hermione.
“What was all that about, then?” he asked quietly, not accusingly, but in an attempt to understand.
Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her eyes filled again with tears, and she let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
She squeezed his hands gently. “At first it was just … me getting along with Fleur. She’s incredibly bright, Harry, and she actually listened when I talked about books and theory and spell structures. We found common ground. We talked about languages, magical law, cultural histories … we just clicked.” Her voice turned distant as if she were reliving those moments. “We became friends. Real friends. And then one night … in her carriage she …” She hesitated, her lips parting as if searching for the right words. “Well, we kissed.”
Harry’s grip tightened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. He just listened.
“And it was …” Hermione trailed off, shaking her head. “I wish I could blame it on falling prey to her allure, like half the boys at Hogwarts still do. But that wouldn’t be true. I felt completely in control in that moment. And when she kissed me, I didn’t pull away. Because for a moment … it felt like everything in my entire life had finally come together. It was like I had found a missing piece of me, one that I didn’t know I was missing.”
She looked at him, eyes shimmering with guilt and confusion. “It’s not that the kiss was better than any of the ones I’ve shared with you,” she added quickly, “although it was … almost as good. It was just different. It was like …” She trailed off again, glancing at the mirror where Fleur’s face was frozen.
“I’ve seen how the boys look at Fleur even when not being affected by her allure. I knew she was beautiful. But somewhere along the way, our friendship turned into something else. And I realized, truly realized, that somehow along the way I had developed actual feelings for her. Honest-to-Merlin feelings.”
Harry stared at her, stunned. He didn’t know what he had expected her to say, but somehow hearing it spelled out like this was something he didn’t expect. His eyes flicked to the mirror again, and then back to her. “So … does this mean you want to be with her instead of me?”
Hermione’s head snapped up. “No!” she said, a little too loudly. She shook her head vigorously again, and her voice lowered to something almost frantic. “No, Harry. I don’t. That’s not what this is about.”
A small breath of relief escaped Harry’s lips. But the weight in his chest didn’t fully lift.
He leaned forward a little, his thumb brushing her knuckles gently. “Then … what does this mean? For us?”
Hermione stared at him with wide, aching eyes, her lip trembling slightly. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice raw. “For once in my life, I don’t have an answer.”
She looked away, toward the chalkboard, the mirror, anything but his eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll ever have an answer. And I don’t think I’ll find one in a book, no matter how long I search.”
She let out a bitter, helpless little laugh, shaking her head. “I’ve always believed I could reason through anything. That if I just worked hard enough, studied long enough, I could make sense of it. But this? This is… it’s not logic. It’s just feeling. And I don’t know how to solve that.”
Harry stood slowly, then knelt beside her chair, reaching up to gently brush a few tears from her cheek, his fingertips lingering for just a moment. He looked into her eyes, red-rimmed, glassy with emotion, and gave a small, sad smile.
“This …” he said quietly, “this definitely wasn’t what I expected when you said you wanted to talk.”
Hermione let out a soft, forced laugh, that sounded brittle. “No,” she whispered. “I imagine not.”
He looked at her again, really looked, before he gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “I know this couldn’t have been easy for you. And I appreciate you telling me. Really. But …”
He hesitated. “I think I need a little time to process this. Just … on my own.”
Hermione’s breath caught, and a flicker of pain crossed her face before she quickly masked it, giving a short nod. “Of course,” she said, voice shaking just slightly. “Take all the time you need.”
Harry stood slowly, letting her hands go reluctantly. “Thank you,” he murmured.
As he turned to leave the Room of Requirement, he paused only once, just as he was walking through the door. He could still hear the faint sound of her sniffling behind him. Guilt tugged at his chest like a hook, but he knew that if he stayed right now, he wouldn’t have a chance to actually try and process this. So he kept walking out into the hall.
The castle passed around him in a haze. He absently heard the portraits asking him questions that he didn’t fully hear. A couple of Hufflepuff fifth years tried to have a chat with him on one of the landings, but he gave them only a polite nod before continuing on. He wasn’t sure how long he wandered before he realized that he was outside.
The spring air was crisp, the morning sun had disappeared, and the sky was overcast with thick grey clouds which rolled across the horizon. As he looked around, he realized that his feet had taken him to the edge of the lake.
The Black Lake stretched out before him, still and dark, reflecting the sullen sky. And beside him, surprising him, a voice broke the silence.
“’Ow did your talk go, ‘Arry?”
He turned, startled. Fleur stood a few feet away, looking as radiant as ever, though there was a crease of concern between her brows. She had her arms crossed lightly, her silvery-blonde hair fluttering faintly in the wind.
Harry didn’t answer immediately. His face must have betrayed more than he realized, because Fleur’s eyes flicked around, searching.
“Where is ‘Ermione?” she asked, more softly this time. “Is everything alright between the two of you?”
Harry opened his mouth, but no words came. He closed it again, unsure what to say. Fleur’s expression fell, and she took a small step back.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I never meant to cause trouble between you. I didn’t want to ruin what you both ‘ave. Especially knowing how much she cares for you …” She hesitated, then looked down at her feet.
Harry shook his head slowly. “Hermione’s been one of my closest friends since the day I first stepped on the train to Hogwarts. She's always been there. And no matter what happens between us, I think ... eventually, we’ll be okay.”
Fleur opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a hand gently.
“I think I just need some time alone right now,” he said, quietly but firmly.
Her eyes softened. “Of course. If there’s anything I can do, please, just ask.” She gave him a sad smile. “I meant what I said, ‘Arry. I would never have done anything to hurt ‘Ermione. Or you.”
Harry studied her for a moment, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. She wasn’t lying. She looked genuinely sorry. Not just for herself, but for them.
“I know,” he said finally.
Then, wordlessly, he turned and continued walking, this time toward the Quidditch pitch.
Even from a distance, he could see that the pitch was no longer the open field it had once been. The maze had been constructed, massive hedges twisting and towering, and it appeared to be fully grown now, looming and ominous, casting long, jagged, if faint, shadows over the grounds.
Harry stopped at the base of the nearest surviving Quidditch stand. Most had been taken down or sectioned off to make room for the maze, but this one remained, creaking faintly in the wind. Part of him questioned whether hanging around here was a good idea, given he knew what was in store for him with respect to the maze, but … he was already here.
He shrugged to himself, climbed the steps, and sat at the top, overlooking the maze in silence.
He sat there for what could’ve been minutes or hours, he wasn’t sure. The wind rustled through the hedges below, and the sky had darkened slightly, casting the entire scene in a moody light that seemed to match his mood. His thoughts turned over like waves in a storm.
Hermione had kissed Fleur.
Hermione loved him.
Fleur hadn’t meant to hurt anyone.
And he, Harry, was sitting in the middle of it, unsure what to feel. Part of him was jealous, another part curious, another simply confused. It wasn’t anger. He didn’t blame Hermione. She had been honest. She’d trusted him with that honesty.
But that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed behind him, climbing the steps of the stand. He turned, half-expecting it to be Hermione or Fleur.
But it wasn’t.
A familiar face stepped into view, eyes widening in surprise when they locked with his.
Kind Regards,
FavoriteAuthor
If you like this content do not hesitate to smash that like button and subscribe. Haha but seriously if you do enjoy the story - do favorite it, other than messaging me or leaving a comment it's the only way I know if you are enjoying the stories and chapters.
Story Note 1 – Well obviously Harry is reeling at this point. Certainly, not what he expected. But while I know there are some people who aren’t sure about this relationship I thought it was a pretty fair take on how someone would react to being blindsided by the big reveal.
Story Note 2 – For anyone worrying that Hermione said she loved him to try and manipulate him. That was certainly not the case. I think she always knew how much he meant to her but it wasn’t until that moment that she was fully able to put things together. And I think it just slipped out.
Story Note 3 – Hermione at this moment is trying to figure things out just as much as Harry she knows how much she cares for Harry and what he means to her, but she also knows that Harry helping take down her walls helped her discover that she had feelings for another person and I think she is having as much difficulty as Harry at the moment. Obviously this wasn’t something that was looked at in depth in the previous chapters since her kiss with Fleur but that was because part of her was caught up in the moment. But she knew she needed to talk to Harry and obviously once she started talking things out it is clear (I hope it is) that she is having just as much difficulty trying to figure things out.
Story Note 4 – A cliff hanger! This little arc will be three chapters and had planned to end it a couple sentences earlier while he was in the stands lost in thought but thought it would be so much more fun to end it with that! You are welcome :)
Story Note 5 – And of now … as for the identity of the person there … any guesses? Sirius? Dumbledore? Snape … haha. Someone else?
Thanks to those of you out to those of you who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you enjoy them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or reach out to me directly.
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Disclaimer – It has come to my attention recently that I unfortunately do not own Harry Potter. Who knew.
