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insects beneath that wide sky.
"He loved you," Hermione whispered. "I know he loved you."
Thanks for the tea. I'll finish the watch. You get back in the warm." She hesitated, but recognized the dismissal. She picked up the book and then walked back past him into the tent, but as she did so, she brushed the top of his head lightly with her hand. He closed his eyes at her touch, and hated himself for wishing that what she said was true: that Dumbledore had really cared.
Harry dropped his arms.
"I don't know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me. This isn't love, the mess he's left me in. He shared a damn sight more of what he was really thinking with Gellert Grindelwald than he ever shared with me."
Harry picked up Hermione's wand, which he had dropped in the snow, and sat back down in the entrance of the tent.
"
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