Beneath the bushy spectacle of her umber mane, beneath her chocolate eyes, and beyond the lexicon of her genius was a human being so fragilely strong- One could believe she was a rock. A hard, stubborn mass of beauty, resilience and perfect imperfection. A specific kind, in fact- You could call her a diamond.

She shined.

She shined when her saw her that confusing, now abstract morning by the door of his compartment on the first day of his eleventh year.

Her shine only grew in the face of his dangers, in her loyalty. When she ran a pale hand through the abominations that were his raven locks, muttering exasperated endearments. When she fixed his glasses a thousand times over, not so gently berating him for his callousness. When the blue hues of her ball gown painted the contours of the crystalline chandeliers above her a dreamy, ethereal periwinkle. When she wrinkled her brows over a ridiculously lofty scroll of parchment; when the tip of her tallest finger brushed the dingy ceilings of a certain potioneer's uncomfortable dungeons; when her voice- small in apology, aplomb in autonomy, fierce in war.

She mesmerised every inch of his being.

A year into Aurorhood, she had her heart played by the man- or her long-lived obsession- he had so painfully watched him entice her. The man he had called a best friend. Not anymore.

Two years in, she was arrant- to his dismay, but when had she ever noticed subtleties- to refuse another paramour; furiously, but skillfully carving for herself a name in the illustrious sphere of Ministerial Law.

In three years, she had healed. They met often in ways he would have loved to call dates; and he watched her chat animatedly over a drink, absent-mindedly steering forward a one-sided conversation for hours. The sound of her voice was beautiful.

It was the fourth year going on five, when they kissed on a cold winter's night; huddled drukenly beneath the Christmas tree. To her sweet surprise, she had no regrets.

For Hermione, she had stumbled upon veracity.

For Harry, his first love would own his ardour until the end.

The vociferous, witty girl, and the soft-spoken, infamous boy.

Now Man and Woman.

They had taught each other love.