Harry paused, as if waiting for Hermione to add something to the conversation. She couldn't, of course, but she needed him to continue, so she started playing with her hands. It was a nervous tick she had developed at Hogwarts, an anxiety-driven response to stressful stimuli. It was one she had forced herself to outgrow, and one she knew Harry knew about. She hoped he remembered. Hoped he read it for the admission it was meant to be.