She caught him before he broke down, dragging him into the most tender hug she could muster. Harry just fell deeper into her shoulder and cried. And cried. Hermione held him close and just let him weep, providing him with the warm, safe place he needed to do just that. She felt each heave of his chest, each wave of unbridled emotion, as if Harry had made them just for her. They weren't tears of sadness, but of overpowering joy ... the sort of joy that Harry didn't think he was owed, but for which Hermione couldn't imagine anyone more worthy.