In such a dreamy, light-headed state, Hermione barely noticed her magic being gently pulled like a stand of stray hair. Harry effortlessly blended it with his own and added it to the others. The room lit up on all sides. Then Harry stepped away, taking his essence from Hermione. The room seemed to drop in temperature as he went, and it was with a stabbing, sharp pang that Hermione suddenly felt lost and distinctly singular. She wanted Harry back with her, around her, or whatever that had been. He belonged there ... and he wasn't allowed to leave her on her own anymore, not now that he'd teased her with the beauty of what they could be if they ever joined properly together. She would have to tell him off later for not sharing this experience with her sooner.