Hermione had absolutely no expectation that Gemma would suddenly approach her.
She wasn't as agile as Gemma to begin with.
Plus, she let her guard down and didn't dodge, so the distance between them was instantly closed.
Unlike with Sherlock, when Gemma approached Hermione, her movements were as light as willow catkins brushing fingertips, carrying the elegant fragrance from a young girl's hair.
Fast as a meteor streaking across the night sky—Hermione had just detected the cool touch of skin and Gemma's unique, decisive fragrance surrounding her nostrils when this brief closeness ended.
Gemma unhesitatingly stepped back, her movements flowing as if rehearsed a thousand times, yet different from how she turned away from Sherlock as if to leave.
Her face showed not much bashful blush, but rather a stronger sense of composure and solemnity, as if completing some important ceremony.
In the depths of those blue eyes flickered clear entrustment, encouragement, and a kind of expectant light that said "now it's your turn."
She had integrated the weight she conveyed when handing over the envelope into this brief closeness in a more direct, undeniable way.
In the empty carriage, fine dust particles suspended in the light column, setting off the momentary silence left by this sudden intimacy.
Hermione completely froze in place.
She could feel a peculiar warmth coming from where they had touched, as if that brief contact carried an indescribable weight.
Hermione stood there completely dazed.
All her guesses about why Gemma had specifically called her out—provocation, testing, or even just farewell were swept away by Gemma's completely unexpected action at this moment.
"Hermione, do you understand now?"
Gemma looked at Hermione with a satisfied smile.
After she ambushed Sherlock, he acted as if nothing had happened.
She felt he shouldn't be surnamed Holmes—he should be surnamed Wood!
Really just a block of wood!
Hermione's current reaction was normal!
Due to the shock being so great, Hermione's accent even changed, no longer the standard Oxford accent.
"I don't understand."
"Heh..."
Gemma said with a light laugh, "What if I told you I did the same thing to Sherlock?"
"What did you say?"
This time, Hermione completely lost her composure!
Sherlock and Gemma had actually kissed!
It's me, I was first—I was clearly here first!
As soon as this thought arose, she suddenly remembered what Gemma had just said.
[You must not have that childish thought of "but I was here first"]
Damn it, she actually predicted it!
"Don't worry, I kissed him here too."
Gemma smiled and extended her finger, pointing at the place on Hermione she had just kissed.
Hermione jumped back like she'd been electrocuted, looking at Gemma warily.
"You wanted to know what happened between Sherlock and me in the Room of Requirement, didn't you?"
Seeing Hermione's reaction, Gemma couldn't help but tease. "Since you're not planning to ask Sherlock, I'll tell you."
She then proceeded to give a complete, accurate, and comprehensive account of everything that happened between her and Sherlock in the Room of Requirement.
This time, Hermione was completely dumbfounded.
At this point, she also understood the deeper meaning of Gemma's earlier action.
It carried strong symbolism and a sense of ceremony.
It was another transfer of authority in the swaying carriage.
It was the silent, brand-like seal of a contract appended after entrusting Sherlock to her.
"...?!"
Hermione's lips moved slightly, but she couldn't produce any coherent sound.
Lost.
Lost completely and utterly.
Lost thoroughly and entirely.
She had thought that as a third-year against a seventh-year, the advantage was hers.
Now looking back, she was simply a defeated dog with absolutely no hope of winning.
"I'm not telling you all this to make you look like this."
Gemma frowned at the sight. "Remember what I just said? You need to pull yourself together!"
"What did you say?"
Hermione looked at Gemma in surprise, almost thinking she had heard wrong.
"Sherlock's reaction to my kiss was even less than the reaction you just gave me," Gemma laughed self-deprecatingly. "You don't actually think I've already won, do you?"
"But you still kissed him..."
"You can too!"
Gemma looked exasperated, as if lamenting. Really, if she weren't leaving, why would she be doing all this?
"If this continues, forget about me—even that little girl will run ahead of you. What will you do then, run off to cry in a corner alone?"
With the conversation reaching this point, Hermione finally understood.
Gemma had left on her a thought carrying understanding, entrustment, and silent encouragement in this way.
She had left her mark, her acknowledgment, her proof of kinship on Hermione.
Just as she wove the symbol of life and loyalty (the lock of hair) into a ring.
Just as she solemnly bestowed the symbol of authority and responsibility (the badge) upon Sherlock.
This was Gemma using her own way to tell her.
From this moment on, you're not just helping me watch over him.
You yourself are part of protecting him.
Gemma looked at Hermione's gradually clearing gaze, the last trace of mischief completely dissipating from her eyes, leaving only pure, heavy trust.
Everything that needed to be said had been said, everything that needed to be done had been done.
Just as she didn't give Sherlock a chance to question her when leaving the Room of Requirement, she said no more.
She looked deeply at Hermione, as if wanting to etch this appearance into her heart, then turned and pulled open the compartment door.
"Take care, Hermione."
This farewell phrase was almost identical in tone to what she had said to Sherlock—though of course, Hermione didn't know this.
Having said these final words, Gemma didn't linger, walking out without looking back.
Her chestnut hair traced a clean arc in the corridor light.
The door gently closed behind her, shutting out the noise from the carriages outside, and also shutting out the last glimpse of this graduated girl at Hogwarts.
Hermione in the compartment still stood like a statue.
One hand unconsciously touched her cheek, while the other tightly clutched the envelope containing Sherlock's secret file.
Those light pages now felt heavy as a thousand pounds.
A moment later, the slight swaying brought her back to her senses.
The cool sensation on her cheek hadn't completely dissipated but ignited a strange heat.
It mixed tremendous confusion, a tremor of being acknowledged, and an unprecedented, heavy sense of responsibility, as if being pushed to the forefront by the hand of fate, intertwined with a sense of destiny.
It must be said that Gemma Farley's final farewell had an impact far exceeding Hermione's imagination.
Outside the window, the scenery rapidly retreated, while Hermione felt her world was being irreversibly swept into some deeper vortex.
Until the train pulled into King's Cross Station, Hermione still hadn't recovered from her shock.
Harry and Ron both sensibly didn't ask what had happened between her and Gemma.
As for Sherlock, he looked completely uninterested in the matter.
At this time, students began getting off the train one after another, and the aisle became chaotic and noisy again.
Ever since Sherlock and Harry entered Hogwarts, every holiday included people greeting the Lion King and the Savior.
This year was no different.
"I wish I could be as famous as you two."
Ron said somewhat enviously, watching this scene.
"I'd trade all of this with you for a perfect family."
Harry said quietly.
Ron's words made him think of Snape again.
If he hadn't told Voldemort about Trelawney's prophecy, the people coming to the station to meet him should be his parents, right?
Ginny glared fiercely at Ron.
"Oh, sorry, mate, I didn't mean it..."
Realizing he'd said the wrong thing, Ron hastily began apologizing.
"It's okay."
Harry shook his head. He knew of course that Ron didn't mean it.
"People always envy what they don't have."
Sherlock said quietly, "Ron needn't apologize because what you said is originally fact.
Harry also doesn't need to propose an exchange because it cannot be realized."
Cho Chang sighed. "Sherlock, your words are as precise as mathematical answers, but always feel like pouring cold water over someone's head."
"But he's not wrong, is he?"
Luna said uncomprehendingly, "Ron, because he has five excellent brothers and a lovely sister, is often overlooked, so he needs more of that feeling of being noticed.
Harry, because he hasn't enjoyed family warmth since childhood, certainly needs more familial love—just like me, who lost my mother at a young age."
"..."
Everyone except Sherlock looked at Luna speechlessly.
There are no wrongly called names, only wrongly given nicknames.
Luna being called "Loony Lovegood" was indeed not without reason.
But speaking of which, her way of thinking really was similar to Sherlock's!
Only she would be the first to echo Sherlock.
Hermione looked deeply at Luna.
Could Gemma Farley, this girl who had already left, really see that far ahead?
Could it be that even Luna was more suitable for Sherlock than herself?
It's me, I was first—I was clearly here first...
Stop, can't think like this anymore, or she'd really become a defeated dog.
Thinking this, she secretly made a bold decision.
Can't hesitate anymore!
Hesitation leads to defeat!
As experienced third-years, they naturally didn't need security reminders and had already consciously dispersed to pass through the barrier of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Harry immediately spotted Sirius. Tall and handsome, he was particularly eye-catching in the crowd.
Beside him were the Weasleys, the three of them chatting and laughing.
Further away was Uncle Vernon.
He was eyeing these three people with a suspicious gaze.
When Mrs. Weasley hugged and greeted Harry, his suspicions seemed to be confirmed.
"Goodbye, Harry! I'll call about the World Cup!"
Ron patted Harry's back and shouted behind him.
"Goodbye, Harry!"
"Goodbye!"
"Bye!"
The companions bid Harry farewell one after another.
Harry waved to them while pushing his trolley with his trunk and Hedwig's cage toward Uncle Vernon.
"Uncle, my godfather wants to meet you."
Harry said cheerfully.
"Godfather?" Uncle Vernon asked doubtfully, "You don't have a godfather!"
"He does."
At that moment, the tall Sirius Black walked over, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"I'm Harry's parents' best friend. Many years ago I was convicted of murder, and I was only recently released..."
Originally seeing the tall, handsome Sirius, Vernon Dursley's first impression was quite good.
But upon hearing this self-introduction, Uncle Vernon's expression changed immediately. The look on his face was almost instantly replaced by fear.
"Sirius!"
Harry immediately protested.
He knew of course why Sirius said this.
It was because of his treatment by the Dursleys all these years.
If he hadn't desperately stopped him back then, Sirius would have gone to their door personally to teach them a lesson.
But since he had already repaired his relationship with the Dursleys with Sherlock's help, Harry naturally didn't want the relationship to deteriorate again.
Although what Sirius said was indeed all true, he couldn't say it like that!
This was purely looking for trouble.
"Alright, alright, I was actually just joking."
Sirius shrugged. "Let me reintroduce myself. I'm Sirius, Sirius Black, Harry's godfather.
Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dursley.
I want to thank you on behalf of Harry's parents for 'taking care' of Harry all these years, and for this I've prepared a gift."
Harry couldn't help but face-palm.
Although for Harry's sake Sirius stopped deliberately picking a fight, he was still being passive-aggressive.
Unfortunately, in Uncle Vernon's view, their family had indeed been taking care of Harry all these years, so he completely failed to catch Sirius's implication.
Instead, when he heard "gift," his eyes lit up. "Let's go, Mr. Black, let's get in the car and talk!"
Sirius: "..."
Passive aggression was completely wasted on idiots.
Harry breathed a long sigh of relief.
However, the moment he got into the Dursleys' car, he saw a scene that surprised him.
Not far away, Hermione stood slightly on tiptoe, her arms gently encircling Sherlock's neck, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.
Her movements carried a hasty determination, her brown curls swaying slightly with the motion.
Harry even clearly saw that at the moment the kiss landed; Hermione's ears turned red.
"What's wrong?"
Noticing Harry's shocked expression, Sirius asked curiously.
"No—nothing."
Harry withdrew his gaze.
It was just a cheek kiss, not a mouth kiss—nothing to make a big fuss about.
Cho Chang and Ginny had both kissed him.
Not just them—even the three female players on the Gryffindor Quidditch team had kissed his cheek when they won matches.
It was only because that person was Sherlock that he was so surprised.
Although Hermione had never done such a thing before, with her relationship with Sherlock, a farewell kiss really wasn't anything...
Harry consoled himself this way in his heart, but his gaze couldn't help glancing at the platform again.
Coincidentally, Sherlock thought the same thing.
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