Closing her bedroom door, Hermione could still catch a lingering whiff of savory broth in the air.
It made her mouth water all over again. But it was much too late for another bite, especially after such a hearty dinner. Besides, the soup Qin had made was tucked away in the fridge—strictly for tomorrow.
Honestly, it was all Qin's fault for cooking something so delicious at night and then forbidding anyone from tasting it right away!
Thinking of the culprit, Hermione pouted unconsciously—her mind drifting to the "no fewer than 800 words" essay Qin had assigned her earlier.
Ugh… She still didn't really get it, but for some reason, the thought filled her with a weird sense of dread.
Her eyes drifted to her desk. Maybe… writing something wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"Did Qin put some kind of spell on me? Or do his words just have their own kind of magic…" she muttered to herself.
Truth was, she wasn't sleepy at all. And tonight, she definitely wasn't going up to Qin's attic again—if he actually remembered anything, it would just be unbearably awkward.
With nothing better to do, Hermione sat down at her desk, flicked on the lamp, opened her brown leather-bound notebook, and uncapped her fountain pen.
Fine, I'll write something. But I am absolutely not going to write what that guy told me to write!
After a moment's thought, the nib began to glide across the page, each letter forming a word, each word stringing itself into a thought she wanted to share…
— What's written on the page —
December 24, Tuesday, snow clearing to sun.
It's been ages since I wrote in my diary. Without flipping back, I can't even remember when the last entry was.
Trying to recall, I honestly don't know what I've been busy with lately. At Hogwarts, every day is a blur of meals, classes, studying in the library… busy and full, with hardly a spare moment.
Oh, and stepping on Qin.
But why is that always the thing that sticks in my memory?
It's all his fault—never studying properly, always finding ways to tease me. So I have no choice but to fight back!
Yup, counterattack with my feet!
Although… I do get this weird little thrill every time I step on him. Is that a violent streak? Am I… not mentally healthy?
But Qin never complains, and he never acts like it hurts.
Fine, next time I'll go easier. Or maybe try not to step on him at all.
But I have to do something to retaliate—maybe just a gentle kick. Not too hard, and definitely not where Madam Pince can see! The point is to distract him so he can't focus on his reading either.
Thinking about it, I guess I'm a bit naughty. But this is my diary, after all—no one else will ever read it. I can write whatever I want. Which means I absolutely need to keep it hidden!
Of course, I'm not always mischievous. I only act out because he feels so close—so close that I know he'll never really get angry.
Just like when he messes up my hair or pinches my cheeks—I don't really mind…
Actually, wait, thinking about him pinching my cheeks does make me a little mad!
Next time, if he pinches too hard, I'll bite him!
Let's see if he dares to mess with me again. I, Hermione Granger, am not to be trifled with!
(Simple doodle: a little stick figure with hands on hips)
I can't really think of much about life at Hogwarts right now. Maybe I'll write more when I'm back there—sometimes you need to be in the place for the memories to come alive.
Here at home, I love the time spent chatting with Qin in his little attic.
With the door closed, it's so quiet. We can talk about anything, or nothing at all—just sitting together in silence never feels boring.
Right now, I really, really, really want to go up there!
He's only twenty-something steps away. Even if I tiptoe, it wouldn't take long at all.
But after what happened last night—well, technically, early this morning—I changed my mind.
I wonder if future me will remember what happened?
It was that thing I read about in books—boys and their, um, "physiological reactions" during puberty. Ring any bells?
I'm still not sure what exactly happened. I guess it's something like a muscle spasm? I've had a leg cramp before and it hurt a lot.
I wonder if Qin felt the same?
Anyway, I think it's better not to go looking for him right now, just in case he remembers. When I left in the middle of the night, he probably wasn't fully awake, so maybe he really doesn't remember.
Oh, whatever. Boys are so much trouble. I still have to be mindful of his "sensitive psychological changes" (that's what the book said), so I'll skip tonight.
— Thank goodness I'm a girl and don't have to worry about that. My biggest headache right now is just how hard magic is to learn.
Now that I think about it, it's already my second day home, and I haven't even cracked open a magic textbook. But I really have been busy.
This morning, I woke Qin up so we could shovel snow.
We worked all morning.
It was exhausting, but also really satisfying.
We built a snowman, too.
It looked a bit like a dog, and a bit like a cat. Whatever it was, I thought it was adorable. Who says a snowman has to look like a person, anyway?
Qin said I should write an essay of no less than 800 words about shoveling snow and building the snowman.
Hmph. I refuse! I'll only write eighty words!
I didn't actually count, but this is all I'm writing about that. I'm moving on.
The afternoon was important, too—tomorrow is Christmas and we had to buy loads of things: decorations, food, all sorts of stuff.
The big supermarket in our neighborhood was packed, the Christmas spirit everywhere. So many little kids were dressed in Santa's red coat and hat—I'm too old for that now, but I do admire how excited they get for the holidays.
To save time, Mum and Dad went after the big items, while Qin and I hunted for the smaller ones.
I won't list everything we bought, but it was a ton—there was a mile-long shopping list, and by the time we'd crossed off everything, more than an hour had flown by.
And that wasn't even the end of it—Qin still remembered his promise to make his special noodle soup, so off we went to hunt down all the spices he needed.
I'm hopeless in the kitchen, so I didn't recognize most of what he bought. I just know they were all sorts of spices—some I'd seen Mum use, but most were completely different. They actually reminded me more of the herbs from Potions class.
I can't recall exactly what we bought, but every single one had its own strong smell.
I wonder if future me has figured out the recipe for that spice mix? I hope I've secretly learned it by then, because the broth it makes smells heavenly.
When we got home, we started decorating the house right away.
Somewhere in the middle of all that, Qin put the soup on to cook. It simmered for ages, and the aroma just kept getting stronger, filling the whole house and even drifting out to the street. Even Uncle Taylor, passing by our door, stopped to ask what delicious thing we were making.
Qin explained and promised to bring them a bowl tomorrow.
Writing this now, I really want to eat it already—but Qin says the noodles aren't ready, so I'll have to wait till tomorrow.
Tomorrow, please come quickly!
Wait, the window's making noise. Let me check…
Oh! It's a paper crane.
It must be enchanted by Qin—it just fluttered down and tapped at my bedroom window.
So I'll tuck the paper crane into this page, so future me will remember. But if you don't want to unfold it, here's what's written inside:
Good night, my princess!
Definitely Qin's handwriting.
What should I do? I know how to fold paper cranes, but I have no idea how to make them fly with magic. How am I supposed to send a good night back to Qin?
Emmmm…
Never mind, I'll just run up there right now, say good night, and come right back down.
As long as I'm fast enough, Qin probably won't remember anything.
Plus, I really can't make a paper crane fly back, and not replying would just be rude, right?
Yes, that settles it!
(Simple doodle: stick figure running)
Sigh, I'm back, and Qin pinched my cheeks again—hard!
And I forgot to bite him! That's the most annoying part—I literally just wrote about being fierce, but I'm so forgetful.
Honestly, boys really are such impulsive creatures. All I did was say good night and maybe smile a bit too happily, and he overreacted—cupping my face, squishing and pinching, and then leaving a good night kiss on my forehead. Of course, a good night kiss is very gentlemanly and perfectly proper.
Maybe he pinched a little too hard, though, because my cheeks are still warm.
That's enough for tonight.
All in all, today was a wonderful day.
P.S.: I hope that when future me reads this diary, she'll get a good night kiss just like today.
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