"Qin, why aren't you up yet? Stop being such a lazybones!"
The next morning, Qin Yu was jolted awake by Hermione's voice, loud and insistent as she knocked on his door.
Wait—outside the door?
Still foggy with sleep, Qin Yu blinked and instinctively glanced at his arms. Empty. He let out a silent sigh of relief—so he wasn't haunted by two Hermiones after all.
He had no idea when she'd slipped out, only that now she was putting on a show, knocking and shouting at his door bright and early. Who else was she trying to convince but her parents?
Miss Granger, your acting deserves an award.
"I'm up, I'm up! Getting dressed right now!" Qin Yu called back, playing along.
"Mm-hmm, hurry up!" Hermione urged, her tone brisk.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you…" Qin Yu groaned, still half-asleep.
She sounded full of energy, but he definitely hadn't gotten enough rest. Last night, they'd chatted until Hermione drifted off mid-sentence.
He'd held her close. As light and soft as she was, his arm still went numb under her weight. Every time he tried to shift, she'd stir, so he settled for lying as still as possible.
Eventually, he just gave up adjusting and let himself relax. With the faint scent of her hair in his nose, sleep finally claimed him.
He'd gone to bed late, and somewhere in the night, he was woken by a flurry of kicks and elbows as Hermione stretched out in her sleep—all of it landing on him. If he hadn't been pressed against the wall, he'd have ended up on the floor.
After that… things got fuzzy. He vaguely remembered seeing a pair of wide, startled eyes blinking at him in the dark. Then their owner whispered, "Good night," before darting out from under the covers and vanishing down the stairs, her footsteps soft but hurried.
He'd been too tired to think, and just drifted back to sleep.
Now, as he dressed and replayed the memory, he muttered under his breath, "Last night, you…"
"I didn't touch anything! You're remembering wrong!" came the emphatic denial from the other side of the door.
"?!"
"I need to help Dad shovel snow, so—so hurry up and come out!"
Tap tap tap!
And she was gone.
Or rather—fled the scene.
Realization dawned, and Qin Yu couldn't help but smirk, a complicated mix of amusement and embarrassment swirling inside.
He'd always trusted his own self-control, but he'd forgotten that this body was still at the mercy of teenage hormones.
Not that he'd done anything wrong—even sleeping alone, sometimes the body just… reacted. Perfectly normal, really.
But by sheer bad luck, Hermione must have noticed.
Thinking back to her confident "I understand" and "I've studied" from the night before, compared to her panicked retreat, it was clear she didn't actually understand at all.
A pang of guilt hit Qin Yu. He should have been more careful about boundaries. Even if the little witch wanted to snuggle for warmth, he should've made sure she left once she was cozy. Just because she was soft and sweet-smelling didn't mean he could let his guard down.
You need to learn to say no and keep your self-control, Qin Yu!
"Prosperity, civility… freedom, justice… integrity, kindness…"
He muttered the familiar mantras to himself, feeling his heart settle.
Even in the wizarding world, you had to stick to the right values.
…
After a round of self-reflection, Qin Yu bounded downstairs, feeling refreshed and ready for anything.
He grabbed a broom and joined Mr. Granger outside, sweeping snow with gusto.
Hermione pretended nothing was amiss as she worked nearby, sneaking glances at Qin Yu. Seeing him act like he remembered nothing, she let out a secret sigh of relief.
"It's nothing serious. Boys grow up, these things happen. No need to be too worried or curious about normal physiological changes…"
She silently recited lines from some book, trying to calm her own racing heart.
After clearing the yard, Qin Yu helped Mr. Granger tackle the thick snow on the roof. It was oddly satisfying—using a long-handled snow rake to push the heavy snow upward, watching it slide down in neat blocks under its own weight.
But it was also exhausting—neck craned, arms aching, pushing the pole up at an angle over and over. Before long, his shoulders and neck were burning.
They worked in bursts, resting in between, and by noon the roof
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