Youth has its perks—and its own peculiar troubles.
Early that morning, Qin Yu found this thought drifting through his head as he glanced at his arms and legs. His pajamas were unmistakably too small now: sleeves riding up, pant legs barely reaching his ankles. Ever since the new term began, he seemed to be growing at a startling pace—like a tree shooting up in spring, changing day by day.
With growth spurts came all the classic woes of adolescence… but anyone who's been there knows the details, so let's leave it at that.
He lingered in bed for a moment, calmed himself, then got up to dress.
Last night, he'd actually slept quite well. There'd been dreams, but he woke feeling rested and alert—much better than the first night back home.
Still, there was no denying it: falling asleep with a soft, sweet-smelling little witch in his arms was a world apart from sleeping alone.
Not that it was about habit—he always slept alone at school, after all. (Dumbledore: Hmm? Should I revise the dorm rules?)
"It's easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go back," he muttered, recalling the events of last night.
Just before Hermione returned to her room, she'd paused to tell him, "Qin, you did so much today, you must be exhausted. Remember to get some rest!"
A perfectly normal, caring reminder.
But as the saying goes, "to understand words, listen to the meaning behind them." Qin Yu easily caught the subtext: she wouldn't be sneaking over to his room that night.
He felt like he'd just intercepted a coded message between secret agents, or like his old black-and-white Nokia had buzzed with a text reading, "The deal's off—there's a mole."
He could understand Hermione was still a bit rattled by their "incident" the other night, but as he lay down, his mind kept replaying the image of the little witch curled up in his arms, chattering away. She'd been so close, her warm breath slipping inside his shirt, tickling his neck and chin every time she spoke…
Naturally, the more he remembered, the harder it was to fall asleep.
Then he realized he hadn't said good night to Hermione. So he got up, found a blank sheet of paper, scribbled a quick note, folded it into a paper crane, and with a simple charm, sent it fluttering from his window to hers.
Only after that did he try to clear his mind and meditate himself to sleep. But before long, he heard the familiar patter of footsteps coming upstairs, followed by the soft creak of his door opening.
Of course, it was little Hermione.
"I came to say good night!" she announced with a bright smile.
And as she said it, she plopped down beside him and burrowed her head against his chest, radiating pure joy.
Faced with such an adorable little witch, Qin Yu couldn't help but pinch her cheeks a few times, then pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
If it hadn't been so late—and if he hadn't been mindful of Hermione's lingering embarrassment—he would have happily pulled her into a deep discussion about the opportunities and challenges facing wizards at the turn of the century, or how to be a wizard with ideals, culture, skill, and principles. He could have talked all night.
But the little witch only stayed a short while before slipping away.
Even then, it took him ages to fall asleep—though at least he managed to drift off earlier than his first night home.
That memory faded as Qin Yu opened his door and stepped out into the hallway.
As he started down the stairs, he caught the faint sound of voices from the living room below.
"Last night, they really didn't stay together, did they?"
"Absolutely not. Hermione only went up for a few minutes—ten at most—then came straight back down."
"That quick?"
"Huh?"
"Ahem, I mean, they used to stay together a lot longer."
"Who knows, maybe it's because we're here…"
"Darling, the way you say that, it almost sounds like you feel guilty for interrupting them."
"Of course not, Jenny! Why would you think that?"
"Sigh, never mind. Anyway, it's a good thing Qin is a boy with boundaries."
"Exactly! And I think that talk I had with him last time really worked. You know, the 'man-to-man' conversation!"
"My talk with Hermione went well too. She promised me she definitely won't eat the 'apple' before she's eighteen."
"Oh, apple—such a delicate way to put it, Jenny!"
"Don't worry, I was perfectly blunt when I needed to be. Alright, enough about this. I'll go start breakfast for the kids, and you check if the presents are all set under the tree."
"Alright, I'm on it."
From the first sentence, Qin Yu froze on the stairs.
He couldn't help it—his legs suddenly felt like jelly. There was no way he was heading down right now.
He broke out in a cold sweat as he listened to the whole conversation.
Thank goodness the Grangers were so reasonable, perceptive, and fair-minded. They still trusted his character—and, honestly, he hadn't done anything to betray that trust.
"I didn't do anything wrong. What am I nervous about…" he told himself over and over until his legs finally regained their strength and he dared to continue downstairs.
…
Last Christmas, the presents had been placed by Qin Yu and Hermione's beds. But perhaps deciding they were grown up now, the Grangers hadn't snuck into their rooms before dawn to play Santa this year. Instead, they'd told them on Christmas Eve to look for their gifts under the tree.
"I actually stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was seven," Hermione whispered, crouching beside the little Christmas tree as she unwrapped her presents. "But Mum and Dad seem to love doing this, so I've never spoiled the fun."
"As a steadfast materialist wizard-in-training, I don't believe in Santa either," Qin Yu replied with a straight face.
Materialism and magic—could those even go together?
Hermione was momentarily thrown by his logic, stared at him blankly, then shook her head and turned back to her gifts.
She untied the ribbon, tore off the pink paper, and opened the square box to find a beautiful set of stationery—a shimmering red fountain pen, a thick leather-bound notebook, and a handful of rulers and little tools.
It was the perfect gift for her. She'd never cared for dolls or stuffed toys like other little girls.
After showing off her present, Hermione looked expectantly at the box in Qin Yu's hands.
He didn't keep her waiting. He opened his gift box and pulled out a set of soft, gray pajamas.
Thinking of how his clothes had felt so tight that morning, Qin Yu was genuinely touched—there was a special kind of happiness in being noticed and cared for.
Hermione nodded approvingly. "Nice pajamas. Try them on tonight—I'll help you check if they fit."
Qin Yu held up the clothes to measure and realized now wasn't the time to change, so he nodded. "Sounds good."
"Emmm, I mean, after I check the pajamas, I'll leave. I won't stay long," the little witch added quickly.
Qin Yu thought, I never said you had to stay the night.
Honestly, inviting Hermione to his room in the middle of the night just to watch him try on pajamas… it sounded pretty weird.
At least she'd be getting a free show.
Wait, that sounded even weirder!
He was still lost in these silly thoughts when Hermione tugged his hand, dragging him outside to see the snowman they'd built the day before.
The winter air was bitterly cold. Even though the snowman's surface had melted a bit during the day, after a night of icy winds it was now frozen solid. If Qin Yu kicked its belly, he'd probably end up with a numb foot.
Hermione tried to add some finishing touches, but the icy shell was too tough. She gave up after a few attempts.
The morning sun was weak; there was no real warmth outside. Qin Yu took Hermione's chilly hands in his own, rubbing them gently and breathing warm air onto them.
When her hands were warm, she pressed her nose against the back of his hand—her nose was cold too. So Qin Yu cupped her face, sharing a little more warmth.
After that, they wisely left the oddly-shaped snowman behind and hurried back inside, where Mrs. Granger had a delicious breakfast waiting.
Over breakfast, the family laughed and chatted, making plans for the rest of the day.
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