That's the thing about Hermione. She may not think she's fixing all the problems, but she's doing more than she knows. More than Harry wants to voice for fear of sounding kind of pathetic about it all. His free hand moves on top of hers, still resting atop his arm, his fingers brushing delicately over her knuckles.

It's times like this that he realizes just how much he's missed her company and goes back to those desolate times when it was just the two of them in a tent and stressed beyond belief as they did this thing more significant than all of them.

He laughs in surprise at the idea of it all, though he can't help his tone from becoming a tad self-deprecating. "Yeah, wouldn't that be nice? Can't say that teaching a few defensive spells to twenty-five students in a secret room really qualifies me."