For Dorrito’s Every Flavour Mood Beans.

*****

Apathetic

He should have cared, he thought. He was supposed to care. That day he’d watched them again, Cho peeking up through dark lashes to offer Michael Corner half her bakewell pudding. They both blushed and smiled—no crying today—shining and oblivious, wrapped entirely in their universe of two. Harry clenched his jaw and chewed at his lip, waiting for something furious to kick in.

“I know you must feel awful.” Hermione’s voice was low at his ear. “It’s okay, Harry. It’s only natural.”

“Of course.” Harry glanced down at his own plate, feeling absently for his fork. “Only natural.”