"Harry, are you all right?"
Hermione looked at the dejected Harry with a face full of concern.
"Not really. I feel like my patience is about to run out."
Harry popped a sweet into his mouth, hoping the Draught of Living Death would ease his foul mood.
Whenever he went to see Professor Slughorn, Harry took the potion in moderation, but the effects were never that good. He had even vaguely realized that Professor Slughorn knew why he was deliberately approaching him and simply did not want to expose him.
This battle of wits and insincere conversation left Harry exhausted, body and soul.
Perhaps it was because he had realized that all his efforts might turn into a joke. It made Harry especially irritable, and he even wondered whether he would completely lose control once Slughorn rejected him without mercy.
"Don't worry. You'll definitely succeed," Hermione comforted him softly.
"Honestly, I hate hearing that right now."
Harry chewed up the sweet, then tossed several Calming Draught pills into his mouth. Only after chewing and swallowing them did the irritation inside him subside somewhat. "You all think I'll succeed, but I don't have the slightest confidence in myself. That sense of expectation is awful."
Hermione opened her mouth, then stopped herself.
"You should go find Albert instead of coming to me. Albert is the one capable of fulfilling your wonderful expectations."
People's expectations weighed so heavily on Harry that he could barely breathe. He hated that feeling.
"Harry..."
Hermione looked at Harry's somewhat lonely back and hurried after him. She did not offer any more comfort, merely followed silently as Harry headed for the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor.
Then again, there was no better place than the Room of Requirement to vent stress.
Yet to their surprise, the