"Harry, are you all right?"
Hermione looked at the dejected Harry with deep concern.
"Not really. I feel like my patience is running out."
Harry popped a sweet into his mouth, hoping the Cheering Draught would ease his foul mood.
Whenever he went to see Professor Slughorn, Harry took some potion beforehand, but it still did not help much. He had even vaguely realized that Professor Slughorn knew why he was deliberately getting close to him, but simply did not want to expose him.
This battle of wits and insincere conversation left Harry physically and mentally exhausted.
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 of his emotions once Slughorn mercilessly rejected him.
"Don't worry. You'll definitely succeed," Hermione comforted him softly.
"To be honest, I really hate hearing that right now."
Harry crushed the sweet in his mouth, then tossed several calming pills into his mouth. Only after chewing and swallowing them did the irritation in his heart subside somewhat. "You all think I can succeed, but I have no confidence in myself at all. That kind of expectation is awful."
Hermione opened her mouth, then stopped herself.
"You should go to Albert instead of coming to me. Albert is the one who can fulfill your wonderful expectations."
The weight of everyone's expectations made it hard for Harry to breathe. He hated that feeling.
"Harry..."
Hermione gazed at Harry's somewhat lonely back and quickly caught up with him. She did not offer any more comfort, merely followed him in silence toward the Room of Requirement on the Eighth Floor.
She was right. There was no better place than the Room of Requirement to vent their pressure.