Disclaimer: HP belongs to JKR.
a/n: JKR's latest revelation just confirms what Harmony shippers have been saying all those years.
I am just glad that from now on, I hope that nobody should call us "delusional" again, because, let's face it, the author has decided to let out her skeleton in the closet, admitting that putting Ron &Hermione together has "very little to do with literature" and "not for reasons of credibility"
"In some ways, Harry and Hermione are a better fit" -JKR
"I completely agree and the fact that they were true equals, and the fact that she really said goodbye to her family makes it her sacrifice too."-Emma Watson.
Harry&Hermione could and should have happened. At least, accept it and allow us to love this couple in peace.
So, it's sth to celebrate after all. In celebration, this plot bunny comes to mind. I 'd like to prove that their wonderful friendship is the most solid fodder for a romance between Harry&Hermione.
The best of friends naturally become the best of lovers.
Sorry for the super long a/n. I just want to mention the interview, in case any of you have missed it.
Just to be clear, Hermione's letters are in italics
Without further delay, I hope you enjoy!
"May I find you? No, scratch that. Do I have the permission to look for you in the first place...you with your indelible smile?
Please tell me that you felt what I did, show me that the magical night lit up with an energy so powerful it consumed us both.
Perhaps not, who am I to thrust feelings upon you?
What if you were found again, completely in your elements, fresh and genteel, soft and dangerous, staking your claim to this wondrous world?
One hand clutching my throat, I would stand rooted to the ground, morbidly aware of blood rushing to my face. Your tuneless whistle carries quietly through the erstwhile tumultuous crowd, leaving me breathless. Once you slowly fade out of view, something akin to panic wriggles its way to my stomach, jolting me out of my trance. Without a second thought, I would take steady, purposeful steps towards wherever leads to you, never stopping until I am in sufficient proximity to reach out and let my fingers ghost over your lips, reconstructing the cryptic smile that thawed my heart.
I allow myself to drown in your emerald eyes, wide open and luminous with astonishment, for a moment felt like an eternity, before brushing away wayward strands of your jet black hair and tiptoeing to touch your angry red scar with my chapped lips, lingering on the jagged blemish a little longer than I should, then trailing kisses from your cheekbone down to your jawline. Tension eased from your shoulders, you let out a soft sigh, your tongue darting out to lick your upper lip, one corner of your mouth twitching up in a positively devilish smirk, a wicked gleam in your darkened eyes as you cast me an appraising look the way a predator does his prey.
I watch with rapture, silently willing you to slip the peculiar quality of borderline compassion and amiability lurking beneath the smile you graced me earlier. Your telltale Slytherin smirk flashes a menace, forbidden mouth-watering fruit, yet your eyes radiate a tenderness that pierces through my core.
You open your arms, and for one insane moment, I delude myself into thinking you want to pull me into a tight hug. Almost. In reality, you draw your head back in a mirthless laugh, give me a theatrical bow, and vanish without so much as a soft pop, but not before your intense green eyes send an apology my way, the flare of your secret agony now perpetually carved into my brown irises.
I blink, and I can't help but falling.
Into nothingness, where lays my sole corpse,
devoid of the remnant spirits,
strictly desolated, utterly alone.
I look, and I keep looking some more.
Still, there is no sight of you...you with your messy black hair, your brilliant eyes of jade, and your breathtaking s-s-m-i..."
She blinked rapidly, her eyes bloodshot from containing the tears. Her enchanted quill stuttered mid-word, diving feather-head down onto the unfinished parchment, creating a long scratch across the page. Dark ink, mixed with delayed teardrops, one after another, started to blur, just like any fleeting memories of him getting blurrier in her mind with each passing second poured into the quiet night.
She took a deep, convulsing breath, and resolutely stood up, bracing herself with both hands. Her misty eyes gravitated to the moon, a disfigured semicircle sitting sullenly on the star-studded velvety sky, glimmering in its faint silver halo. She stared at the moon, which seemed to be poring over her bare soul, found guilty of charge with a big flashing "unhappy" name tag, a twinkle in its colorless eyes, not unlike those sky blue ones of her headmaster.
Growing disconcerted, she muttered a spell; all the blinds slid shut, leaving her in the eerie, familiar darkness, except for the single lily-scented candle flickering on her bedside table.
She hunched over her desk one more time, the light beaming from her wand afloat above her head. With a hard glare, she crumpled the stained parchment into a ball and threw it across her dorm room. Her head dropped unceremoniously to the wooden surface with a loud thud, too fast for her brain to either process the budding exasperation brought upon the last train of thoughts, caught frozen in the web of oblivion, or to register the shot of pain through her ear.
Pain, physical and mental alike, resonated in her skull, careening down her right arm, screaming for release.
She grabbed her forgotten quill, fingers absently tightening around its delicate shaft, adamant to continue where she left off.
Within a matter of minutes, round loopy letters materialized themselves, glittering and brittle on the rough parchment skin, as the point of her quill moved gracefully, in tandem with her thought flow, now poised and detached like countless times she had taken notes in class.
"Your name is what everybody fears.
Name that leaves me entangled in tears.
One lightning-bolt scar glorifies your name,
and seals your soul to unwanted fame.
With your bereavement I weep.
Never doubt that I neglect your grief.
Like a mystery, you crave human touch
Out of this world, it's your heart I search."
At this point, her quill floundered again. It was all she could do not to press her face in her hands, curl up in bed, suffocated under thick blanket, but safe in the cloak of sinful darkness. Her eyes tightly shut, she bit her lower lip hard, careful to concentrate on nothing but her dorm mate's soft snores, which eventually managed to help her relax. The last thing she needed then was to see Ginny Weasley her best friend, red blotch in the face, honey brown eyes rounded in disbelief, frowning at her with concern.
"You are delusional! It's not gonna happen!" Ginny's lilting voice niggled at the back of her head, then softened, more insistent, to a near pleading. "Please, forget it. You need to forget, for your own good."
An involuntary sob bubbled up from her hollow chest; suppressed emotions gushed forth from the broken dam in her heart via the intricate system of veins, overfilled with vibrant dark red blood, drawing the attention of all her faculties to pain. Although any sensible part of her mind ordered her to shrink away from that foreboding assault, she found herself scribbling furiously on her parchment, for the third time.
"It is a futile attempt. The sword of fate has been wielded; nothing in the past can be undone. It is not as acute as the heart-shattering, soul-wrenching unforgivable curses, and much more subdued than typical unreciprocated love. It's the blunt, in every sense of the word, type of pain that surreptitiously follows every step I take. At times, it finds me sagging against some closed door, hidden from public eye, listening attentively to the onerous beats of the sore organ, securely nestled in my rib cages, my consciousness seizing fragments of you, with a view to stuffing them in the permanent void borne out of nowhere.
Wherever I go, spring in my gait, false smiles plastered to my face, despair suffuses on the inside. Humble as the shadow of my own pain, I glide down the staircase tonelessly, regrets twinging in my heart, eternally indented by your uncanny smile. "Once in a lifetime" opportunities swirl in my vision. Opportunities missed. There will not be another you, that much I know, drilling an ever-growing hole that I foresee nothing has yet to fill.
Nor do I know if I ever want it to be filled.
We are all but strangers stumbling upon each other in an untimely manner, no thread of friendship connecting our hearts, no ocean of love merging our two separate worlds.
If only we were the best of friends, I would always stand by your side and commit myself to taking care of you, and to supporting you in every way possible.
We would go on thrilling adventures, making memories together. Safely tucked in my school trunk would be a photo album of you, from the 12-year-old scrawny raven-haired boy grown to become the dashing young man, who can sweep girls off their feet with a single look, eyes of the same lambent green shade.
I would be there at your most emotional moments. I would fling my arms around your neck and simply hold you tight. One hand gently stroking your tousled hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back, I would whisper sweet nothingness into your ear, press butterfly kisses on the pulse in your neck, nursing the wounded animal in you.
I would flash you the most radiant smile I can muster, cheering you on when you get your first kiss, the sound of my heart breaking conveniently ignored.
I would go to the end of the world-cold, hunger, mortal perils be damned- as long as I am with you.
I would jump in front of the killing curse if it means to keep you from harm.
Should you be destined to sacrifice for the wizarding world, I would bargain with the Grim Reaper himself to bring you back.
Whatever happens, I'll stay bound to you, both in life and death..."
She stared unseeingly ahead, too caught up in unwritten private thoughts to notice moonlight trickle in through the curiously opened blinds. She swiftly kissed the rough parchment skin, on which she laid her head. Eyes fluttering closed, she soon fell into a dreamless sleep.
Outside the Gryffindor tower, the winds began to pick up. The invisibility cloak slipped from his shoulders, revealing the boy-who-lived in all his glory perching haughtily on his Firebolt, arms folding in front of his puffed up chest, one leg crossed over another, appearing perfectly solemn like a king sitting on his throne.
Dispassionately, he watched the sleeping bushy-haired know-it-all, a girl with the warmest hazel eyes he had ever seen, transfixed to the way her fuzzy hair spill around her head, her dainty fingers unconsciously caressing the parchment that she was using as a pillow. With a wave of his wand, brown curls were swept aside, giving him a glimpse of her pale neck and one particularly luxuriant view of her full lips, which then slowly curved into a shaky smile. He inhaled sharply, gripped onto the broomstick with both hands, waiting for his racing heart to calm down, before quickly schooling his features again.
Decisions already made, he deftly accioed all the wrinkled parchment notes, including the one pillowing her head. She mumbled a small protest, but went on sleeping, snuggled further into the fluffy pillow he had just conjured, sighing contently. With one last look at the girl, he threw the cloak back over his shoulders, and plunged into darkness, one large snowy owl in his wake.
Another day just dawned bright and cheerful. The first streaks of sunlight tore through the charcoal scaly clouds, permeating the Gryffindor girl's dormitory. The brunette remained fast asleep, cheeks glowing in the youthful golden light, one hand resting comfortably on a piece of silver parchment, which bore sparkling cursive letters in Slytherin green ink.
"You silly girl, you've already found me, as I you."