Author's Note: Wow, hi! It's been a while. So this is just a little scene that popped into my head while watching Halfblood Prince tonight. It's been a really long time since I've written and finished anything, so I'm quite proud to be back at it, even if this is not the best thing out there. And I'm okay with that. Alright, so thank you for taking the time to read this little bit and enjoy!
The night was almost over. And what a long night it was. Harry Potter sat in front of a dying fire at The Burrow. It was winter holiday, and he was spending it here with Ron. They had spent the whole night fighting the fire that just about destroyed the home. With the addition of Remus and Tonks, the Weasley's were able to save what they could. Most were trying to sleep now. Harry was the only one awake.
He had had the chance to get his revenge. Bellatrix Lestrange was here. She had been right in front of him. But he could not get to her. He could not avenge Sirius. And that thought alone kept him up. He poked at the dying embers with a fire poker when suddenly they turned green and out stepped Hermione Granger.
"Harry!" she cried, launching herself at him. She knocked him back against the floor in a bone crushing hug that knocked the wind out of him.
"Hermione," he choked out, patting her lightly on the back. "What are you doing here?"
Hermione settled herself next to him, but she kept a hand on his arm. She pointed her wand at the fireplace and relit the fire with a nonverbal charm. When Harry got a good look at her, he could tell that her face was sheet white. She looked a right mess, and she was still in her pajamas.
"Ron sent Hedwig. I heard what happened. And I thought… All I could think was that I could have lost you. What were you thinking?" she cried, and Harry just looked at her. She rolled her eyes and nodded.
"I know, Harry, I do. I know you miss him, I know you feel responsible for him, but she is dangerous," she pleaded with him.
"Hermione, I don't just feel responsible. I am responsible. If it weren't for me… if it weren't for me, Sirius would still be here. And I'd be spending Christmas with him."
Harry's voice cracked and he lowered his head. He had not been able to really voice his feelings since Sirius died. This Christmas was especially hard. He had only had one Christmas with his godfather. And that made this holiday all the harder. He knew now what a holiday with a real family member felt like. He had ten Christmas's with The Dursleys, and those were bloody awful. The Weasley's were like family, yes, and Harry was grateful that they opened up their home to him each year so that he would have a place to go, but it would never be the same.
"Oh, Harry," she whispered, and she grasped his arm and rested her head on his shoulder.
"I could have killed her, Hermione. All that hate, all that rage that I've had built up… I could feel it all. I wanted to kill her. I've never felt so dark, so much like him," he spat out the last word.
Hermione shook her head and grasped his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. She was glaring at him, but Harry knew she was not mad. He knew her like an open book. What she was feeling was determination.
"Harry Potter, you listen to me. You are nothing like him. You are good, Harry. You are light. Voldemort is evil. But he has no claim over you."
"The way I felt last night, Hermione… I haven't felt that rage in so long. I've been feeling so good lately. But what if that's not meant to last? What if something happens, and I let the anger take over me. What if I forget who I am in the process?" he questioned.
"You won't," she said quietly.
"How do you know?" he countered.
"Because I won't let you," she promised, releasing his face, and instead taking one of his hands.
Together, they sat silent, staring into the fire. The dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon. Hermione noticed this, and asked Harry if he fancied a walk. He agreed with a nod, and they got up and went outside.
They walked around the perimeter of the house, taking in all of the damage. Hermione's heart broke. She should have been here. She could have helped.
"It wasn't right without you here, Hermione," Harry murmured, taking her hand in his.
She felt guilty immediately, and he noticed it on her face. "Not because of what happened," he said hurriedly, "but because it felt like something was missing."
She nodded quickly. "I felt it too," she admitted. While she was happy to be home with her parents, she felt like her heart was pulling her here. And now that she was here, walking in the garden with Harry, everything felt right again. Harry felt the same way too. It felt like he had spent every waking minute with Hermione over the last six years, especially the last three months that she and Ron had spent not speaking to each other. It felt strange without her, like a piece of him was missing.
Quickly he realized that he was feeling better, much better than he had felt since he missed his chance at Bellatrix.
"Thank you, Hermione, for coming. I know this must be hard for you to be here." He was speaking without thinking really, and he was not really sure what he was saying.
Hermione blushed a bit. "It's easier than I thought. I don't think I care as much now as I did last night even," she told him.
"And why do you think that is?" he asked her, coming to a stop.
They stood facing each other, and he found that Hermione did not look him in the eye. He prodded her to answer, and after a moment she did.
"When I got the letter, I realized who was really important, and where my feelings actually lie. It's been you all along, Harry. You've always been there, and I never really knew it. I always told myself that you were just my best friend, that I was just so comfortable with you, and that was that. We were just simple. But is it really as simple as it seems?"
Harry found himself shaking his head. "Maybe simple is all it really needs to be," he said, and then he found himself leaning in and kissing his best friend as the sun came up over the hill.
And this, the two of them together, this felt right.