Title: You've Known for a While
By: Anthea Frances
A/N: This is based on the movie-verse and has spoilers for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2.
Hermione Granger watched Harry's back and thought, I've prepared for this moment. She touched Ron's arm and stopped him from voicing his concerns ("You can't give yourself up to him") because she knew that yes, Harry can.
She knew that like she knew class materials before the school year even started. She knew that like she knew Harry needed to feel something—a kiss, a hug, a hope—at the end of fourth year, knew he needed to teach defense of the dark arts to learn, knew when he felt love and when he was wrong. She knew Harry could give himself up because he already gave up his heart and wouldn't take anyone else's in exchange.
She knew it all, and that's why Hermione prepared. She held his hand when she could, hugged him when she had the chance, and reminded him about the things more important than books and cleverness. Even now, with Hogwarts crumbling beneath her feet and the stench of sweat, stone, and blood pressing against her senses, she watched and memorized him. Since the end of fourth year, Hermione prepared for the day Harry Potter would die.
"What is it, Harry?" she asked, almost knowing but needing, in the most painful and secretive part of her soul, to hear the answer out loud. "What is it that you know?" Her breaths came fast now. She tried very hard not to choke on the dust of the broken castle.
Harry looked at her. For a second, Hermione thought she might need to repair his glasses again. He had too much dirt and debris and more cuts than she did even though she went through the same battle. His shoulders were low, tired and aching from holding the world on his shoulders, from trying not to shake under the burden. Harry looked at her, and Hermione thought for a moment, Oh God, Merlin, someone, please. But then she shook those pleas away. I'm prepared, she reminded herself. Her back straightened. She looked at him like he looked at her. I am ready to let him go.
"There's a reason I can hear them," he started, "the hoxcruxes."
Oh, Harry. Under his intense gaze, Hermione's eyes flickered to ground and back to him. She needed to be strong.
"I think I've known for awhile."
The ground—it must be the ground and not her legs—trembled because all the fear Harry felt blew into her. Hogwarts began to fall apart around them once again. She couldn't hear the debris crunching under their feet or the cries from the Great Hall or even Ron's breaths. It was just the two of them facing each other and this truth.
"And I think you have too," he finished. His green eyes, always brilliantly bright, guiltily looked at her. I'm sorry you had to share that burden—they were words he didn't say but she could hear anyway. But thank you.
Hermione's preparations failed her. She should have known it would. As Harry said just hours earlier, when has their plans ever worked? How could she have thought this plan would work? She could never let Harry go. Hermione Granger would always choose Harry Potter over her own family, her own life, her own soul.
"I'll go with you," she cried. For the first time, she truly felt Voldemort trying to kill her.
"No, kill the snake," Harry said. Hermione saw her heart in his eyes breaking. "Kill the snake and then it's just him"
She went to Harry, and he shuddered in her hug. They held each other. She pressed against him, rubbed his back, and squeezed his arm. She touched him because she knew that, after this moment, she will never have the chance to have this again. She cried on his clothes and on the skin of his neck, and she hoped her tears would protect him.
When they pulled away from each other at the same time—always at the same time—their eyes locked. Another truth emerged. As much as she prepared for this moment, Harry did too. They needed each other in a way others would never be able to understand. They knew that, and that's why they never took the step people expected them to months and years ago. If they had and were forced to choose between this, this feeling—not love, or friendship, or family affection—and duty, they knew the world would end and their souls would break.
Hermione let him go. She was prepared to. But she cried anyway and watched him away without her.