Author's Note: this is a rather gloomy, dramatic one-shot which takes place during "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." Harry/Hermione. There are three fragments that belong to poems by Dylan Thomas: Light breaks where no sun shines, Should Lanterns Shine, and Elegy, respectively. I hope you like this and I wish you all enjoy a happy Valentine's Day!

Light breaks where no sun shines;

Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart

push in their tides…

What he said didn't matter, nor what he did. (Fear persuades people into lying compulsively to themselves and others.) What he hid, that was important. What he so fiercely (stupidly, as a matter of fact) denied. What he couldn't even say out loud, for he knew he would love that idea, that… alternative. He would hold onto it for dear life and no good could come from that. Stubbornly sinking deeper and deeper into those flamboyant thoughts equaled crushing all the expectations he was (they were) supposed to fulfill. It just couldn't be. He had a mission, Horcruxes to find and destroy, an enemy to kill, a world to protect, an incalculable amount of lives to save… But he also had unwelcomed feelings and unsolved issues boiling and bubbling underneath it all, waiting for him to face them. Sometimes he couldn't help but letting his mind go there, allowing himself to, for a moment, imagine what his life would be like if – with a little luck – they survived and he had a chance to attempt rebuilding his life. Picturing it made him briefly happy, hopeful, until he was hit by raw, harsh reality, which reminded him that they were basically alone against Death itself, and that he had no idea how on Earth they were going to make it through. The saddest thing was that certainty, constantly bothering him, that even if they won the war, he would lose something. The "alternative" just wasn't viable. He had seen it coming a long time ago and realized that every tiny mistake he'd made had come together, growing into a huge, yet invisible wall that separated what he wanted from what would be. It was his fault entirely, he knew that. Coming to terms with that idea, accepting his future and letting go – well, those were much more difficult tasks.

I have been told to reason by the heart,

but heart, like head, leads helplessly;

I have been told to reason by the pulse,

and, when it quickens, alter the actions' pace…

While his mind got lost in careful considerations and hesitated, unable to unravel that growing disaster of thoughts – part of him still resisted acknowledging how complicated his situation was, and therefore, like Dumbledore used to say, the fear of a name increased the fear of the thing itself, making it terribly difficult for him to process any of what was happening to him (to them) – his heart was much braver and more impulsive. It pointed at someone. It wanted something specific. It told him he had to do whatever it took to pursue the "alternative." It ordered him not to let go of his dreams, because everything he wanted was possible. Sometimes, when Harry listened to his heart's advice, he thought there was hope.

Her, said his heart. You have to talk to her. She must know. She has to feel the same. She's what matters the most. She's the one. She, she, she…, and that word seemed to solely be the thing that kept his heart beating.

But day after day, what he thought (the seed of doubt planted on his mind), what he felt (the certainty of what he wanted opposite to what he didn't want to settle for) and his refusal to act on any of those stances appeared to be irreconcilable, even when he was repeatedly harassed by the fear of letting a chance of happiness slip right through his fingers – like a rebellious Snitch – when he was about to grab it.

She was trapped in the same situation, suffering silently and pushed into panicking by relentless doubts. And she had to deal with it on her own, since she didn't dare talking to him about it. She had thought she wanted something, she had accepted what seemed logical and inevitable, but now everything was so different, so crystal-clear. The "brightest witch of her age", the clever, polite girl who rarely got into trouble had found herself stuck in a spider web, a turning point in her life when even the tiniest act would have big consequences, and she, Hermione, the mature, responsible person who always did the right thing no matter what, was, for once, completely clueless.

Having to deal with feelings she thought she had managed to eliminate a long time ago, as well as being frustrating, was rather driving her crazy. She had put a lot of effort into forgetting about him and whatever possibilities they could have together – wonderful, blissful possibilities – because it had felt mandatory. If he's clearly chosen someone else, she reasoned sadly, why should I remain faithful to him in my heart? Why can't I try to be happy with someone who can actually love me back? And she'd thought she'd succeeded. But now, thinking long and hard about the subject she realized she had been mistaken: neither had she forgotten him nor found someone who loved her. Despite what most people believed, she truly felt as if she was alone.

Except really she wasn't, for the one who she thought didn't see her as anything other than a sister was in fact the only one who, knowing her better than he knew himself, loved her with everything he had. He felt that if he was still standing, it was only because of her, and that it was for her that he was fighting that war. But he'd never told her that, and so she'd said to herself a million times that they couldn't be together, that changing his mind wasn't an option, that he would never love her because she wasn't worthy of "The Chosen One." And she'd settled for spending the rest of her life settling. That of course if she survived the war.

"There is a room in the Department of Mysteries that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. That power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from possession by Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you."

Harry Potter remembered Dumbledore's words and feared that even if his heart saved him once again, nothing would save him from what would come next, the quiet horror of willingly dooming himself to a life of unhappiness. Apparently, he had made his choices and they were unchangeable. Whether he was okay with that or not seemed irrelevant.

He couldn't simply give up and let her sacrifice herself. Far too many people had already died to save him, and their absences never ceased to be excruciatingly painful. He needed to protect her. He would do so even if she wasn't (and probably never would be) his.

"Harry — you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you."

"Me! Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful!"

Hermione Granger's bitter tears rolled down her reddened cheeks as she thought that friendship and bravery were not nearly as important as love, and that the biggest challenge of her life wouldn't be helping Harry win the war but letting him go and allowing him to start over with someone else. Both were difficult tasks, but only one of them would break her heart.

O deepest wound of all that he should die,

on that darkest day. Oh, he could hide

the tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.

Until I die he will not leave my side.

She decided that she would do anything to save him, no matter what she had to sacrifice, and despite believing that he didn't love her back. So long as she managed to think of him as she drew her last breath, she would consider herself lucky.