Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from the Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

~ Chapter 1 ~

Our journey started the day after Albus Dumbledore, the greatest Headmaster that Hogwarts has had, met his untimely end in a battle to save Hogwarts. The air was warm and heavy, the school was unrecognizable, and I felt as if nothing would ever be the same again. Naturally, the cold blooded massacre of half of the school's student body left me forever changed.

The loss and pain hung clear on the faces of the survivors, and many tears were shed while comfort was offered among family and friends. It had been decided that anyone who was capable would lend a hand in the repairs of the school, and many helping hands arrived in the wee hours of morning. I had been assigned the task of cleaning up the Great Hall with my best friend Harry Potter. Our other friend, Ronald Weasley, had been injured and was currently receiving treatment in the jam-packed Hospital Wing.

Harry and I had entered the Great Hall with a few others. The place looked like the common rubbish tip, and to see it this way pulled the strings of my heart. This was the very room that I found myself in, where I truly became a witch, where I learned that my life had meaning and purpose. My eyes stung with angry tears, but the rest of me was so numb I welcomed the work.

"Hermione…" Harry said sadly; I looked to where his eyes were transfixed and felt what was left of my heart fall to the ground and crumble pathetically. A lot of the bodies hadn't been moved. Many were strewn over each other in seemingly careless piles. There were so many faces that I recognized, and so many that I did not. Should I have taken more time to get to know them? Should I have tried harder to save them? What about their families?

What I didn't already know about loss and grief, I was learning now.

"This is hell, isn't it?" Harry said flatly.

"No." I denied, even though in that moment I believed I was in the deepest level of hell that could possibly exist.

xxx

I saw the words on the page of the book in front of me, but I wasn't really reading.

The Gryffindor common room still held it's usual cozy appearance, except was silent and deserted. Most students had gone home with their families after an early dinner. Still, the fire cracked merrily, and I shot a glare in its direction. How dare it do more than smolder in a time like this?

I sighed when I realized that reading was not going to be an option tonight. I slammed the book shut, setting it on the rickety table beside the overstuffed armchair that I occupied. I then reduced myself to staring into space. Pathetic, but it required little effort.

I was so lost in my reverie of nothingness that I didn't even notice Harry take the seat next to me, and started briefly when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

"No," I replied honestly, "I can't sleep even though I'm exhausted, and I can't concentrate even though I desperately need to take my mind off of... things. I'm trying to deal with everything at once. I'm torn to pieces over the Headmaster, I'm worried about Ron. I feel like I've failed my dead classmates." My eyes welled over in tears, I felt pathetic.

"I know the feeling," Harry said quietly, looking into my eyes with a nothing short of ultimate sincerity. He lightly dabbed at my trails of tears with the quidditch roughened pads of his thumb.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be complaining." I said, pulling away from his gentle touch and lowering my head in guilt.

"Everyone has the right to complain, you've been through a lot." He answered simply.

"Yet the one person who ought to be complaining, oddly enough, isn't." I said. I think he pretended not to hear me, as he normally did when anyone acted concerned. After a few moments, Harry broke the silence.

"Mione, walk with me?" Harry asked encouragingly. He looked tired, and much older than I remembered him looking less than 24 hours ago. He held his hand out to me, beckoning me to join him.

"Sure." I said, grateful for a casual distraction. I was going mad; I needed to reestablish some form of normalcy in my life. I took his hand in my own.

I followed him through the portrait door, jumping as it slammed behind me.

Walking through the castle was strange. Even though most of the damage had been repaired and new wards were put in place, I couldn't shake the memories of the chaos of the night before. I shivered a bit, I didn't feel safe. Harry stopped to look out of a window, the moonlight reflecting off his face in an eerie glow. I shivered again, and Harry seemed to have noticed.

"Are you cold?" He asked with an odd expression on his face.

"N-no, just nervous." I replied. I visibly started as an owl swooped past the building.

"Let's keep going then." He said with a hallow tone, and pushed onward. Sometime later, after growing concerned over his brooding expression, I tried to coax him into conversation.

"Have you heard any news about Ron?" I asked, I hoped Harry wouldn't notice the fear in my voice.

"Yeah, I ran into Mrs. Weasley before they left and she told me that he's improving. He had gotten hit by a dark hex that Madame Pomfrey didn't recognize, but she was still able to treat it none the less." He said, "I still wish that we were allowed in to see him." There was an edge of concern to his voice.

"Me too, but they're not letting any visitors into the hospital wing." I said softly, silently reminding him that now just wasn't the time to break out the Invisibility Cloak.

"I know." He said with a small sigh.

"We'll get to see him soon." I said reassuringly. I didn't have the energy to try and talk him down.

He came to a stop just before a spiral staircase leading to one of many towers, but definitely not the Astronomy Tower. I felt something odd stir within me when his eyes met mine. The sorrow and discontent I saw in them shattered my heart into thousands of pieces. In that moment, I could felt the dull and broken thudding of his heart, even though we were still feet apart, right next to mine.

I felt him shift his weight towards me while I unconsciously licked my lips, and the world around me faded as we met halfway. His lips were so soft, so warm. I felt so much in that moment, yet I can't recall feeling anything at all. It was so different from any of the awkward kisses that I had shared with Viktor or Ron; there was so much meaning behind this kiss. This kiss made me feel like a woman, not an innocent little girl.

"H-Harry…" I choked out as his lips left mine, instead he made a path across my jaw line and finally he settled at the sensitive spot just under my ear, it felt like he was pouring out the emotions that he had been bottling up for the last twenty-four hours. I had never felt like this before, but I knew I didn't want it to end. My hand became entangled in his hair, and I pressed myself into him.

He stopped, pushing me away from him.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I-"

"Do you mean it?" I asked, cutting him off.

He thought about it for a second, "Yes, I did." He let his eyes drop to the floor.

"Did?" I asked softly.

"I do." He ran his hands through his hair, "I need time to think, Hermione." His voice was almost a whisper. He wouldn't look at me.

I said nothing, I didn't know what to say.

"Let's head back. It's getting late." He said, holding his hand out to me for the second time that night.

The walk back was uneventful, as we both kept to ourselves, saying nothing. I wondered what Harry was thinking, mostly. I didn't want to think about how I felt just yet. I wasn't ready.

xxx

Harry bid Hermione good night, leaving her in the common room. He had to fight the urge to run back down the stairs and beg her to understand. She would never admit it to him, but he could tell she was quite hurt by his actions and even more so by his lack of explanation.

Instead, he kept climbing. He needed space, he had a lot to think about.

He finally made it to the top of the stairs, and into his dorm room. He normally shared this room with four other boys, but they were either at home with their families or in the hospital wing. He toed off his trainers and removed his outer robe. Grabbing his towel, he headed off to take a much needed shower.

He emerged from the steamy shower feeling better physically, but he was still numb and in shock. He kept his grief pushed down, refusing to acknowledge it at the current moment. Instead, he focused on the kiss that he shared with Hermione.

He looked at himself in the mirror, gripping both sides of the sink until his knuckles were white. He couldn't believe himself. He didn't regret the kiss, and would gladly do it again, but the fact is kissing really isn't a priority of his right now. The darkest wizard of the century was on the rise, and he was the only person who could defeat him. What was he thinking?

To make matters worse, he had broken up with Ginny just an hour before he had kissed Hermione. So, if he did peruse Hermione, that would make the situation look really bad and would probably piss off more than a few people. And Hermione is with Ron, anyways. He shouldn't have feelings for his best friend, especially one who is dating his other best friend.

But he did have feelings for Hermione, whether he should or not. He thought back to the kiss, and he found comfort there. Part of him hated himself for how much he enjoyed it, and how much he wanted to do it again. She felt so real to him, she made him want to push it even further, maybe he loved her. Maybe he had always loved her.

During the battle last night, he watched as a masked Death Eater shot a killing curse directly at Hermione. He yelled for her to move, and she barely heard him in time as the lethal jet of light missed her by mere centimeters. Just the memory alone made his heart race. If anything were to ever happen to her, especially in battle, he didn't know if he'd be able to forgive himself for putting her in such danger.

He has been selfish for the last six years. If he wasn't, Ron and Hermione would have been kept at a safe distance just like everyone else. He then thought of his red headed best friend, and how he betrayed him tonight. It's not exactly a secret that Ron and Hermione had something going on, yet he goes off and snogs her while Ron's held up in the hospital wing injured in a battle that he would have never been in if it wasn't for him.

He pushed himself away from the sink angrily, sweeping his arm across the counter and sending it's various contents flying against the castle wall.

Suddenly, his stony exterior crumbled as he looked down at the mess he created. He remembered the time he nearly destroyed Dumbledore's office after Sirius had died, which reminded him of the fact that Dumbledore was dead. He had to struggle from keeping his knees from buckling beneath him. Never again would he sit in Dumbledore's office and discuss the war, school, or life with him again. He no longer had his guidance in his quest to destroy the horcruxes and defeat Voldemort. He was lost. The great wizard was a far more than just a Headmaster. Hot tears ran down his face.

He felt true fury; at Snape for killing Dumbledore, at Voldemort for merely existing, and at Dumbledore for not fighting harder for his life. But mostly, he was angry at himself. He threw his fist into the glass. His rage only grew as his fist bounced off the enchanted mirror. He wanted to hurt, and he wanted to suffer. Anything was better than feeling this cold and empty nothingness. He punched the stone wall next to the unbreakable mirror several times until he felt his hand shatter against the cold stone.

Wrapping his bloody fist in a towel, he began to feel dizzy. His heart was racing and the room was spinning, he could barely breathe. Suddenly his legs gave out from under him, and he found himself on the floor. Laying there was all that he could manage, face down with his glasses astray.

And all he could think about was that kiss...

xxx

My eyes welled up with tears the moment he turned his back to me. His posture was rigid, and I could feel the air between us buzzing with stress, anger, but most of all, confusion. My knees wobbled, a sob caught in my throat. I was okay, was... until... Oh, Merlin. My knees hit the carpeted flooring with a dull thud, I know he heard, but he didn't turn around.

Small sobs tore through my body, my vision blurred as the dam broke, and the tears came down in torrents. I couldn't identify the pain that had overcome me, for the simple reason that I didn't understand it. I had been successfully sweeping my feelings under the rug for the last 16, nearly 17 years of my life by keeping a damned book propped up in my face. Couple that with the most recent death and destruction, and I was a classic head case. I silently wondered if the staff at St. Mungo's would notice if I put a tongue-tying curse on Lockhart if we ended up rooming together.

I scooted back to lean against the couch, and I stared blankly into the fire. I really needed to figure out where my heart belonged.

I always had feelings for Harry, but I was content being his friend. Having him as a friend was far better than ruining our friendship over what I once thought was a silly school-girl crush. He was Harry Bloody Potter, I was bound to have a crush on him, like every other girl my age. Yet, I had stood both on the side line and in the direct line of fire for him. I was the logic and voice of reason when his failed him. I made sure that he had at least one person to mother and care for him, as he didn't have anyone else. I knew from the moment I met him, that I had wanted to be a part of his life, no matter how insignificant.

I honestly felt that if it hadn't been for me, both Harry and Ron would have dropped out of Hogwarts three times over because their homework and studying would have been neglected for quidditch and chess, or Harry would have been killed by drinking the wrong potion while trying to recover the Philosopher's stone. Whichever, your pick.

I could love Ron, eventually. He had been doing sweet things like carrying my books, opening doors, holding my hand, complimenting me, it was obvious that he was trying pretty hard to get my attention. He had even begun to develop a rudimentary set of manners, finally. But the fact remains that sometimes he can be the biggest prat. He was so quick to abandon Harry during the Triwizard Tournament, and I still hadn't completely forgiven him for that. What about the countless times that he and I have ceased talking because of one incident or another? Realistically, did he and I belong together? The doubt that filled the pit of my stomach wasn't very assuring.

Then I thought back to the kiss.

The kiss with Harry, that is, Not only had I never felt that way before in my entire life, but I had never expected to either. It was so different, and the clinical part of me wanted to do it again just to observe my reaction. My heart agreed, kissing Harry again sounded like a lovely idea.

But then Lady Logic stepped in and told me I was a horrible person who deserved to die alone. Why? Because I had betrayed Ron. He asked me out, I said yes, then I run off and snog his best mate while he's in the hospital wing? Shouldn't I be nicking Harry's invisibility cloak and attempting to infiltrate the hospital wing to shower my significant other with love and affection because I am so proud of his display of bravery in battle?

I nearly threw up.

A loud crash brought me out of my thoughts, and I became worried when I realized that it had come from the boy's dormitories. I stood up shakily, wiped my face, and set off up the stairs.

xxx

The first thing Harry felt was his hand throbbing viciously, the second was a set of cool fingers wrapping around his wrist and lifting his hand for inspection. He opened his eyes and saw a blurry version of Hermione kneeling next to him, staring at his bloodied hand with a look of horror on her face.

"Really, Harry... Was this necessary? Look what you've done to yourself." she said, while observing his injuries. He winced, and gritted his teeth as she put pressure on the back of his hand. He didn't reply to her. "It's definitely broken."

She sat down on the floor across from him, and conjured a bowl of warm water, along with a couple of terry cloths. She cast a numbing charm on his hand and dabbed at it lightly, trying to get a better view of his injuries. She saw that tiny pieces of stone were imbedded in the skin surrounding his knuckles, or what was left of them at least. She jumped when he finally broke the awkward silence.

"I meant it." he said simply, and she knew to what he was referring to.

"I meant it too, Harry." she replied, not taking her eyes off of his hand.

"How do you feel about Ron? The truth." he asked, "I need to know."

"There is a possibility that I could love him one day." she said, knowing he wanted more.

"But..." he pushed her to continue.

"I don't now, I just can't. I shouldn't of ever gotten involved..." he cut her off.

"How are you sure that you don't love him?" he looked at her questioningly.

"Harry, I know you want to understand how I feel, but I don't even know how I feel. I don't know how I feel about anything now that things have changed." she finished, giving him a stern look.

"How have things changed?" he asked, he wanted to hear her say it.

"Our kiss..."

"It only has to mean what you want it to, Hermione."

"It means a lot to me..."

"You are special to me, you always have been. It just took almost losing you to figure that out. I want you to do whatever it takes to make you happy, and I suggest you figure out what that is. If you want that moment we shared to be nothing more than a single moment in time, you are free to carry on as if it never happened. But you'll always hold a place in my heart that no girl will ever be able to touch. I can see my future with you. I have never been able to see past Voldemort and the Final Battle before tonight." he had held her gaze the whole time he had spoke, and even though he had said an awful lot, his emerald green eyes said even more.

"I think I need to talk to Ron..." she said, barely audible.

"I think you need to think things through." he said with finality. "You said it yourself, you could love Ron."

'But what if I already love you?' She thought to herself.

He began to wince and hiss as the numbing charm had begun to wear off, Hermione recast the spell and continued healing, cleaning, and bandaging his wound. Nothing more was said between them, the silence stretched on as the two friends left each other to their thoughts.

xxx

Author's Note: Title is subject to change. Going forward, all notes will be at the bottom of each chapter. I will try my best to respond to reviews, and will try my best to update this beast that I have unleashed as often as I can. I am looking for a beta reader that shares my love for the H/Hr pairing, please feel free to drop a review letting me know that you are interested in working together.