Chosen One
Disclaimer: this is all my imagination. I do not own Harry Potter
A dark and damp evening was settling calmly around number twelve Grimmauld Place and an icy breeze drifted through an ajar kitchen window. Hermione Granger stormed over and slammed the window tightly shut, pulling her jacket closely around her. In silence, she walked over to the large oak kitchen table and settled herself onto a heavy wooden chair.
Across from her, a dark-haired, emerald-eyed young man was reading the Daily Prophet intently, his eyes flashing with fury. Hermione sighed, looking over at Harry, and wishing to herself that this could all be over.
Without warning, the newspaper was slammed angrily to the table. Hermione gaped up at Harry who was now pacing the dark tiled floors breathing heavily.
"They've done it again, 'Mione," he yelled, "They've fucking done it again. The Chosen One! That's what they keep calling me! The fucking Chosen One. As if this was all meant to happen, as if they have believed me from the beginning. The fucking hypocrites."
Hermione ran swiftly over to Harry, forcing him to sit down.
"Harry, they are just trying to give people hope, you know? These are dark times Harry and to most people you are their light. Their guiding beacon that will lead them once again to happiness." she urged softly.
"Shit Hermione! Not you too? I thought you knew me better. I am not the fucking Chosen One" and with that Harry began to walk to the door. He was stopped, however, by a small soft voice.
"Yes, Harry, you are the chosen one." she replied gently. There was an awkward pause between the two of them as Harry processed her words, a furious expression spreading across his handsome feature. Just as he was about to reply Hermione spoke again.
"Wait, Harry. I don't necessarily mean that you are the chosen one in the way the Prophet depicts you. I mean that to your best friends you are the chosen one. To the Weasley family, you are the chosen one. And," she swallowed nervously, "you are my chosen one, Harry. If I could have anyone, it would be you. It would always be you."
An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of them, Hermione fiddling with her hands, Harry thinking about the young women's words.
"I'll just go get Ron-" Hermione started but was interrupted.
Harry had walked over to her and enveloped her into his strong, comforting arms. "Always" he murmured before their lips met in a tentative, clumsy, perfect first kiss.
