So I was inspired to do this when my dear friend laisvega suggested an angsty Harmony fic would perfectly fit a song that we both love. I hate u I love u by Gnash ft. Olivia O'Brien.
This is my first time attempting to write this pairing, so hopefully I pull it off.
Originally I had just meant for this to be a drabble...but as per usual I get way too carried away, and I think this will probably end up being a ficlet. When I'll post the rest of it, I have no idea, either way, I hope you enjoy it!
My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line is mine.
Still missing you
And I can't
See the end of this
Just wanna feel your kiss
Against my lips
And now all this time
Is passing by
But I still can't seem to tell you why
It hurts me every time I see you
Realize how much I need you
I hate you I love you
I hate that I love you
Don't want to, but I can't put
Nobody else above you
I hate you I love you
I hate that I want you
You want her, you need her
It was a rather cold, wet and overall dreary day. However it was still the early morning hours, the sun hadn't risen yet, and from the thick fog smothering the city, she highly doubted you would be able to tell either way.
A white, wide, ceramic mug was resting on the small, glass top table beside the mocha skinned, curly haired woman; her hand was loosely holding the warm mug, in her other hand was resting on her chair's thin armrest. Her wrist was limp, and a wisp of smoke from the burning tip of her fag blew away, and blended into the fog surrounding her.
As she did most mornings, she came out onto her small balcony of the flat she had managed to acquire in Wizarding London, she smoked a cigarette-a habit she had picked up in the last few months, one that Molly complained about, and Sirius encouraged, because it meant he had a smoking buddy-and drank a cup of tea.
All whilst contemplating things she wished she could change, and things she desperately wanted to come to fruition; no matter how much she knew she could never have those things.
Sighing, she brought the fag to her lips, taking a deep breath, feeling it fill her lungs, before she lowered the fag. Moments later she lazily breathed out, the smoke drifting out of her mouth.
The main thing she wished she could have was her best friend, but in his eyes she was nothing more than just that, his know-it-all best friend.
Yes. That kiss was simply a mistake. It's why he's with Ginny and not me, Hermione thought bitterly.
Hermione still went to dinner at the Burrow, but she ensured she was never alone with the Boy Who Lived. It would hurt too much. Ginny and Harry could often be seen out and about, the reporters hounded the Golden Trio constantly whenever they went anywhere.
Ron had revelled in it at first, thriving with all the attention, but he too tired of it when he couldn't even go get a pint in the Leaky Cauldron without someone interrupting his alone time.
Harry of course abhorred all the attention, which is why he made sure to keep a low profile. Which was made easier by the fact that he was spending most of his time at Hogwarts; he was going to apprentice under Remus-who was resuming the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Hermione had yet to find something she wanted to do, she knew she was expected to take up a job at the Ministry, but she found herself spending more time at St. Mungo's helping out.
Which led her to be friendly with Draco Malfoy. Who was a Healer in training, and he was given most of the grunt work by the older Healers; who clearly hoped that the immense workload they had thrust upon him would make him give up.
Ron didn't approve of Draco too much, but he had still joined Hermione, Draco, Blaise and Theo for a drink in Muggle London a month back. Ron had been flabbergasted that the former Slytherins would deign to go into a Muggle establishment.
To which Theo drawled in a cool tone, "well it's decent alcohol, and at least everyone isn't staring at us like we're going to pluck their children from their arms and gut them in front of their eyes." There had been a tense moment of silence before they all broke into an easy bout of laughter. Since then Ron had accompanied them on a few other outings, and they all seemed to get along just fine.
The Prophet often referred to her as 'The Fallen Golden Girl,' since Rita freaking Skeeter liked to comment on her new friends, saying she was shacking up with not only one but three of Britain's wealthiest wizards. "Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World apparently was not enough to sate her lust."
Blaise once asked her if she wanted him to get rid of Skeeter, but she had merely patted his cheek and said she would deal with the wretched woman herself. When the time was right.
Hermione leaned back her head and looked up at the blue grey sky, taking another drag from her cigarette. Wondering how she had gotten to the point in her life when she didn't see or speak to Harry or Ginny as often, and she was friends with her former 'enemies'.
Draco had quietly asked her once as they changed a set of bedding in one of the private wards, "why did you give me a chance, Granger?"
Hermione had fixed him with a serious stare and merely responded with, "because you were a boy. A scared boy, who had little choice in what he could do since his circumstance and upbringing provided him with little to no wiggle room." She had then frowned, "really Draco, you call that a hospital corner?"
Hermione sighed softly, closing her eyes and letting her mind wander. Wander back to that day.
It was cold, too cold. No amount of warming charms, layers or thick blankets seemed to have any effect on their frigid surroundings.
Hermione was bundled up, only her eyes peeking out from the blanket she had curled up in.
She had had trouble sleeping the last few nights, and she felt like this night would be no different. Ron leaving had dampened Harry and her spirits, and she found herself wishing she could help Harry in some way.
It really didn't help that her dreams were filled with the other current occupant in the tent.
As of late, she would sit at their table, her tea getting cold beside her, and just stare at Harry for hours. She delved into research to help distract herself, but she still caught herself watching Harry as he moved to and fro listlessly.
Tonight however she knew as much as she wished it, Harry would not be joining her in her bundle of blankets in her cot.
She had almost drifted off when she heard a bang, a muttered curse and then light footsteps. Harry? She asked herself, wriggling out of her blankets enough for her to sit up, peering into the darkness.
She almost jumped out of her skin when a soft voice from the shadows next to her cot said, "Hermione."
"Fu-" Hermione began, jumping backwards, but her legs were still tightly wrapped in blankets, so she landed funny.
Then a bright light was shining in her face, and she squinted past it to see Harry's worried face, brow knitted together.
"Harry, what in Godric's name-" Hermione hissed, throwing her blankets off of her, "did something happen?"
Harry rubbed at the back of his neck, and his worried expression melted into a sheepish one, "I-uh…"
Hermione patiently waited, sitting up now, giving him her full and undivided attention.
"I was really cold...and I imagined you couldn't be much warmer and I...well…" Harry trailed off, and she could barely see the blush tinging his cheeks. Then it all clicked into place and she understood completely what he meant.
"C'mon, climb in," Hermione said softly, turning the other way, hoping that in the poor light he couldn't see the pink that had rushed to her cheeks, or hear how her breath caught in her throat thinking about how his larger body was going to pressed up against hers. Really, most of all, she hoped her couldn't hear her thundering heartbeat.
That night Hermione wanted to say she had slept terribly, but at some point during the night Harry had thrown his arm across her body and she hadn't felt this safe in months. She fell asleep bathed in warmth and that night she didn't mind Harry visiting her dreams.
She never wanted it to end, the feeling of him wrapped around her, his chest and front pressed up against the back of her. His gentle breathing tickling her neck since she had thrown her unruly curls into a bun on top of her head. In that moment Hermione knew she was in love with her best friend.
The next morning, feeling brave and unsure simultaneously as she woke up to Harry's warm smile, and bright green eyes, since he had take off his glasses; she had moved without thinking and gently kissed him.
At first he didn't respond, stunned she would imagine, but then his strong arms were pulling her closer, and his tongue had easily slid into mouth, and she couldn't believe what was happening.
Then before she knew what was happening, his warmth was gone, his lips, his body, all of it. Leaving her cold and alone. She shifted so that she was sitting on the cot, drawing her knees to her chest, and Harry was standing in front of her, panting slightly.
"I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," Harry said quickly, averting his gaze. She had never felt so empty before. She had a bright warmth filling her insides moments prior, and now all that was left was a frigid hollowness that she loathed with every piece of her.
Then he was turning away, and hurriedly walking away.
"I wonder, if I had followed him...if it would have changed anything," Hermione murmured to herself, scratching her thigh absently.
After that they just pretended it never happened, and then Ron was back, and things were better. Their kiss was never mentioned after that, neither of them daring to utter a word about it.
"Morning," a voice said sleepily behind her, and Hermione didn't bother turning to see who it was. Even though she had tensed instantly, her eyes darting to where her wand lay on the table.
"How's your head, Ron?" Hermione asked, wincing as he dragged the other chair on the balcony closer to the table, the legs scraping against the tiles.
"Better than when I woke up. What time is it?" Ron asked groggily, and she angled her head towards him, feeling the cool metal of the top of the chair against her temple.
The ginger haired man's cheeks and chin were covered in rough stubble, and his face was in his hands as he leaned back in his chair.
"Still before seven in the morning, which means you got about three or four hours of sleep. Which is amazing considering the hangover you have to be nursing," Hermione pursed her lips sympathetically.
"Sod off...I'm going back to bed," Ron groaned, almost falling over when he stood up again. "Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way," Ron smiled weakly, looking at her with slightly bloodshot eyes.
"No problem, Ron," Hermione smirked, "I'm just glad you didn't puke all over my floor."
"Remind me never to challenge Nott to a drinking game again," Ron muttered as he pushed open the sliding door, and headed back inside. Hermione snorted. That was bloody likely, it was as if the four boys had adjusted their childhood animosity to that of a bit of healthy competition.
Ron had shown up last night, completed sloshed, and mumbling how pretty he thought Padma Patil was. He was going to ask her out the next time she came into the shop (he was helping out the twins at the moment, not quite positive what he wanted to do career wise). Hermione had rolled her eyes, then helped inside, helping him undress, leaving him passed out in his underwear on her bed. She slept on the couch.
Once more Hermione was left alone, and she figured it was probably about time she swallowed her pride, and hurt feelings and at least let Harry know how she felt. Hermione scowled, no, that was a horrible idea. He had Ginny, and it would only make things awkward and uncomfortable if she professed her feelings for him now. No.
Hermione thought they would dwindle even slightly since it had been months now, almost a year since their kiss. Yet the brilliant, all-consuming warmth she had felt that night only smacked her across the face whenever she saw him, only for it to be snuffed when she saw him and Ginny conversing about Quidditch and other topics after dinner was done on Sundays.
One time she had brought Theo-because he had commented that he'd never been to anything with a lot of family before, he had been terribly shocked by the boisterous crowd he spent the evening with-and she swore she saw Harry glare at Theo, but chalked that up to wishful thinking on her part.
No, Hermione thought sadly, she would simply have to bury these feelings deep inside herself or try and move on. It was the only way.
