There is something I need to tell you
Author's notes :
This delete scene made all sorts of things to my heart and I had to write something to get it out.
A heavy amount of this was written while listening to "Holocene"byBonIver.
I hope you'll enjoy the fic. This hasn't been beta readed so if you see typos and such please let me know so I can fix them, I've been looking at it for too long and can't see anything anymore.
o-o-o
"Hermione"
"Yes ?"
"There is something I need to tell you."
"I don't want you to say anything you wouldn't say if we weren't about to be killed by a giant snake. It'll just ruin it."
o-o-o
The war has been won. As the three of them looked out through the Headmaster's office window, they saw the sun rising up above the lake. A new day, a new future, for all of them.
They head out of the office and walk silently toward the great hall, processing the last few hours, the last years, as they stroll in the corridors. Ron grabs Hermione's hand as they round a corner a few meters from the hall. He's stopped walking and is holding her back. She turns to look at him, a question at her lips when she sees the tears threatening to fall on his cheeks and her question dies in her throat. It takes a few seconds to Harry to realise that they are not walking next to him anymore. He looks back at them and watches Hermione caressing Ron's cheek with her right hand, her left still securely locked in his right's. He's about to tell them to go find a quiet space to be peacefully by themselves for once when he sees Ron nodding to something Hermione tells him and they make their way loyally towards him once again.
They enter the great hall as the trio they've been all those years, Hermione has reached for Harry's hand as soon as they caught up with him, as if she wanted to make sure he's really alive. He takes a deep breath and enters the hall to face the people who fought along with him, who trusted him to win this war and who lost so much in the process. His eyes scan the room, there's body covered by white sheets everywhere around the room, there is people crying, there is people laughing, there is people tending the wounds of others, there is a calm euphoria in the atmosphere that he's trying to grasp. Hermione is squeezing his hand and leads him and Ron toward the Weasley's huddled together next to Fred's body in a corner of the room. As they reach them, he squeezes Hermione's hand back, looks at her, her eyes are filled with tears she refuses to shed, her left hand is still firmly locked into Ron's and he sees his other best friend unable to look at his family, his eyes fixed on his dusty shoes. Harry gives a thankful nods to Hermione and releases her hand, turning around to find the ginger girl he very much wants to hold hands with for the rest of his life. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Mrs Weasley engulfing Ron into a hug. His eyes looks down at his best friends holding hands, he realises that Hermione's trying to let Ron's hand go so he can hold his mother fully, but, as Ginny's hand slips into his and as he clutches her hand tightly, he sees Ron's hand doing the same and holding tightly to Hermione. Harry releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding and sights. Mrs Weasley is now talking fervently to her youngest son and she's once again encircling him into a heavy hug, taking Hermione in her arms as well. Harry watches the tears Hermione was trying to hide cascading on her cheeks as she returns Mrs Weasley's hug firmly. Harry turns towards Ginny, caresses her cheekbone with his free hand and leans his forehead on hers.
"I love you" he murmurs.
"I know" she tells him.
She hugs him, shaking, and he realises that she may be trying to forget the sight of his limp body into Hagrid's arms. She kisses a patch of dirty skin underneath his left ear and hear her whisper fiercely that she loves him too.
o-o-o
Mrs Weasley sends them away from the chaos of the great hall, telling them to wash up, eat and sleep. As Ron and her make their way toward the Gryffindor tower, she looks back at Harry holding Ginny in his arms. Their eyes meet in private understanding before she turns back and leads Ron around the corner. They met McGonagall on the stairs who tells them to use the Head Girl apartment up on the 8th floor, which is miraculously unscattered. As the Professor starts to make her way down the stairs she tells them that she'll inform the Weasleys of their whereabouts and that they shouldn't be disturbed. She also assures them, as she scans their thin bodies, that someone will bring them something to eat. Hermione gives the teacher a thankful nod and leads Ron up the stairs once again. He is very quiet next to her and she feels a dull pang in the pit of her stomach as she realises that this war took too much from him, from them. Tears threaten to fall again, but she conceals them, the lump in her throat growing bigger.
They've reach the Head Girl's private quarters, the portrait guarding it recognises them and let them in without a word. Ron is leading the way through the small passage way, opening the door to the main room of the apartment, and once they are inside, Hermione closes the heavy wooden door behind them. Their hands are still locked into each other as they take in the sight in front of them. The gold and scarlet colours of their house is more vibrant than she remembers and she stops to take a deep breath and feel in this place, this castle, that she's called home for many years.
Ron tugs gently at her hand, leading her toward the private bathroom. She lets his hand go reluctantly as she reaches the sink and washes her hands thoroughly. He's standing next to her, still not uttering a word, his eyes transfixed on her hands covered in dirt and blood, she's not sure the blood is hers, she's not sure what terrifies her most. She feels numb and yet her body is aching everywhere. When she's done, she wraps her hands in a clean scarlet towel that sits next to the sink and she turns around to lay her back against the white marble counter of the sink. She looks at him, his eyes bore into hers, overwhelmed by too many emotions and she finds herself trying to catch her breath.
"Wash your hands" she tells him with a shaking voice.
When he's done and his hands are dry, he reaches for her beaded bag that she just put on the counter. He takes the small bottle of essence of dittany out of it and means to open it but decides otherwise and puts it down next to her.
"Hermione" his voice is hoarse, he hasn't spoken in hours.
"Yes" she replies breathlessly.
"There is something I need to tell you"
She's surprised by the intensity of his voice. She senses the seriousness of his words as she remembers them from hours before, when they thoughts they were about to die at the mercy of Nagini. She looks directly into his eyes and releases her answer in a whisper, there's nothing now to prevent him for telling her what he needed to tell her hours ago.
"Yes"
"I love you" he confesses her firmly.
She imagined that she'd hear him say those words to her on a warm summer evening in the orchard at the Burrow, or that he'd whisper them hastily, blushing furiously, under that tree near the shore of black lake where they always hanged out during their free time, or that she'd die under the Cruciatus curse before she could hear him whisper his confession into the ears of her dead body. She knows he almost told her when they arrived at Shell Cottage after that fateful day, she knows because she almost told him too.
Never did she imagined that she'd hear him say those three words to her in the private bathroom of the Gryffindor Head Girl quarters, their school in ruins, a few hours after defeating the darkest wizard of their time. Nor that they would be covered in dust and blood, starving, sleep deprived and after they were almost killed too many times to count.
It'lljustruinit.
Before uttering the three words back to him, looking him directly into the eyes as she does and then kissing him senseless without the fear of being interrupted, she remembers what she told him while running down the stairs and realises that right where they are couldn't be more perfect.