Part of the Monthly One-Shot Exchange (September). This fic was written for desertredwolf.

A Long Way to Go

Harry had been in the dark since he had come back to Number 4 Privet Drive after his 4th year at school. It was obvious none of his friends wanted him to know what was going on. The letters he received were mundane, so mundane that he needn't have read them at all. They kept saying things like, "We'll fill you in later." But there was one letter that came from Hermione that he hadn't expected at all.

Dear Harry,

I know we haven't been very honest with you lately. It's hard to keep you informed when there are so many telling us to keep quiet. But there is one thing I wanted to be completely honest with you about. I love you, Harry, and not in the silly, easy friendship way you're used to hearing from me. I say 'I love you' not because you're the Chosen One, or because you've done things that a normal wizard would never have dreamed of at your age, or because you're a great Quidditch Seeker.

I love you because you're Harry, just Harry, and your most annoying qualities mesh with your great ones in a way that make you more than everyone else: your infuriating impatience, your admirable assurance of yourself and everyone you love, your stout and kind heart, your misguided sense of direction when it comes to following the rules, your uncannily precise moral compass. You are a hero to so many, but you are my hero always.

I hope you feel a similar affection for me, but if you don't, when you see me next, please do me a favor: don't mention this. I don't want Ronald to tease me to death.

Love, always,

Hermione

He had memorized the letter, hoping it would give way to the doom he felt heading his way. It had in some ways, but in others…

He was now standing outside the door to Hermione's room in an old house after several hours of being on a broomstick. He was sore, irritated, and easily riled. He did not want to meet Hermione again under these circumstances, but when he opened the door, Hermione jumped on top of him, burying her face in his neck and reminding him how much he wanted her, too, but he didn't say a word.

During the conversations that followed, he still never mentioned the letter, and he could tell that Hermione's spirits were plummeting. He didn't want to give her false hope; he simply needed the advice of someone who wouldn't go blabbing to his entire family about the situation. And Sirius didn't have any family except Harry, so he would be perfect.

"But I love it!" Ginny said.

"No, you don't." Sirius' face was set in stone but there was the faintest hint of mirth in his gray eyes.

Mrs. Weasley sent Ginny to bed without the friendly little pixie she had found in an empty bedroom. Harry was watching from the threshold of the kitchen as the argument ensued, but when the Weasley's went upstairs he sat on the opposite side of the table from Sirius.

Harry whispered, "Have you ever been in love, Sirius?"

Sirius' face fell. "Once, a long time ago."

Harry wanted to press his godfather about that revelation, but he had more important things to discuss with the man.

"I think I'm in love," he said quietly, his fingers tapping the table idly.

"If you were in love, you would know it, Harry."

"How would you know it if you've never felt it before?"

"Because it's something completely new, a weird feeling you've never experienced, something akin to the way you feel gasping for air after almost drowning. It's like that."

Harry recalled that feeling when he'd read Hermione's letter. Gasping for air.

"Who is it, then?" asked Sirius, his eyes a cool shade of gray, calculating.

Harry hesitated. "Hermione," he whispered almost inaudibly.

Sirius let loose a barking laugh, reached across the table and swatted Harry on the shoulder. "Of course," he kept saying. "Of course. 'Atta boy, Harry." And as Kingsley Shacklebot walked past the kitchen door, Sirius said, "Kingsley, this—THIS is my godson."

Kingsley shook his head slightly but chuckled a little as he kept walking.

"I can't go through with it, Sirius," said Harry after Sirius had had his laugh.

"Why the hell not?"

"I have… responsibilities. I have… a duty."

Sirius rested his forehead in his right hand. "You're going to look one hundred and three before you turn seventeen. Harry, you may be the Chosen One, but you're still a kid. All this duty and responsibility you think you have… shove it off! You're free to make the choices you want. And if Hermione—" Harry shushed him until he whispered "—if Hermione has declared her love for you, Merlin, Potter, you better be able to say it back without thinking, 'This won't ever work because I need to defeat Voldemort.' Maybe, if you're lucky, you two lovebirds will find a way to make it work in spite of your duty."

He saw Hermione the next day. She was helping Sirius and Mrs. Weasley cleaning out doxies from the curtains in the front room. He hadn't quite decided if he was going to go through with it, but he knew he needed to get Hermione's attention. Sirius had said girls hear words just fine, but they like actions a little more. He walked right up to her, put one hand on her shoulder and one behind her neck and kissed her on the lips.

For a moment, time stood still. His first kiss… their first kiss. He didn't even notice all the doxies that were flying around them until Sirius yelled, "Harry, as proud as I am of you, close the damn curtains!"

Suddenly, he released Hermione, who seemed dazed and confused. Harry grabbed the two curtains and flung them shut. The doxies all flew back into them and the room was still. So still, in fact, that Harry was uncomfortable in the utter silence.

Sirius said, "Alright, why don't you two head upstairs and—"

"Sirius Black!" Mrs. Weasley yelled.

"—talk a bit. For Merlin's sake, Molly…"

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and led her up the stairs to his room. Hermione didn't say a word going up the stairs or down the hall, but neither did Harry. He closed the door to his room once they were inside and sat on the bed, offering Hermione enough room where she could sit on the bed next to him or in the chair across the room. She chose the former.

"Harry, I—"

"No, please, Hermione. Let me first," he said. His hands were shaking slightly, and Hermione reached over and rested her hands on top of his. They immediately stopped shaking. "I don't know how to say this with all the nice words you said to me, so I'm just going to say it."

Hermione's breath pitched.

"I love you, Hermione."

She exhaled with a small smile forming on her lips.

"But I can't be with you."

It took her a moment to register the sentence. Then the tears began, sliding down her cheeks and falling to the bedspread. He held up his hand to wipe them away, but she scooted further away from him on the bed.

"Why?"

Harry sighed. "I don't want you getting hurt because of me."

"Why would you hurt me, Harry?"

"I wouldn't," he said, his heart aching. "But He might."

She looked so beautiful, even when she was crying, but she understood the ramifications of being with him, even if Sirius didn't.

He could lose himself in her; there was nothing he'd rather do. But he was the Chosen One. He had a responsibility thrust upon him since he was an infant. He wanted so badly to stop the ride, give in to his desires, but he had a long way to go before that would be possible. A long way to go…