Giving In
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One, the novel or anything affiliated with J.K Rowling or Warner Bros Pictures.
Note: Out of the things added to the film, all of which I found tastefully and well done, this scene made my heart hurt. But Dobby coming back with Kreacher was hilarious. RIP Dobby. We love you.
She knows what this is the second he starts that ridiculous swaying. But until that moment she's not sure. Hermione is unsurprised when Harry extends a hand down to her, pulling her away from that blasted radio and up to her feet. But she's not sure what they're doing. She's half-expecting him to pull her into a hug, which he doesn't.
She can read the expression in his eyes with stunning clarity; that part-pain, part-understanding, part-longing for the Hermione that began this adventure with him, rather than the one standing here now—the Hermione with an ever-present veil of tears in her eyes and a frightening kind of detachment lining her lips. Lips that don't smile anymore.
Weeks. It's been weeks and she can't listen to the lists of Missing anymore. So she turns the radio from channel to channel, unsure of what she's looking for but knowing she has to find it. And then the music begins to fill the suffocating silence of the tent—music that reminds her of home and the records her parents play and dance to in the living room. Played and danced to, she chides herself.
Used to. Not anymore. Maybe not ever again. Hermione wonders what kind of taste Wendell and Monica Wilkins have in music, swallowing the bitter thought before it can overtake her. Stop dwelling. Her thoughts shift to Harry's gentle grip on her hands and the ghost of something resembling a content expression on his face. He removes the locket—the thing she blames secretly for everything—with such a tenderness her chest hurts.
At the moment Hermione just wants to wallow in her misery. That's the locket talking she knows, and Harry understands. He, of course, refuses this without her even having to speak. The sight of him tossing the Horcrux onto the cot with surprising ease—as if it's just some trinket without value—is an action with such weight that it makes relief seep into her shoulders. For a moment Hermione's heart thumps just a little stronger inside her chest.
She knows what he's doing. She's knows Harry's trying to make her feel better, trying to take her mind off things—off everything, off him.
Hermione knows and a dark, tiny part of her hates him for it. She doesn't see the point in this. But for some reason she gives in anyway. And then he begins to move, leaving her to be tugged along. He's slow, careful, exaggerating every second of this strange dance until he sees it; the light in her eyes. And then Harry smiles. It's cautious and crooked, but most of all it's hopeful, and that alone is nearly enough to make Hermione burst into tears.
Instead the girl finds herself laughing. It's barely a laugh; more of a sigh really, but at least it's not a sob and Harry seems to be able to read her mind. He smiles again, stronger this time, encouragingly. So finally, finally, he coaxes it out of her. A genuine lift of the corners of her mouth. As the music picks up, so do they. Suddenly they're really dancing. They're moving to the music and twirling each other around and for just a moment forgetting absolutely every awful thing that's happened since they left Bill and Fleur's wedding with a resounding, terrified crack.
But before too long the music changes tempo, and with it their dance. Hermione doesn't resist when Harry tugs her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. She just returns the gesture around his neck as if they've done this a thousand times, pressing her face into his neck and feeling their hearts beating together in time with the radio. His chin digs against her shoulder as they twirl in slow, gentle circles. She isn't smiling anymore. Her mind has found its way back into the present and it's ever-expanding darkness and not-big-enough ray of hope.
Them. Him. Harry.
She tries to hold onto this; the comfort and the safety and the love of her best friend, but she can't. When she pulls back and looks Harry in the eyes she thinks he can see it. Her heart twinges because she knows how hard he's just tried to make it okay, but the proper words won't come so she has to settle for brushing his bangs from his forehead and saying, "I'll cut your hair again."
And then she has to go because she really doesn't want him to see her cry.
Author's Note: First Harry Potter fic, mostly because I love this fandom so much that I don't ever think I could do it real justice. And because I was content with the way it ended. Although now that I look back, the fact that the movies are different gives a different perspective on the series. And they give us moments like this one that I just can't ignore. :)
Thoughts?
Annie