The dark was something that I was becoming quite accustomed to. Tonight I insisted on putting out all the lights in order to make her sleep easier. It was something that we rarely did so that the one who kept watch would have something to see by. But I felt restless and very awake, so I wasn't worried about falling asleep on the watch. I found that when I finally reached the extremity of my exhaustion it was replaced by an edgy vigilance. I sat on the ground, my body half in and half out of the tent, trying to find some comfort from the cold night. I shifted to bring my exposed half in and let my sheltered half out, quickly looking over my shoulder into the darkness of the tent to check on Hermione.
Her small form lay motionless beneath the blankets on the cot. The sound of her breathing was just barely audible. I knew that it was time to wake her for the watch, but Ron's departure had taken its toll, and I had seen a decline in her that got worse every day. While her mind was as sharp as ever, always looking for the next smart move, her skin was ashen, and her eyes seemed more sunken, the dark circles beneath deep and bruise-like. I often heard her weeping quietly when she thought I was out of earshot.
My guilt was immeasurable and crushing.
Hermione made a soft sound in her sleep, like a cry. I struggled for a moment, unsure if I should approach her. How could I impart any measure of comfort, when I myself possessed none? I felt hollow, completely devoid of hope or solace, but I got up anyway and went to sit beside her on the cot.
"Lumos," I whispered to the wand I held, Hermione's wand, the only one we had in our possession. The soft light lit her face, and I was struck suddenly by how young she looked. In sleep her face seemed nearer to the age she was when we first met six years ago. So young…a child fighting a demon for her life and for the lives of everyone she loved.
By law we were not children, but for the first time I thought that seventeen was too young. We were too young to be out here alone.
She cried out again and I placed my hand on her head, trying to convey some reassurance. Unfortunately, this had the effect of waking her and I pulled my hand away in time to see her eyes flutter open.
"Harry?" She blinked slowly, looking at me while rubbing her eyes.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," I mumbled softly, pausing, unsure of what to say. She shook her head and sat up, looking down at the Muggle watch that she had strapped to her wrist.
"It's okay. It's time for me to take over the watch. You should get some sleep," she said, her voice scratchy. She pushed the blankets off and swung her feet to the other side of the cot, down into her waiting boots. We sat shoulder to shoulder facing in opposite directions. She made no move to stand up, nor I to lie down. I stared forward out of the flap of the tent. I assumed that she was looking at the back wall. Minutes ticked by.
"I was dreaming," she murmured softly.
"Yeah?" I said, looking at her out of the corner of my eye.
She played with the edge the collar on her shirt, pulling at a frayed string.
"We were at the Burrow. It was a summer day. We were outside in the garden, you, me and…" she paused, not breathing, "…and Ron. We were pulling up weeds. It was sunny and warm with a perfect breeze…very pleasant." She stopped. A minute or two passed without any words. I pictured the scene that she had described, imagining that we lived in a world where such simple things were possible.
I settled into the vision, and was starting to give into the exhaustion that I had been holding at bay, when Hermione's sob tore a hole through the reverie. I turned sideways to catch her as she threw herself toward my shoulder. I held her to my chest, cradling her. Her sadness was terrible, and I felt tears brim in my own eyes. But I did not deserve to cry. If I had not fought with Ron, if I had stopped him from leaving, she would not be in so much pain. This was my fault.
"I'm sorry Hermione," I whispered.
"Don't," she said softly, her voice thick with tears. She continued to cry but did not say anything else, and I just held her, feeling completely at a loss for what to say or do. A sudden unwelcome thought entered my mind, splitting my heart in my chest.
This is what it will be like if he dies.
When he dies.
I had to stifle the thought quickly, pushing it deep down to the back of my mind, because it felt like the fragile filaments that were holding me together were stretching beyond their capacity. The idea of anything happening to Ron or Hermione was too much to bear.
I have barely anything left to see me through this.
Hermione continued to weep quietly but moved her hands from their clenched position beneath her chin to encircle me in her arms, gripping the back of my jacket. I placed my chin on the top of her head, and stared out of the tent flap, picturing Ron walking out and feeling angry and abandoned. We stayed like this for what seemed like an hour. After a while she became quiet, and I simply held her and listened to the sound of her breathing. The weight of her in my arms felt reassuring, proof that we were still here. I wondered whether my physical presence imparted some degree of comfort to her, and as if in answer to that thought Hermione let out a tired sigh.
We remained like this for some time, just being present for the other. So much time passed that I thought she may have fallen back to sleep. I picked my chin up slowly, holding her head out in the crook of my arm so that I could glance at her face, and was surprised when I met her full gaze. Her expression was open, her eyes dry and contemplative. For a moment I felt exposed and caught off guard, because I had expected her to be asleep, but then I was drawn into her gaze. There was something soothing about looking at her, and I felt quiet in my mind for the first time in what seemed like forever.
"I am sorry Hermione," I said quietly, my voice calm, the words measured. "I'm sorry that you are here with me waiting for the worst to happen and that I don't know what to do or where I'm going." I paused, holding my breath, afraid to give voice to the thing that had been standing between us like a mountain. "Mostly…I'm sorry that he's left us." I let the last words hang in the air, and watched her face for a reaction.
She remained silent, her expression serious, with a small pucker of concern between her eyes. She inhaled slowly through her nose, and exhaled in the same composed way. She pulled one of her hands from around my back and placed it gently on the side of my face, her fingers lightly touching my ear, thumb on my cheek. Her eyes drifted to look at her hand and she seemed to be considering it as she gently smoothed her thumb along my skin.
I suddenly became aware of the sound of the wind rustling the fabric of the tent, and I could hear the ticking of the watch on her wrist near my ear. I felt tightness in my throat, but I said nothing and I did not move my gaze from her eyes. She looked back at me, and I swear, I could see light in her eyes.
"I'm sorry this is happening, and I am sorry that it is so hard. And," she paused, "I'm sorry that he's left us…I'm sorry that he left me."
And there it was…the thing that I could not say, the thing that I didn't want to face. I had ruined them. Because of me, what had started between them would never come to be. Their mortal lives were still intact despite all of the danger that I had put them in, but the life that they were starting to build between them had been destroyed. I was holding half of that wreckage in my arms, and suddenly the weight of her seemed like more than I could bear. But I held her still, even as I felt tears fill my eyes.
"No, Harry," she whispered. Her hand clutched at my face suddenly, the furrow in her brow deepened. "It was his choice to leave," she said, pulling me closer to her, trying to force me to keep looking in her eyes. "Ron and I, we chose to be with you in this and we all tried to prepare for what this would be like…but how could we know? How could we know how hard it would be? It is not your fault that it is like this. And it is not your fault that he left," she said, her voice whispered but firm and clear, her eyes boring into mine as if she could drill the idea into my head.
I shook my head, the tears finally falling from my eyes and I tried to pull away from her, but she held on tighter.
"Hey," she said in a quiet but fierce tone. "You don't get to do this…you don't get to take everything onto yourself so that no one else is accountable for their actions. None of this is your fault. Do you understand me? Harry, are you listening to me?"
I took a breath, composing myself for a moment or two before answering with a half smile.
"Yes…Hermione, I am listening to you. How could I not be listening to you with you carrying on two inches from my face?" I replied, gently teasing.
She stared at me for a bit, probably trying to ascertain whether or not I was really okay, before finally nodding and breaking her gaze. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to my cheek. I breathed in the scent of her hair, soothing in its familiarity. We stayed suspended like this for several moments. When I pulled back I looked at her for a few moments before leaning in and pressing my lips to hers.
The shock of what I'd done overwhelmed me and I drew my breath in sharply, as did she, but I did not break the kiss. A part of myself was ordering me to stop, while another more desperate part would hear none of it. It felt like something that I had been building up inside of myself, some kind of barrier, was beginning to falter. I hadn't realized how much energy I had been expending to maintain this fortification, and losing the burden of it was a great relief.
The kiss felt bottomless, unlike anything that I had ever experienced before. I poured myself into it completely, letting go of all of my fear and anger and exhaustion. I breathed in the scent of her breath, and felt like I knew her completely. She was the one person in the world who had stood by me through everything, and in that moment I loved her more than I had ever loved anyone.
We stayed linked by the kiss for a long time, neither of us seeming to want to break the spell. My heart was beating hard in my chest, though for the first time in what seemed like years, it was doing so because of happiness, not fear. I was focused only on Hermione, and it felt like my strength was returning, heartbeat by heartbeat.
Eventually, after what seemed like hours, we broke the kiss. I held her close to me, my forehead pressed to hers, eyes closed. I did not want to speak, did not want this feeling of peace to end. She seemed happy to remain quiet.
At some point much later on she stirred in my arms and moved to get up. We sat on the cot, shoulder to shoulder, facing in opposite directions again. We didn't speak at all, but she took the wand from me and went to the opening of the tent. She looked back over her shoulder at me for a moment before she stepped out into the night, a gentle smile on her lips.
I woke up in the morning to the smell of breakfast. I lay still with my eyes closed for a few minutes trying to figure out what I was feeling. As far as I could tell I was mostly feeling anxiety, a miserable replacement for the state of peace I had felt last night. I pulled it apart in my mind, trying to figure out why I felt so apprehensive. Part of me was worried about what Hermione might be thinking while another part felt a pang of regret for Ron. But the larger problem was a sense of falling away from myself, a feeling of being out of control.
"Morning Harry," Hermione said full voice as if I wasn't lying here with my eyes closed. I cleared my throat.
"Morning."
"How are you feeling?"
I looked over to take her measure before responding. She was looking down at the table, fussing with a napkin. She looked at me and our eyes met for a moment before she looked down again.
"I'm fine," I said, my voice sounding small even to me. "You?"
She started to say something and stopped, opened her mouth again and then froze, a look of frustration forming on her face, a deep furrow between her eyes.
"Harry, I feel confused."
"Confused?"
"Yes. Confused," she said decisively, almost as if she was proud of herself for deciding on how she was feeling. "You know that I love you very much, right?"
"You do?" I asked as the feeling of being out of control mounted.
Hermione put down the napkin, practically marched over to the cot, and looked down at me in an exasperated way.
"Yes, Harry I do love you. You are my best friend. And we have been through so much…we are practically brothers in arms."
I started to get up off of the cot, but she blocked me by sitting down on the edge and grabbing onto my arm.
"Hermione, I…"
"Oh, come on Harry. We kissed! I think we need to talk about it but it's not like we did anything we should be ashamed of."
"But you said you were confused," I said, adding confusion to my own list of uncomfortable feelings for the morning.
"Well, of course," she exclaimed. "We are in the middle of hell right now! The person that I love more than anything just left me and then you and I were almost killed. Again. And then last night I was feeling so sad and then you kissed me and somehow today, I feel better…confused, but better too. Do you know what I mean?"
"Maybe?" I replied honestly. She sighed, her voice serious.
"I just don't think that we should let this come between us. It just happened. We needed some…I don't know…reassurance, I suppose."
A few moments ticked by.
"Comfort," I added quietly, and our eyes met truly for the first time this morning.
"Exactly," she sighed. We took one another's hands and sat silently for a minute.
"If you think it will be too weird, I've gotten quite good with the Obliviate charm," she said, a small smirk forming on her lips.
I laughed.
"No…I think we can handle it. Don't want that to go too far. We could end up camping forever and just forget who we are."
We were both silent, and she smiled sadly.
"That doesn't sound too awful really with everything that's going on does it?" she murmured, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
I shook my head, feeling sad as well.
"But then I suppose the world would fall into darkness. Who else can take up this fight?" she asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.
I didn't really know what to say so I reached out and held her to me.
"I'm not going to think about the fight right now, Hermione. Right now I am going to think about breakfast, and the fact that the sun looks like it is shining out there, and that I had this nice dream last night where I kissed a pretty girl."
She made a soft sound like a little laugh, pulled away quietly and returned to the table where she resumed fussing with the napkins. I got up and walked to the table and took a seat. We ate breakfast and chatted about nothing in particular. Finally it was time, so we stepped out into the sun, packed up the camp and moved on.
AN: So I finally got around to doing this re-write. I have chosen not to take down the original and repost this as something new, but rather to replace the original in the same place, mostly because I feel like that would be cheating. While I changed a number of things in this piece, some quite significantly, it isn't actually new. Chapter two is gone, and it unlikely that it will ever be rewritten because it is no longer relevant to the story.
My triumph with this is that I took some of the criticism that I received when this was first written, specifically pertaining to my characterization of Harry, and I fixed it as much as I could to make it more true to his character.
If anyone happens to read this and is familiar with the original version and has opinions on my changes I'd be happy to hear them. However, I imagine that it will be tough to dig this out of the Mount Everest-sized heap that is Harry Potter fan fiction.