Hello. I am here again with another Harry/Hermione piece. This was inspired by the youtube video made by alli6 called Might Not Make it Home Tonight. If you want the link, let me know so I can send it. The video (and the fiction) is to the song "Get Up" by Barcelona. It is a haunting and beautiful melody that had me in its grasp the moment I heard it. I hope you like this story. It is written in stream of consiousness, so it will be a little stilted and choppy. It's to show how dijointed Harry feels at not only having to die, but also to die knowing that Hermione will never know how he feels. It's a pretty sad fic, but I am in a melancholic mood this week and needed to write something serious. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Barcelona/ their lyrics. I make no money, only tears.
Five days after black and red collide.
The motion sickness past, I'll be the first to stand
Harry slowly opened his hand up, letting the Resurrection Stone, and the vision of his family, fall from his hand into the dry grass beneath him.
It was time.
He allowed the memories of his brief life wash over him. They, not unexpectedly, had a theme to them. He smiled gently to himself, a secret smile, his last smile, for the one he loved.
He would never see her again. He walked forward.
He would never get to see her smile, never get to hear the beautiful sound of her laugh, never admire her angelic face or hold her soft hands or tell her how much she meant; how special she was to him.
Hermione.
He could see her the first time they met. "You're Harry Potter! I'm Hermione Granger"
Her voice had been grating, and girly, and he hadn't liked her at first, though mostly because Ron couldn't stand her. Then the incident with the troll in the girls' lavatory had bonded them as best friends: the Golden Trio.
He had never had friends before Ron and Hermione. He'd always been picked on by Dudley and his friends. But meeting Ron and Hermione had been the first ray of sunshine in his dark world.
"You're a great wizard, Harry. You really are."
"Not as good as you."
She'c scoffed, "Me? Books and cleverness. There are more important things. Like friendship…and bravery. And Harry, just be careful."
Second year, Hermione had been petrified by the Basilisk. He'd sat for hours by her side when he wasn't trying to figure out the riddles and the diary and the voices.
He'd been so lost without her. He'd never felt so alone; everyone thought he was crazy, and he knew that even though she couldn't say so, Hermione knew the truth, even if it was too late.
"Wish you were here, Hermione. I need you."
Behind that weathered door, I thought it would be safest.
My head is dizzy now, I thought we'd overcome
In third year, they'd helped free Sirius and saved Buckbeak, using the powers of Time to change history. He'd been so scared and angry as he confronted the man who'd betrayed his parents, but Hermione had made a bold declaration.
"If you kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" It was then that he realized that his friends were true. They wouldn't desert him in a time of need.
Then the Triwizard Tournament mess had come in fourth year, with Ron siding against him and Hermione doing everything in her power to bring them back together.
"You need us, Harry."
"Now more than ever."
I might not make it home tonight
And the Yule ball. That fateful night when he realized what the jumbled up feelings in his chest and stomach meant.
"She's beautiful!"
"Yeah, she is." He'd never meant to say it out loud. He simply felt the need to acknowledge his feelings.
When Cedric had died, Harry had realized that no one could escape their fate. No one could hold off the death that was imminent for so many in the next few years. She had soothed his ragged tears with gentle words and gentler caresses.
And he was hopelessly in love.
Then, in fifth year, they'd formed the DA together. Though the others were reluctant to trust him, Hermione had defended him and when he'd angrily said that she didn't understand…
"You're right, Harry, we don't. That's why we need your help. Because if we're having any chance against beating... Voldemort."
Crawling on the ash, she's pitiful
She lost her sense of light; she has to hold my hand
When Ron had fallen to a love potion in sixth year, he'd croaked out Hermione's name and she'd held his hand. Lavender wasn't the only one heartbroken that day. Harry had angrily punched his pillow and sobbed tearlessly when he realized his Hermione wasn't and never would be his.
"Did you hear her talk about me and her snogging? As if..." Ron had nearly sealed a death wish with those words. How dare he. How dare he drag Hermione through the mud like a Harlot, and yet say that he loved her. How dare he.
This year had been the hardest. Living in close quarters had nearly gone to his head, as he pretended they were getting closer. He could pretend that he didn't feel anything for her, but he couldn't watch as she sat there and cried for Ron.
Had I known we might be two kids without their jackets.
My fear would come alive, I wouldn't loathe her now
They'd danced, not even speaking: just holding each other. He'd prayed to whatever or whoever was listening to give him that moment forever. Please, just let me hold Hermione.
"Maybe we should just stay here, Harry. Grow old."
And nothing was closer to his heart than that wish. All he wanted was to stay with her forever, not caring whether or not they'd live to see tomorrow. Not caring about anything but her.
"I'll go with you." He couldn't let her. He would lose his life, but he would never forfeit hers.
Never.
"Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Come to die."
He closed his eyes, faced down death, and with his final breath, whispered.
Hermione.
I might not make it home tonight
Read and Review my friends. I hope you liked this story; Let me know what you think.