I Should Have Told You (The revised edition)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling, and to Warner Bros. Studios.
Harry held back tears as he hugged Hermione good-bye. She would be leaving the next day for America to liaise with Muggles. Harry scolded himself for not telling Hermione sooner. Ron too, held back tears, but unlike Harry, they were tears of laughter. Ron thought it funny that Hermione, a Muggle born witch, was going to study Muggles. They waved goodbye to their friend as the cab disappeared into the early morning fog.
After Hermione left, Harry barricaded himself in his room. Since graduation, the three of them had been living in a flat in London. It was small, but not too small. Ron had found a part time job at the Ministry, Harry was training to be an Auror, and Hermione had studied away to be able to work with Muggles. Harry's room was littered with lots of stuff. Owl supplies, Qiudditch clothes, his wand and broomstick, odds and ends. Under his bed was something nobody knew about, not even Ron. Hidden in a box was every letter his friends had ever sent him. The bundle of Hermione's letters was slightly larger than Ron's, because of the summer after fifth year, the year Sirius died. She had sent him one almost every week, asking how he was or how he was feeling. He said in every letter that he was fine, but apparently he wasn't very convincing, because she badgered him about it in almost every other letter. There were other letters, too. Letters from a godfather who died too soon, letters from Hagrid, his Hogwarts acceptance letter. Harry sat down at the edge of his bed and took the rubber band off Hermione's bundle of letters. As he read them, tears streamed down his face. He couldn't remember the last time he cried.
"Hey Harry, you okay?" came Ron's voice on the other side of the door.
"Yeah, fine," was the reply. Ron shook his head. He had known the truth since sixth year. His two best friends were in love with each other. He needed female help. He needed Ginny. Ron sent her a letter, telling her to come as fast as possible, then sat down and waited anxiously for his little sister to arrive.
When Harry was halfway through reading the letters for the third time, there came another knock at the door.
"Harry, open up!" said Ginny.
"Go away," was the response.
"Don't make me use this wand!" Ginny said sharply.
"I said go away,"
"Harry Potter, open this door!" Harry sighed and opened the door. Ginny smiled. "That's better."
"Why are you here?"
"To help you of course,"
"Help me with what?" Harry sank onto his bed. Ginny sat beside him.
"To help you with whatever's been making you hide up here for hours reading old letters," Ginny said. Harry got up and paced his room, but didn't say anything.
"So, do you want to tell me?" Ginny asked.
"Not really," Harry fiddled with his wand.
"It'll make you feel better," Ginny persisted.
"All right," Harry gulped as he sat down next to her. "I'm in love."
"With Hermione?" Ginny asked softly. Harry nodded and started to cry on Ginny's shoulder. She shushed him.
"It's okay," she told him.
"No it's not," Harry said. "She's gone now."
"But not forever," Ginny said." You'll see her at Christmas and stuff."
"Not for very long, though," Harry said, crying harder.
"Well then, you know what you've got to do,"' she said. Harry sat up and shook his head. "You've got to go out there to America and tell her how you feel!"
"Yeah, and be laughed back to England," Harry said. He slammed the wall with his fist, ashamed of his cowardness.
"Well then, you've lost her," Ginny said, getting up and walking out, closing the door behind her.
Ron approached his little sister as she walked down the stairs.
"So, how'd it go?" he asked hopefully.
"I've done all I can," she said, and left. Ron sighed.
For the next three months, Harry mulled over Ginny's idea. He had stopped hiding in his room, but he wasn't the same. Harry was withdrawn, usually only speaking when spoken to. He wasn't eating right, and lost a lot of weight. The only escape for Harry was Auror training. He used all his energy practicing that he usually didn't think about the void in his heart.
After six months had passed, Ron couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't stand the moping, the silence. He wanted his best friend back. So one night, Ron approached Harry.
"What do you want?" Harry said.
"Go get her," Ron said.
"What?"
"Go get her. Here," Ron said, handing Harry a plane ticket. "You need to tell Hermione how you feel, and I need my best friend back. Go. Your plane leaves in the morning. You'll thank me later."' Harry looked at him strangely and went up to bed.
Early the next morning, Harry was woken up by none other than Ron. Harry looked at his watch. It was 6:00 in the morning. He groaned.
"Harry, your plane leaves in an hour!" Ron cried, pulling his friend out of bed.
"How do you know about planes anyway?" Harry groaned.
"Dad. Anyway, that's not the point. Come on. Get dressed!" Ron threw Harry some clothes and went downstairs. Harry came down a few minutes later, looking terrified.
"Here," Ron handed Harry a cup of coffee.
"I can't believe you talked me into this," Harry mumbled.
"Oh, well. It's time to go," Ron said, and they Apparated to the airport.
For the next twenty minutes, Harry absently flipped through magazines, lost in his own world. He jumped a mile in the air when Ron tapped him on the shoulder.
"Sorry, mate," Ron smiled. "Your plane's leaving."
"Wonderful," Harry muttered sarcastically. Ron laughed and led his friend to the terminal.
"Good luck," Ron told him before Harry boarded the plane.
"Thanks," Harry replied, taking a deep breath and climbing aboard.
Harry was nervous the whole ride. He couldn't seem to get comfortable. He looked out the window at the ocean. He thought about Hermione and suddenly broke out into a cold sweat as he realized he didn't have any thing to say. He tried to think about it, but couldn't. He started to panic as the stewardess announced that they were about to land.
As she passed by his seat to collect trash, she saw his terrified look. She smiled warmly at him.
"Is this your first time flying?" she asked. Harry managed a weak smile and nodded. She smiled again. "It will be okay. The landing's not that difficult."
"Yeah," Harry mumbled as she went to the row behind him.
Harry ran his hand through his hair as he climbed off the plane, a sign that he was nervous. As he entered the terminal, he was greeted by the twins, who were in the States for a business meeting that week.
"Harry mate! Good to see you again!" Fred said, shaking his hand.
"Good to see you too," Harry grinned. "How's the business?"
"Simply booming!" George said. "We actually have enough to buy a house."
"Really?" Harry said, grateful for conversation that drove away his terror.
"Yep. We're in the market, actually," Fred replied. The twins looked at each other and identical grins spread ovr their faces.
"So, we hear that you love Hermione," George said, smiling mischeiviosly. Harry blushed red. "Don't worry. Ickle Ronniekins didn't tell us. It's been obvious since the end of fifth year. Especially that summer."
"Yeah," Fred agreed. "No need to blush, Harry. No shame in falling in love with your best friend."
"Fred's right," George said. "Like in our fifth year, he had a crush on Angelina Joh"
"Shut up!" Fred said. It was his turn to be red. "Besides, this isn't about me."
"You're right," George said. "So, Harry, we just happen to know where Hermione is staying."
"Really?" Harry's dread had return.
"Yep. But first, let's go back to the flat and get some rest," Fred said, picking up Harry's small duffel bag.
Undeniably, business had been good. Fred and George's flat was huge. The kitchen alone was about the size of Harry's bedroom back in England. George laughed, pulling Harry out of his surprise.
"Big, isn't it?" he laughed.
"Yeah. It reminds me of Sirius's…" Harry trailed off. It had been four years, but the pain was still there. He thought about it every day, regretting that he fell for Voldemort's trick; putting everyone he loved in danger. George patted Harry on the shoulder.
"Sirius was a good man," he whispered.
"I'm going to bed," Harry said, wiping a tear from his eye.
The next morning, Harry dressed casually, again filled with terror. As he walked in to the kitchen, he saw the twins had already left. A note was on the counter in Fred's handwriting. It read:
Harry,
Good luck, mate. Hermione's staying in a flat ten miles from here. It's 200 North Wood Lane. Apartment C.
Again, good luck,
Fred and George
Harry smiled and tucked the note into the pocket of his jeans. He milled around the flat for a while, trying to think of something to say when he arrived on Hermione's doorstep. He couldn't just get there and say nothing or say something like 'Ron sent me here because I've been moping around the house for the last six months.' Harry racked his brains, but in vain. He decided to improvise. His hands trembling, he left for Hermione's. He was halfway down the driveway when he wondered why he was walking, because he could Apparate there in less than a second. With a loud POP, he was gone, and with another loud POP! He was standing at the end of North Woods Lane. Taking a deep breath, he started down the narrow street.
About five minutes later, he stopped in front of Hermione's apartment. Taking another deep breath, he walked up to the door. He noticed that he'd been taken a lot of deep breaths lately. He had no idea why he was so nervous. She was his best friend. Then he remembered. Because he was going to confess something apparently everyone knew about but Hermione. He knocked on the door rather hesitantly. It was Saturday. He was sure she would be home. Hermione answered a second later.
"Hey," he said, surprised that he was able to find his voice.
"Harry!" she cried, enveloping him in a hug. "I didn't expect to see you for another month at least." Harry hid his hands behind his back so that she couldn't see them shaking as if an earthquake was in close proximity.
"Change of plans," Harry grinned. Oh, how she loved that smile. The one that reached his emerald green eyes and made his whole face glow.
"So, where's Ron?" she asked.
"Couldn't make it," he replied. It wasn't exactly a lie. Ron was setting up his wedding to Luna, no doubt. The overcast sky that had threatened to rain all day let loose, sending down buckets of cold rain.
"Ah, no," he laughed. She smiled.
"Come on in," she said, waving him in to the living room. Three or four women sat in chairs, staring at him blankly. He ran a hand through his hair, his nervousness still there.
"Ladies, this is Harry, my best friend since I was eleven," Hermione said, introducing him. Harry sat down in a vacant wooden chair.
"Hi," he said, waving his hand slightly.
"So Harry," one of the girls said. "Are you single?" Harry laughed.
"Well," Harry began. Hermione sent him a look that said he didn't have to answer the question if he didn't feel like it. He gave her a glance that said he needed to tell her something. She face was confused. Harry and Hermione had been able to have conversations with facial expressions since third year, hence the long hours of silence in the Common Room, which everyone found strange.
As the women watched the two teenagers from their chairs, one of them suddenly stood up.
"Well, we really should be going," she said, shooing the others out the door. "We'll see you later, Hermione."
"Bye, ladies," Hermione waved to them. Then, she turned her attention back to Harry, a confused look still playing on her face. "Well?"
Harry ran his hand through his hair again, his terror returning.
"Well, the actual reason I'm here is because Ron sent me," Harry looked down at his shoes. They had a hole that he had just noticed. "I've been moping around the flat ever since you left. I've been locking myself in my room because of the pain." His eyes filled with tears, and his voice got a little wobbly. "The truth is, Hermione, no one's ever cared about me the way you have. You know, at first, you were just my friend. A friend to help me with things I didn't understand, a shoulder to cry on. Then fourth year came. Those long hours before I had to fight that dragon, you helped me, and I began to see you in a different light. Then fifth year began. You were the one of the only people who didn't think I was going insane when even I myself thought I was. And you were almost killed that year. I would have never forgiven myself if you had been. Then Sirius died. You were very sympathetic. In sixth year, when the pain of Sirius was still strong. You were there again. Again in seventh year, after killing Voldemort, you were there again. You were almost killed that year too. What I'm really trying to say Hermione, is that Ron is a great friend and all, someone great to play chess with, someone to joke with on rainy days, but you…you're different. I love you, Hermione. I have for a really long time. When you walked on that plane six months ago, it almost killed me." He laughed slightly and pulled a wad of letters out of his pocket and handed them to her.
"Those," he went on, "are all the letters you've ever sent me since first year. They were hidden in a box under my bed since I was twelve. I've got lot's of other letters in there too, but when you left, I read all of yours….a million times. Almost more times than you've read Hogwarts: A History I'll bet." Hermione looked up at him, her eyes also filling with tears.
"I love you too, and have since third year," she began. "You also started out as just a friend. I had never dreamed of befriending Harry Potter. I read all I could find on you, and when I met you, I was a little disappointed, until I got to know you. The Harry nobody knew. You were a good friend. Ron was, and still is, a prat. I felt that I could be myself around you. I didn't have to be the smart girl in someone's class. You defended me against Malfoy. I knew so many spells, and now I don't know why I didn't hex him into the next month. Then in fifth year, everyone thought you were crazy. But I didn't. Something in your eyes told me that you were still the same Harry I had known for years. I actually had no intention of falling in love with my best friend. But I did. And when I walked onto that plane, I knew I would regret it. And I did. I didn't want to tell you because we had such a great friendship."
"I know. That's why I didn't want to tell you either. But then, when Ron literally shoved me on that plane, I knew I had to tell you, even if you didn't feel the same way." Harry took a step closer to her. He couldn't resist it now. He had to kiss her. She trembled with silent sobs. She was so relieved. He took another step closer. He pulled her close and kissed her. The feel of her skin against his set off a thousand sensations. He had never loved or needed someone so badly in his entire life. He wanted this moment to last an eternity. Nevertheless, he broke apart and dropped to his knees. For a few moments, he couldn't speak. Then:
"Hermione, please, marry me," he gasped. He grabbed her hand in his and kissed it. He prayed hard that she'd say yes.
"But Harry, this could ruin everythi-" she started, but Harry shushed her.
"It could, but it also could make everything better," Harry said.
"Oh, Hermione, just say yes. Humor the poor boy," said a voice. Ron stood behind them, grinning from ear to ear, Luna and Ginny next to him.
"So, I see you took my advise," Ginny smiled.
"Actually," Ron was still grinning, "I had to shove him onto the plane."
"Coward," Ginny laughed.
"So, are you going to answer him or not?" Luna asked. Hermione turned red.
"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "Yes or no?"
"Yes, Harry, I will marry you," Hermione said softly. Harry stood up and kissed her again, Ginny, Ron and Luna cheering in the background.
The End