The static of the radio cut through the silence of the tent. She sat near the radio, hugging her legs, muffling her cries. He stared at her, analyzing her. He took in every detail of her: her light freckles; her bushy hair; how beautiful she looked, even though she was crying.
This was the first time he really … looked at her. She wasn't the same girl he knew from first year. She was the girl who had buck-teeth, and knew everything, yes; but the invisible stains of death, fatigue, and pain had altered her appearance in some way that only Harry could notice.
The last time that innocent, bushy-haired girl had appeared was six years ago. It ached to see how much he had put her through. It was his battle, but she was there, fighting alongside him. She lost just as much as he did but they knew they always had each other. She was his. He was hers. They were each others', in a way.
The static gradually turned into a discernible song. Nick Cave's O Children, it seemed. Hermione still hugged her legs, while Harry kept staring, wishing to extract every drip of pain from her. He stood up quietly, and stayed in front of her. She turned her head to him. He offered his hand, to which she stared at for a second.
C'mon, Hermione, he silently said, take my hand.
She sighed, giving her hand. He pulled her up, unclasped the locket from her neck, and threw it onto the floor. He led her to the middle of the tent, while the volume of the music slowly increased.
Harry couldn't dance, he knew that. But his best friend was depressed. He'd never seen her so depressed, and he longed for the laughter he always heard from her. The laugh that comforted him, told him everything would be okay. He would dance, just to make her smile.
He grasped Hermione's hands, and started to dance awkwardly. Harry saw a faint smile cross Hermione's face, and he continued to dance. She kept resisting, though appreciated his attempt.
Dance, Hermione, he bore into her eyes.
She joined him half-heartedly, while the music droned on.
O children, lift up your voice…
She broke. Dancing there with Harry, everything melted away: the war, the pressure, the mission. For a minute, she felt … carefree. She felt as if she and Harry were the only two in the world. She felt happy.
Children, rejoice, rejoice…
Their dancing ranged from tangos to waltzes. They were both laughing at themselves by the end of it. Laughing at how they looked so stupid. They danced slowly, as the song began to end. As the song ended, the happiness did too. Everything crept up to them, as the burden fell on their shoulders once more.
They stopped dancing, and just looked at each other.
Are you happy now? Harry stared, Please smile, Hermione.
Her smile vanished, and the happiness from her eyes had disappeared.
Thank you, Harry. Hermione wordlessly replied.
He had always been there. Through everything, he was the shoulder. Through everything, he had been enough to take away the pain. But as Hermione sat back down, and hugged her legs once more, he knew it was no longer enough. She was no longer his. She belonged to someone else now.
He stood there stationary, Hermione's goodbye still hanging in the air.