There had never been what could be called a 'normal' relationship between Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. It seemed as though they were the only two unwilling to realise this to a certain extent and although he had somewhat told himself that it wasn't necessarily the case, even Harry could understand just how far their feelings went. In a way, he almost refused to acknowledge the idea because they were his best friends, they were always going to be a trio so for the two of them to fall in love would be completely absurd, almost like blasphemy because the fact of the matter was that there would be nothing stopping them from leaving him by himself, with no one. They would be far too absorbed in their state of content to realise that he depended on them far more than they thought possible. Or maybe, Harry Potter was just jealous because he wanted what they had, yet he would never quite achieve that because everyone knew their love was far more prolonged than his infatuation with Ginny happened to be. But now, it seemed as though none of that really mattered anyway because Ron had left them like the past seven years had meant nothing, almost as though they had never quite existed to him.
And that was what killed Hermione the most.
Days had passed since herself and Harry had actually endured a proper, civilised conversation, for the fact of the matter was that they would exchanged one or two words when it was time to take the burden of wearing the locket because that was all it was to both of them, a task that was particularly nasty. And in a lot of ways, it changed both of them to a person that couldn't quite handle the idea of other people surrounding for Harry knew best that when wearing the chain, his patience was thin and almost everything in his vision was merely an annoyance that he grew increasingly frustrated toward. Perhaps that had been what caused Ron to leave in the first place for as big as the tent was on the inside, there was no denying that the isolated space wasn't necessarily the most homely of places to stay for months on end. There was nothing welcoming about the 'home' and he seemed sick. Sick of having to pretend that everything was going to be alright, sick of trying to find clues that were hidden to even the smartest of people and he was sick of having the overwhelming feeling that he was losing Hermione to Harry. For the redheaded male had never been the smartest of people in his opinion, and he was merely silly, useless Ronald who wasn't really a help in any way, shape or form.
Yet, with Hermione that had never been the case. He wasn't silly, nor was he useless and although she often gave him the overwhelming idea of that, it was merely a facade that she had been keeping up for far too long and it was hard to suddenly change such things. Now, it almost seemed far too quiet for the female because she didn't have anyone to pick fun at, and she had no reason to smile; in a lot of ways, she wondered whether or not she should have gone with him because at the end of the day he was the one person that she had wanted to be wanted by, and it appeared as though she had ruined all chances of that. The only thing was that Hermione didn't quite know whether or not that was the necklace talking because after a good while of the lightweight object being draped around her neck, it felt like the heaviest piece of jewellery in the world and all of her thoughts merged into one, her subconscious wasn't completely hers and every part of her body felt tainted. As though she was simply cursing herself over and over again. It made Hermione feel as though she had never been herself, though the ability to cry seemed to be hindered completely on her part for there was a fear that if she started, then she would simply never stop and although the hazel eyed girl had always been a lady of composure, it was inevitable that there was only so long that an individual could go without shedding a tear.
Harry himself was surprised that she hadn't completely broken down yet – it had been a good week or two since Ron had left and although Hermione had cried when he initially left, he hadn't seen a single tear since; instead she had taken to the idea of shutting herself out of his company and acting completely isolated. Although the peace and quiet was a relief at times (because he knew first hand that Hermione's criticisms weren't always necessarily constructive), it was far too quiet a great ninety percent of the time and it was something that neither of them were exactly accustomed to. For the most part, Harry missed his best friend – his brilliant, motherly, overly intelligent friend who always seemed to have some inkling as to what they had to do next. But now, neither of them had absolutely nothing and although this was his destiny, or so it seemed, Harry had no idea at all. Shifting in the tiny stool that he had been perched upon for what felt like hours, the male buried his face into his right hand, index finger and thumb carelessly rubbing circles into his temple, the quietest of sighs escaping from his mouth. Running a hand through his already dishevelled hair, the male almost silently rose from his seat, feet carrying him over toward the female as he took in a moment to take in her features, for it seemed as though he hadn't looked at Hermione properly in days. He hadn't heard her laugh, seen her delightful smile that could light up any room, nor had he particularly any snippets of wisdom that he had grown to love. As her head snapped up toward the male as she perched herself on the edge of the bottom bunk bed, eyes dull and tired, the jet black haired boy extended a hand for her to grab, his actions slow and gentle as he didn't want to provoke too much from her. With his other hand, he waved his wand toward the radio that they used for news purposes was now replaced with the sounds of a slow, reassuring song that lulled quietly in the background. As Hermione brought her delicate frame to a stand, Harry smiled inwardly toward the female, his hands extending to the back of her neck as they grasped the chain of the locket that she had been wearing for a few hours now – that locket that seemed to drain everything in its grips, yet the male wanted rid of such fears, just for a few moments. He had been waiting for the opportunity to feel alive and even if it was just for five minutes, then he'd most definitely take it. Setting the piece of jewellery down on the bed in which Hermione had just been sat on, he slipped his wand next to the item and took her right hand in his own, left hand slipping around her waist as he pulled her somewhat closer to him. She placed her own free hand swiftly on the male's shoulder, almost as though it was a chore because as he started to shift his own body and spin her tiny frame with him, Hermione could help but sigh quietly to herself. It wasn't so much that she didn't want to be doing this, it was more the idea that it had been a daunting few weeks and even the one of the smartest witches didn't ever expect it to be this gruelling.
"It's not that we're scared, it's just that it's delicate..." Hermione drifted off, singing along gently to the words in the background and although she wasn't the most musically inclined, it was the one thing that seemed to calm her down as she settled against Harry, inhaling deeply and trying not to cry. There was so much pent up emotion within her mind – hurt, fear, lust, want, confusion – that it was overbearingly hard for the female to comprehend and it seemed that in that moment, everything she had pushed away so much overcame her in a surge of emotion, facade faltering as her breath hitched slightly and the lump in her throat built, choking out a quiet sob. "Oh, Harry..." She began, head resting against his shoulder as they both gently swayed from side to side, movement stopping considerably yet there wasn't that looming stillness that she had expected. For if that were to happen, it would be confirmed that this situation was so real; that this simply wasn't some figment of her imagination and all of the suffering and anguish was very much real on her part. "I-I didn't think he'd actually leave," she began, mumbling into his shoulder as he dropped her hand and instead wrapped both arms around her waist, enveloping the female in a tight embrace because he knew exactly how she felt. Of course, he couldn't understand completely because her relationship with Ron's was far different than his own, but there were the times in which he remembered Ginny Weasley – fiery hair and bright smile – and the possibility that perhaps he'd never see her again, that perhaps their last meeting at the wedding would be the time in which he had to let go for the future was so unsure, but right now he knew that he had Hermione, and that was all that mattered because without her, he'd be alone. Isolated, completely independent and as much as Harry had grown up over the years he wasn't ready to be completely alone. Seeing her in pain was something that made him feel awkward, and uncomfortable, purely because it was most likely his fault. He had gotten into the argument with Ron, he had suggested that he leave and now that it was all set in stone, she was the one who was on the receiving end of all of the pain.
"I'm sorry, 'Mione," breathing softly as he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, he could feel her body shaking against his own, barely audible sobs escaping from herself as her small arms clambered around his neck. The song gradually came to an end and yet the two stayed in the same position, swaying gently against each others' body with a calm uncertainty, until eventually the brunette female lifted her head up and stepped away from Harry, sad smile forming on her face.
"Crying isn't going to bring him back," she began, with an expression of resolve as her tears finally seemed to come to a cease. Lifting his right hand, Harry cupped her jaw, thumb wiping away the moisture that had formed on her face and again, doing the exact same with the other side of her face. "I suppose it's hard to believe that he would leave us, though. I understand that he has his family and don't get me wrong, I love the Weasley's to pieces and I can't really blame him for wanting to go, but he made sometimes having no one is just as hard as having someone. He may have sacrificed his family life, but I sacrificed everything and now I have... well, I have no family. You and Ron were my family, and now that he's gone I've only got you left. Promise me something, Harry. Promise me that you won't leave one day, or that you'll suddenly decide that it's too dangerous for me to be here because I have nothing, anymore, I don't have him and I don't have my parents. I can't be alone because it kills me. I could cry if I wanted to, I could fall to pieces but that isn't going to get the job done and that's all we have to focus on now; me and you, doing this together. It's all that's left now, it's the right thing to do." Smiling with that reassured strength that Harry was so used to, he nodded his head gently toward the female, understanding everything that she had said and for the most part he agreed completely; he was afraid to say anything just in case he made her cry again and it seemed safer to let Hermione get everything out that was in her system for the constant silence that she had managed to maintain for days now had been harder than listening to her now, for he loved to hear her speak, her random musings and her ability to always fill in the blanks with everything that he was thinking. To see his intelligent, wonderful best friend appear so lost was upsetting for Harry as there was always the constant nagging that perhaps this had all been his fault – the arguments, the heartbreak, all on his part. "Can we just... stay like this for a little while? It's the happiest I've been in a few days." Nodding defiantly, the girl listened to the radio, another sad song that she recognised instantly. Back in the summer holidays, it had been one of her favourite songs. "Especially since this is my favourite song, and you can't really say no to that." She began playfully, laughing gently to herself.
It had been the first time that Harry had heard Hermione laugh in days and it was one of those moments that he wished that he could replay over and over again, for the fact of the matter was that he'd take anything for the two of them to have some more happier moments as everything seemed so doom and gloom lately, and although Harry was used to being a pessimist at best, it was a little bit old now. Nodding his head gently, the male simply kept both of his hands resting on her waist as it seemed like the most comfortable position for the both of them, Hermione's hands gently pressing into the back of his neck. Their feet a good centimetre apart, the nature of the dancing seemed purely platonic, just two friends trying to cheer each other up or maybe just for one moment, providing a sense of amusement for the other as there was nothing overrated about being happy. Suddenly breaking away from Hermione, Harry kept one of her hands in his own as he twirled her frame outward toward the edge of the tent, a lopsided grin attacking his features and as he spun her body back in toward him, he swayed the female right and left, trying anything to find that wonderful smile of hers, to see the light in her hazel eyes ignite again for more than anything, it was the only thing keeping him motivated. The sounds of genuine laughter escaped the female's mouth and Harry too found it hard to keep the amusement contained within himself, each of them laughing like mere infants whilst continuing to face nonetheless; it may not exactly have been the most fluent, or flowing form of dance on their part but it was still movement nonetheless.
Children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice. Children, rejoice, rejoice...
"Harry..." Hermione began, head coming down onto the male's shoulder as their feet swayed right to life, painstakingly slowly, relaxed sigh escaping her mouth.
"Yes?" He asked, not necessarily too sure where this conversation was going to go but then again, with Hermione that was always the norm.
"Why couldn't I have fallen for you?" She questioned, laughing quietly to herself yet with that said, in a lot of ways Hermione had fallen for Harry – his kind nature, protective tendencies and quite generally the lack of belief that he carried in himself, yet he always managed to prevail. Keeping silent once more, the brunette buried her head into his neck, face flush against the warm skin, her warm breath trickling against his skin. Nose grazing upward, Hermione's cheek pressed against his gently, her head sweeping to the left as she softly placed her lips against his cheek, as in to say thank you for this moment, the one time in which she had felt just a little bit happier for Hermione Granger was never one to live a depressed life; it would be far too much for her to endure. Still, she remained exactly still, until her head awkwardly began to glide along Harry's cheek, angular movements bringing his lips all the closer to hers and as his forehead pressed against hers, she could feel his hot breath invading her very being, her mind screaming that this was wrong but at that moment the girl was far too gone to care. "H-Harry, I-I-I – we c-ca-" Her words were cut off completely as he pressed his lips against hers in one swift moment, almost instantly pulling away once more. Curiously, instinctively, Hermione kissed him once more, her lips gentle and cautious, not necessarily too sure if this was "right" or not. His lips were soft and welcoming, and for the most part she most certainly had not expected that of Harry James Potter. Longing to be needed by someone, the female refused the idea of pulling away and instead pressed her chest against his own, hands burying into his messy black hair as she gasped quietly, the kisses speeding up and adding a new element of passion, one that she was sure that she had never experienced before. With Viktor, it had all been emotionless, it had meant nothing. His own hands trailer further down her torso, resting on her hips as his right hand slipped under her shirt, nails digging gently into the skin as he pulled her slim figure closer toward himself, breathing delayed as he groaned inwardly at the close contact, eyes coming to a close with the definite feeling that he didn't want this to end anytime soon. However, oddly enough, Hermione's feet started to move and the male couldn't quite understand what was happening for a few moments, until of course he registered the idea of music playing in the background and he couldn't help but chuckle gently. Trust Hermione to want to keep their original plan intact, for she had always been a perfectionist and had never been one to not complete something. The urgency, for the time being, was becoming more hectic between the two and although Harry wasn't too far as to where this was going to go, he just knew that he had missed this feeling of accomplishment, this feeling of being complete by someone else – the warm touch of a woman, and there was nothing wrong with this. Was there? Keeping her arms around his neck, Hermione gripped onto his hair somewhat tighter, not to the point in which it would hurt him, but considerably so. There was no room for words, so instead the female kept her lips attached to his and in that instant she was literally swept off her feet as he slipped his hands under her backside, hurriedly lifting her off of the ground as he led her toward the bed that he usually slept in, her legs wrapping around his waist all the while. As Harry set her down onto the soft mattress, he wasn't necessarily too sure whether she actually wanted to go all the way, and he didn't want to ask either because this was Hermione, and it would most definitely be an awkward conversation. Maybe all she wanted was the company, and Harry was fine with that. Hovering over her frame, using his arms to keep him supported, he traced butterfly kisses from her jawline down to her neck, before pressing his lips against hers once more, one hand gently cupping her jaw and caressing her cheek with this thumb.
However, Hermione suddenly appeared to be horrified at the sudden predicament, squirming her way out of the bed and standing up once more, backing away from Harry. Her eyes widened as her right hand covered her mouth in a horrified manner. "W-we can't do this, Harry. You h-have Ginny and I have..." Hermione trailed off, not really knowing how to fill in the blanks in such a situation. "It's not right." Nodding firmly.
"... Hermione," he began, standing up and stepping closer toward the female, yet she swiftly took one step back, trying to maintain a certain distance between their bodies. "He's not coming back, you know it and I know it."
"Don't say that!" She challenged, a wave of fury sweeping over her usual kind hearted demeanour. "He m-might." Silence swept over the two for a matter of minutes and she wasn't necessarily sure if Harry had quite understood what she was saying. "We're friends, we're the best of friends and nothing more is ever meant to escalate from that. You know it, and so do I. I-It can't be right..." A fury of hormones and confusion, by this time the female was questioning herself more than anything.
"You said it yourself, Hermione! I mean, why can't you fall for me? What's so bad about that? I'd- y'know, I'd be with you and now we can because there's nobody getting in our way." Harry challenged, eyebrow rising slightly.
"You're talking like you're absolutely barmy," she interjected, voice calming with every word. "I can't just forget about my feelings Harry, and I think you know the same too; I'm just an excuse for you to get over Ginny, just like you'd be an excuse for me to forget about Ron. It would work now but in a month, or two months? You'd start to remember just what makes you miss her so much and you'd end up hating me for trying to take that from you. We can't happen, it'd never work."
"But... 'Mione." He breathed softly, words failing him.
"You know I'm right, Harry. I always am." And without another word, the female tugged at the hair tie keeping her hair up before hastily stepping toward the bed, grabbing the chain of the necklace in her right hand, slipping it over her head and around her neck simple seconds later. Grabbing her wand from the stool that she was sitting on, Hermione cast one last glance toward Harry – a look of apology – before exiting the tent, preparing herself for another night of keeping watch. After that night, there was never one mention of this incident, no looking back for any attempts of truth or resolve, the two always moved forward just like intended. All that mattered was the Horcruxes.
And that was the moment that Harry Potter felt jealous of Ronald Weasley; even though the red headed male was gone, he was still remembered by the beautiful female sitting outside, confused and as far away from Harry as ever. He would never know what he was going to have, for she was quite simply an enigma, and never one that he'd begin to understand. Whilst many people had different names for Hermione: brain-box, know-it-all, mudblood, geeky, she was only one thing to Harry. Magnificent.
N/B: And there you have it! I'm sure there are many takes on how this scene happened, but I thought it would be cute and it was all that was running through my head when I was watching it. The first song that Hermione sings along to is "Delicate" by Damien Rice and the second song that they dance do is "O'Children" by Nick Cave. R&R please, and hopefully you enjoy it! :)