A/N Here is chapter 8! Hope you enjoy! Please review! :)
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Hermione was fuming. She paced before her best friend, hard, angry stomps. She was wringing her hands in front of her, afraid if she'd stop, she'd hit something. And seeing as he was so close to her, that something might be Harry. The dark-haired boy looked completely uncomfortable as the minutes ticked on. He had been attempting to calm the bright witch down for a few minutes now, but he couldn't get a word in between her angry babbling. He twisted his lips as she walked past him once more and finally decided he'd had enough. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Hermione, really." His voice cut through her anger like a knife, bringing her back to the real world. She blinked, pausing in her steps. "I think you're overreacting."
"You think-I'm sorry, you think that I'm overreacting?" She turned to him, placing her hands on her hips, giving a look he'd only seen on Mrs. Weasley. Her chocolate eyes narrowed, glaring at him as she took a step closer to him, poking at his chest. "YOU were the one who decided not to tell me, Harry Potter! If there were no reason to overreact, you'd have told me the moment he contacted you, not nearly two weeks later!"
"I panicked, Hermione! What can I tell you? He asked me not to say anything. I know it's no excuse…" His gaze stayed on hers and he shook his head, grabbing her from the shoulders to make her stop moving. He should've told her, he knew since the first time he'd read the letter, but he didn't. He knew how hurt she'd be, but Ron- Harry sighed, looking directly at the chestnut-haired girl before him. "My first instinct has always been to protect him, you know? He's my brother. So, I listened. I didn't say anything to you and I should have. I'm sorry." She sighed and placed her hands on his wrists, closing her eyes. Harry watched her for a moment and then her face contorted and she began to cry. His heart lurched and he frowned, thumbs caressing her cheeks, attempting to stop any tears as they trailed their way down her face. "Hermione! No-please, don't cry. I didn't- I mean, I don't exactly know what I said wrong."
"No, it's not you!" She shook her head, attempting to stop the flow of tears, but to no avail. "It's him. It's always been him. I-I hate him, Harry. And I don't want to hate him, but I have to. I need to because it is getting…exhausting to love him." She pressed her lips into a thin line, closing her eyes and tilting her head up to the sky, away from Harry's confusion. "I loved him, no- I love him...but he left me Harry-he left us! I wanted to be with him, I wanted to have a life with him!"
"But you broke up with him." Harry tilted his head, watching her. He removed his hands from her shoulders, taking a step back. "You broke up with him, Hermione. And he felt terrible about it for so long. He sulked around every day until he couldn't anymore and he left." Quickly, he revised his statement. "I mean, I can hazard a good guess that that's the reason. Around you he perked up because he didn't want to guilt you into having a relationship."
For the brightest witch of her age, Hermione hadn't seen this one coming. She blinked back fresh tears, shaking away the pit in her stomach. "You think I wanted him to feel like that? I don't regret saying no to our relationship then. It was the right thing to do. I just- I couldn't get involved with someone. Not too soon after everything. We had too much to deal with after the war. We had so much to do, I couldn't focus on Ronald like I would have liked too."
"But you should have! You should have focused on that! Don't you get that?" Harry groaned, turning to sit on the fallen trunk of a tree. "We spent all of our life worrying about and running from Voldemort. He's gone now! I have moved on from him, I'm allowing myself to be happy, Hermione. How is he still affecting your life? Not being with Ron…after everything you two have been through together…"
"I did what I thought was right at the time. I didn't want to have a boyfriend, I didn't want that." She moved a hand to her forehead, rubbing gently, attempting to soothe the growing migraine. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she gave herself a moment to think. All it took was a few seconds for her to realise her mistake. She was making excuses. Hermione Granger had not been too unfocused to be in a relationship, she had been afraid. Her lips turned downward and she crossed her arms over her chest, gazing up at her best friend. "I- at least I thought I didn't. After a while, the building was happening so fast. The castle was glistening and perfect and I felt safe again. I felt happy." She took a breath, looking away from Harry. "I was going to talk to him the day he left. I wanted to give us a go, but he was gone."
"You can't blame him. He was gutted when you two broke up. I don't think he thought you two ever had a chance after that. You don't have to love him, but you know you can't hate him. It's one of your more graceful values. You don't hate anyone." Harry placed his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair. "Hell, you're buddies with Malfoy and he was your own personal Voldemort."
Hermione shot him a scowl, moving to sit beside her friend. "He was not. And you're right, I don't hate Ronald for leaving, Harry. I hate that he didn't tell me. I dislike that a part of me- some part of me, hopes he returns. Whether I'd strangle him or kiss him when he does is another mystery altogether." She lay her head on his shoulder, exhaling loudly. His arm slipped around her waist and she instantly coiled into him, both admiring the setting sun.
The orange-yellow sky met the black lake and the rolling mountains in a way Hermione had only ever seen in paintings. It was moments like this that Hermione reflected on her life, both her muggle and magical one. She sent out a silent prayer to whatever God or Goddess was listening, grateful so many of those she loved had survived. She had as of yet gone to find her parents in Australia and though she missed them dearly, she knew this world- her magical world needed her. When she was to find her parents, Hermione wanted to be able to spend time with them. She wanted to wake up in her home to her mother's chocolate-chip pancakes and freshly squeezed orange juice. She wanted to hug her parents goodbye as they made their way to work. She longed feel her mother's kisses on her forehead as she'd so often done to her as a child. No, they would have to wait because she wanted to cherish them the way they deserved.
From the way Harry's shoulders tensed slightly, Hermione knew he was thinking the same thing. Of all the people they'd lost and all of those they hadn't. He was thinking of Fred and Tonks, Lupin and Lavender and Colin. She moved her hand to his and squeezed it tightly, closing her eyes as she relaxed against him. They remained this way for several minutes, the colors of the sky shifting to the light blue and violet that signaled the end of the day. Slowly, Harry released Hermione's hand and shifted, looking down at her with intense eyes. "We should get going. You know how Neville is about stragglers." He smiled, standing and pulling her up with him. "He's bound to be making his rounds soon and I don't even want to think of the fit he'll have if he catches us out after curfew."
Hermione laughed, nudging him gently. "Don't tell me you're afraid of him! Neville's a sweetheart."
"I am not afraid of him, Hermione!" He shook his head, walking with her back towards the castle. "I'm just not particularly a fan of his glare. Honestly, he's come a long way from the first-year boy who tried to fight us on the way to the stone."
"He has, hasn't he? I'm very proud of him. I always knew he had it in him." She chuckled, taking Harry's arm. "I mean, you weren't there, but the way he killed that snake. I mean, even I almost swooned." She joked, shrugging, causing the man beside her to let out a laugh. The two continued to chat, heading into the lower level of the castle, the area completely built to meet Ginny and George outside the Great Hall. The two never noticed a pair of hazel eyes closing in disappointment.
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It was late into the evening when the portrait door finally swung open and he walked into the common room. The sound of laughter filled his ears and he tensed, gripping tightly onto the back of the chair, attempting to catch his breath. The man had practically run back to his room, hoping that the brunette would be asleep by the time he arrived. From the loud sounds coming from her bedroom, it seemed that would not be the case. As the door swung shut after him, the noise stopped abruptly and he shook his head, scowling at himself for being so loud. He moved into the kitchen, ignoring the sound of the door opening. Perhaps, if he pretended to be busy himself he wouldn't have to deal with the group upstairs, whoever was with her.
"Oliver!" How quickly those dreams were crushed. He steadied himself to take a breath, the pain in his side growing. Damn. He really should've taken it slowly going up and down those steps. "Oli-i-i-ver!" His gaze lifted up and he blinked, watching the pair on the stairs. Hermione leaned over the railing, gripping tightly onto a bottle of firewhiskey. She smiled charmingly down at him. "You're late! You've never been back this late." She made to move down the steps.
"Ms. Granger," he rose a brow, tilting his head up at her, forgetting the kettle. "Are ye intoxicated?" She grinned, pausing in her steps and hiding the bottle behind her back. He chuckled as she shook her head. How could he stay angry with her when she was so damn….cute. "Are ye sure? Really, ye dinnae ha' tae lie. Yer cheeks are flushed, lass."
"That's just because I like you so much." She hiccupped, covering her mouth, her eyes wide. "No, no, ignore that! I'm definitely drunk." She took a step down the stairs, ignoring Ginny's loud calling. "Ginny is a very bad influence…especially if she's paired with Harry." She shrugged innocently and brought the bottle back from behind her, taking one last swig. He crossed his arms as best he could.
"Tell mae ye didnae drink it all yerself, lass. That is one big bottle." Hermione took a deep breath, closing her eyes slightly, nodding. "Ye did, did ye? Oh, dear Hermione, what am I tae do with ye?" The girl moved down a few more steps and in her inebriated state, missed one causing herself to tumble down the last eight. "Hermione!" Oliver moved forward in a blur, pausing at the base of the stairs, where she lay still. His hands moved to her shoulders and he turned her towards him, eyes narrowing immediately. She was in a fit of giggles, attempting to take deep breaths.
"Woops!" She laughed, looking up at him. "Oh, no, no, don't worry. The stairs have a charm. I'm-I'm okay." He rose a brow, leaning down towards her and placing a hand over her head. She hissed quietly. "Okay, maybe not so okay." His wonderfully hazel eyes looked at her with full warmth, his fingers gently ghosting over the cut above her eyebrow. She winced, turning her head away. "Mmm, no. It stings."
"It's okay, lass. I'll take care of it." He took his wand out of his pocket, pointing it at her split skin. "Episkey!" Hermione blinked as a warmth spread over her head and she smiled, looking up at him. He muttered a quick "Tergeo" and she was as good as new. There was no sign anything had happened. Of course except for the empty firewhiskey bottle by the couch. "There ye go, dear. Fit as a fiddle."
"Hermi-Oh!" Oliver moved back away from the girl, but not quickly enough. Ginny smirked, shaking her head at the man. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were so indisposed."
"Oh, isn't that a big word, Ginevra!" Hermione was sitting up now, her back against the wall, staring up at her friend.
"You'll find I'm rather smart when I'm not sober." The red-head shrugged, grinning. "Now, I'll leave you two to your own devices. As it so happens, Harry and I have begun to play strip-poker….except without the poker." She pushed away from the railing, twirling back into the room at the same time that Hermione groaned.
"Not in my room!" She cried out, attempting to stand. "At least put a blanket down!" She hiccupped, holding onto the wall when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her. She looked up at the older ex-Gryffindor and he smiled. "What're you doing?"
"What does it look like? 'm helpin' ye, lass. Ye really are in no position tae do anythin' by yerself." He shook his head. "No, let's get ye up the steps and if yer lucky, the other two will be asleep." Upon seeing her confused expression, he chuckled. "Quidditch players never could hold alcohol so well. I doubt they are the exception."
It took a few minutes, but eventually, they were on the second floor, heading toward Hermione's room. Oliver settled her by the wall, propping open the door, which to his luck, had no lock on it. Upon entering the room, it was very clear Ginny had been exaggerating. The couple were fast asleep on the floor by the windows, completely dressed, save for their shoes. With a quick levitation spell, the two were laying cozily in Hermione's bed. Harry turned over in his sleep, pulling the girl closer to him. Another flick of his wrist and the room was tidied up. Oliver had to admit, he didn't exactly fancy sleeping in the same room as the love-birds and so he turned, exiting and closing the door behind him. "We can take the living room. I can transfigure the cou-" A soft snore cut him off and he turned to Hermione, a grin appearing on his face.
She sat on the ground, knees to her chest, her head drooping to one side. It was clear the alcohol had taken over her. He lifted her with the same levitation spell that he'd used on Harry and Ginny, heading very slowly down the stairs. By the time he had made it to the living room, it felt like forever. Oliver cleared the couch, transfiguring it into a soft mattress and lower Hermione down on it, covering her with a throw. As he placed the soft blanket over her, she turned, her fingers clasping onto his and pulling him onto the bed, snuggling up to him. He groaned, attempting to keep quiet as he looked around. His wand was in the hand underneath her and it looked like there would be no way to grab it. Slowly, he kicked off his shoes and took the extra blanket that lay, thankfully, by the floor.
Oliver sighed, looking at the back of her head. He'd been so determined to be miffed with her. He wanted to be angry with her, but he wasn't. He couldn't be. At least, he didn't feel angry. No, Oliver felt disappointed. And that was a shock to him. He had worked so hard to see her as a friend, to remain her friend and he thought he'd won. Apparently, his heart had other ideas. "Oh, lass…" His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "Ye dinnae know what ye do tae mae."
He closed his eyes tightly, fighting to push her words out his head. He'd stumbled upon her admission of love to Ronald Weasley earlier that evening. She loved Ron, she cared for him, and if Harry Potter's words were anything to go by, Ron cared for her. Hermione had found someone and although he wasn't here, Oliver was sure he would return. After all, love makes us do crazy things.
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A/N And here was Chapter 8! I hope you enjoyed! I know there wasn't much action or anything creepy with Fred in this one, I promise I will get to that. Please, please review!
