Disclaimer: Harry Potter and other associated adaptations used in this story line are not mine, they belong to brilliant authors who lent me the idea. :)

Author's Notes: I'm aliiiiiive! Sorry for the long wait folks, reality is very demanding these days so my BETA and I are having problems with our routine editing. Anyway, I'd like to thank you guys for the wonderful and awesome reviews! They made my day! Please continue sending me your opinions! Thank you also for all the favorites and story alerts! I am glad you are liking this story so far. :)

Special thanks to my awesome friend and BETA, anitablakefan2007 for helping me bring this story to life! Thank you so much for all the hard work!

Chapter 9: Selfish Wishes

May I love you, may I be your shield

When no one can be found

May I lay you down

- Trading Yesterday

"Harry Potter is dead."

Hermione heard the man's victorious voice swell through the grounds. She could not really see him, but could feel his presence, as if he could appear in front of her anytime.

"He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him."

No… that was not true, she thought, devastated. She could almost picture the smug look on the man's face.

"We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."

There were hushed murmurs and whispers all around her, but the darkness could only hide their faces as she struggled to see, refusing the words sink in.

"No, it can't be…" The voice was familiar… she could almost feel the despair that radiated from the words.

"Don't believe him, Harry would never do that."

"Yeah, why should we believe him, I believe he's somewhere out there, trying to thwart You-Know-Who's plans."

The people's voices rang in her ears as she stood there, but they were too hazy for her to understand. Time seemed to stop after the voice continued to repeat inside her head. It was familiar… so cold, frightening and… maniacal.

Suddenly, everything around her became hazy. She could hear a woman's terrible scream and another woman's hysterical laugh… could feel the people whizzing past her, in an attempt to see what was happening. Some people screamed and others cried, some tried to convince their comrades that it was a sick joke… but she could understand none.

"…He was nothing but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him," the cold voice continued.

His masked followers guffawed and rejoiced at their master's words, jeering at other people's despair. They threw all sorts of insults to the dead body and spat on his name.

"He's a traitor, he is! Willing to save his skinny hide even if it meant sacrificing all of you!"

"The boy is nothing compared to the Dark Lord. He betrayed you all and sold you to the dogs!"

"All you should feel for him now is resentment. Bow down before the Dark Lord and maybe, death will be quick and easy."

"You see now? Your people died for him, but what did he do? Got himself killed trying to run away."

She could feel despair looming over her at their words. Even her companions seemed too confused and anguished to even retaliate to all their taunts and mocks.

"Why Harry?"

She heard the voice once more. It felt so lonely… so very lonely.

Then the darkness faded away, and was replaced by new sets of images… an all too familiar man – who was usually warm and gentle… now seemed too withdrawn, his eyes downcast as he stared at the fireplace. The atmosphere felt very heavy as he looked at her with a hollow smile, the dark bags underneath his eyes now visible from the light. As their eyes met, she felt her heart wrenching in pain as she saw the deep sadness and despair that threatened to overwhelm him. She couldn't stand looking at him like that…

"I look horrible, don't I?"

"Honestly, you really have a gift of underestimation. You don't look horrible, you look dead!" She heard it again, that voice… and remembered the man's face… that wounded face…

"Harry!" she cried, jolting awake as cold sweat trickled down her face. She was shaking terribly as she remembered the scenes and realized she heard that voice many times. That voice… that familiar voice… it was hers.

She could feel her heart beating fast, too fast, and couldn't help but hug herself as fear and sadness enveloped her. Harry… she bent her head as tears cascaded down her face relentlessly… He's dead… he's dead…

Strong arms enveloped her form, pushing her head closer until it was comfortable in his chest. She continued to sob… until her shoulders shook horribly and breathing became a difficult feat.

"Sshhhh, it was a dream, it's just a dream," Harry whispered soothingly, his voice gentle against her ear… hearing these words, his kind voice in the middle of her despair, "It's all right, I'm here."

"I saw you … you're lying there… dead in someone's arms!" she managed to say in between her sobs, her voice muffled as she continued to rest her aching head in his strong chest. She could feel his comforting hands running trails down her back as he whispered words of comfort in her ears. "They said you betrayed us… that you deserved to die…"

"Shh… it's all right," he murmured once again, his voice deep yet gentle. He continued his ministrations, holding her closer as his cheek touched her temple.

"I'm still here… alive. It was all just a part of the past."

Hermione looked up at him and eyed him suspiciously, her eyes wide with realization as he told her that it was a memory. He knew that sooner or later, she would remember and he felt that he owed her this… that what she dreamt of really happened, once upon a time. He didn't really know why he wanted to open up to her now, after keeping everything that happened that lead to Voldemort's defeat to himself.

Soon, her breathing became easier and her head didn't throb painfully as it did before. Yet, her eyes remained closed and she felt tired… so tired… She felt gentle hands wiping away her tears as her head hit the pillow once more. She nuzzled to its warmth, enjoying the comfort she gained from his presence. She didn't even realize what was happening, her mind was too hazy… And before she could even miss the warmth she felt in his arms, another one replaced it as she felt the blanket getting pulled up to cover her from neck to toe. And darkness claimed her once more.

When she opened her eyes, the streams of the morning light were already cascading in the window of the small cottage. She blinked, not really quite sure of what had happened. Was it all a dream? In the middle of the darkness that had passed, Harry held her close. She could still feel his warm hands as he enveloped her… his touch as he wiped her tears… was it all part of a dream?

She tilted her head to the side and felt something warm slip off her forehead. Curious, she reached up and grabbed it, a damp cloth? Slowly, she sat up on the bed, the blanket falling down to her knees as she touched her head. What happened? She shook her head, but could not seem to remember what transpired. And when she looked at her surroundings, she noticed a basin and some vials of potions… and Harry.

He was sitting in a chair by her bed, holding another piece of cloth. His eyes were closed and his head was drooping to one side. His raven hair suddenly looked longer, tousled as it was and his chin looked a bit rougher, as unshaved whiskers started to grow. He looked unkempt… yet rather dashing. She moved from her bed and sat on its edge until she was directly beside his slouched form… and reached up for his hair. Without even realizing it, she stroked it, quite tentatively at first and when he did not stir, she brushed the stray locks away from his face and watched him as he slept. His hair was surprisingly soft, although it was always all over the place. She continued to stoke it, feeling comforted from the act.

Comfort. It was something she felt not too long ago. Could it have been a mere figment of her imagination? The way he held her tightly and murmured to her ears… the way he stroked her back to comfort her and the way his hands wiped away her tears… It felt so real.

Before she could start thinking about the dream, she looked around once more and examined the vials beside the basin. They were potion of some sorts… had she been sick?

It was all starting to make sense now, as her gaze wandered to the sleeping man. The other night… she had a wonderful time by the beach… the people of Rippleshack created a bonfire as they gathered together… there was singing… laughing and stories, the food was delicious. People around teased her and Harry as the warmth of the fire soothed her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, listening to the joyful singing in the background… And so, she stayed there as Harry continued to listen to the different stories… then she got drowsy… and… and… that was it.

She must have been sick… that may be the reason for her tiredness… her nightmares.

And Harry had been watching her the whole time.

She looked at him as he breathed in steady rhythms. He must have been up all night taking care of her; it made her smile at the thought. She felt her heart beat faster as she realized how thankful she was for him… for always being there. Instinctually, she reached for his face again and traced the scar across his forehead. At the gesture, she felt something ache from her heart… the lightning bolt-shaped scar, had it been there for a long time? She tried to imagine him without one, wondering how he would look like. Could she have possibly known and forgotten?

It did not matter, she thought. The flaw was oddly endearing, like it was a part of him that even her past-self acknowledged. She never realized how vulnerable he could be, and wondered how he could've gotten it. For her, Harry seemed so strong and invincible… but he was also human. His scar was a proof that he could be hurt too… and somehow, she understood that he also needed comforting, just as she did.

Would it be possible for her to move closer to him and envelop him in her embrace? Would it be possible for her to hold his hand and squeeze it without him flinching? The thoughts seemed too surreal that she shook it off her head.

Then… was she starting to like him?

With a sigh, she realized that it wasn't at all impossible… and she wouldn't be surprised if she did. He was not a man who was hard to like. He was strong, yet he was also gentle… he was brash, yet he always cared… and he always thought of her safety… and happiness… and duty.

His duty.

Maybe she was starting to be too comfortable as Lily that she had forgotten she was still Hermione Granger. How could she have forgotten? She knew she was an important figure in the Ministry, as the others told her and knew she had more things to think about. Surely she should not be thinking about something so trivial so as love?

Love? No, it couldn't even be love… it was out of the question! Yet, whatever it was, it was very comforting and pleasant… the way he smiled at her made her heart flutter… and the way he held her hand when he was teaching her how to cook sent chills down her spine… she was… happy here. In the short time they were together, Harry had made her very happy and contented. Even with all the awkward moments they shared… he always managed to make her smile… if she could only stay as Lily forever.

"Hermione!" he rasped, his voice hoarse with sleep. She was suddenly jarred away from her thoughts as she looked at Harry, who was already alert and awake. She was surprised when she felt his hand over her forehead, checking her temperature. She had no choice but to stay still and look up innocently at him as he fussed over her.

"Your fever is gone, but you still look flushed," he stammered. With a relieved sigh, Harry gave her a small smile as he stood up, reaching for another vial of potion.

He seemed paler than usual, Hermione thought. She must have really worried him… but if only he knew that the tint in her cheeks was caused by another reason.

"I'm feeling fine," she said, placing her hand over his arm, "Thank you…"

Harry looked away from her, scratching the back of his head as he felt something warm creeping on his cheeks. "I, er – sorry. You fell asleep last night and got a fever because you've been wearing damp clothes. Sorry, I should have –"

"It's all right."

"But er –"

She shook her head, staring at his startling emerald eyes, "It wasn't your fault." She stood up suddenly and embraced him, surprising the young man with her rather brave action. She didn't know what he was thinking right now, but his rigid form suddenly softened as he returned the embrace. She felt his hand settle at her waist, his chin on the crown of her head… she couldn't help but smile when she realized that he returned it. "Thank you."

Her touch was starting to be something he longed for. If this happened years ago, he wouldn't have the trouble of this rather new experience, for Hermione was his best friend… always was actually. He wouldn't have trouble holding her hand or returning her hug without eliciting his heart to flutter. But now, it was getting harder to find the strength to move away from her… resist her touch, to remember this place… to understand that this was all a game.

She couldn't even remember the disappointment in her life… the sadness Harry had always been a part of. He had been there… a significant figure that was associated with the deaths of those around him, he was the reason Voldemort killed his beloved's brother, the reason why she couldn't be truthful to her parents about what her life in Hogwarts actually entailed. The pain he caused her and Ron… albeit indirectly, was still something he couldn't let go. And although years already passed since then, he avoided every opportunity to talk about it. Sure, he was already moving on… happy that his life was finally having some sort of direction, but he was still partly to blame for all the pain he caused her – the reason why Harry thought that they somehow drifted apart when her memories were still there… but now…

Could she have possibly felt it? Could she have known about the feeling he had repressed?

"I –I'll go and make breakfast," he said, still a bit shaken from his thoughts. Hermione's hand slipped off his waist as he finally broke the hug and she smiled at him, letting it go. Soon she lied down in the bed once more and closed her eyes.

"Well, I'm not hungry yet. Why don't you rest for a while?" she said.

"All right, thanks," he replied, looking at her direction. He was starting to be comfortable with this lie, he had to get away.

With a heavy sigh, he opened the door quietly and stepped outside, walking back and forth on the porch until finally, his thoughts quieted and he heard the sound of the sea. With another sigh, he stopped and sat down on the chair.

It was only a game of charades, he thought bitterly. Soon, Hermione would remember everything and all of it will be gone – just another part of her past.

This illusion… this happiness… everything… it was all a lie. Everything but what his heart whispered.

He looked at the remnants of the bonfire and saw the burnt sticks that were dark in contrast to the white sand and the blue sky. Yet, he vividly remembered the colors it wielded the previous night… it was the flames that danced which brought them the light, it was the sky that enveloped them into the darkness.

He could still remember the place where he sat beside her, her head resting on his shoulder, could still remember the laughter and Callum's words.

"So, James, what is your story?" Callum started, his bright hazel eyes shining, "How did you manage to find such a beauty? Lucky bastard!"

He had fabricated a story… about two best friends who were always together, who finally realized what they meant to each other after years of denial. Maybe it was his wish, something he wanted to come true, his fantasy… but he knew it was too good to be true.

"How did you know that you loved her?"

It was the one question which continued to nag his mind. Eyes were focused on him as the waited with bated breath, friends and strangers alike wanted to know, wanted to find out how he fell in love. It was as if the comfortable circle casted some sort of spell, that even the darkest recesses of his heart suddenly opened for probing…

"It was easy, actually, because she's my best friend. Ever since we were young, she was always there for me… the good times, the bad," he started, trying to delve further in his mind to recapture those moments, "It, er – just happened."

That was how it was. When she was just Hermione and he was only a boy named Harry. In the middle of all the pain and suffering… she was there for him, to lift his hopes up and have faith in him when he couldn't.

"I was grieving… I tried to push my friends away. But every day I would find her on my doorstep before she went to work, nagging me at first, before giving me a hug. It took me a while to realize what she meant to me, because I realized that it has always been there – like breathing."

He would gladly give up everything if it meant having Hermione beside him in every waking moment of his life. He wanted to make her happy, keep her safe… make her live life to the fullest. Now that he had seen the other side of her, the one who always wore a carefree smile in her face as her bright chocolate eyes radiated in her being, he wanted to keep it.

"I don't even want to think about a life without her."

He loved her.

He wanted to stop it but he realized that it was already there, imprinted upon his heart. It was already a part of him, something that could never go away no matter how much he tried. Like breathing, he thought. Yet, he already knew the consequences of falling in love with her. He knew of the pain it would cause him – when everything in this world they created would come into an end. He knew it would not last, no matter how much he wished it would, that James would soon cease to exist and die, only to leave a part of him on Harry – the memory of this place, the realization that he fell in love with her.

When he received a letter from Pigwidgeon last night telling him how they finally developed a cure for Hermione's amnesia, he knew that this dream was about to end. He only wished that he could use James' life to full use to make her realize how much she actually meant and how she could live her life outside the four corners of her office. And most of all, he wished for her happiness.

For once in his life, Harry Potter wanted to be selfish as he prayed. He wished for a few more days… enough time to live this dream. If it really would come an end soon, then he wanted to make the most out of it, he was still unprepared to go back to reality.

He prayed for a few more days to be with her, to let her feel his love without telling her he loved her. Then, he would be glad to live his life in an empty shell – go back to his old lifestyle of working and taking care of his godson, thinking he had held something dear – something that could make him finally look forward to each night, when he could be himself, something stronger than his nightmares, a light that would finally envelop him in the darkness.

"Well, that's it."

I love her, he thought tenderly as his heart shouted it in the only way it could. Smiling at the realization, he closed his eyes.

Author's Notes: On the next chapter, the plot will be moving forward and we will finally see the other characters in the beloved series. Hold on to your seats my friends and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thoughts? Opinions? Review!