C O W A R D
by Gueneviere
XI
THE COLDNESS WITHIN
"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love. I fear love."
—Neil Gaiman.
- - - -
Hermione woke up around 12 o' clock that morning. To her dismay, she still felt weary, and her heart ached in silence from the earlier events. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she sighed and picked up her wand, opening the closed burgundy curtains of her window.
Gleaming sunlight inundated the room, illuminating the specks of dust that had previously floated in the darkness and finally falling upon the old couch by the window as well as upon the glaring green-eyed boy that sat upon it.
Hermione jumped a bit in surprise. "Holy shit, Harry! What on Earth are you doing here?"
"What did he do to you?" Harry growled in response, ignoring her question and letting her previously crossed arms fall to his sides, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists.
Hermione blinked.
"Huh?"
"Shacklebolt," Harry hissed with venom.
Hermione cringed.
Harry noticed.
"Did he force himself on you?" He demanded.
"Wh-what!? NO! Why would you think something like that?" Hermione questioned anxiously, her heart beating wildly.
Harry frowned but relaxed noticeably. "Well, I could tell you had been crying this morning and then I heard Tonks yelling at Kingsley and um…"
Tonks had yelled at Kingsley? She would have to thank her later, Hermione decided.
"And what?" She asked suspiciously, eying Harry's flushed face.
"Er… the thing is, you… you sort of smelled like um… male cologne and well, you had been alone with him for the whole night so…"
Hermione's eyes widened comically. "Y-you smelled me?"
Harry blushed but glared at her defiantly. "It's not like that! I-I just wanted to see if you were okay so I kind of hugged you for a while and well, I just happened to, um…"
"You just happened to smell me... while you hugged me. In my bed. As I slept." Hermione finished for him, sending him an incredulous look.
Harry scowled at her. "Well, yeah, but you don't have to make me sound so perverted! It's not me that smelled like a man!"
Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.
"Um—I mean, ugh! You know what I meant!" Harry cried making wild hand movements.
"Uh huh," Hermione replied with a smile.
He huffed and glared at her.
Hermione's smile slipped a bit. "Listen, Harry, Kingsley—he just sort of consoled me this morning. That's it."
It alarmed her how easy it had become to lie so smoothly. Maybe she was spending too much time around Draco.
Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Just consoled you, huh? You must remember Hermione, that I've consoled you in the past before and—"
"Not that kind of consoling, you prat!" Hermione interrupted him, feeling slightly guilty knowing that had Kingsley offered physical comfort, she would have readily taken it.
Not like that matters, now, she thought sadly, and tried to focus on Harry's accusing eyes instead of her painfully broken heart.
"I-I just discovered something… um… distressing this morning, and Kingsley…" Hermione's throat constricted as she spoke the Auror's name, but her best friend didn't notice. "He… well, he held me as I cried. That's all."
"Oh," Harry replied, feeling very silly. Kingsley Shacklebolt was an Auror and an Order member, after all—he really had to learn to get a hold of his possessiveness.
He shook his head as though to clear his thoughts, before he met Hermione's eyes again. They were the same beautiful dark coffee-brown of always and yet they were different somehow.
Duller, gloomier, sadder…
Bad different.
Harry started to worry again.
"So… what was so distressing? Does it have to do with the Horcruxes?" He inquired, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably.
Hermione sighed and waved her wand over her pajamas, magicking into a pair of worn-out jeans and a simple long-sleeved black shirt. "I'll tell both you and Ron later. It's kind of a long story, and Mrs. Weasley seems to be peeved at me—she'll chew my head off if we're late for lunch."
Harry chuckled and nodded, standing up and opening the bedroom door for her. The young witch sent him a grateful smile that—the boy noted—didn't quite reach her eyes.
She walked past him, turning to stare at him as she did.
"Oh, and Harry?" She called over her shoulder in an even voice.
"Yeah?"
"There's this nasty little hex I came across last night- the Castro curse, if I recall correctly. It involves males not being males anymore if you know what I mean."
Harry winced.
Hermione smiled humorlessly.
"If you ever go into my room while I'm sleeping again, I won't save it for the Death Eaters. Am I clear?"
A wide-eyed Harry stopped on his tracks and nodded vigorously.
Lunch had been a quiet and rather tense affair due to the looks Hermione had been receiving: worried ones from Tonks, searching ones from Remus, and angry ones from Mrs. Weasley. Thus, as soon as the dessert dishes were waved to the kitchen, the trio had scampered to the boys' room to talk about Hermione's discoveries—the ones regarding the Horcruxes, of course.
And so now, both Harry and Ron stared at her intently—the first one looking pensive, the latter dumbfounded.
"What do you mean, a personal item, Hermione?" Harry asked frowning. His emerald green eyes shone in uncertainty.
"Yeah, you don't mean a pair of his underwear, do you? Cuz that'd be truly disgusting." Ron made a face.
Hermione sighed. "No, Ron, we don't need his underwear, just something of his." She shook her head. "I honestly don't know where you get these ideas from."
"Mostly Fred and George." The boy responded with a grin.
"Lovely," Hermione replied dryly before turning to Harry. "You see, this is more than a little inconvenient; we don't even have a spy anymore, and it's not like we can put an ad in the Daily Prophet."
Ron chuckled. "That would be a good one. Maybe we could pass ourselves as a fanclub and—"
"What about Tonks? She's a metamorphmagus; she could turn into a Death Eater or something…" Harry suggested.
"Right. And do what? Walk up to the friggin Dark Lord and ask him for that cuddly teddy bear he sleeps with at night?" The girl smiled wryly. "Wouldn't work."
"Hey, who knows? Maybe he would be willing to give that Lestrange woman a pair of his underwear. You all saw how she looked at him in the Department of Mysteries!" Ron snickered.
Both Harry and Hermione grimaced at the mental image.
"You need help mate," Harry stated, patting his best friend on the back.
"Yeah, and anyway, we don't know where on earth Voldemort's hiding right now." Hermione said and sighed, gathering her dark hair in another messy bun that started to become undone as soon as she stuck her wand in it to fix it in place. "I think we're going to have to wait."
"Wait?" A sobered-up Ron asked from where he sat in the couch. "Wait for him to come out, you mean? That could take ages! And what even ensures you we would be able to take something from him and escape in one piece!?"
"It wouldn't take ages. It's gonna happen sometime soon," Harry replied quitetly as he pointed at his slightly pink scar.
"And what about escaping? It has been sheer luck that's gotten you out alive before!"
"Well, I certainly never expected you to act as the voice of reason, Ron," Hermione intervened with a slight smile. "But anyway, unlike before, this time we would be prepared for an attack."
"Prepared how?" Ron asked skeptically.
"First of all, we should tell the Order about it so that they are on their toes when it happens. And secondly, we would have to come up with some sort of retreat strategy; Voldemort will want to kill Harry instantly, but we must make sure they don't become involved in a battle. Maybe it even would be better if Harry didn't come at all…"
"Yeah right, and let you do my dirty work? No way, I'm coming; and that's final." Harry replied angrily.
"Your dirty work? This is not your work any more than it is ours, Harry. We want Voldemort defeated just as much as you do!"
"But the prophecy—"
"Exactly. Because of the prophecy, you cannot put yourself in unnecessary danger!"
"Oh brilliant! Now you're acting just like Dumbledore. Are you keeping important stuff from me too, Hermione, hmm?"
Hermione blushed lightly.
"Shut up, Harry. You know I only want the best—"
"That's what he said."
"Ugh, honestly—"
"And it doesn't even matter, Hermione. Do you think Voldemort will let anyone but me get near enough to steal something from his person?"
"He won't let you near either! The man's a coward, and you're the one prophesized to kill him!"
"The man's also an egomaniacal monster, and I bet he'll want to brag a little before he offs me so—"
"Are you really willing to put your life and the fate of the Wizarding World on the line because of a hunch?"
"It's not like that, Hermione! You—"
"For Merlin's sake, SHUT UP!" Ron bellowed, his face red in frustration.
Both Harry and Hermione turned to stare at the redhead, their mouths still opened mid-sentence.
Ron sighed and sat back on the couch. He really wasn't used to being the moderator of the trio's squabbles, but his friends were making him insane.
"Well," Hermione said, clearing her voice after a few seconds. "We should probably tell the Order about all of this at tomorrow's meeting."
"Leaving the Horcrux part out, of course." Harry stated firmly as his brightgreen eyes searched his best friend's weary brown ones.
Hermione eyed him strangely. "Of course." A second later, the look was gone. "On the meantime, I'll look up some kind of counter curse for the anti-apparition wards the Death Eater's will surely erect. And maybe I'll make some portkeys, too. I don't know yet."
"Don't work yourself too hard," Harry said, his voice softer.
"Right," the girl answered emotionlessly. "Bye boys," she said, leaving the room in a fast stride.
"Nutter, that one." Ron said with a fond smile, pointing at the door.
"Mhm," was all a narrow-eyed Boy-Who-Lived replied.
The flames consumed the wood nosily, the bright tongues of fire dancing and delving into the darkness above.
Hermione, from the loveseat she sat on, sighed for what had to be the thousandth time since she had come down to the first floor's living room.
"So, Hermione, have you read anything interesting lately?" Remus asked, his voice tinged with worry. Tonks, who sat on the couch next to him, just eyed the young girl with sympathy.
"Not really," she answered softly, dull, dark eyes still trained on the fire.
Remus sighed and stared pointedly at Harry, who leaned on the staircase frowning.
"Um, 'Mione, wanna come play exploding snap with Ron and Ginny?" The boy said, attempting a carefree smile. "We'll let Malfoy play if you come."
She smiled sadly and shook her head. "No, Harry, but thanks. You go have fun."
Raking a hand through his dark hair, he sighed and climbed the stairs. Tonks shook her head and threw Remus a meaningful look. Just let me handle it.
The werewolf sighed and rubbed his temples before nodding and stepping out of the room.
Tonks cleared her throat and turned to the young, heart-broken witch that still stared at the fire.
"Um, Hermione… I talked to Kingsley this morning…"
The girl nodded absent mindedly. "Yeah, Harry told me about that."
"Really, now?" Tonks frowned. "So, what's exactly going on between you two?" She demanded, feeling a bit of righteous indignation on her best friend's behalf.
Hermione turned to Tonks and raised an unbelieving eyebrow. "Between me and Kingsley? Absolutely nothing, according to him," she said, bitter sarcasm dripping from each word.
Tonks smiled wryly and shook her head. "No, I meant between you and Harry."
Hermione's dark eyes gleamed in surprise. "What? No, that's not—I mean…" she sighed and brought her feet up on the loveseat. "It's complicated," she said finally.
"How so?" The Auror asked, still frowning at the younger witch.
Hermione remained quiet for a few seconds before sighing and starting. "Some months ago, after that raid at Riddle's old orphanage… Harry tried to save this little girl, but..." She trailed off before starting again. "…He… he couldn't—the room collapsed on top of her, and then it was too late. I had pulled the girl's sister from the fire. She was crying so hard…"
Tonks nodded. She had been there and remembered the scared, hollowed faces of the dead children. It had been awful—probably the hardest thing she had ever encountered as an Auror.
Hermione shook her head as though she could shake the memories away. "When we came back that night… we, well—it just happened. We sort of fell into this routine, and we would look for each other when the stress and the pain became too much."
Tonks nodded again. It was unfair; they were still teenagers, and they should never be put into situations like these. She knew they were both physically and magically capable of handling this war, but emotionally? She didn't even feel emotionally capable herself.
"But then a couple of months ago," Hermione lowered her voice a little. "I realized I had… feelings… for Kingsley." She stopped and closed her eyes briefly, the name burning both her tongue and her heart. "I didn't think it mattered because I was sure he wouldn't look at me twice, and then Harry was just my friend…"
The Auror snorted at that, and Hermione smiled wryly. "What, you're going to call me a slut, Tonks? Go ahead; you might be right."
The older woman shook her head. "Of course you're not a slut, Hermione. Just naïve enough to think sex wouldn't complicate your friendship with Harry."
Hermione nodded. "I've always loved him, you know," she said absent-mindedly. "Harry, I mean."
Tonks' eyes widened, and Hermione smiled. "No, not like that. It's just… he's like my family. Ron too, but he already has a family so it's not the same."
"You have a family too." Tonks replied, staring at the fire.
"Not really. Not anymore," was Hermione's soft reply. She sighed before continuing. "So anyway, everything got screwed up a month ago. Harry said he wanted to tell everyone about 'our relationship'… I didn't even know we had a relationship."
"He fell for you?" Tonks asked, blue eyes shining in worry.
"I-I don't think so," the girl sighed and bit her lip. "Tonks, you've got to understand that Harry… well, he's sort of starved for affection. He never really got any as a boy so when he loves people; he does so with intensity—I don't think he's able to discern between kinds of love."
"Have you told him this?"
"Well, not really… I've been pulling away out of guilt, and he's been asking for reasons, but I can't very well tell him about Kingsley, can I?" Hermione turned to the fire again. "And anyway, I don't want to hurt him."
The grandfather clock from the drawing room struck four, and Tonks sighed and stood up from the couch. "Listen, Hermione, I've gotta go to work right now, but I… well, I just thought you should know… Kingsley left this morning. He went back to his apartment."
Much to the Auror's surprise, the young girl didn't burst into tears, and she didn't give any indication of having heard her.
"I expected as much," she finally whispered.
"Yeah, well, he's never been very good at resisting temptation," Tonks tried to joke but didn't quite manage a convincing smile.
"Mhm," was Hermione Granger's skeptical response.
Tonks frowned apprehensively. "Hermione, you can always talk to me about this, okay? I've had my share of stubborn men too."
The girl smiled and nodded at the purple-haired witch gratefully. Just as Harry, the Auror was quick to note that the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
Nymphadora Tonks left the house thinking on the various ways she could end Kingsley Shacklebolt's pitiful existence.
Back in Grimmauld Place a pale young woman still sat by the chimney.
Hermione sighed and threw a couple of logs of wood to feed the dying flames, yet even when the fire danced and crackled with vigor before her dark eyes, the coldness remained.
A/N: Hiya, guys, hope you liked the chapter, though it's mostly a filler before the next. I'm almost done with that one; I expect it'll be up this weekend. I do hope Tonks's conversation with Hermione solved some of your doubts regarding the Hermione/Harry situation.
As always, I would like to thank my lovely, lovely reviewers (-pats them on the head while glaring at those that have the -gasp- audacity of putting the fic on alert and not reviewing it first-) :
alizaleven, Galleon-to-Galleon, tequieropapi522, maria.boom.baby, Polo Smurf, Ledophole, Miss Artemis, wasu, Kyosbestbuddyever13, The Eloquent Quill, Hotkat144, I Heart Ginny, FreeSpritSprite, ginsensu, Nynaeve80, Jevanminx, r0manticr0se,Mari, bookworm3213, disdainx3 (-reads review again and breaks into uncontrollable laughter-), and darling tutucute4u.
Also, this chapter is dedicated to Right or Ryn whose lovely, long reviews always make me grin. I'm making her queen reviewer for a week!
And finally, a big hug to EuphoniumGurl0 for checking out the chapter while fighting 'a sea of troubles', as dear old Hamlet would put it.
Now that I'm done procrastinating, I guess I should go do my World Literature assignment (-glares at World Lit assignment sitting on the desk-). Grr…
Please review!!!
Cheers,
Alex.