Sorry its been so long. I took another extended break from writing, but I have a little bit of free time while I'm at work, so hopefully I can get the final few chapters out over the next few weeks.
"Harry, I have the blankets… Harry, the blankets." Hermione said as Harry didn't seem aware of her presence in the kitchen door way. He slid the knife under the table with his foot as he turned around.
"Thank you." He said, looking beyond her, as though there was something more than just her in his presence.
"Hopefully in the morning your mind will be a little clearer. You don't need to mention anything though because it will probably just make you feel awkward."
"Undoubtedly. I shall mention it none the less as I am no closer to what I had hoped to achieve."
"You never will be." Hermione said as she put the blankets in his arms and gestured him towards the living room.
"Perhaps, but I can still hope."
"Even if it is hopeless?"
"Blind hope is still hope." He said with a thin smile, though the tone of his voice didn't match.
"If it pleases you. As long as you still know where I stand. Its not changing."
Harry didn't reply to this, he had thought for so long about what he wanted to say to her, what he wanted to tell her, that he never considered what would happen after that. He never really considered what she would say either. He threw the pillow against one end of the sofa, before turning to Hermione. He must look pathetic, he thought.
"I'm sorry…" Harry tried. Not sorry he said it, for he would do it again, but sorry that it seemed to hurt her the way it did.
"I know you are Harry… I know you are." She said with a smile as she left the room, closing the door behind her, and heading off to bed.
Harry didn't get ready for bed straightaway; instead he sat on the sofa, letting the moonlight wash over him, its tranquil warmth, calming the maelstrom inside. He had come and said what he needed to. He had told Hermione how he felt, and was that not all he had come here to do? He never hoped for more, though he supposed now he did. Love or hate, it didn't seem he was going to get it. Instead he would simply get a friendship, which although once was so desirable, was now by comparison a hollow excuse for what he once had.
He could stay until morning, but what would be the point. If he were to resign himself to Hermione's verdict now, then he would simply be tormenting himself by staying. She had told him what she thought, and he believed her. He could look into her eyes and see when she was lying, and she wasn't. The way she felt about him, or didn't feel was real, and that was something he couldn't change.
He simply hoped now knowing, that he could go back home, and get on with his life, whatever that meant.
He sat a moment longer, running over these thoughts, doubting them, and them discarding his doubts. What was so great about Hermione anyway? What was it that made her so much more important to him than everyone else. Obviously it was because he loved her, but was the concept of love not flawed? If someone could fall out of it, and if it could cause so much pain, then why would anyone want to be in love to begin with?
Was love something even worth desiring? Perhaps it wasn't love at all, that he felt with Hermione, but a sick obsession. Perhaps love wasn't so complicated after all. Maybe it was something he could find with someone else, even choose to have.
It was worth a shot wasn't it?
He got up from the sofa, leaving the blanket folded as it had been before. He pulled on his jacket, which was still wet from the torrential weather earlier on that night. A quick glance out the window told him that the rain had now passed, and though it was wet outside, there were clear skies. Good for walking in, one should say.
He opened the front door, and left silently, leaving Hermione in her room, also thinking about what had just transpired. Though his clothes had dried since earlier, his shoes were still wet. With every step he took there was a small squelch, which whilst proving to be a mild annoyance, was also something to try and think about besides what he would do next in his life.
The streets were nearly deserted, with only the occasional car driving past. Even though it was the outskirts of London it seemed the heavy rain earlier had driven everyone else inside. Eventually after a long period of walking he came to a house he recognised, the Burrow. By now the moon was high over head and the stars were out. What a fitting night it would be, if he were to leave now.
He pulled out his keys, before letting himself in. The house seemed silent, other than the occasional creak as the building swayed in the wind. He glanced at his watch, which in the darkness he could just make out to be showing that it was just shy of four in the morning. He slipped off his shoes, and jacket and made his way silently up the stairs. He paused briefly, looking at his room at the end of the corridor, before turning and opening the door to his right.
The room he stepped into was decorated in creams and mauves. The curtains were left open, allowing the moonlight in, leaving patterns on the carpet as it seeped in through the net curtains.
"What time is it Harry?" Ginny asked as she pulled herself up in her bed and rubbed her eyes.
"A little before four." He said, as though this was acceptable. "I have been thinking Ginny. I have done a lot of thinking today, and you know, after all of it…" He said as he knelt down beside her, and gently planted a kiss upon her lips. "I think its you I love."