Welcome to The One. This is a Harmony Fanfiction dealing with post-war emotions & trauma.
Huge, huge, huge thanks to Witherwings01 for the starting bits of this chapter. Check out their Better Never than Late. It's one of the best fics I've read (unfortunately, they've left it incomplete).
Of course, I do not own Harry Potter. It all belongs to the fantastic mind of JK Rowling.
You can also read this fic (and all my other ones) on Wattpad & AO3 (EmeraldMeetsAuburn) and HarryPotterFanfiction (HarmonyForever).
And one thing, in this fic, Hermione is beautiful. She is gorgeous just like she was in the films (thanks to whoever chose to cast Emma Watson, though I doubt they would've known that she'd grow up into a woman of such breathtaking beauty at that time). Or maybe I should simply say that Emma is Hermione in this fic. The reason shall become clear as the story progresses.
Now, without any further ado...
On with the fic!
[2nd May, 1998]
Darkness. Complete darkness. And a silence. A silence so silent that it screamed.
The vilest creature on Earth strode into the confines of what remained of the school's courtyard, countless robed figures behind him. Among them was the unmistakable bulk of Rubeus Hagrid. Ankles shackled, he had an awkward, shuffling gait. His usually friendly, beetle black eyes, just visible behind the tangle of hair and beard, looked hollow. Utterly hollow. Full of tears. His arms, however, had been left unbound and cradled tenderly the reason for his hollow look.
The limp form of Harry James Potter.
No! No! No way! It-it c-can't be! It can't be! The words repeated over and over again in the prison of her mind as she refused to accept what her senses were telling her. It simply...can't be. It's-it's impossible! I would've...I would've known if he...if he...
A single tear rolled down her cheek, tracing whatever path it could find in the mixture of dirt and grime that coated her face.
And then the final blow.
"HARRY POTTER... IS DEAD!"
As soon as the words left Voldemort's cursed lips, lightning struck. The soul got sucked out of Hermione Jean Granger. Her mind fell into a pit of darkness; all of the knowledge, the intellect, the wits that she'd possessed, vanished. Simply vanished. As if they had never even existed.
She didn't know why. She didn't even care to know why. But the words drained her. Completely.
Unaware to her, she had slumped to the ground, the strong hands of Ron Weasley trying their best to support her lifeless body.
As the crushing reality of the loss of her - ... friend, for the lack of a better term - descended upon her, the dam broke, sending a torrential flow of water streaming down her face.
"Where've you been?" she asked, out of breath, getting up hurriedly upon seeing Harry approach them.
"I thought you went to the Forest," said Ron.
"I'm going there now."
"Are you mad? No... You can't give yourself up to him!" Ron started advancing in a bid to stop him. A slender hand caught him, nudging him to stand back. She walked towards Harry herself.
"What is it, Harry?"
"What is it you know?"
He turned and looked down. His eyes had the slightest hint of tears.
"There's a reason I can hear them. The Horcruxes." [Pause]
"I think I've known for a while. And I think you have, too."
That was it. The end.
All those long hours of continuously denying rationality were nothing but a waste of time. All of it was in vain.
Harry Potter was a Horcrux.
I'll Go With You | Harmony ( watch ? v = gjU0YyssjAk) (remove the extra spaces and put the YouTube domain first)
Hermione knew. She knew that Harry was a Horcrux - she knew he had to die. The rational part of her mind had accepted it, but the emotional part resisted valiantly. It refused; refused to digest. It kept hoping for something to happen. A miracle.
Unlike her mind, which offered little resistance, her heart revolted. It was ready to instigate a coup. Though she didn't accept it, her heart had always been Harry's prisoner.
Yes, she did have feelings for Ron; yes, she did love him. But it was different, very different from what she felt for Harry.
She had spent the better part of the last few years trying to convince herself that what was between her and Harry was a form of platonic love. Strong, pure platonic love and nothing else. But this challenged her thinking.
Right now, she was shattered.
She took one look at Harry. He was seemingly unharmed. Only one curse could leave the victim utterly unharmed and yet be the most lethal.
Slowly her mind began to resurrect itself. As it did so, it became aware of a voice. The same voice that took everything from her. The same voice that took Harry from her.
"Harry Potter is dead!" proclaimed Voldemort, turning towards his Death Eaters. Laughter ran through the ranks.
Turning back to the protectors of Hogwarts, he spat, "You see? Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived is dead!" highlighting the irony. "Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"
"He beat you!" yelled a very familiar voice at her side.
A torrent of sound erupted from the survivors on the heels of Ron's proclamation, who, Hermione now realised was the owner of the pair of hands which had prevented her fall. For a moment, she felt a brief surge of gratitude towards her...lover.
That respite, however, was fleeting, as the grief of the loss of Harry took over once again. But this time, it was different.
A murderous rage filled her; one so powerful that it would've truly frightened her had her rational mind retained any semblance of control. For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger knew what it meant to experience true hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred.
While she allowed the feeling to fill her insides, the words that Bellatrix Lestrange had once spoken to Harry reverberated in her mind as she formed a new plan of action. "You need to mean them. You need to really want to cause pain - to enjoy it."
A powerful explosion from the tip of the Elder Wand silenced the masses.
"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the grounds," continued Voldemort serenely. "Killed whilst attempting to flee - "
"LIES!" Hermione couldn't prevent the word from exploding past her lips.
Voldemort broke off, his scarlet eyes narrowing as he turned his serpent-like face towards the source of the shouted outburst. "And what do we have here?" he said, his voice a dangerous, soft hiss. "A volunteer to show what happens to those who dare to challenge me?"
Hermione was breathing in short, ragged gasps as if she had just run a marathon, but did not flinch under Voldemort's appraising stare.
"Hermione?" Ron's voice was barely a whisper in her ear, "What are you doing? You know Harry wouldn't want - "
"Don't talk about him like you knew him!" screeched Hermione, apoplectic. Shaking herself free of her lover's grasp, she stood straight and took a defiant stride forward making herself known to the Dark Lord.
A cruel smirk twisted Voldemort's features. "A little girl?" he taunted, a wave of mirthless laughter erupting from the ranks of his Death Eaters. "Brave...but foolish of you, child. No mortal can challenge me now."
But Hermione wasn't listening anymore. She cared little for the army of Death Eaters who would surely strike her down the moment she so much as raised her wand. Nor did she concern herself with the remaining Horcrux that anchored Voldemort to life, safe with Nagini, who lay coiled some ten metres behind the monster himself. Right now all she wanted to do was cause Voldemort as much pain & suffering as she was able to bring to bear upon him - to watch him die a drawn-out, protracted and agonising death, even if she could not truly rid the world of his evil. In fact, maybe it was better he was immortal? That way she could kill him a thousand times over until he too knew the extent of the pain, the crushing emptiness she felt right now. Only then she might show him the mercy he had never shown his victims and end his existence once & for all.
As if in slow motion, and without conscious effort, she levelled her wand arm towards Voldemort, ready to unleash the vile energies of the same curse he had obviously used upon Harry. Her Harry.
She opened her mouth, and channelling all the rage & hatred, she spoke the incantation that would end his reign of terror.
However, just at that moment, several things appeared to happen at once as if someone had hit the fast forward button on a Muggle video player so that even with the benefit of hindsight, she still could not say precisely how events had unfolded.
To a man, every one of Voldemort's Death Eaters unleashed a barrage of energy towards her, the curses devouring the distance between them before she had so much as completed the first word of the most unforgivable of all curses, whilst out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure move towards her in a flat run.
"Hermione, No!"
She just had time to register the voice as Neville Longbottom's before she was tackled to the ground, the Death Eaters' curses sizzling past overhead.
A grunt of pain escaped Hermione's lips as she and Neville landed in a heap on the unyielding stone, the immediate loosening of his protective hold on her upper torso informing her that the fall had likely knocked her fellow Gryffindor unconscious. Still securely clasped in his right hand which pinned her to the ground, however, was a piece of tatty fabric that Hermione initially took to be just that, before she finally recognised what it was - the Sorting Hat. Although what Neville was doing with the magical relic which had once belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself was of little concern to her; her eyes scanned the faceless crowd for a glimpse of Voldemort so that she might finish the job. She did not register the weight of the most valuable piece of silver in the world materialising within the confines of the Hat.
Just then a new voice rang out across the near-silent crowd.
The body jumped out of Hagrid's arms and rolled on the ground before standing up, it's wand on the mark.
"Leave her alone, Riddle!"
Time snapped back to its normal rate of progression and Hermione's heart soared as her brain registered the most beautiful sound in the world, the darkness within her dissipating as quickly as it had arisen.
He's alive!
It was over. The war was over. The prophecy had been fulfilled.
The Light had won.
But for Hermione Jean Granger, the Light had lost. The flame had been extinguished. The dazzling white of the Good had been overshadowed - no, devoured - by the ghastly green of the Curse.
Ronald Bilius Weasley was dead.
Harry had no time for celebrating the final vanquishing of Tom Riddle. No, he did not want to. He simply couldn't.
It was as if Death was not content with robbing the Weasleys of only one son.
Ron was dead. His first friend, his best mate was dead. Killed by the same curse which started it all.
His eyes watered upon seeing the faces of the mourning members of the family he had come to call his own, and the look of utter devastation on Molly Weasley's once motherly visage made his heart ache.
He took one last look at Ron's face before it was covered with a white sheet, which Arthur Weasley draped over his body with numb hands.
That look reminded him of something. Of someone.
Hermione.
She stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, watching as her just-a-few-hours-old boyfriend's body was covered, his face to be never revealed ever again. The blank look on her face said it all.
A thousand daggers ran through whatever was left of Harry's heart.
Oh, Hermione!
He turned his head back, looking down and squeezing his eyes tight to prevent the dam from breaking. He had a very strong urge to get up and run, run away from it, away from all, away from... away from... Hermione.
But suddenly, a second voice spoke in his head. A new, unfamiliar voice. A very calm, serene, feminine voice.
No.
What?
No, Harry. You can't do this. You can't run away from Hermione.
I-I have to. I have to! I-i c-can't...I can't!
Yes you can.
All of t-this is-is because of me! If I had never been born, none of this would've happened.
It's not your fault, Harry.
Yes it is! It is every bit my fault, every inch of it! All of this is because of me! Ron is dead BECAUSE OF ME! Harry mentally screamed at the voice, panting. His inner breath was of short, ragged gasps.
There was a long pause.
I have only one thing to say, Harry.
What?
She needs you...
That was it. Hermione. She needed someone to come out of it. She needed someone who could be her rock. She needed him.
Harry turned around once again to find her in the exact same state as before. Hermione Granger, the one who he trusted with all his heart, the one who stood with him no matter what, the one who was his...rock, had been destroyed. Today, she needed her own rock, one who would pull her out of this.
And it was Harry Potter.
Steeling his resolve, he got up, sniffled in his tears, and walked up to Hermione.
Hermione had been lifeless. Not a single word came out of her mouth. Nor did any tears out of her eyes.
Harry had spent the entire day sitting with her on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room. Not a word was exchanged between them. He held her, rubbing his hand across arms while they both stared endlessly into the crackling flames of the fireplace. He eventually dozed off and woke up the next day to find her in the exact same state as the previous day. She hadn't moved an inch.
Madam Pomfrey sent them each a set of fresh clothes. While Harry went to freshen up and change, Hermione remained as it is. When she didn't answer to his wheedling, he picked her up bridal style and carried her to the Seventh Year boys' dorm, earning frightening glares from her. Neville was inside when they got in.
"Er...Neville..." said Harry, placing Hermione down on the bed reserved for him.
"I got it, Harry," he replied with a small smile. "I understand that you two need your privacy. I've asked everyone to take anything they left here to the Room of Requirement."
"It's still working? I mean, it was set on fire while we were looking for that object..."
"Dean checked it in the morning after Madam Pomfrey released him. It's perfectly ok."
Harry gave a small smile.
"Neville?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
Neville lifted his trunk, smiled back and left.
Hermione watched silently as Harry went down and brought her clothes back.
"Alright, are you changing your clothes or not?"
She responded by averting her gaze.
"Fine," he sighed, "I guess I'll have to change them myself."
She glared at him. He could see several emotions running through her eyes. Pain, anger and... fear.
Sensing her unease, he tried to lighten the atmosphere a bit. "It's not that I haven't seen you without clothes," he said, referring to the Horcrux hunt.
The ghost of a smile grazed Hermione's lips, and for a second her eyes lit up. But only for a second. The pain that the war had inflicted upon her dominated again.
He undressed her slowly, taking everything off until only her undergarments were left. Putting down the pile, he looked up and was dumbfounded.
Yes, he had seen her like this when they were on the run. But this was totally different. He couldn't help thinking, "She's beautiful." Her arms were so slender, so fragile. Her body was curved at just the right places. Her neck, her collarbones... All the grime and dirt only seemed to accentuate her beauty.
Upon seeing him stare at her, she gave a slightly questioning look. He immediately snapped out of his reverie.
"Oh... er... take this and go shower," he said, passing her a towel. When she didn't move, he sighed once again, helped her to her feet and walked her to the bathroom. He hung the towel on a peg, turned on the water and stepped out, pushing her inside.
But when he didn't hear any sounds of washing or scrubbing even after three whole minutes had passed, he asked anxiously, "Hermione?" When he got no reply, he pulled the curtains apart to find her standing as it is, the water simply rolling down her skin.
Harry gulped. He knew what he had to do; he'd have to wash her.
Sighing, he turned off the water, picked up the bar of soap and touched it to her skin, looking for any sign of discomfort. Finding none, he began running the bar in gentle circles around her back.
Done with her backside, he turned her around by the arms and began on her front. Every touch sent shivers down his spine. He'd have to leave her private parts, there was no way he was gonna do that. Her shins, her thighs (brr...), her belly, her arms, her neck... Running his hands along her curves sent blood rushing into his lower region. But the hardest part was yet to come. When it dawned upon him that he'd have to wash her breasts, his mind froze. What!? No!
He looked up at her with horror. But she wasn't frightened. Hell, she wasn't even surprised. She had an expectant look. Her eyes pored into his expectantly.
His trembling fingers reached behind her back and fumbled with the clasp of her bra. He spent a good minute trying to figure out what to do and how to curb the growing stiffness in his pants, but it was no good. Exhaling deeply, he closed his eyes, steadied his hands and unhooked it, letting it fall off to the ground.
He felt around for the bar of soap, grasped it with the tips of his fingers and began rubbing.
Once his pinky finger accidentally touched one of her nipples. That sent an uncontrolled amount of electricity through his nerves, making him wince. Then it struck him. The nipple he had brushed against was hard.
Wait what!?
His eyes flew open, and he found her eyes shut, a canine biting her lower lip. He was shocked.
She was enjoying it.
That did it. He was fully erect.
He was in a dilemma. His body had every intention of pouncing on the epitome of feminine beauty in front of it and devouring it, claiming it. But his mind revolted. No! No way! Harry James Potter how dare you! That's downright taking advantage of her fragile state! Besides, she's your best friend! She-she...loves Ron! Ron loves her you bloody git! His soul loves her! How dare you even think of doing anything!
Reason won over urge in the end. He shook off all of his primal thoughts and used every bit of self-control he had to finish the job. Opening the valve once again, he got out hurriedly.
He stepped in once again after a few minutes, turned off the water, unhooked the towel & held it out to her, trying his best to keep his eyes trained on her face and not letting them wander down to her bosom.
But when she remained expressionless and didn't make a move (which had become cliché by now), he gulped once again.
"Mione, towel yourself off."
No response. Only her eyes pored into his even more than they already had.
He knew what to do.
Gingerly, he inched forward and began drying her. Again, he had to close his eyes and look away while rubbing her soft breasts to avoid those thoughts. He then wrapped the towel around her and guided her into the room.
By now he knew it was no use saying anything to her; he knew he'd have to dress her up.
He took the towel off her and knelt down. He shut his eyes tight and fumbled with the band of her wet knickers, pulling them down and then using the towel to dry her bum. He reached out for the fresh ones and lifted her legs one by one, sliding the cloth up to her waist. Then he stood up to put on the new bra.
After about 10 minutes he was done.
A few days passed just like that. All students had been sent home, except the ones who didn't have any close family members available. Harry and Hermione had the whole Gryffindor Tower to themselves. The Weasleys had tried to persuade them into coming with them, but Harry refused, citing Hermione's state.
One day became two, two became three and so on until 6 whole weeks had passed and it was mid-June.
Hermione had become too fragile physically, and Harry had to do everything for her, from washing to dressing. She couldn't walk two steps without faltering, and so he had to be at her side at all times.
She refused all food unless Harry fed her himself. The only spots where she could be found were the couch in the Common Room and the windowsill in the Seventh Year boys' dorm, where she & Harry had made themselves home. Every night Harry tucked her in the bed reserved for his deceased best friend, though he doubted she ever caught even an hour of shut-eye.
All of their conversations were one-sided, with Hermione's only responses being imperceptible nods & shakes of her head, with the slightest hint of a smile making an appearance once in a blue moon.
The professors had left the remaining two members of Hogwarts' Golden Trio alone, understanding their mental condition. They had busied themselves in helping the newly formed Ministry under Kingsley Shacklebolt rebuild the damaged structures. Food was sent to the two magically and the house-elves did the laundry.
On the first day of their seventh week, he managed to coax her into going out of the Tower. They both strolled down to the Black Lake, his right arm wrapped strongly around her back to support her. He settled down under the shade of a tree and pulled her onto the soft grass as well, resting her head on his shoulder whilst she gazed thoughtlessly at the small ripples on the otherwise serene surface of the majestic body of water.
They spent around an hour in silence before Harry turned his head to look at Hermione. He sighed and was about to move when something caught his eye.
Something had been carved into the wood just above her head. Nostalgia flooded his senses as his eyes moistened.
"Hermione?" No response.
"Hermione?" Still no response.
"Hermione," he said one last time, giving her a gentle nudge and breaking her painful reverie.
"Hmm?" she murmured, looking up to find Harry staring with glistening eyes at something behind her.
She turned around and the sight brought tears to her eyes.
Carved in a very delicate manner was a heart, with J + L inscribed in it. She immediately knew what the initials meant.
James + Lily = True Love
A single tear rolled down Harry's face, at which she turned his head back towards him and wiped it off, shaking her head to ask him not to cry. She placed her hand behind his neck.
Suddenly, they both realised that they were too close; their lips were mere inches away.
Sparks ran through their bodies, shaking them to the very core. Harry valiantly fought the extreme urge to lean down. Her eyes fluttered to his lips and then back to his eyes. Her lips parted involuntarily. His eyes, too, glanced down at her lips. Her irresistibly soft & supple, divinely feminine lips.
He looked into her eyes and found thousands of emotions swirling through them. Pain, joy, care, nervousness - all of them. But there was one particular emotion he couldn't pinpoint. No matter how hard he tried, it kept evading him.
When nothing happened even after a whole minute had passed, a fleeting sense of fear & despair crossed her auburn eyes. Sensing it, Harry made to say something but was silenced by her forefinger on his lips.
"Shhh..."
She gently removed the finger and rested her head on his chest, rubbing her palm below his shoulder.
He wrapped his arms around her protectively and pulled her onto his lap, resting his cheek on her head. For the first time since the end of the war, she smiled a genuine, satisfied smile.
When Harry woke up, the sun was already setting, its last rays glimmering on the surface of the Lake. Something shone brightly in his eyes, and a warm & fuzzy ball rested safely in the fortress of his arms. He looked down to find Hermione Granger sleeping in his arms, a small smile gracing her lips and a completely innocent, content look on her hitherto blank, expressionless visage. It was her hair that was shining into his eyes.
He smiled, for it was the first time in weeks that she looked happy. For a few minutes, he kept admiring his breathtakingly beautiful best friend.
He could've spent his entire life looking down at her, but he knew that they had to get back to the castle. His heart ached when he realised that he'd have to wake the sleeping beauty from her peaceful slumber, but it had to be done.
"Hermione?" No response.
"Hermione?" he repeated, gently shaking her. No affect.
He leaned down and sang softly, almost seductively in her ear, "Hermione...?"
His warm breath tingled her neck and she moaned 'Mhmm...', nestling even more into him.
Harry sighed. "You've left me no way," he muttered.
"HERMIONE, FOR GOD'S SAKE WAKE UP! YOU'RE SLEEPING ON A BROOMSTICK!"
That did it. Her eyes shot open with a look of pure horror and she scampered to her feet within a nanosecond, an unearthly yelp emanating from her larynx. Harry tumbled & rolled onto the grass laughing his arse off.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER! HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO ME!"
"You - you weren't - you were not waking up. Look it's sunset already," he managed to blurt out through his near-mad cackling.
"Oh, surely you could've thought of another way of rousing me. You know that I hate flying!" she spat angrily, folding her arms across her bosom.
"Anyway," he said. He managed to subdue his laughter and got up, dusting the sod off his clothes. He walked up to her with a very real smile and placed a palm on her cheek.
"I was dying to hear that voice."
Hermione's lips parted. It dawned upon her that those were her first words in weeks. And the one to draw them out of her was none other than Harry James Potter.
A slight blush veneered itself on her cheeks as her lips found themselves slowly forming a smile, which soon turned into a Cheshire cat's grin as her dentist-perfect teeth revealed themselves. She unfolded her arms and wrapped themselves around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder as his arms found their way to her waist and pulled her frame into his body completely.
They parted after a while, grinning profusely at each other as they made their way back to the castle, his right arm wrapped strongly about her small waist whilst her left one hooked itself behind his neck.
Out of their line of sight, Minerva McGonagall smiled to herself. She had always wanted the two to end up together. And now, it was happening. Hopefully.
That night, Hermione had a sullen look on her face as Harry tucked her into Ron's bed. She kept gazing at him as he straightened the sheets and pulled the covers on her.
"What?" he asked upon seeing her pouting.
She shook her head and turned, closing her eyes and feigning sleep.
"Huh?" he shrugged and went to freshen up.
As soon as he was out of sight, Hermione snuck out of the covers and went over to his bed. She straightened the sheets and lied down, pulling on the covers. The tiniest hint of a sly smirk found its way to her lips.
When Harry walked in after about ten minutes, he was shocked. Absolutely shocked. There lay Hermione Jean Granger, snug in his covers, on his bed.
For around five whole minutes he stood gaping at the sight before him. He even took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on to ensure he was seeing what he was seeing. The image did not change one bit.
Slowly, he crept up to the nearest bed, Seamus', and sat down. He took long breaths to clear his head.
Around ten minutes of emotional & hormonal brainstorming led him to the conclusion that she wanted him to comfort her. She wanted to feel protected... to feel safe.
Very gingerly, he got up and made his way towards the maiden sleeping in his bed. Gulping, he lifted the covers and slowly crept in, taking off his glasses and setting them on the nightstand. He turned towards her once again. Her back faced him.
Should I touch her, or should I not? This question consumed even more time than the first.
He cautiously lifted one hand and put it on her arm, looking for signs of discomfort. Finding none, he took the liberty of reaching around and gently wrapping his arm around her belly.
The princess smiled. She purred lightly and snuggled into him, making herself feel at home in his arms. She felt safe, protected. Her mission had been accomplished.
The next morning Hermione woke up when the rays of the morning sun beamed in through the window. She spent a few moments just like that before deciding to get up. But she felt restrained.
Puzzled, she looked down to find herself locked securely locked in a strong, virile hold. She smiled to herself as last night's memories found their way back to the front of her mind. She had successfully guided Harry into holding her & sharing the same bed.
Suddenly, she felt something graze her thigh. Something that screamed masculinity. Something hard.
She got off the bed with a shriek when cognisance filled her. Harry was instantly on his feet out of instinct born from the Horcrux hunt, wand pointed at her. They both suspired in short, ragged gasps.
"Hermione?" asked Harry, baffled, "What the hell was that?". He hastily pocketed his wand.
"Y-you are asking me what the hell was that? It-it should be me asking you what the hell is t-that!" she exclaimed, pointing at his nether regions.
Harry looked down and got the shock of his life. He was fully erect.
He looked up at her, completely red in the face and eyes wide with horror.
Now he always woke up with a partial morning wood, but having an exceedingly tantalizing girl within his reach had involuntarily made his thingy go...
Without a word, he turned around and briskly made for the bathroom. He was utterly embarrassed but he knew what he had to do to calm his raging hormones.
Slowly, as the shock wore off, Hermione started realising what exactly had happened. The confinement of her body, which she knew was very alluring from a masculine perspective, within his hold had unconditionally made him go hard.
Harry was hard. For her.
The thought invoked the innate tigress within her and she was wet instantly.
No! The rational part of her mind screamed. You can't do this! He's your best friend! It's-it's incestuous!
She knew she'd have to release the tension to prevent something very wrong from happening. She got back onto the bed and began.
Both were extremely unsettled when Harry gingerly came back after half-an-hour. Neither could muster the courage to look the other in the eye.
When not a word was spoken for over a minute, Harry took a deep breath and decided to muster the Gryffindor courage. Buck up, Harry! You're in for one hell of a ride!
"H-Hr-Hermione..." he began fearfully, "I'm-I'm really sorry - "
"It's o-ok, Harry."
He looked up, a baffling mixture of embarrassment, confusion and relief veneered on his face.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, thank Merlin!" he sunk down onto Seamus' bed, relieved.
Another long pause permeated the conversation and was getting even more awkward by the second.
"Oh, let's just forget about it already!" he broke the deadlock, deciding to lighten the mood. "Besides, it was your fault," he stated matter-of-factly.
"My fault? My fault!? How come was it my fault, Potter!?"
"Oh, we're on a last name basis? Well then, Granger, you were the one who coaxed me into sleeping with you on the same bed. Which bloke can possibly control his hormones when a sexy-as-hell girl is with him on the bed!?"
Hermione was shocked and went red. Harry looked puzzled. "What?" he asked.
"Y-you just called me sexy," she offered in response, her voice dropping with each successive word. The look on his face was one of pure horror. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. What have I done!?
"Hermione..."
She burst out into fits of laughter, and Harry appeared as if he'd been hit by a particularly strong Confundus Charm.
When her cackling finally subsided, she looked up to find him in that state.
"Don't worry, you just said the truth," she said, sitting up. "Besides," she continued, "I would've done the same thing if I were you."
"Huh?"
"Oh, don't act all sweet & innocent, I know you just wanked off me."
To say Harry was shocked would be the understatement of the century. If the whole morning hadn't already been embarrassing, it was now bordering on insanity. He couldn't believe he was discussing such things with a girl. And that too with Hermione Jean Granger, the bookworm, the brightest witch of their age. The red on his face outclassed the Weasleys by galleons.
"Don't give me that look, Potter!" she said, "There's no need to be embarrassed, for I just did the same thing."
The world is ending.
"I know what you're thinking," she said as she walked up to him in a most seductive manner. "Hermione Jean Granger, the brightest witch of our age, jilling off?" she continued, settling into his lap, locking her arms around his neck. She looked at him with half-opened eyelids, her nose touching his. "Well, Potter, no witch can resist the urge if their best friend comes all sweaty-n-sexy from Quidditch. I might be a bookworm, but I'm still a girl," she purred.
This, this isn't real. There's no way it's real. It simply can't be. Hermione!?
Her mad cackling began once again. "How - how - how was my - payback?" she managed to articulate amidst the hotchpotch of laughter & tears.
Payback!?
Then it struck Harry. She'd been poking fun at him all along. He broke into a grin.
"Hermione Jean Granger, you bitch!" he exclaimed as he launched a tickling attack on her as she swatted at him. He stopped after a few minutes and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her even closer to him than was physically possible.
As her giggles ebbed away, she looked up at him, his emerald green eyes weaving their magical web around her. Sighing, she settled into him, closing her eyes. She'd finally gotten over Ron. She'd found peace.
Anyone who might have seen them in that state would've surely mistaken them for a couple, and an elderly person would've sworn they felt young love.
Oh, if only the two would not have been so dumb!
[Forest of Dean]
"Delicious girl... what a treat... I do enjoy the softness of the skin..."
[Malfoy Manor]
Bellatrix Lestrange was upon her, torturing her unto insanity. The pain of her cursed dagger running through her arm was nothing compared to the pain she felt when she realised what was being carved. Mudblood.
She couldn't register what the monsters around her were talking about, but she caught Bellatrix's last words as she prepared to summon the Dark Lord.
"And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."
The savage beast, who'd been waiting for hours for it to happen, malevolently licked his barbed lips, revealing his dangerous teeth.
Hermione screamed. She kicked and flailed and cried out, but to no effect. The werewolf simply grabbed her by the feet and dragged her into an antechamber. She was plonked down on a table. She resisted heavily, but a strong punch silenced her.
When she came to, she found her limbs tied up and a piece of cloth across her mouth. The beast was on top of her, drooling. Too scared to do anything, she remained quiet, her eyes wide with fear. "Ah, just at the right time!" he whispered in his rasped voice as he brought his nose to touch hers, looking straight into her fear-filled eyes. "Let's see what we've got here." She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered as she braced herself. "Hmm... nice scent... delicate skin..." he said, nuzzling his nose in her neck.
Slowly, he started moving down, smelling & feeling every part of her body along the way. She fought valiantly, but fear started dominating once he reached her stomach. She began screaming and writhing as she found his nose grazing her most intimate regions, her jeans hardly providing any protection. "Mmm..." his heightened senses inhaled her essence, intoxicating him.
"Virgin cunt, I see! Would be nice to have something in there, right?"
She lost all hope. Her mind began retreating into its own closed sanctuary as her body slackened. He jumped onto her and ripped her clothes apart...
She screamed at the top of her voice, waking up with a start.
"Hermione!" Harry woke up upon hearing her scream. He immediately had his wand in hand but put it away upon seeing no one except her. "Hermione?" He asked, carefully touching her. She shrieked and cowered back, looking at him as if he were a monster.
Slowly, as her brain registered the surroundings, she asked, "Ha-Harry?" her voice very timid. "Yes, it's me, Hermione. Harry," he said in a fatherly tone, opening his arms. She immediately fell into them, her breathing still rough. He rubbed her softly and kissed her head to calm her down. "Calm down, Hermione. It was just a dream. Just a dream."
They remained in that state for a few minutes as her heart slowed down & her lungs regained their strength. He kept stroking her as sleep took over her. He did not need to ask what dream it was; his guilty conscience told him all.
The next few days passed in complete peace, and Harry & Hermione had become a couple for all practical purposes. They fed each other, cuddled each other, and slept with each other (just slept, mind you). There was not a single moment that they spent without each other. The couch in the Common Room and that tree by the Black Lake where their favourite hangout spots; if you didn't find them there, then you would not have found them anywhere. The only thing that was left as a hurdle in their path to love was a kiss. A kiss would've sealed the deal. But sadly, both of them were oblivious to the fact that their feelings had long crossed the platonic stage. Or at least one was.
Harry still washed her, as she had the tendency to fall if left standing for a long time, but thankfully she'd taken to washing her bust & private parts on her own. She also dressed up herself, much to his relief.
Another two weeks flew by and soon it was time to leave for summer. The two had decided that they'd return for their final year and finish their studies.
As they strolled near the castle after the burial of the martyrs, they began discussing their plans for summer. Harry was naturally going to Grimmauld Place; Sirius had left it to Harry along with his motorcycle and one of the Black family vaults in his will. Kreacher was going to help him with redoing the decor and cleaning.
"Where are you going?"
Hermione sighed. "I have to return my parents' memories, but that's gonna take some time. Till then, the Burrow is the only choice..." she trailed off.
Harry regretted asking the question. He knew that Ron's death was still a sore spot and that it would take a lot of time for the scars of the war to heal. He made a silent resolve and turned back to her.
"Come with me," he proffered, smiling. She cocked her head. "What?"
"You heard it. You're coming with me to Grimmauld."
She stopped, confused. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"
He walked to her front and playfully said, "If that's what you call it, yes. And it's not a request or an offer. It's an order."
She smiled and decided to play along. "And who exactly are you, to order me?"
He began counting off his fingers. "Well, let's see. The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, The Saviour of the Wizarding World..."
"Shut your trap, you've done nothing to earn those titles."
"Really?" he proffered haughtily. "Then let's count my achievements. Defeating Snakeface when I was one, doing it again at eleven, becoming the youngest and the best Seeker in a century, knocking down a mountain troll, knowing Parseltongue, killing a basilisk, destroying a Horcrux, casting a Corporeal Patronus at thirteen, driving off a hundred Dementors, fighting a dragon, rescuing - "
"Oh shut it, you wouldn't have done half of it had I not been there to save your magical arse!"
He laughed and then became serious. "Well, there's another reason I'm taking you to Grimmauld. I want to redo the Fidelius Charm, just in case any remaining Death Nibblers decide to stage a raid."
Hermione nearly gaped at him. "Y-you're - " she began in a small voice but was cut off.
"Yes. I'm asking you to be the Secret Keeper."
"Do you trust me?"
"Hermione, you of all people are asking me this? That should not even be a question." He continued, cupping her face in his palms, "I trust you more than anyone, Hermione. I trust you more than I trust myself." His eyes locked with hers as she registered his words. Smiling, she leaned in to fall into his arms.
They broke apart after a while and silently resumed their journey, holding each other. Knavishly, Harry allowed his hand to fall from her waist to her hips and gripped them tight.
"Hey!"
"What?"
Hermione gave him a glare.
"I don't know about my arse, but yours is certainly magical," he said mirthfully, referring to her previous accusation. She blushed & giggled, and laid her head on his shoulder as he squeezed her tight and continued walking.
Little did they know that their small, comfy bubble was about to be broken. Hard.
As soon as the two walked in through the portrait hole laughing hysterically they were greeted by the sight of Headmistress McGonagall pacing about the Room.
"Ah, Potter, Miss Granger! I've been wondering where did the two of you disappear! I was just about to send one of the house-elves to fetch you."
"Er, we were just out for a stroll, Professor. Is everything alright?" Harry asked upon seeing the tensed look on her face.
"I hope so. Minister Shacklebolt is waiting in my office for you two. The news is of great concern to Miss Granger. The password is 'Cats and Broomsticks'."
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione replied as she hastily made her way to the Headmistress' office, all of her fragility forgotten. Harry made to follow her, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Harry," McGonagall's rare usage of his first name highlighted the importance of the situation. "Take care of her."
She removed her hand and gestured him to go. With a firm nod, he walked out.
Harry had just rounded the corner into the corridor that led to the stone gargoyle when a missile rushed past him. A bushy-haired missile. He was dazed.
He briskly made his way to the gargoyle which surprisingly did not demand a password from him and simply revealed the stairs. Maybe the magic permeating the school had acknowledged that the boy meant no harm and was the leader of the Light.
He ran up the staircase, forgetting that it could move on its own, and burst through the door to find Kingsley Shacklebolt dejectedly making his way towards the fireplace.
"Kingsley, what happened?"
"Hermione's parents are dead, Harry."
Harry was shocked. "What!? No, no there's got to be some mistake, Kingsley, that's not possi - "
"They were killed by Death Eaters. They died during one of their Muggle-hunts."
Harry took a step back. Hermione's parents? Dead!?
For a brief moment, he felt a powerful surge in his heretofore dormant feelings of hatred & anger, but a thought prevented him from rushing out and unleashing the whole of his legendary rage on those monsters.
Hermione.
He broke into a mad dash. There was only one place where she could've gone.
And sure enough, he found her on her knees at the edge of the Black Lake.
He walked towards her at a gingerly pace and placed a trembling hand on her shoulder. "Hermione..."
She turned around and he saw that her face was back to the blank expression that was there following Ron's death. Only this time, there were dried tracks of water on her cheeks.
"H-Harry..."
He sat down and opened his arms. That was the trigger. "Oh, Harry!" she cried out as she burst into tears once again and locked her arms around him. She buried her face in his neck as he gripped her tightly and gently stroked her head as he valiantly tried to hold in his own tears.
They remained in that position for hours. It was sunset by the time her crying subsided. He kept gently patting & stroking her to make her quivers recede.
After a few minutes, her choked-with-tears-yet-extremely-soft voice spoke up. "Ha-Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"I-is this-is this how it feels?" She continued after releasing herself from his hold, "Is this how it feels to not have parents? Is this how it feels to know that they died because of you?"
Harry gulped. Yes, it was exactly how it felt; how it felt to know that your parents are dead because of you. If there was one person who knew the feeling, it was him. But he couldn't tell her that.
"Hermione, it's not your fault."
"No, it is. It's completely my fault. If I hadn't changed their memories this wouldn't ha - "
"It's my fault then. You did it for me. You sacrificed them because of me."
Her gaze snapped back to him, a glare on her visage. For a moment the old, bossy Hermione was back. But only for a fleeting moment, for her gaze dropped down the very next second.
"No, Harry. It's not your fault. It's mine. It's all because of me," she observed as her eyes welled up once again. "It's because of me that I have no one left." A stray tear rolled down.
He tried to raise her head by the chin, but she resisted. "Hermione?" he asked softly.
"Hermione, look at me." He cupped her face and lifted it. This time, she did not resist.
He could not help thinking how beautiful she looked with her eyes glistening, her face streaked with mucus & tears, her hair all messed up. The Lake reflected the rays of the dipping sun, illuminating her visage and most importantly, her eyes. Her golden specks in her auburn eyes shone brilliantly. It was the slowly cascading tear that roused him from his silent contemplation of her absolutely stunning, pure beauty.
"Hey," he smiled a bit, wiping off the tear that had rolled down, "Never say that you're alone. You have me."
Once again, he found a thousand emotions swirling through her eyes. And once again, that particular emotion kept evading him. The same emotion he had seen in them when they had spent the evening under the tree with his parents' initials for the first time. He felt the same urge that he had felt that day. But he resisted. He resisted the urge. He simply pulled her into a tight embrace.
A brilliantly white light flashed through their minds, knocking them unconscious.
A/N: How was the first chapter? Too long? Boring? Engaging? Did I use the wrong words? Did I go overboard with the emotions? Do drop something in the comments.
It might be a few days before the next chap's up.
Till then
#HarmioneForever