THE CHOSEN ONE
By-Bhavi25
The door clicked open as Hermione inserted the keys. The house was in shambles, just as it had been the day before, and the day before that, and many days before that, as if the house itself was a mirror of Hermione's gloomy attitude. It wasn't always like this. Hermione was maybe the most organised person on the planet. She wasn't as obsessive with cleaning as Petunia Dursley, but she did believe in keeping her home tidy, despite the fact that no one would believe it just now.
Crookshanks was lounging on the carpet with his feet up. A half-dry, half-wet towel, a pair of socks, and a white shirt were lying on the sofa. An eaten pizza box and an empty bottle of wine were on the coffee table. The kitchen looked as if it hadn't been touched in weeks, which it hadn't because she hadn't gone there since he left, it made her miss him even more if that was possible.
She enters the house and after turning on the lights, drops her bulging bag on the sofa. Removing her work clothes and she changes into the white shirt lying there. She has been wearing the same shirt since last week, she knows why. It is comfortable and it smells like him, like pine and Christmas. It makes her feel safe as if she is protected behind some unbreakable shield that no one can penetrate, it makes her feel as if she is with him. She knows it's not reality, just an illusion, an illusion of safety, an illusion of companionship, an illusion of love. But she likes to stay in that illusion. She is not ready to leave it, just yet. That is why she still wears the ring. Even after two weeks.
She goes to the washroom and splashes cold water on her face. Her reflection portrays an awful looking woman, with bags under her brown eyes and very pale skin. Her hair appears to be even frizzier than usual. A voice at the back of her mind begs her to just take a minute and at least comb her hair. She ignores it.
Her room is even more filthy than the drawing-room. The mattress was exposed since the bedsheet was scrunched up at one corner of the bed.
The pillows were strewn across the room. The cupboard wasn't shut properly and many articles of clothing were tumbling out of it. The laundry bag had lost its balance and now it was lying horizontally on the ground with its lid half-open. The room looked as if it had been ransacked, but Hermione made no move to make it look any better.
She laid down on her bed and stared at the ceiling as if it had all the answers of the world written over it. Her mind drifted back to him, just like it always did. She closed her eyes to stop the onslaught of the memories, in vain. A tear slipped out of her eyes, creating a damp spot on the pillow. Her mind shifts back to that dreadful day, how she had let a bunch of gossipers get under her skin.
"She is a muggle-born… the-boy-who-lived deserves better than her. Just look at her, zero looks, boring as hell. Don't know how he can stand her."
"She must have given him something, how else?"
"Maybe she has been spreading her legs for him even before they made it official. Poor boy, must he now marry her out of pity"
Those words were a sharp jab on her already wounded heart. Earlier that week, she and Harry had a fight. He permanently wanted to shift with her or wanted her to shift with him. But despite him giving her the promise ring earlier this month, she wasn't ready. She just wasn't.
She and Harry had been dating for two months now, but what she felt for him was too profound, too deep. And she was scared. How could you fall in love with someone in just two months? How could you trust someone as she trusted Harry in a matter of months? How could you never fathom living without someone just after sharing a bed with them for a few months? Her insecurities piled up with her fear led her to her fight with him, there was shouting and screaming, crying and weeping and even some accidental blasts of magic. She was sure that the muggles in her apartment must have thought that there was firing going on in her house. Harry argued that he already lived here half the time and that his apartment was just a storage house for his clothes and knick-knacks. But she wasn't convinced, and somewhere in her mind, she knew that she was intentionally pushing him away, to save herself a heartbreak. But she didn't understand how anything can be worse than what she was feeling right now. That night an extremely frustrated Harry left her doorstep, not the one with a goofy smile and a loving kiss. Since then she hasn't heard from him and didn't have the guts to go meet him herself either. So for two weeks, she has been mourning her broken heart and celebrating a pity party for herself, which has led her to wake up every morning with a blasting headache.
She turns over and presses her face into the pillow as hot tears leak out of her
eyes. They are unstoppable now, the tears, and soon she is fully sobbing, crying like she never had. Crookshanks comes towards her and taps her head, telling her to stop crying. But she can't, she tries, but she can't. She is feeling overwhelmed and she just can't stop the tears flowing. Crookshanks just sits there as her silent companion.
And she cries, for an hour or more she doesn't know anything apart from, her pain and her tears.
practice is the only thing that keeps him from falling as he catches her perfectly.
She burrows her head into his neck taking him in as he rubs her back, murmuring soft reassurances that he is here. After some time, she gets the courage to part with him.
He is sitting on her bed now, with her in his lap. She leans back and looks him in the eye, as he softly says her name.
"Hermione"
"Harry" she breathes. "Harry, I...I am sorry. I was an idiot that day. I am so sorry. You know, I had a long and tiring day" she starts weeping again "and I became insecure after hearing some people's thoughts on our relationship, and I... I lashed out. You know how it happens, I just keep on feeling these things and bottling it all up and one day
it explodes." She hiccups adorably. "When you are there I can talk to you and I just immediately feel better but that week we were fighting and I am sorry. I am so sorry, Harry. I am ready to shift with you because the truth is I can't stand to be away from you. But Harry, just don't" hiccups, "don't ever stop talking to me Harry please, even when you don't want us to be anything, please be my friend, Harry, please, always. Promise me" she stretches out her hands, silently asking for him to promise her.
He blinks, and drops his hands in hers and then using that as leverage pulls her to him, kissing her lovingly. It is slow and gentle and sweet as if he is trying to pour all his love in a single kiss. Maybe
She is about to slip into a restless sleep when she feels a hand on her back. It is distinctly familiar, she can recognise that touch anywhere. She turns to look at the person to whom the hands belong, and she meets the green eyes shimmering with concern. She doesn't even think and jumps into his arms, years of he is. When they pull apart he takes her chin and makes her look him in the eye.
"Look at me, Hermione Granger. I did leave the house frustrated and angry but then I was called for an emergency case from the Auror Department and I didn't get time to talk to you, that's why I came here straight from the ministry. Hermione, I know what those gossiping bitches must have said and I know what you must have thought. I am telling you this now and I will tell you again and again until you get it through your head, that despite whatever those fucking human vultures said I am still with you and it is you whom I have promised to marry. It is you, with whom I want to spend my life. It's you with whom I want to make a family. It's you and it's always been you. You are my chosen one. So stop questioning my decisions. And know this, nothing you can ever say or do will let me leave you. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," she says playfully, eyes lighting up with delight.
"Good" he appreciates. "Now, stop talking and kiss me, we will be talking about the shifting later."
So she shuts up and kisses him. They spend the whole night talking and kissing and exploring each other. But at that moment she knows, she didn't fall in love with Harry in the last two months, she just realised it. She had been in love with him even before that, maybe since she was 15 or even younger.
When the first rays of sun started peeking through the curtains, Hermione lay snuggled on his chest, eyes dropping close due to exhaustion, she said, in a small whisper.
"I love you, Harry Potter"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this a long time ago, when I was a newbie, I still am. It isn't a Valentine fic but still since everyone was posting something I thought to get mixed in the crowd. Anyway, if you liked it don't hesitate to review.