"They thought they understood it. They thought that they could grasp it. But they didn't. Not really. They could only grasp the smudgeness of it, the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it. They didn't realize they would sometimes be more than a whole and that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. Because its the halves that halve you in half. They didn't know about the in between bits, the gory bits of him and gory bits of her." – derived from Like Crazy by Drake Doremus
Together they were madness. Individually they were fragmented. Apart they were half of a whole.
He had heard her. Had she known he was listening?
She had spoken of them as if they were shattered glass. A pre-determined disaster.
But weren't they?
Were they not the product of lies? Were they not the product of war?
She had spoken in whispered uncertainty when moments earlier she had declared the possibility of forever.
But what could forever look like?
Harry had turned on his heal and dropped the flannel on the cobblestone steps as Hermione followed after him leaving Bill standing beneath the trees.
"Hermione," Bill had called out, "I'm not finished…"
She ignored him padding after Harry. She followed him up the stairs. She entered the room. He had slid down the wall opposite the door. She mimicked him, sliding down to the carpet to face him.
And so they sat. On a quiet street. In a quiet room. The distant sound of the ocean. A deafening silence.
They sat there, looking at each other, saying nothing, until she could take the quiet no more.
"What did you hear?"
Harry blinked once. "Nothing I didn't already know… that you don't know what you're going to do… that this is…" he paused an edge to his voice, "fucked."
Hermione bit her lip fighting back the tears that had yet to stop.
"I thought that we could wait…" Harry continued, "but we can't keep dancing around this."
"I know," she whispered, "Harry, I love you… but…"
"But…" Harry urged her, his voice quiet, but panicked.
She didn't respond. There was an ocean of silence between the two of them and they were drowning in it.
Harry moved to kneel in front of her pulling her hands into his own. "To say to me, you love me, but… is as if to say you do not love me at all. Hermione, I love you, with no beginning and no end. I love you as you have become an extra organ necessary in my body. I love you with fear, and doubt, and… with no buts." He trailed off tears peaking at the corner of his eyes. "I love you even though you don't know. I love you even though we bring out the worst in each other. I love you despite all of the buts and even thoughs. I've been loving you, despite the fear, without expectations, wanting nothing in return."
Her eyes bore into his, her breath caught in her throat.
"I've been following you around trying to let you figure this out, but is there anything to figure out?"
This jarred Hermione and she sat back pulling her hands out of his grasp. "What do you mean…"
"How can this work?" he asked his voice cracking.
Hermione looked at him mouth wide. "What are you saying?"
"I'm asking… how can this work?"
Hermione shook her head and moved to her feet turning to look out the window. "So you invite me to Scotland and then bring me here and we… and then you just… what, break up with me? You just end us!"
Harry pulled her around to face him. "I'm asking a question."
"Well I don't have an answer!"
Harry barked, throwing his arms out in front of him. "I should be the angry one. I tried to leave! I tried to walk away and you wouldn't let me! You said it yourself to Bill! You said you kissed me because you didn't want to lose me, not because you loved me."
"I do love you!" she yelled. "Have the past two weeks not proven that to you?"
"You called us FUCKED," Harry screamed and hot tears that had been brewing in his emerald eyes slid thick down his cheeks as he glared at her. "You said this was FUCKED. I've been following you around like a dog and you-"
"Don't you dare put this all on me! You chose to come with me." she bellowed right back at him. "I know I'm fucked up, but so are you! We fucked up Harry, not me. WE."
"Fine, WE fucked up. So then make a decision. Pick me! Choose me! Choose us. Choose me despite all of the fucked upedness and love me the way I love you."
She froze. He had drawn the line. He had demanded a choice.
"Its not that simple…" she croaked her hands shaking violently. "We don't even know…"
Harry gripped her hands tightly pleading with her. "Hermione, parents, no parents, Hogwarts, no Hogwarts, Ron, no Ron, Weasleys no Weasleys, it doesn't matter to me! I choose you. I choose you. I choose you."
Her eyes brimmed, pupils glowing against the dull light from the bedside table.
Harry cupped her face in his hands, eyes beseeching. "You said you could marry me. Remember that. Remember that feeling?"
And she did. She remembered everything.
"So pick me, choose me… please?" He asked the question like a small child begging for approval.
"Harry…" she placed her hands on his wrists, "I love you… but…"
He dropped his hands from her cheeks and stumbled backwards eyes flaring with anger. "You love me, but."
"Yes! I love you, but I don't know!" she threw her hands up sobbing in defeat. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know! You told me that was okay! You told me we would figure it out after we found my parents."
"That was before you told Bill Weasley that we were fucked."
"We are fucked!" She screamed pounding at his chest. "Look at us! Why would we choose this!"
They stood there, staring at each other, saying nothing, Hermione gripping Harry's shirt. All heavy breathing and wet tears, swollen eyes and cracking hearts. It was the kind of nothing that meant everything and Hermione could see in Harry's eyes no trace of what had happened between them earlier and she felt something inside of her break.
"Harry… I didn't mean that... I…"
Harry shook his head closing his eyes pushing the tears even further down his face and into his collar. He wiped at his cheeks, angrily holding back the sob that was threatening to escape. Hermione tried to pull him into a hug, but he stepped away from her his arms out in defense.
"No."
"Harry, please."
"No," his voice was breaking and he smashed his hand to his forehead taking a deep breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of cardstock placing it on the desk to his left. It was Wendel Wilkins business card.
"Harry…" Hermione raised her voice an octave.
Harry turned pulling his rucksack from the closet, pulling blindly at hangers and piles of clothing from the floor.
"Harry… what're you doing?"
He stuffed a crumpled pair of jeans deep into the bottom of the bag went to the bathroom to round up his things.
"Harry," Hermione followed him bordering on hysteria and she rounded the corner to find him in a crouch above the bottom drawer rummaging around. He blew past her and she clawed at his back begging him to stop.
He pulled her hand from his shoulder gently, but forcefully and spoke flatly. "You have your father's business card and you have the spell and directions from Andromeda."
"Where are you going?" she cried. "You said you wouldn't leave. You promised." She pulled his face to hers and tried to kiss him desperately. He pushed her away.
"Find your parents," he said, "wait until you're feeling better and do what you came here to do. Then go home, don't tell Ron, Bill won't say anything, not if you go back without me."
"Where are you going?" she cried again hands limp at her side desperate to latch onto him.
"Away," he replied despondently turning to meet her eyes a final time. "I'm choosing for you. I'm leaving."
The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying. Harry didn't want to be her fucked up thing. Harry didn't want her to be his fucked up thing. He didn't want to be a part of any fucked up things any longer. All he wanted to do was slip quietly into the night, without consequence, and run.
It was a moment. He was there and then he wasn't, the door to the room clicking shut behind him.
"Harry?" she called out once.
She called out again this time an octave louder.
She flung the door open and ran down the hallway.
"Harry!?" she cried taking the steps two at a time her bare feet silent against the carpeted floor. She ran past the empty front desk, pushed open the heavy oak door, and out into the street. Still barefoot, still damp, spinning in circles trying to find him. "Harry! It's you! I choose you! I choose you!" she screamed into the night and fell into a heap her small frame racking with long deep sobs. "I choose us."
Bill stood, stood stony faced watching Hermione as she broke. He walked over and crouched beside her pulling her into his arms awkwardly. "He's gone Hermione," he whispered softly as her body convulsed.
Loving him was like finding out the secrets of the universe. Losing him was like being expected to forget them all.