Title: Complex Love
By: Black Hermione Angel
Email: invader_gaz_0@yahoo.com
Category: H/Hr, R/Hr (unrequited)
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Summary: Feelings are hurt, blood is shed, knives make an appearance, wands are utterly forgotten, betray is enforced and chess is played.
Spoilers/Timespan: Yes, all four books did indeed happen. Oliver quit the reserve team he was on and came back to Hogwarts to coach Quidditch (I don't know about everyone else, but I just can't imagine Quidditch without Oliver Wood, lol) Harry, Ron, Harry, and Hermione are in their sixth year, and…er…I don't think that Voldemort's even mentioned in here. Well, let's just say he's dead and gone. So… Onto New Other Seriously Evil Wizards… hey, here's an idea: Seriously Evil Witches…. ;)
Distribution: Wherever. Just please keep my name, email addy, and disclaimer intact. I love my disclaimers. Adore them. They are my pride and joy, even though I hate righting them, because that means I have to face the reality that I don't own Harry….
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Don't tell anyone you love him or her after you've just beaten him or her at chess. Just a piece of advise. I'll shut up now and retreat back to my hole in my rock….
And just so none of you are confused, Ron has been in love for Hermione for years. I just couldn't find a place to say that in the story, so I'm saying it here.
Disclaimer: Oh, I hate writing these. But I'm not really in the mood to be sued, so here goes: Harry Potter and the other characters in the Harry Potter books do no belong to me. They belong to J. K. Rowling as well as Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. *Sniffles. * I just wish I owned them…
Thanks to: Susie Bones, for her wonderful review of Don't Fear the Reaper (I'm working on it, sweetie!). Thanks for being such a great friend to me!!
Ron Weasley had been hurt. Oh, he hadn't been stabbed or cursed, but he'd been emotionally hurt. It was, he supposed, mostly his own fault for going out on such a limb. He winced as he thought about the previous night, anger coursing through him. He sat in the common room by the fireplace, playing with his best friend Harry Potter's pocketknife.
**********THE PREVIOUS EVENING**********
Ron sat on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, across from his other best friend, Hermione Granger, playing chess. They were waiting for Harry to get back from Quidditch practice, which was running very late, as everyone else had gone to bed.
Hermione was loosing. And badly. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever failed at, which was something both Harry and Ron thought was good for her. Hermione frowned and then moved one of her pawns tentatively forward.
'Hermy, you know I could take that. But I won't, ' Ron grinned. Hermione sighed in frustration.
'I hate loosing, ' she muttered, glaring at the chessboard. Ron only smiled, and without replying, placed his bishop next to Hermione's queen, which was surprising in itself that she still had her queen. Ron would often do obvious things as he'd just done. Hermione, on the other hand, rarely caught them. She was so intent on other pieces and where to move them so as not to get them killed. This time, however, she caught it.
'Ron Weasley, you did that on purpose, ' she scolded. Even so, she took the bishop.
Ron laughed.
'You still took it, Hermy, ' he said. Hermione smiled as well.
'Well…I wasn't about to pass it up, ' she replied airily. Ron rolled his eyes and grinned, then looked down at the board. At that moment, Harry burst through the portrait hole, looking tired and muddy, but otherwise perfectly cheerful. His deep green eyes sparkled merrily beneath his glasses.
'Oliver's gone mad, ' he informed Ron and Hermione as he flopped onto on of the squishy armchairs behind Hermione. Hermione watched him as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, smiling gently.
'What's Oliver's new scheme now, Harry?' she asked. Ron was surprised. Hermione hated Quidditch, found it boring beyond all reason. Harry looked vaguely surprised as well, but he leaned forward and began to explain all of Oliver's new tactics. Ron watched Hermione as she spoke with Harry.
Ron loved Hermione. He loved her more than he had loved anything in his whole life. Ron loved her so much it scared even him. He'd do anything for her, even die for her…
'What do Fred and George think of all this?' Hermione asked, breaking into Ron's thoughts. Harry looked at her and laughed.
'They're none too please. When Oliver told us to get up at six a.m., they both shouted very loudly, and then cursed in long strings. It was very creative and very fluent. I think they've been practicing at it for a long time, ' Harry told her, grinning. Hermione laughed as well, her cinnamon eyes sparkling. Ron felt a wave of jealousy at the way Harry was looking at her. Harry liked Cho. Cho was Harry's, now that Diggory was dead. Hermione was Ron's
Back off, Harry, Ron thought, suddenly and rather viciously, glaring at Harry, hating him for some reason. He shuddered, banishing the thought. It scared him that his thoughts and feelings could be so hateful.
'I'm off to bed, ' Harry yawned, standing up and stretching.
'Goodnight, Harry, ' Hermione said, from her place on the floor. She suddenly wanted very badly to give Harry a kiss, but managed to restrain herself.
' 'Night, Harry, ' Ron mumbled, jealousy wracking every nerve in him. Harry waved and, yawning, climbed slowly up the staircase to the boys' dormitory. Hermione turned back to the board.
'All right, Ron. Go ahead and win. You're going to anyway, ' she said, glaring once more at the chess pieces, Harry momentarily forgotten. Ron pushed away the image of Harry smiling at Hermione and concentrated intently on the game.
A half an hour later, Ron won spectacularly, leaving Hermione in a bit of a bad mood. The game had taken so long was because Hermione took so long to move her pieces. She stood now, and heard her knees pop.
'I haven't sat on the floor for such a long time. Not since I was a little girl, ' she said, wincing at the needles shooting up her legs. Ron smiled at her, but it was an odd smile, different from the smile Ron often wore. It startled Hermione slightly.
'I'm, erm, off to bed, ' she said, turning to go.
'Wait, Hermy, ' Ron said, grabbing at Hermione's hand. She turned to face him, puzzled.
'I, um, good game, eh?' he said, pink tinting his cheeks.
'It was just like every other game we play, ' Hermione replied, smiling.
'Yea, well, ' Ron dropped her hand and then ran his own through his flaming red hair, blushing more than ever. He took a step towards her and before Hermione knew what was happening, Ron was kissing her. She relaxed without thinking about what she was doing, and then realized what was happening and pulled back.
'Ron!' she gasped, her face flushed and her hair tousled, 'What're you—'
'I'm sorry, ' Ron whispered, his face as red as his hair by now, 'It's just—''
Hermione held up one trembling hand, cutting him off.
'Ron, I don't…I mean…I've…never…we, Harry…' she stuttered, trying and failing to find the right words. Ron scowled at his shoes
'You don't like me like that, do you?' he asked, quietly. Hermione heard a bit of bitterness in his voice.
'Well…no, ' She replied regretfully. Ron nodded, still scowling at his shoes. There was a very long, very awkward, pause.
'It's Harry, isn't it?' he asked finally, shattering the silence. Hermione, not trusting herself enough to speak only nodded. Ron snorted acidly.
'Ron, 'Hermione reached out to touch his arm. Ron, however, stepped quickly out of her reach.
'I've got to get to bed, ' he said, in a blank, flat voice, his blue eyes cold and vacant. Hermione bit her lip as he turned away and walked stiffly up to the boys' dormitory.
Now I've gone and done it, Hermione thought resentfully.
*********************BACK TO THE PRESENT**********************
Ron stood suddenly, gripping the knife tightly in his hand, a mad glint in his eyes, and walked up to the girls' dormitory.
------------
Everyone except for Ron, Harry, and Hermione had gone to Hogsmeade for the day. Everyone that is, except for the second years and below. But they were all in the library, working on a huge project McGonagall had assigned for Transfiguration. It was just the three of them in the Gryffindor tower that morning. Hermione sat in the empty dormitory, practicing a simply hair straightening spell she'd found in a magazine. She wanted her hair to be long, sleek, and shiny instead of short and bushy. Harry was sleeping, even though it was near twelve. And Ron was in the common room. Hermione still felt a little off with them and she wasn't all too happy to be in the same room with him that day, so she'd camped out in her room, bored out of her mind. She flipped through her magazine, One Thousand Ways to Make a Dull Girl a Gorgeous One! idly. Ok, so she was getting really desperate to find something. She glanced up when she heard the door open, wondering why on earth Lavender and Parvati were back so early. She shook he
rself when she saw who was standing there.
'What are you doing in here?' she demanded, not unkindly, standing up. Then her eyes widened in horror and she let out a short scream.
Ron Weasley, grinning madly, rushed forward to silence Hermione for the last time, Harry's penknife raised.
------------
Harry Potter, the owner of the penknife, stumbled out to of bed, rubbing his eyes. He blinked a few times and grabbed his glasses. As he pushed them up on his nose, the world came into sharper focus. He stood, stretching, and as he did, he glanced over at Ron's bed. It was empty. Harry frowned. Ron didn't say anything about going to Hogsmeade. Did he? He shrugged, figuring Ron was in the common room. He quickly pulled on his robes, and tried to flatten his highly untidy hair.
'You're fighting a loosing battle there, dear, ' said his mirror in a wheezy voice.
'Don't I know it, ' Harry muttered. He left the room, still yawning, and, standing at the top of the staircase, glanced around the common room. Neither Ron nor Hermione was there. Harry was a bit hurt, and jealous, that they'd gone off on their own, without telling him. Well, he was more jealous that Ron was alone with Hermione…
Harry shook his head, clearing it, and walked down the staircase. He flopped into one of the squishy armchairs, much as he had done the night before. He found himself wishing Hermione were here. Not with Ron, but just her. It would be just the two of them…
Harry sighed and cut that thought off. Hermione was his best friend. That's probably all she thought of him as. Besides, she thought he liked Cho. Even he thought he like Cho. But, Harry grinned meekly; he'd only been fooling himself. And he'd done a pretty good job at that as well. Harry and Hermione were just friends. That's all. Just friends. But last night, when she'd said good night, he saw, for just a moment, something else in Hermione's eyes.
Quit it you bugger, Harry scolded himself. He sighed again and shifted in the chair. He had Quidditch practice today. Oliver's lectures would most definitely take his mind off Hermione.
He stood then, wanting to go and check the Great Hall to see if Hermione or Ron were there. He stopped short when he heard a screaming from the girls' dormitory.
-----------------
Hermione screamed again, as she backed up against the bed. Her knees hit the edge of the bed and her legs gave out. She toppled backwards onto her bed, emitting a short cry of surprise. Ron paused, watching with an amused expression. Hermione scrambled on the other side of the bed, away from Ron.
'Ron?' she whispered, peering at him over the blankets. Ron flinched when she spoke, 'Ron, why are you doing this? Don't do it, please, Ron, you're my friend, tell me what's wrong, please, I'll—'
'You want to know? D'you really want to know?' Ron demanded quietly, his blue eyes widening. Hermione took a deep breath and nodded.
'Stupid Mudblood, ' Ron muttered, shaking his head. Hermione gasped. Ron had never called her Mudblood. He'd, in fact, cursed anyone who had.
'Ron….' She breathed incredulously.
'Oh shut up, ' he muttered, glowering at her. Hermione gaped at him but did as she was told.
Ron paced back and forth, shooting glances at her ever now and then to make sure she wasn't going to run away. He nodded finally and turned to her, raising the knife again. The insane grin was back on his face.
'If I can't have you, then neither can Harry. It'll be the only thing in life in which he is denied, ' he said calmly, his voice formal and flat, his eyes detached and void.
Hermione felt her eyes widen in horror and dawning realization that she was going to die. Murdered by her own best friend. She was going to die and never be able to tell Harry she loved him.
'Ron, don't' she pleaded, cowering behind the bed. Ron ignored her, walking steadily forward. He came around the bed and stood in front of Hermione, who was too shocked and terrified to move.
And then the door came crashing open.
'Hermione!' someone called. Hermione jumped at the sound of Harry's voice calling her.
'Harry! Oh, Harry, help…I…' she cried out weakly, but broke off when Ron leaped suddenly at Harry. Harry's eyes went wide behind his glasses and he took a step backwards, running into the door he had closed, for some stupid reason, when he'd entered the room. The doorknob hit his lower back and he jumped, making a sound that sounded like a cross between ''Eek!" and "Ugh." Ron lunged forward and the knife went deep into Harry's left side. Harry shrieked, actually shrieked, not yelled, but shrieked, in pain and surprise. Ron pulled the knife out violently, which caused a sickening meaty sound, raised the knife and this time drove it through Harry's chest. Hermione screamed. Harry did not. He only looked at Ron with dull finality. Hermione shook herself, panic rising in her. She had to save Harry…she threw herself on the floor, trembling, to search for her wand. Any minute now, Ron was going to strike Harry a third time, and Hermione knew that could mean Harry would die…
-------------
Ron pulled the knife out of Harry's chest, relishing the meaty sliding sound it made, and watched with delight as blood flowed from the wound.
'How's it feel to have your heart bleed?' he hissed, laughing coldly.
------------
Harry stared up at Ron, wondering what could have happened to unhinge him so. Harry struggled to sit up, but pain flared from both of his wounds. Everything went white briefly. He blinked.
Ron scowled suddenly, the laughter dying off. Harry, who found his vision going cloudy, even with his glasses, squinted at Ron.
'Why?' he whispered. Actually, it was more of a choke than a whisper. It hurt him badly to speak. Ron snorted.
'Why?' he repeated, giggling madly. 'Why, is that what you want to know? Ha! The famous Harry Potter murdered by his best friend! You want to know why, Harry Potter? It's simply because you're a great selfish prat, who has everything in life they could possibly hope to have. That's why. It isn't enough you have Cho. Oh no. You have to have Hermione as well. Not everything's about you, Harry Potter. I'm sorry you had to find that out so late. ' Harry did see a flash of sympathy in his wild, bulging eyes. But it was gone so fast, Harry only assumed he'd imagined it.
Ron raised the knife for the third time and prepared to swing it down. Harry shut his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but they were already sliding down his cheeks.
-------------
Ah, there you are, you stupid bugger, Hermione sighed gratefully, knowing she only had a few seconds. She snatched up her wand and stood. Ron's back was to her. He appeared to be speaking to Harry.
And Harry was crying.
This was what really got to Hermione. Harry never cried. He was always so calm, so cool, so collected, even when facing death. She raised her wand, cold fury rushing through her. She hated the fact that Harry had to be scared for his life, that he was in so much pain and that'd he'd been betrayed so horribly that he was crying.
She therefore hated the person that brought this upon Harry.
---------------
Ron swung the knife downward, horrible victory coursing through him.
Famous Harry Potter, he thought scornfully. Then he laughed.
---------------
Harry saw Ron swing the knife downward in horribly slow motion. Everything to him seemed to be sharper, in more focus, and he saw the way the light bounced off the metal of the penknife, and heard the swishing sound it made as it came down. He squeezed his eyes shut.
'Hermione!' he yelled, not knowing if she'd hear him, but yelling her name all the same.
---------------
Hermione, who'd been staring in frozen horror, jumped when Harry shouted her name. So did Ron, which gave her just time enough to hit him with a Stunning Spell.
'STUPEFY!' She cried. Ron jerked, and then, without a warning or a word, fell flat on his face, Harry's penknife clattering harmlessly to the floor.
For a few moments, Hermione stood, stunned by what she'd just done. She stared at Ron's still form. Then Harry moaned in anguish, and Hermione was jerked out of her daze.
'Harry, ' she cried softly, throwing herself down next to Harry. She bit her lip rather hard as she studied his wounds.
'Ow, ' Harry muttered as he struggled to sit up.
'Does it hurt terribly?' Hermione whispered, then mentally slapped herself.
Of course it hurts, you ninny, she told herself harshly. Harry, however, grinned despite the situation.
'No more than a basilisk fang, ' he replied. Hermione didn't smile back. She found nothing funny. One of her best friends (not to mention the love of her life) was dying, being slowly taken away from her….
And she could only sit and watch helplessly, as Harry slipped slowly away. She wracked her brain for any spells she might know that would help him and cursed herself for not knowing any. She did, nevertheless, manage to get a tourniquet on him, but she doubted it was helping Harry at all.
They sat in silence for a long time, not speaking. At one point, Harry took her hand, but didn't shatter the silence. Hermione appeared calm and collected, like Harry was when he was facing mortal danger. But on the inside was a storm of grief and sorrow and regret and terrible fear. Her insides felt as though they were being torn apart, ripped into shreds. She felt as though there were a tornado spinning inside her, creating damage that could never be repaired, and throwing things far away from where they should be.
'H-Her…my…oh...knee…' Harry choked out. It sounded as though it took a great deal of effort and immense pain for him to simply say her name.
'Shhh, Harry, ' Hermione leaned towards him, her hand still in his. Harry shook his head and smiled painfully.
---------------
Harry's heart was pounding furiously against his chest. He was only a few minutes away from fading into what was fast becoming familiar darkness. He squinted at Hermione, wishing desperately that his vision was clear and he could see her comprehensibly. He couldn't, as things were, and it annoyed him that the last thing he would see would be a blurry Hermione, instead of a clear, in focus Hermione. He supposed he should just be grateful Hermione was with him, blurry or not. He blinked and Hermione's face came into clearer focus.
'Hermione, ' he whispered again, pain flaring up in every part of his body as he spoke.
'Yes?' she replied softly, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. She wanted to go and get help, Harry knew, but was too afraid of what she might find when she returned. Harry lifted his arms weakly, wincing at the enormous pain shooting everywhere. His arms felt like the bones had been replaced with lead, but he pulled Hermione closer to him and hugged her tightly. She hugged him back, tightly, as well, but gently, so as not too disturb his wounds. She pulled back a tiny bit, so that her face was only inches from his own. Harry leaned forward, knowing what he was going to do and very much anticipated it, and kissed Hermione softly. Hermione tensed at first, but quickly melted into the kiss. It was quite a while before they broke apart, each breathing heavily, but when they did, Harry saw that Hermione was crying.
'Shhh, please, don't cry, Hermy. I love you, please. I love you, I always will, Hermy, please….don't….' he trailed off, the last of his strength used up by trying to comfort Hermione. At least he'd told her he loved her. Harry smiled slightly, but was still rather reluctant for the blackness to sweep him away.
---------------
Hermione sat dully in Madam Pomfrey's, the school nurse's, office, staring blankly at her hands. Harry was dead. Gone, just like that. She sat, glaring at her hands. True, Harry loved her, he'd even said so, but that didn't change the fact that he was dead. She would sacrifice Harry's love just to have him alive again. She just wanted him back. Wanted to see him studying the notes she'd taken for him when he'd fallen (yet again) asleep in History of Magic. Wanted to watch him during a Quidditch match, circling on his Firebolt, searching for the Snitch. Wanted to see him laughing again at something she'd said, or regard a cake George had just handed him suspiciously. Wanted to see him telling off Malfoy for poking fun at her.
But those times were gone. Dead, just like Harry.
Tears, hot and salty, poured over and fell down her cheeks, scalding her skin. But, Hermione didn't bother to wipe them away. She let them flow in waves, flooding her eyes, burning her cheeks, and turning her eyes red and puffy. She let the tears run as she stared at her hands, not really seeing her hands, but the seven bottles she'd had to choose from back in her very first year at Hogwarts. She saw the small bottle she had drunk from, felt the liquid, icy and smooth, running through her body, felt herself begin to cry at the thought that she might never see Harry again if she let him go through those evil black flames. She felt her arms find their way around Harry's incredibly skinny shoulders, as he'd been skin and bones back then, due to his aunt and uncle, she supposed, felt her heart give a little tug, as if it wanted to join Harry's own, felt Harry pull her towards him. She'd been taller than him back then, even if it was a mere inch or so. She felt Harry pull away and saw him look at her, pained. She'
d seen something in his eyes, his brilliantly green eyes, which would never narrow distastefully at Snape or widen in surprise when Ron threw at snowball at him, and Hermione realized that was when they'd both, unknowingly, fallen in love with each other, both of them only eleven years old. Hermione saw Harry smile reassuringly, if not mournfully, at her. She saw him turn, take a deep breath, and disappear into the malevolent black flames. And then, he was gone. Hermione felt herself take a step forward, wanting to run after him. She did not
Hermione gave a heartbroken sob and buried her face in her hands, the scene dissipating quickly as tears searing as ever, splashed onto her palms, wetting her fingers, splitting into small drops, running into scalding droplets in the center of her small hands, forming a stifling puddle in the center of her palms.
Hermione cried, sobs jerking her body violently. Her nose began to run, but she didn't bother to stem it. She only sat, huddled, in her chair, crying mournfully, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces with each new sob. She'd never known a sorrow such as this. Grief and guilt buried deep inside her where it couldn't be scraped away, but instead it molded into her, forever scarring her.
Harry was dead, and Hermione had stood and watched it happen. She'd been looking for her wand, true enough, but why hadn't she dived at Ron? Attacked him from behind?
Hermione pushed the questions away. She didn't want to answer them now. Or ever, if you got right down to it. She began to rock. Dimly, she heard a door opening and Dumbledore's voice somewhere in the vicinity above her head. But she ignored him. All she could think about was Harry.
His face, shocked and speechless, swam up from the blackness created by one holding their hands up to their face. Harry'd looked at her like that when he saw her with Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball. And there was something in his eyes, something she'd only seen once before, down in the chamber with the bottles…then Harry's face dissolved and Hermione was left in the blackness momentarily. And then, she was looking down at Hogwarts, flying with Harry atop Buckbeak as they went to save Sirius. Hermione stared at the huge castle, which usually was so large and loomed over her, but was now incredibly tiny. Her eyes traveled next to the lake where a year later Harry would be swimming to find her, Ron, Cho Chang, and Fleur Delacour's sister, Gabrielle. Then, lastly, she looked at the Forbidden Forest, where she, Harry, Hagrid, Malfoy, Neville and Fang had gone in their first year to find what was killing the unicorns. She tightened her arms around Harry and felt him shiver at her touch. Then she was screaming "Stupef
y!" and pointing her wand at Professor Snape and hearing Harry and Ron's voice echoing her own. She saw troll advancing on her and Harry and Ron come flying into the bathroom to save her. She heard herself telling Professor McGonagall she'd gone after the troll herself. She felt a tingle run through her when she learned that Harry had tried to save her from the lake after all, felt her fingernails digging into her cheeks and not caring as she watched Harry try to dodge the Hungarian Horntail and winced when the Horntail's tail cut into Harry's shoulder. She felt a lovely warmth run through her whenever Harry had grinned at her…
She saw, felt, and heard all of those events as though they were happening right then and there. She then let out a long, heartbreakingly, gut wrenchingly, mournful wail, thinking of all the good times she, Harry and Ron had shared. Now they were dead. Dead, poof, gone, just like Harry was. Departed forever—
"Hermione?" a voice, soft and gentle and slightly strained, broke through Hermione's morbid web of thoughts.
"Harry's dead, " Hermione stated, matter-of-factly, but mostly callously. Her voice was thick with tears and mucus, it sounded dead, flat, and hollow to even her own ears. She'd lost all of her hope, lost all the confidence she'd gained over the years. One of her best friends had tried to murder her and the other was dead. Ron and Harry were gone, and they had been so much a part of her life. All of it, really. Schoolwork was a minority compared to Harry and Ron. She felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder. She glanced up and saw Dumbledore smiling worriedly at her. He handed her a box of tissues, which Hermione accepted gratefully. She wiped her face, and then glanced around the room. Snape and McGonagall were there, watching her, identical expressions of sympathy and horrible sorrow on their faces. Hermione felt a ripple of vague surprise underneath all the layers of grief and guilt. Snape was sorry about Harry's death?
"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked flatly. Dumbledore's lips twisted into an indistinct smile.
"He's in the other room. I should tell you, he's—"
"—dead, I know, " Hermione cut in bitterly.
"—sleeping, at the moment, " Dumbledore continued, giving her a very odd look.
"He's…what did you say?" Hermione breathed, dropping the box of tissues onto the floor in numb shock. It made a dull thud as it hit the cold stone floor. She stared at Dumbledore, wondering if this was some sort of cruelly insane joke. Snape only looked at her, his black eyes glittering.
"Sleeping, my dear. He's sleeping, " Dumbledore looked at her, tilting his head to the side. He didn't seem to understand that she'd believed Harry to be dead.
"Oy, Albus, " McGonagall said, resting her hands on Hermione's shoulders in a motherly sort of fashion. She faced Dumbledore.
"She doesn't speak another language, Albus, " she continued. Snape smiled oddly.
"I want to see Harry, " Hermione said, standing suddenly. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape all looked shocked.
"Hermione, " McGonagall began weakly.
"No, " Hermione snapped. She felt a wave of rebellion and anger wash over her
"I want to see Harry, " Hermione demanded, her voice wavering slightly. McGonagall glanced doubtfully at Dumbledore. He shrugged and smiled.
"Let her, " he said. McGonagall looked surprised.
"B-But, Albus, s-surely…" she trailed off. Snape shook his head, his greasy black hair flinging back and forth as he did so.
"Let her go see him, Minerva, " he said softly. Hermione stared at him in shock. Snape, who despised Harry, hated him, took points off him whenever possible, and who was never nice to anyone save Draco Malfoy, was looking at McGonagall sympathetically, his beetle black eyes unusually bright. He patted her arm somewhat awkwardly.
"Go on then, " McGonagall made a shooing motion at Hermione. Hermione mumbled her thanks quickly, and then ran into Harry's room. And there he lay, sleeping as Dumbledore had said. Silent tears streamed down her face as she smiled tenderly at him. Harry was laying on his side, facing her, his unruly hair falling lightly over his forehead, curling slightly at the ends. He was unusually pale, the white of his skin contrasting sharply with the red of his scar, which was plainly visible. Without his glasses, he looked younger, sharper and a bit colder. But, he was sleeping and the sharpness and coldness was hidden away by the innocence and defenselessness he projected while he slept. He looked so young, so vulnerable, and so blameless. Hermione felt on the drops of her tears fall of the end of her jaw line and land lightly on the back of her hand. She stepped closer to him, feeling her heart give a sharp tug.
"Harry, " she muttered, fascinated by his sleeping form. Harry stirred briefly, rolling onto his back.
"Oi, Hermione, I do love you, I do, " he muttered in a desperate, pleading sort of voice. Hermione froze where she stood, watching him. Harry seemed to have gone back to sleeping. His chest rose and fell lightly. Hermione paused a few more seconds, then began to walk toward him again. She sat down on his bed, and felt the bed sink down a bed, playing with his hair. Quite suddenly, he shot up, his eyes flying wide open.
"Hermione, look out!" he screamed. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was sweating, Hermione saw and his hair was plastered to his neck. His brilliant green eyes were wide, terror and horrible surprise shone from within them.
"Harry?" Hermione asked softly. Harry jerked as though he'd been electrocuted. He blinked slowly, and then turned to look at Hermione.
"Hermy?" he asked. His voice sounded raw, used up. She quickly wrapped her arms around him.
"Yes. It's me. Shhhh, Harry, its all right, " she whispered, rocking him gently. Harry clung to her, his skinny body trembling violently. He pressed his face against her neck. And Hermione, in the quite stillness, heard him crying softly.
"Shhh, " she whispered, kissing the side of his head, "It's all right, Harry. I'm all right. You're all right, "
She felt him nod, then draw away. He hastily wiped his eyes and cheeks and Hermione stared intently at the bedcovers, knowing he didn't want her to know he'd been crying. There was a brief pause, which was broken when Harry reached over, and titled her head so she was looking straight up into his deep eyes.
"Hermione, " he whispered. Hermione shivered, staring into Harry's bottomless eyes, loosing herself in them. And then, Harry was kissing her again. Hermione melted into the kiss, putting every emotion she had ever felt for Harry, love, exasperation, love anger, irritation, love. Every other thought was banished from her mind. Her fears that Harry had been taken from her, her relief that he was all right, her worries about Ron, her fear for her own life, anxiety about what would happen now that Ron had tried to kill them, about what poor Mrs. Weasley would think, they all fluttered from her head. Only her love for Harry remained. They finally broke apart after quite some time had passed.
Hermione blushed when Harry's eyes met her own.
"Herm—" he began, but Hermione held up her hand, stopping him from speaking.
"Harry, " she cut in, "This is something that I have to tell. I must tell you. Back in the dormitory, I thought I'd lost you forever. I thought Ron really had killed you and I was terrified. Terrified to think I'd have to face life without you. I love you, Harry Potter, I felt it back in our first year when you were about to walk through those flames and I might never see you again. I didn't really realize it until after the Tournament was over, er, ok after the third task was over and Voldemort had kidnapped you. I was so worried and so frightened and then it hit me. I love you and I thought it was too late. I thought you might leave this world without ever knowing, without my ever telling you. And tonight, I—" Hermione broke off, sobbing violently. Harry nodded understandingly, and wrapped his arms around her protectively.
"I look at you, Hermione and I feel something inside me expand. And it dawns on me that that's the place in my soul where you belong. Oi, that probably sounds really sappy…" Harry trailed off, smiling sheepishly." I wished for you, you know, " he continued after a moment, "I wished for someone to love me, and accept me, just like you do. Just like Ron does…did…" he corrected himself softly, swaying gently with her enveloped securely in his arms, his face buried in her long bushy hair. They sat, each with their arms locked around the other, clasped together for a long time. Hermione had her head against Harry's chest, right next to his chest. Hermione smiled sadly to herself. Harry's heart was beating very rapidly. She closed her head, listening to his heartbeat, wanting to be closer to him then humanly possible. She loved Harry so much it frightened her. She was only sixteen and most sixteen year olds don't know what love is. Harry and Hermione sat on the hospital bed, both thinking their own thought (which w
ere mostly about each other) until someone cleared their throat and spoke up.
"Miss Granger, you've had nearly forty-five minutes. Let Potter get some sleep, "
Hermione only stared at Madam Pomfrey.
"Ah, but Madam Po—" Harry began, but Madam Pomfrey shook her head firmly.
"No, Potter. You need your rest, " she snapped.
Harry and Hermione sighed in unison, then looked at each other and grinned.
"I'll see you in a bit, Harry, " Hermione whispered, feeling a strong ache inside her when she stood, breaking out of the circle of protection Harry's strong (from all his years as a Quidditch play) arms offered.
"I love you, Hermy. I always will, " he said, giving her a kiss on the forehead, "Be strong, "
"I'll try, Harry. I love you too, " she whispered back, smiling. Their eyes met and locked for a few minutes. Then Madam Pomfrey was shooing Hermione out of the room. Hermione glanced back and smiled sadly at what she saw. Madam Pomfrey was trying to force a sleeping potion down Harry's throat. Harry, on the other hand, was putting up a brilliant struggle.
Hermione sighed as she turned away and memories of Ron as he had been before tonight came pelting at her. She bit her lip, not daring to think of what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley must be going through. Hermione told her that over time, the aches would lessen in strength and the memories would bring smiles, instead of tears.
"Be strong, " Harry had told her. Well, Hermione smiled miserably as fresh tears flooded her eyes, she would try. It would be hard, but as long as Hermione had Harry, she would try. And she would be as strong at he needed her to be.
~end~
Yet another note: If you would be so kind, go over and read the alternate ending!!
By: Black Hermione Angel
Email: invader_gaz_0@yahoo.com
Category: H/Hr, R/Hr (unrequited)
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Summary: Feelings are hurt, blood is shed, knives make an appearance, wands are utterly forgotten, betray is enforced and chess is played.
Spoilers/Timespan: Yes, all four books did indeed happen. Oliver quit the reserve team he was on and came back to Hogwarts to coach Quidditch (I don't know about everyone else, but I just can't imagine Quidditch without Oliver Wood, lol) Harry, Ron, Harry, and Hermione are in their sixth year, and…er…I don't think that Voldemort's even mentioned in here. Well, let's just say he's dead and gone. So… Onto New Other Seriously Evil Wizards… hey, here's an idea: Seriously Evil Witches…. ;)
Distribution: Wherever. Just please keep my name, email addy, and disclaimer intact. I love my disclaimers. Adore them. They are my pride and joy, even though I hate righting them, because that means I have to face the reality that I don't own Harry….
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Don't tell anyone you love him or her after you've just beaten him or her at chess. Just a piece of advise. I'll shut up now and retreat back to my hole in my rock….
And just so none of you are confused, Ron has been in love for Hermione for years. I just couldn't find a place to say that in the story, so I'm saying it here.
Disclaimer: Oh, I hate writing these. But I'm not really in the mood to be sued, so here goes: Harry Potter and the other characters in the Harry Potter books do no belong to me. They belong to J. K. Rowling as well as Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. *Sniffles. * I just wish I owned them…
Thanks to: Susie Bones, for her wonderful review of Don't Fear the Reaper (I'm working on it, sweetie!). Thanks for being such a great friend to me!!
Ron Weasley had been hurt. Oh, he hadn't been stabbed or cursed, but he'd been emotionally hurt. It was, he supposed, mostly his own fault for going out on such a limb. He winced as he thought about the previous night, anger coursing through him. He sat in the common room by the fireplace, playing with his best friend Harry Potter's pocketknife.
**********THE PREVIOUS EVENING**********
Ron sat on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, across from his other best friend, Hermione Granger, playing chess. They were waiting for Harry to get back from Quidditch practice, which was running very late, as everyone else had gone to bed.
Hermione was loosing. And badly. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever failed at, which was something both Harry and Ron thought was good for her. Hermione frowned and then moved one of her pawns tentatively forward.
'Hermy, you know I could take that. But I won't, ' Ron grinned. Hermione sighed in frustration.
'I hate loosing, ' she muttered, glaring at the chessboard. Ron only smiled, and without replying, placed his bishop next to Hermione's queen, which was surprising in itself that she still had her queen. Ron would often do obvious things as he'd just done. Hermione, on the other hand, rarely caught them. She was so intent on other pieces and where to move them so as not to get them killed. This time, however, she caught it.
'Ron Weasley, you did that on purpose, ' she scolded. Even so, she took the bishop.
Ron laughed.
'You still took it, Hermy, ' he said. Hermione smiled as well.
'Well…I wasn't about to pass it up, ' she replied airily. Ron rolled his eyes and grinned, then looked down at the board. At that moment, Harry burst through the portrait hole, looking tired and muddy, but otherwise perfectly cheerful. His deep green eyes sparkled merrily beneath his glasses.
'Oliver's gone mad, ' he informed Ron and Hermione as he flopped onto on of the squishy armchairs behind Hermione. Hermione watched him as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, smiling gently.
'What's Oliver's new scheme now, Harry?' she asked. Ron was surprised. Hermione hated Quidditch, found it boring beyond all reason. Harry looked vaguely surprised as well, but he leaned forward and began to explain all of Oliver's new tactics. Ron watched Hermione as she spoke with Harry.
Ron loved Hermione. He loved her more than he had loved anything in his whole life. Ron loved her so much it scared even him. He'd do anything for her, even die for her…
'What do Fred and George think of all this?' Hermione asked, breaking into Ron's thoughts. Harry looked at her and laughed.
'They're none too please. When Oliver told us to get up at six a.m., they both shouted very loudly, and then cursed in long strings. It was very creative and very fluent. I think they've been practicing at it for a long time, ' Harry told her, grinning. Hermione laughed as well, her cinnamon eyes sparkling. Ron felt a wave of jealousy at the way Harry was looking at her. Harry liked Cho. Cho was Harry's, now that Diggory was dead. Hermione was Ron's
Back off, Harry, Ron thought, suddenly and rather viciously, glaring at Harry, hating him for some reason. He shuddered, banishing the thought. It scared him that his thoughts and feelings could be so hateful.
'I'm off to bed, ' Harry yawned, standing up and stretching.
'Goodnight, Harry, ' Hermione said, from her place on the floor. She suddenly wanted very badly to give Harry a kiss, but managed to restrain herself.
' 'Night, Harry, ' Ron mumbled, jealousy wracking every nerve in him. Harry waved and, yawning, climbed slowly up the staircase to the boys' dormitory. Hermione turned back to the board.
'All right, Ron. Go ahead and win. You're going to anyway, ' she said, glaring once more at the chess pieces, Harry momentarily forgotten. Ron pushed away the image of Harry smiling at Hermione and concentrated intently on the game.
A half an hour later, Ron won spectacularly, leaving Hermione in a bit of a bad mood. The game had taken so long was because Hermione took so long to move her pieces. She stood now, and heard her knees pop.
'I haven't sat on the floor for such a long time. Not since I was a little girl, ' she said, wincing at the needles shooting up her legs. Ron smiled at her, but it was an odd smile, different from the smile Ron often wore. It startled Hermione slightly.
'I'm, erm, off to bed, ' she said, turning to go.
'Wait, Hermy, ' Ron said, grabbing at Hermione's hand. She turned to face him, puzzled.
'I, um, good game, eh?' he said, pink tinting his cheeks.
'It was just like every other game we play, ' Hermione replied, smiling.
'Yea, well, ' Ron dropped her hand and then ran his own through his flaming red hair, blushing more than ever. He took a step towards her and before Hermione knew what was happening, Ron was kissing her. She relaxed without thinking about what she was doing, and then realized what was happening and pulled back.
'Ron!' she gasped, her face flushed and her hair tousled, 'What're you—'
'I'm sorry, ' Ron whispered, his face as red as his hair by now, 'It's just—''
Hermione held up one trembling hand, cutting him off.
'Ron, I don't…I mean…I've…never…we, Harry…' she stuttered, trying and failing to find the right words. Ron scowled at his shoes
'You don't like me like that, do you?' he asked, quietly. Hermione heard a bit of bitterness in his voice.
'Well…no, ' She replied regretfully. Ron nodded, still scowling at his shoes. There was a very long, very awkward, pause.
'It's Harry, isn't it?' he asked finally, shattering the silence. Hermione, not trusting herself enough to speak only nodded. Ron snorted acidly.
'Ron, 'Hermione reached out to touch his arm. Ron, however, stepped quickly out of her reach.
'I've got to get to bed, ' he said, in a blank, flat voice, his blue eyes cold and vacant. Hermione bit her lip as he turned away and walked stiffly up to the boys' dormitory.
Now I've gone and done it, Hermione thought resentfully.
*********************BACK TO THE PRESENT**********************
Ron stood suddenly, gripping the knife tightly in his hand, a mad glint in his eyes, and walked up to the girls' dormitory.
------------
Everyone except for Ron, Harry, and Hermione had gone to Hogsmeade for the day. Everyone that is, except for the second years and below. But they were all in the library, working on a huge project McGonagall had assigned for Transfiguration. It was just the three of them in the Gryffindor tower that morning. Hermione sat in the empty dormitory, practicing a simply hair straightening spell she'd found in a magazine. She wanted her hair to be long, sleek, and shiny instead of short and bushy. Harry was sleeping, even though it was near twelve. And Ron was in the common room. Hermione still felt a little off with them and she wasn't all too happy to be in the same room with him that day, so she'd camped out in her room, bored out of her mind. She flipped through her magazine, One Thousand Ways to Make a Dull Girl a Gorgeous One! idly. Ok, so she was getting really desperate to find something. She glanced up when she heard the door open, wondering why on earth Lavender and Parvati were back so early. She shook he
rself when she saw who was standing there.
'What are you doing in here?' she demanded, not unkindly, standing up. Then her eyes widened in horror and she let out a short scream.
Ron Weasley, grinning madly, rushed forward to silence Hermione for the last time, Harry's penknife raised.
------------
Harry Potter, the owner of the penknife, stumbled out to of bed, rubbing his eyes. He blinked a few times and grabbed his glasses. As he pushed them up on his nose, the world came into sharper focus. He stood, stretching, and as he did, he glanced over at Ron's bed. It was empty. Harry frowned. Ron didn't say anything about going to Hogsmeade. Did he? He shrugged, figuring Ron was in the common room. He quickly pulled on his robes, and tried to flatten his highly untidy hair.
'You're fighting a loosing battle there, dear, ' said his mirror in a wheezy voice.
'Don't I know it, ' Harry muttered. He left the room, still yawning, and, standing at the top of the staircase, glanced around the common room. Neither Ron nor Hermione was there. Harry was a bit hurt, and jealous, that they'd gone off on their own, without telling him. Well, he was more jealous that Ron was alone with Hermione…
Harry shook his head, clearing it, and walked down the staircase. He flopped into one of the squishy armchairs, much as he had done the night before. He found himself wishing Hermione were here. Not with Ron, but just her. It would be just the two of them…
Harry sighed and cut that thought off. Hermione was his best friend. That's probably all she thought of him as. Besides, she thought he liked Cho. Even he thought he like Cho. But, Harry grinned meekly; he'd only been fooling himself. And he'd done a pretty good job at that as well. Harry and Hermione were just friends. That's all. Just friends. But last night, when she'd said good night, he saw, for just a moment, something else in Hermione's eyes.
Quit it you bugger, Harry scolded himself. He sighed again and shifted in the chair. He had Quidditch practice today. Oliver's lectures would most definitely take his mind off Hermione.
He stood then, wanting to go and check the Great Hall to see if Hermione or Ron were there. He stopped short when he heard a screaming from the girls' dormitory.
-----------------
Hermione screamed again, as she backed up against the bed. Her knees hit the edge of the bed and her legs gave out. She toppled backwards onto her bed, emitting a short cry of surprise. Ron paused, watching with an amused expression. Hermione scrambled on the other side of the bed, away from Ron.
'Ron?' she whispered, peering at him over the blankets. Ron flinched when she spoke, 'Ron, why are you doing this? Don't do it, please, Ron, you're my friend, tell me what's wrong, please, I'll—'
'You want to know? D'you really want to know?' Ron demanded quietly, his blue eyes widening. Hermione took a deep breath and nodded.
'Stupid Mudblood, ' Ron muttered, shaking his head. Hermione gasped. Ron had never called her Mudblood. He'd, in fact, cursed anyone who had.
'Ron….' She breathed incredulously.
'Oh shut up, ' he muttered, glowering at her. Hermione gaped at him but did as she was told.
Ron paced back and forth, shooting glances at her ever now and then to make sure she wasn't going to run away. He nodded finally and turned to her, raising the knife again. The insane grin was back on his face.
'If I can't have you, then neither can Harry. It'll be the only thing in life in which he is denied, ' he said calmly, his voice formal and flat, his eyes detached and void.
Hermione felt her eyes widen in horror and dawning realization that she was going to die. Murdered by her own best friend. She was going to die and never be able to tell Harry she loved him.
'Ron, don't' she pleaded, cowering behind the bed. Ron ignored her, walking steadily forward. He came around the bed and stood in front of Hermione, who was too shocked and terrified to move.
And then the door came crashing open.
'Hermione!' someone called. Hermione jumped at the sound of Harry's voice calling her.
'Harry! Oh, Harry, help…I…' she cried out weakly, but broke off when Ron leaped suddenly at Harry. Harry's eyes went wide behind his glasses and he took a step backwards, running into the door he had closed, for some stupid reason, when he'd entered the room. The doorknob hit his lower back and he jumped, making a sound that sounded like a cross between ''Eek!" and "Ugh." Ron lunged forward and the knife went deep into Harry's left side. Harry shrieked, actually shrieked, not yelled, but shrieked, in pain and surprise. Ron pulled the knife out violently, which caused a sickening meaty sound, raised the knife and this time drove it through Harry's chest. Hermione screamed. Harry did not. He only looked at Ron with dull finality. Hermione shook herself, panic rising in her. She had to save Harry…she threw herself on the floor, trembling, to search for her wand. Any minute now, Ron was going to strike Harry a third time, and Hermione knew that could mean Harry would die…
-------------
Ron pulled the knife out of Harry's chest, relishing the meaty sliding sound it made, and watched with delight as blood flowed from the wound.
'How's it feel to have your heart bleed?' he hissed, laughing coldly.
------------
Harry stared up at Ron, wondering what could have happened to unhinge him so. Harry struggled to sit up, but pain flared from both of his wounds. Everything went white briefly. He blinked.
Ron scowled suddenly, the laughter dying off. Harry, who found his vision going cloudy, even with his glasses, squinted at Ron.
'Why?' he whispered. Actually, it was more of a choke than a whisper. It hurt him badly to speak. Ron snorted.
'Why?' he repeated, giggling madly. 'Why, is that what you want to know? Ha! The famous Harry Potter murdered by his best friend! You want to know why, Harry Potter? It's simply because you're a great selfish prat, who has everything in life they could possibly hope to have. That's why. It isn't enough you have Cho. Oh no. You have to have Hermione as well. Not everything's about you, Harry Potter. I'm sorry you had to find that out so late. ' Harry did see a flash of sympathy in his wild, bulging eyes. But it was gone so fast, Harry only assumed he'd imagined it.
Ron raised the knife for the third time and prepared to swing it down. Harry shut his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but they were already sliding down his cheeks.
-------------
Ah, there you are, you stupid bugger, Hermione sighed gratefully, knowing she only had a few seconds. She snatched up her wand and stood. Ron's back was to her. He appeared to be speaking to Harry.
And Harry was crying.
This was what really got to Hermione. Harry never cried. He was always so calm, so cool, so collected, even when facing death. She raised her wand, cold fury rushing through her. She hated the fact that Harry had to be scared for his life, that he was in so much pain and that'd he'd been betrayed so horribly that he was crying.
She therefore hated the person that brought this upon Harry.
---------------
Ron swung the knife downward, horrible victory coursing through him.
Famous Harry Potter, he thought scornfully. Then he laughed.
---------------
Harry saw Ron swing the knife downward in horribly slow motion. Everything to him seemed to be sharper, in more focus, and he saw the way the light bounced off the metal of the penknife, and heard the swishing sound it made as it came down. He squeezed his eyes shut.
'Hermione!' he yelled, not knowing if she'd hear him, but yelling her name all the same.
---------------
Hermione, who'd been staring in frozen horror, jumped when Harry shouted her name. So did Ron, which gave her just time enough to hit him with a Stunning Spell.
'STUPEFY!' She cried. Ron jerked, and then, without a warning or a word, fell flat on his face, Harry's penknife clattering harmlessly to the floor.
For a few moments, Hermione stood, stunned by what she'd just done. She stared at Ron's still form. Then Harry moaned in anguish, and Hermione was jerked out of her daze.
'Harry, ' she cried softly, throwing herself down next to Harry. She bit her lip rather hard as she studied his wounds.
'Ow, ' Harry muttered as he struggled to sit up.
'Does it hurt terribly?' Hermione whispered, then mentally slapped herself.
Of course it hurts, you ninny, she told herself harshly. Harry, however, grinned despite the situation.
'No more than a basilisk fang, ' he replied. Hermione didn't smile back. She found nothing funny. One of her best friends (not to mention the love of her life) was dying, being slowly taken away from her….
And she could only sit and watch helplessly, as Harry slipped slowly away. She wracked her brain for any spells she might know that would help him and cursed herself for not knowing any. She did, nevertheless, manage to get a tourniquet on him, but she doubted it was helping Harry at all.
They sat in silence for a long time, not speaking. At one point, Harry took her hand, but didn't shatter the silence. Hermione appeared calm and collected, like Harry was when he was facing mortal danger. But on the inside was a storm of grief and sorrow and regret and terrible fear. Her insides felt as though they were being torn apart, ripped into shreds. She felt as though there were a tornado spinning inside her, creating damage that could never be repaired, and throwing things far away from where they should be.
'H-Her…my…oh...knee…' Harry choked out. It sounded as though it took a great deal of effort and immense pain for him to simply say her name.
'Shhh, Harry, ' Hermione leaned towards him, her hand still in his. Harry shook his head and smiled painfully.
---------------
Harry's heart was pounding furiously against his chest. He was only a few minutes away from fading into what was fast becoming familiar darkness. He squinted at Hermione, wishing desperately that his vision was clear and he could see her comprehensibly. He couldn't, as things were, and it annoyed him that the last thing he would see would be a blurry Hermione, instead of a clear, in focus Hermione. He supposed he should just be grateful Hermione was with him, blurry or not. He blinked and Hermione's face came into clearer focus.
'Hermione, ' he whispered again, pain flaring up in every part of his body as he spoke.
'Yes?' she replied softly, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. She wanted to go and get help, Harry knew, but was too afraid of what she might find when she returned. Harry lifted his arms weakly, wincing at the enormous pain shooting everywhere. His arms felt like the bones had been replaced with lead, but he pulled Hermione closer to him and hugged her tightly. She hugged him back, tightly, as well, but gently, so as not too disturb his wounds. She pulled back a tiny bit, so that her face was only inches from his own. Harry leaned forward, knowing what he was going to do and very much anticipated it, and kissed Hermione softly. Hermione tensed at first, but quickly melted into the kiss. It was quite a while before they broke apart, each breathing heavily, but when they did, Harry saw that Hermione was crying.
'Shhh, please, don't cry, Hermy. I love you, please. I love you, I always will, Hermy, please….don't….' he trailed off, the last of his strength used up by trying to comfort Hermione. At least he'd told her he loved her. Harry smiled slightly, but was still rather reluctant for the blackness to sweep him away.
---------------
Hermione sat dully in Madam Pomfrey's, the school nurse's, office, staring blankly at her hands. Harry was dead. Gone, just like that. She sat, glaring at her hands. True, Harry loved her, he'd even said so, but that didn't change the fact that he was dead. She would sacrifice Harry's love just to have him alive again. She just wanted him back. Wanted to see him studying the notes she'd taken for him when he'd fallen (yet again) asleep in History of Magic. Wanted to watch him during a Quidditch match, circling on his Firebolt, searching for the Snitch. Wanted to see him laughing again at something she'd said, or regard a cake George had just handed him suspiciously. Wanted to see him telling off Malfoy for poking fun at her.
But those times were gone. Dead, just like Harry.
Tears, hot and salty, poured over and fell down her cheeks, scalding her skin. But, Hermione didn't bother to wipe them away. She let them flow in waves, flooding her eyes, burning her cheeks, and turning her eyes red and puffy. She let the tears run as she stared at her hands, not really seeing her hands, but the seven bottles she'd had to choose from back in her very first year at Hogwarts. She saw the small bottle she had drunk from, felt the liquid, icy and smooth, running through her body, felt herself begin to cry at the thought that she might never see Harry again if she let him go through those evil black flames. She felt her arms find their way around Harry's incredibly skinny shoulders, as he'd been skin and bones back then, due to his aunt and uncle, she supposed, felt her heart give a little tug, as if it wanted to join Harry's own, felt Harry pull her towards him. She'd been taller than him back then, even if it was a mere inch or so. She felt Harry pull away and saw him look at her, pained. She'
d seen something in his eyes, his brilliantly green eyes, which would never narrow distastefully at Snape or widen in surprise when Ron threw at snowball at him, and Hermione realized that was when they'd both, unknowingly, fallen in love with each other, both of them only eleven years old. Hermione saw Harry smile reassuringly, if not mournfully, at her. She saw him turn, take a deep breath, and disappear into the malevolent black flames. And then, he was gone. Hermione felt herself take a step forward, wanting to run after him. She did not
Hermione gave a heartbroken sob and buried her face in her hands, the scene dissipating quickly as tears searing as ever, splashed onto her palms, wetting her fingers, splitting into small drops, running into scalding droplets in the center of her small hands, forming a stifling puddle in the center of her palms.
Hermione cried, sobs jerking her body violently. Her nose began to run, but she didn't bother to stem it. She only sat, huddled, in her chair, crying mournfully, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces with each new sob. She'd never known a sorrow such as this. Grief and guilt buried deep inside her where it couldn't be scraped away, but instead it molded into her, forever scarring her.
Harry was dead, and Hermione had stood and watched it happen. She'd been looking for her wand, true enough, but why hadn't she dived at Ron? Attacked him from behind?
Hermione pushed the questions away. She didn't want to answer them now. Or ever, if you got right down to it. She began to rock. Dimly, she heard a door opening and Dumbledore's voice somewhere in the vicinity above her head. But she ignored him. All she could think about was Harry.
His face, shocked and speechless, swam up from the blackness created by one holding their hands up to their face. Harry'd looked at her like that when he saw her with Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball. And there was something in his eyes, something she'd only seen once before, down in the chamber with the bottles…then Harry's face dissolved and Hermione was left in the blackness momentarily. And then, she was looking down at Hogwarts, flying with Harry atop Buckbeak as they went to save Sirius. Hermione stared at the huge castle, which usually was so large and loomed over her, but was now incredibly tiny. Her eyes traveled next to the lake where a year later Harry would be swimming to find her, Ron, Cho Chang, and Fleur Delacour's sister, Gabrielle. Then, lastly, she looked at the Forbidden Forest, where she, Harry, Hagrid, Malfoy, Neville and Fang had gone in their first year to find what was killing the unicorns. She tightened her arms around Harry and felt him shiver at her touch. Then she was screaming "Stupef
y!" and pointing her wand at Professor Snape and hearing Harry and Ron's voice echoing her own. She saw troll advancing on her and Harry and Ron come flying into the bathroom to save her. She heard herself telling Professor McGonagall she'd gone after the troll herself. She felt a tingle run through her when she learned that Harry had tried to save her from the lake after all, felt her fingernails digging into her cheeks and not caring as she watched Harry try to dodge the Hungarian Horntail and winced when the Horntail's tail cut into Harry's shoulder. She felt a lovely warmth run through her whenever Harry had grinned at her…
She saw, felt, and heard all of those events as though they were happening right then and there. She then let out a long, heartbreakingly, gut wrenchingly, mournful wail, thinking of all the good times she, Harry and Ron had shared. Now they were dead. Dead, poof, gone, just like Harry was. Departed forever—
"Hermione?" a voice, soft and gentle and slightly strained, broke through Hermione's morbid web of thoughts.
"Harry's dead, " Hermione stated, matter-of-factly, but mostly callously. Her voice was thick with tears and mucus, it sounded dead, flat, and hollow to even her own ears. She'd lost all of her hope, lost all the confidence she'd gained over the years. One of her best friends had tried to murder her and the other was dead. Ron and Harry were gone, and they had been so much a part of her life. All of it, really. Schoolwork was a minority compared to Harry and Ron. She felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder. She glanced up and saw Dumbledore smiling worriedly at her. He handed her a box of tissues, which Hermione accepted gratefully. She wiped her face, and then glanced around the room. Snape and McGonagall were there, watching her, identical expressions of sympathy and horrible sorrow on their faces. Hermione felt a ripple of vague surprise underneath all the layers of grief and guilt. Snape was sorry about Harry's death?
"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked flatly. Dumbledore's lips twisted into an indistinct smile.
"He's in the other room. I should tell you, he's—"
"—dead, I know, " Hermione cut in bitterly.
"—sleeping, at the moment, " Dumbledore continued, giving her a very odd look.
"He's…what did you say?" Hermione breathed, dropping the box of tissues onto the floor in numb shock. It made a dull thud as it hit the cold stone floor. She stared at Dumbledore, wondering if this was some sort of cruelly insane joke. Snape only looked at her, his black eyes glittering.
"Sleeping, my dear. He's sleeping, " Dumbledore looked at her, tilting his head to the side. He didn't seem to understand that she'd believed Harry to be dead.
"Oy, Albus, " McGonagall said, resting her hands on Hermione's shoulders in a motherly sort of fashion. She faced Dumbledore.
"She doesn't speak another language, Albus, " she continued. Snape smiled oddly.
"I want to see Harry, " Hermione said, standing suddenly. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape all looked shocked.
"Hermione, " McGonagall began weakly.
"No, " Hermione snapped. She felt a wave of rebellion and anger wash over her
"I want to see Harry, " Hermione demanded, her voice wavering slightly. McGonagall glanced doubtfully at Dumbledore. He shrugged and smiled.
"Let her, " he said. McGonagall looked surprised.
"B-But, Albus, s-surely…" she trailed off. Snape shook his head, his greasy black hair flinging back and forth as he did so.
"Let her go see him, Minerva, " he said softly. Hermione stared at him in shock. Snape, who despised Harry, hated him, took points off him whenever possible, and who was never nice to anyone save Draco Malfoy, was looking at McGonagall sympathetically, his beetle black eyes unusually bright. He patted her arm somewhat awkwardly.
"Go on then, " McGonagall made a shooing motion at Hermione. Hermione mumbled her thanks quickly, and then ran into Harry's room. And there he lay, sleeping as Dumbledore had said. Silent tears streamed down her face as she smiled tenderly at him. Harry was laying on his side, facing her, his unruly hair falling lightly over his forehead, curling slightly at the ends. He was unusually pale, the white of his skin contrasting sharply with the red of his scar, which was plainly visible. Without his glasses, he looked younger, sharper and a bit colder. But, he was sleeping and the sharpness and coldness was hidden away by the innocence and defenselessness he projected while he slept. He looked so young, so vulnerable, and so blameless. Hermione felt on the drops of her tears fall of the end of her jaw line and land lightly on the back of her hand. She stepped closer to him, feeling her heart give a sharp tug.
"Harry, " she muttered, fascinated by his sleeping form. Harry stirred briefly, rolling onto his back.
"Oi, Hermione, I do love you, I do, " he muttered in a desperate, pleading sort of voice. Hermione froze where she stood, watching him. Harry seemed to have gone back to sleeping. His chest rose and fell lightly. Hermione paused a few more seconds, then began to walk toward him again. She sat down on his bed, and felt the bed sink down a bed, playing with his hair. Quite suddenly, he shot up, his eyes flying wide open.
"Hermione, look out!" he screamed. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was sweating, Hermione saw and his hair was plastered to his neck. His brilliant green eyes were wide, terror and horrible surprise shone from within them.
"Harry?" Hermione asked softly. Harry jerked as though he'd been electrocuted. He blinked slowly, and then turned to look at Hermione.
"Hermy?" he asked. His voice sounded raw, used up. She quickly wrapped her arms around him.
"Yes. It's me. Shhhh, Harry, its all right, " she whispered, rocking him gently. Harry clung to her, his skinny body trembling violently. He pressed his face against her neck. And Hermione, in the quite stillness, heard him crying softly.
"Shhh, " she whispered, kissing the side of his head, "It's all right, Harry. I'm all right. You're all right, "
She felt him nod, then draw away. He hastily wiped his eyes and cheeks and Hermione stared intently at the bedcovers, knowing he didn't want her to know he'd been crying. There was a brief pause, which was broken when Harry reached over, and titled her head so she was looking straight up into his deep eyes.
"Hermione, " he whispered. Hermione shivered, staring into Harry's bottomless eyes, loosing herself in them. And then, Harry was kissing her again. Hermione melted into the kiss, putting every emotion she had ever felt for Harry, love, exasperation, love anger, irritation, love. Every other thought was banished from her mind. Her fears that Harry had been taken from her, her relief that he was all right, her worries about Ron, her fear for her own life, anxiety about what would happen now that Ron had tried to kill them, about what poor Mrs. Weasley would think, they all fluttered from her head. Only her love for Harry remained. They finally broke apart after quite some time had passed.
Hermione blushed when Harry's eyes met her own.
"Herm—" he began, but Hermione held up her hand, stopping him from speaking.
"Harry, " she cut in, "This is something that I have to tell. I must tell you. Back in the dormitory, I thought I'd lost you forever. I thought Ron really had killed you and I was terrified. Terrified to think I'd have to face life without you. I love you, Harry Potter, I felt it back in our first year when you were about to walk through those flames and I might never see you again. I didn't really realize it until after the Tournament was over, er, ok after the third task was over and Voldemort had kidnapped you. I was so worried and so frightened and then it hit me. I love you and I thought it was too late. I thought you might leave this world without ever knowing, without my ever telling you. And tonight, I—" Hermione broke off, sobbing violently. Harry nodded understandingly, and wrapped his arms around her protectively.
"I look at you, Hermione and I feel something inside me expand. And it dawns on me that that's the place in my soul where you belong. Oi, that probably sounds really sappy…" Harry trailed off, smiling sheepishly." I wished for you, you know, " he continued after a moment, "I wished for someone to love me, and accept me, just like you do. Just like Ron does…did…" he corrected himself softly, swaying gently with her enveloped securely in his arms, his face buried in her long bushy hair. They sat, each with their arms locked around the other, clasped together for a long time. Hermione had her head against Harry's chest, right next to his chest. Hermione smiled sadly to herself. Harry's heart was beating very rapidly. She closed her head, listening to his heartbeat, wanting to be closer to him then humanly possible. She loved Harry so much it frightened her. She was only sixteen and most sixteen year olds don't know what love is. Harry and Hermione sat on the hospital bed, both thinking their own thought (which w
ere mostly about each other) until someone cleared their throat and spoke up.
"Miss Granger, you've had nearly forty-five minutes. Let Potter get some sleep, "
Hermione only stared at Madam Pomfrey.
"Ah, but Madam Po—" Harry began, but Madam Pomfrey shook her head firmly.
"No, Potter. You need your rest, " she snapped.
Harry and Hermione sighed in unison, then looked at each other and grinned.
"I'll see you in a bit, Harry, " Hermione whispered, feeling a strong ache inside her when she stood, breaking out of the circle of protection Harry's strong (from all his years as a Quidditch play) arms offered.
"I love you, Hermy. I always will, " he said, giving her a kiss on the forehead, "Be strong, "
"I'll try, Harry. I love you too, " she whispered back, smiling. Their eyes met and locked for a few minutes. Then Madam Pomfrey was shooing Hermione out of the room. Hermione glanced back and smiled sadly at what she saw. Madam Pomfrey was trying to force a sleeping potion down Harry's throat. Harry, on the other hand, was putting up a brilliant struggle.
Hermione sighed as she turned away and memories of Ron as he had been before tonight came pelting at her. She bit her lip, not daring to think of what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley must be going through. Hermione told her that over time, the aches would lessen in strength and the memories would bring smiles, instead of tears.
"Be strong, " Harry had told her. Well, Hermione smiled miserably as fresh tears flooded her eyes, she would try. It would be hard, but as long as Hermione had Harry, she would try. And she would be as strong at he needed her to be.
~end~
Yet another note: If you would be so kind, go over and read the alternate ending!!