Disclaimer: Don't sue. I have nothing to my name. Not even my six dollars!
=P
A/N: I'm in a better mood now. So aha! It's time for an angst-filled chapter. Ironic isn't it? When I'm upset, I write fluff. And when I'm happy, I wrote angst. Anyway, ramblings aside, here goes the story.
"Hey Ron! Wait up. Ron," Harry dashed across the lawn, placing a hand on his friend to stop him. Ron turned angrily, pulling his robe from Harry's strong grip. He stared down at Harry, his face as red as his hair.
"What do you want?" he asked curtly.
"Look Ron, I know you don't like seeing Herm and me together. Hell, I know how you feel. I've had the same feelings when YOU were going out with her." Harry pushed up his glasses, and pushed back his hair that had flopped over his eyes. "Ron, I love her."
Ron, who had been opening his mouth in retaliation, closed it again. Despite his jealousy, he knew Harry deserved it, after all that he had been through in his life. He needed someone who truly loved him, Ron realized, and Hermoine might be the only person who could show him that. She was the next best thing Harry could hope for, after his parents, and everyone knew there was no hope in that happening.
Harry, who had been standing next to Ron patiently, finally said. "Ron? If you don't like seeing us together, then we'll try not to be with each other when you're in the room.
"What if I don't want you to be together at all?" came the hard, cold question. Ron had half-wanted to give them his blessings, but he caught sight of Hermoine walking towards them, and his pride took over.
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Hermoine had heard the question as she walked towards the two boys, both so close to her. Turning to Harry, she looked at him, waiting for his response. On his part, Harry kept silent. His green eyes darted from Hermoine to Ron, before resting them on Hermoine again. She saw the answer in his eyes even before he spoke it out, and she shook her head subtly, pleadingly.
"Then we won't be," Harry choked out. His hands were clenched tightly, his face red. "We won't be, not without you blessing. Bloody hell Ron, you're my closest friend. You're the closest thing I have to family. I won't do anything without you supporting me."
Ron studied his best friend, and a reluctant smile appeared on his face. "Congrats, old boy," he said. "You deserve it." Harry nodded his thanks. Ron looked over at Hermoine, and caught her smile. He smiled back in return, and excused himself tactfully, leaving Harry and Hermoine together.
Harry watched Ron leave, and he turned to Hermoine, who turned up to look at him, with arched eyebrows. He knew he had some damage control to do, and he led her towards the end of the lawn, a place where few ventured because it was so far. As they walked, he could feel her glance every now and then, but not a word he said.
He led her to a solitary stone bench under a huge tree. She sat down, and after a moment's hesitation, he sat down next to her. "Well? Are you going to explain?" she asked.
Harry took her hand, and was grateful when she didn't pull away. He stared at the castle in the distant, looking thoughtful, as if trying to think of the right thing to say. And he was, but he finally decided to tell the truth. After all, what was a relationship without truth?
"I knew how it felt," he began, squeezing her hand, as if drawing strength from it. He closed his eyes tightly as the painful memories resurfaced into his brain. "I remember seeing you and Ron, and hating it. I remember the cuts I felt deep in my heart, each time you looked at him. I remember the pain when you kissed him. I remember the anger each time he took your hand. I remember the jealousy, each time you smiled at him." Harry stopped, as those feelings stirred his emotions once again.
"I remember the hope, wishing it was me with you," he finished quietly. He avoided her sympathetic gaze. He didn't want her pity, he didn't need it. He needed her to understand. He needed her to love him. "I don't want Ron to feel the same way. Those feelings can tear you apart."
"Voldermort knew," Harry confessed, not noticing the flinch Hermoine gave when he spoke the name of the now-defeated wizard. "He knew I was vulnerable, he knew it was tearing me up. That's why he striked. That's why I nearly died. That's why Dumbledore gave me the key to the secret room. That's why I spent hours in there, away from you and Ron."
Hermoine felt her warm tears surface, creating pools in her big, brown eyes. She had never known Harry had felt that way about her relationship with Ron. She held hold to his warm hand tightly. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
"How could you?" was his bitter response. "You had eyes only for Ron." Hermoine flinched, although she knew Harry didn't mean it meanly. She knew the depths of his soul; she knew he didn't blame neither she nor Ron, although they were the cause of his breakdown.
"You could have told me," she whispered, using her other hand to lightly trace his jaw line, his short stubbles of hair that Harry had missed while shaving feeling rough to her touch. "Harry, you could tell me anything."
There was a silence. After what seemed like eternity, Harry looked at her, and gave a bittersweet smile. "You were happy," he told her. "I would never deny you that. Never."
Hermoine heard his words, heard the pain, heard the contentment weaved into the pain. Reaching out, she placed one hand on the back of his head, pushing him towards her. He hugged her tightly, suffocating her, and yet she didn't mind. She returned the embrace with the same amount of passion. Letting go, he lowered his head and she raised hers.
Kissing Hermoine was a refuge, Harry would later think. A shelter, where he could feel safe, where he could be happy. A place where he could finally feel love again, an emotion denied to him for so long.
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A/N: Next chapter all done! So, what did you think? All right, I don't care. I want reviews, otherwise there won't be a next chapter. =P. Oh fine, I'll probably still write the next chapter, but I really really want you guys to review. Boost my ego a little, will ya?
A/N: I'm in a better mood now. So aha! It's time for an angst-filled chapter. Ironic isn't it? When I'm upset, I write fluff. And when I'm happy, I wrote angst. Anyway, ramblings aside, here goes the story.
"Hey Ron! Wait up. Ron," Harry dashed across the lawn, placing a hand on his friend to stop him. Ron turned angrily, pulling his robe from Harry's strong grip. He stared down at Harry, his face as red as his hair.
"What do you want?" he asked curtly.
"Look Ron, I know you don't like seeing Herm and me together. Hell, I know how you feel. I've had the same feelings when YOU were going out with her." Harry pushed up his glasses, and pushed back his hair that had flopped over his eyes. "Ron, I love her."
Ron, who had been opening his mouth in retaliation, closed it again. Despite his jealousy, he knew Harry deserved it, after all that he had been through in his life. He needed someone who truly loved him, Ron realized, and Hermoine might be the only person who could show him that. She was the next best thing Harry could hope for, after his parents, and everyone knew there was no hope in that happening.
Harry, who had been standing next to Ron patiently, finally said. "Ron? If you don't like seeing us together, then we'll try not to be with each other when you're in the room.
"What if I don't want you to be together at all?" came the hard, cold question. Ron had half-wanted to give them his blessings, but he caught sight of Hermoine walking towards them, and his pride took over.
+++
Hermoine had heard the question as she walked towards the two boys, both so close to her. Turning to Harry, she looked at him, waiting for his response. On his part, Harry kept silent. His green eyes darted from Hermoine to Ron, before resting them on Hermoine again. She saw the answer in his eyes even before he spoke it out, and she shook her head subtly, pleadingly.
"Then we won't be," Harry choked out. His hands were clenched tightly, his face red. "We won't be, not without you blessing. Bloody hell Ron, you're my closest friend. You're the closest thing I have to family. I won't do anything without you supporting me."
Ron studied his best friend, and a reluctant smile appeared on his face. "Congrats, old boy," he said. "You deserve it." Harry nodded his thanks. Ron looked over at Hermoine, and caught her smile. He smiled back in return, and excused himself tactfully, leaving Harry and Hermoine together.
Harry watched Ron leave, and he turned to Hermoine, who turned up to look at him, with arched eyebrows. He knew he had some damage control to do, and he led her towards the end of the lawn, a place where few ventured because it was so far. As they walked, he could feel her glance every now and then, but not a word he said.
He led her to a solitary stone bench under a huge tree. She sat down, and after a moment's hesitation, he sat down next to her. "Well? Are you going to explain?" she asked.
Harry took her hand, and was grateful when she didn't pull away. He stared at the castle in the distant, looking thoughtful, as if trying to think of the right thing to say. And he was, but he finally decided to tell the truth. After all, what was a relationship without truth?
"I knew how it felt," he began, squeezing her hand, as if drawing strength from it. He closed his eyes tightly as the painful memories resurfaced into his brain. "I remember seeing you and Ron, and hating it. I remember the cuts I felt deep in my heart, each time you looked at him. I remember the pain when you kissed him. I remember the anger each time he took your hand. I remember the jealousy, each time you smiled at him." Harry stopped, as those feelings stirred his emotions once again.
"I remember the hope, wishing it was me with you," he finished quietly. He avoided her sympathetic gaze. He didn't want her pity, he didn't need it. He needed her to understand. He needed her to love him. "I don't want Ron to feel the same way. Those feelings can tear you apart."
"Voldermort knew," Harry confessed, not noticing the flinch Hermoine gave when he spoke the name of the now-defeated wizard. "He knew I was vulnerable, he knew it was tearing me up. That's why he striked. That's why I nearly died. That's why Dumbledore gave me the key to the secret room. That's why I spent hours in there, away from you and Ron."
Hermoine felt her warm tears surface, creating pools in her big, brown eyes. She had never known Harry had felt that way about her relationship with Ron. She held hold to his warm hand tightly. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
"How could you?" was his bitter response. "You had eyes only for Ron." Hermoine flinched, although she knew Harry didn't mean it meanly. She knew the depths of his soul; she knew he didn't blame neither she nor Ron, although they were the cause of his breakdown.
"You could have told me," she whispered, using her other hand to lightly trace his jaw line, his short stubbles of hair that Harry had missed while shaving feeling rough to her touch. "Harry, you could tell me anything."
There was a silence. After what seemed like eternity, Harry looked at her, and gave a bittersweet smile. "You were happy," he told her. "I would never deny you that. Never."
Hermoine heard his words, heard the pain, heard the contentment weaved into the pain. Reaching out, she placed one hand on the back of his head, pushing him towards her. He hugged her tightly, suffocating her, and yet she didn't mind. She returned the embrace with the same amount of passion. Letting go, he lowered his head and she raised hers.
Kissing Hermoine was a refuge, Harry would later think. A shelter, where he could feel safe, where he could be happy. A place where he could finally feel love again, an emotion denied to him for so long.
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A/N: Next chapter all done! So, what did you think? All right, I don't care. I want reviews, otherwise there won't be a next chapter. =P. Oh fine, I'll probably still write the next chapter, but I really really want you guys to review. Boost my ego a little, will ya?