Confessions Part II
Light streamed through the window, dimly lighting the room. It was enough to bring Harry back into awareness. He tried to focus his thoughts but they raced wildly through his head. His attention turned to the warm, soft body resting neatly in his arms. She fitted perfectly, like she had been molded to fit his body. Long, dark lashes dusted her cheeks. Strands of silk-like waves splayed across her face and fanned out onto the pillow. She looked so innocent and vulnerable; lying there without a care in the world, her lips slightly parted. He had experienced many women come and go, some wanted and others unwanted, through out the past six years but none seemed to match the feeling of utter contentment that he felt with Hermione sleeping, curled up in his arms. In the space of six years, he had tried to forget the emotions that he felt when he was around her, feelings of complete and utter contentment, happiness and love. Not the usual love one would have for their best friend. Not the love one would feel for someone they thought of as a sister. No, this was the kind of love that gave you butterflies in your tummy when you thought of them. The kind of love that gave you sweaty palms and left you speechless when you tried to strike up a conversation. This was the love that would have you head-over-heels just to make them notice you.
It was also the kind of love that left you heartbroken when the girl of your dreams, the one person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, decided that they loved someone else.
What made the situation worse was the fact that, that "someone" was Harry's best friend.
But he was no longer. Memories of happier days, simpler days when Harry and Ron didn't have to compete for Hermione's affection were pushed aside. Those were days when the trio was just Harry, Ron and Hermione to each other. When there were no feelings of anything other than a brotherly/sisterly love and a deep respect for one another. But that had all changed.
It changed one day so long ago. A day that began with demons hiding amongst nightmares and ended with an angel watching over him while he dreamt of feelings he had never known before. His angel still watched over him while he dreamt.
Now it was his turn to watch over his guardian angel as she fell from her cloud way up in the sky.
If he had known that the world he had once known had turned its back on his dear friend he would have done something. He would have sheltered her from that cold, unfeeling world. Hidden her away from their schemes and plots against her. But instead he had been a coward. Instead, he had let himself be defeated and pulled away from any connections that had anything to do with Hermione and what he used to be. He had forced away the magical reality, turning towards the people and culture that he had known at a very young age.
Long ago, he had lost any yearning to know what was happening to the world in which he had become a man.
Long ago, he lost all yearning to be part of old friends' acquaintances. Instead he busied himself with the trivial world that was completely, as he used to refer to, "Muggle". He had made new friends and with them a new life. None of his business partners knew he was the "the Boy-Who-Lived", and ultimately the "Boy-Who-Defeated-You-Know-Who", or that he was once a wizard. None knew that he had left a realm with a broken and battered heart, empty of any emotion, six years ago.
As he gently stroked Hermione's cheek, he knew that even after so long, he had never lost the yearning to be with the beautiful woman lying sleepily in his arms.
Now it seemed, that he was not the only one in need of a sanctuary. The woman in his arms had run for her life in need of refuge away from the heartache that had become her life. Now he could protect her from reality and, from now on, no one could hurt her ever again. From now on she had no need to feel deserted or have to fight her battles alone. He was going to be her knight in shining armor. Someone to laugh with, someone to confide in.
A friend. Just as it used to be.
Or at least he hoped so.
He could only guess what had caused her to pack her bags and leave Ron. It had to be something terrible. He had never seen Hermione strung up so tightly. Subconsciously, he pulled her closer, his heart filling with concern and pity. Along with it came guilt, jealousy and hatred, hatred for the sick bastard who had done this to her.
Hermione awoke with a feeling of loneliness. She remembered that her bed hadn't been empty an hour ago. Far from it. Even semi-asleep she had felt the gentle caress on her cheek and the protective arms wrapped around her waist. She knew that it hadn't been Ron. Ron hadn't held her like that for over three years now. She blinked her eyes into focus and searched carefully for familiar objects to identify where she was. It took her a while to realize that she was at her apartment. She sat up on the bed, trying to recall what had happened last night. She looked down at the clothes that she was wearing and noted with relief that she was still wearing her jeans and sweater. At least she hadn't had wild sex with someone. With a groan she got up from the bed and pulled some clothes out from a bag at the end of her bed. She walked giddily towards the shower, stripping off her apparel as she did.
Gingerly, she stepped into the hot shower, letting out a satisfied sigh as her body felt the tension-relieving water splashing over her. Now that she was fully awake, the recollection of the night's events came floating back. The most vivid memory was the argument with Harry. Mentally, she pulled away from her thoughts of the raven-haired man. He had abandoned her.
Bitterness rose in her throat and burning tears formed in her eyes. Her heart felt empty and feeling of hollowness suffocated her. She breathed in deeply, trying to distance herself from the emotional ties that she still carried. Harry had broken her.
A younger Hermione had been one who lived with her arms wide open. She was a nurturer at heart and couldn't stand it when people closed down on her. Harry's coldness to her had made Hermione hide the emotions that she once used to express so openly. As she stepped out of the bathroom, exotic smells wafted through the room, leading Hermione into the kitchen to find Harry racing around behind the marble counter, stirring wildly, flipping this and that as he went. Curious, Hermione sat down and watched him silently.
Harry turned to see her sitting quietly at the kitchen bench as he madly cooked up breakfast. There was a distant look in her cinnamon brown eyes. She had closed up to him and was completely out of touch. He'd only seen her like this once and that was last night. He doubted that there was any way that he could get through to her. He piled scrambled eggs, bacon, mushrooms and an English muffin onto two plates. He slid one to Hermione, the other he picked up and took with him as he made his way out onto the balcony. He needed some space to himself. He had to get through to her. An impossible task, he knew. But he wanted to know how Ron had hurt her so badly. He wanted to comfort her. He stared at the plate in front of him. He had thought that he was hungry but the nausea in his stomach quenched any appetite he had. He forced the image of Hermione's blank face into his mind's eye and packed down the food. He had to speak to her and he wasn't going to leave her alone until he got an answer.
Hermione stared for a while at the plate in front of her and wondered if it was wise to eat. Her heart was still pumping. She had braced herself for Harry to say something but nothing had come. He had taken in the look in her eyes and left her.
Again.
Slowly she picked at the food on her plate and tried to eat the hot, welcoming breakfast. She managed a couple mouthfuls when the sliding of doors announced that Harry had come back in from the balcony. Instinctively, every bone in her body told her to run. Adrenaline pulsed through her blood, thoughts racing madly around her head. Too late. Harry stood in front of her, a determined look in his eyes. The only other time she had seen him look at her like that was last night. It was impossible now for her to run. It was even more impossible for her not to open up to him. No matter how sturdy the walls protecting her heart, Harry has always discovered a way to get in. He knew her too well.
She couldn't fight him anymore.
He pretended not to see the hint of defeat in her eyes. He fought of the urge to smile at the small victory. Instead he confronted her.
"Who did this to you Hermione? Why are you so sad?" he asked. Hermione pulled her gaze away his. There was a long pause while she thought about her answer. He had expected her to immediately reply with one three-letter word. But instead it seemed that she was pondering the question as if more than one person had hurt her so.
Finally, in a bare whisper she replied with a three-letter response. It wasn't what Harry had wanted to hear.
"You."
