Author*s Note: And you thought you had gotten rid of me! :: evil laugh ::
Yes, I know, I said I wasn*t going to post again until at least next week,
but I managed to sneak this chapter in. I'm going to try to finish it
before next Sunday, because after that I*ll be gone for the rest of the
summer and then . . . school! Ahhhhhh!
Thanks sooooooo much to everyone who has written a review since I last updated: lilcrazy13, * (I like your name!), HrryPttrFreak87, Facade and Rachel A. Prongs. You are my new best friends! Have some oatmeal cookies!
And now . . . on with the story.
Chapter Three
Love Not Forgotten
The funeral was miserable. They were outdoors and the sun was burning with such intensity that Hermione had to squint to be able to the other people properly. Instead she found herself looking at the ground, which was worse because then she could see Ron*s coffin. Though they were in the shade everyone was roasting in their black clothing. Some of the ladies had handkerchiefs out, which they used to wipe both tears and beads of perspiration from their faces.
Everyone around her was crying, yet Hermione was not. She supposed that her crying jags yesterday had used up all her tears. Her pain was even deeper now. Everything she looked at reminded her of Ron and made her heart ache. When she look at the trunk of the tree under which she and the other mourners were standing, she remembered the time when Ron and Harry had nearly been killed by the Whomping Willow. She*d lectured them to cover how worried she had been. When she saw Mrs. Weasley sniffling under a tissue Hermione thought of the first Quidditch match in their sixth year. Ron had made a spectacular save but had gotten a bloody nose from a Bludger in the process. Still, he had been smiling as he raced over to Hermione after the game. Even when she looked at her own hands she remembered the time she*d been bitten by some strange beast in Care of Magical Creatures class and Ron had bandaged up her wound for her.
Hermione stole a glance at Harry, who was standing beside her. She knew that however great her pain was, Harry*s must be a hundred times worse. She could tell that he was trying not to cry and her heart went out to him. Her motherly instincts told her that she should comfort someone when they were suffering, but at the same time her mind was telling her not to, not here, not in public. But the motherly instincts took over and she grasped Harry*s hand tightly and gave it a squeeze. He turned to her and he actually smiled and squeezed her hand in return.
***
They held hands for the rest of the service, and when it was over they both walked over to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley was crying softly and Mr. Weasley*s face looked forlorn.
Mr. Weasley, in a voice so quiet that Harry had to strain to hear him, thanked them both for coming. Mrs. Weasley pulled herself together enough to say a few words, but her voice was quaking and silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
*Thank you both for being here,* Mrs. Weasley said. *It means so much to us.* Looking at Harry, she went on with, *You were his best friend. Your friendship was so important to him.* Then, her teary eyes fixed on Hermione, Mrs. Weasley said, *And you, my dear . . .* She paused, and reached up to lovingly push back a stray strand of Hermione*s hair. *He cared for you deeply.*
Harry sucked in his breath as Mrs. Weasley spoke to Hermione. Was it true, then? Had he really made Ron unhappy by keeping Hermione from him? Harry felt wretched and as soon as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gone he started to cry.
***
Hermione dug around inside her purse for her tissues. She found them and handed them to Harry, who took them immediately. Hermione gazed up at Harry, her brown eyes full of sympathy, and thought that it just was*t right for someone as brave and strong as Harry to be sobbing like this. She had expected to be the weepy one, and that Harry would comfort her, and here she was, doing the opposite.
Harry stopped crying and looked at Hermione. She smiled weakly and put a hand on his shoulder. *I know, I know,* was all she said.
***
Harry felt better just by looking at Hermione. It was true, after all. If there was anyone in the world who could understand how he felt, it was Hermione.
For years to come Harry would ask himself why he did what he did next, and he never found an answer. He kissed Hermione softly on the lips, but he broke away from the kiss so quickly that it was more like a peck.
The look on Hermione*s face was one of surprise. *What- what did you do that for?* she asked.
Harry was silent. Finally he said, *I don*t know.*
***
Hermione*s heart was pounding. Harry had kissed her. He*d actually kissed her. She did*t know what to do. She stared at the blades of grass which were swaying in the sudden light breeze. Hermione knew he was watching her, waiting for her to speak, but she did*t know what to say.
She felt Harry cup her chin in his hand and force her to look upward. *Hermione . . . * His voice trailed off. His brilliant green eyes, the eyes that Hermione loved so much, seemed to be staring into her very soul.
Hermione was trembling. He was leaning towards her, his hand was on her waist; he was going to kiss her again. When his face was so close to hers that their noses were almost touching, she said in a calm voice, *Why did you kiss me?*
Harry smiled in a bittersweet way. He kissed her on the forehead and whispered in her ear, *I guess I must love you or something.*
Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. A single tear was rolling down her cheek, and Harry wiped it away with his thumb. *Don*t cry,* he said softly. *Please don*t cry.* But his pleading only made Hermione cry harder.
*** Harry hadn*t expected this. He hadn*t expected Hermione to fall to pieces like this. *Don*t,* Harry begged again. *I can*t bear to see you cry.*
Hermione obediently stopped. She stared up at him with an almost fearful look on her face. *Harry,* she said slowly, moving his hand which was on her waist back to his side, *I can*t do this. We can*t just start over and pretend nothing ever went wrong between us.*
*We don*t have to start over,* Harry said. *We can learn from our mistakes.*
Hermione didn*t look convinced. She cleared her throat and said in a painfully formal voice, *I was going to stop by the Weasley*s on my way out, but it*s getting late . . . I have to go . . . work, you know. Please tell them I*m sorry.*
***
Hermione touched Harry*s cheek. The more she looked at him the more she could feel her will weakening. *I have to go,* she told herself. *I have to go before he kisses me again and makes me want to stay.*
She turned and started to walk away. At first she thought that Harry might come after her, but he didn*t.
Hermione only dared to look back when she was at her car. Harry was standing beneath the tree, watching her. She quickly got into her car and fumbled around in her purse for the keys. When she found them she looked up again. Harry was still there. The sight of him standing there, alone, made Hermione*s eyes well up again. She cried for a bit and when she cast another glance at the tree Harry was gone.
Thanks sooooooo much to everyone who has written a review since I last updated: lilcrazy13, * (I like your name!), HrryPttrFreak87, Facade and Rachel A. Prongs. You are my new best friends! Have some oatmeal cookies!
And now . . . on with the story.
Chapter Three
Love Not Forgotten
The funeral was miserable. They were outdoors and the sun was burning with such intensity that Hermione had to squint to be able to the other people properly. Instead she found herself looking at the ground, which was worse because then she could see Ron*s coffin. Though they were in the shade everyone was roasting in their black clothing. Some of the ladies had handkerchiefs out, which they used to wipe both tears and beads of perspiration from their faces.
Everyone around her was crying, yet Hermione was not. She supposed that her crying jags yesterday had used up all her tears. Her pain was even deeper now. Everything she looked at reminded her of Ron and made her heart ache. When she look at the trunk of the tree under which she and the other mourners were standing, she remembered the time when Ron and Harry had nearly been killed by the Whomping Willow. She*d lectured them to cover how worried she had been. When she saw Mrs. Weasley sniffling under a tissue Hermione thought of the first Quidditch match in their sixth year. Ron had made a spectacular save but had gotten a bloody nose from a Bludger in the process. Still, he had been smiling as he raced over to Hermione after the game. Even when she looked at her own hands she remembered the time she*d been bitten by some strange beast in Care of Magical Creatures class and Ron had bandaged up her wound for her.
Hermione stole a glance at Harry, who was standing beside her. She knew that however great her pain was, Harry*s must be a hundred times worse. She could tell that he was trying not to cry and her heart went out to him. Her motherly instincts told her that she should comfort someone when they were suffering, but at the same time her mind was telling her not to, not here, not in public. But the motherly instincts took over and she grasped Harry*s hand tightly and gave it a squeeze. He turned to her and he actually smiled and squeezed her hand in return.
***
They held hands for the rest of the service, and when it was over they both walked over to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley was crying softly and Mr. Weasley*s face looked forlorn.
Mr. Weasley, in a voice so quiet that Harry had to strain to hear him, thanked them both for coming. Mrs. Weasley pulled herself together enough to say a few words, but her voice was quaking and silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
*Thank you both for being here,* Mrs. Weasley said. *It means so much to us.* Looking at Harry, she went on with, *You were his best friend. Your friendship was so important to him.* Then, her teary eyes fixed on Hermione, Mrs. Weasley said, *And you, my dear . . .* She paused, and reached up to lovingly push back a stray strand of Hermione*s hair. *He cared for you deeply.*
Harry sucked in his breath as Mrs. Weasley spoke to Hermione. Was it true, then? Had he really made Ron unhappy by keeping Hermione from him? Harry felt wretched and as soon as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gone he started to cry.
***
Hermione dug around inside her purse for her tissues. She found them and handed them to Harry, who took them immediately. Hermione gazed up at Harry, her brown eyes full of sympathy, and thought that it just was*t right for someone as brave and strong as Harry to be sobbing like this. She had expected to be the weepy one, and that Harry would comfort her, and here she was, doing the opposite.
Harry stopped crying and looked at Hermione. She smiled weakly and put a hand on his shoulder. *I know, I know,* was all she said.
***
Harry felt better just by looking at Hermione. It was true, after all. If there was anyone in the world who could understand how he felt, it was Hermione.
For years to come Harry would ask himself why he did what he did next, and he never found an answer. He kissed Hermione softly on the lips, but he broke away from the kiss so quickly that it was more like a peck.
The look on Hermione*s face was one of surprise. *What- what did you do that for?* she asked.
Harry was silent. Finally he said, *I don*t know.*
***
Hermione*s heart was pounding. Harry had kissed her. He*d actually kissed her. She did*t know what to do. She stared at the blades of grass which were swaying in the sudden light breeze. Hermione knew he was watching her, waiting for her to speak, but she did*t know what to say.
She felt Harry cup her chin in his hand and force her to look upward. *Hermione . . . * His voice trailed off. His brilliant green eyes, the eyes that Hermione loved so much, seemed to be staring into her very soul.
Hermione was trembling. He was leaning towards her, his hand was on her waist; he was going to kiss her again. When his face was so close to hers that their noses were almost touching, she said in a calm voice, *Why did you kiss me?*
Harry smiled in a bittersweet way. He kissed her on the forehead and whispered in her ear, *I guess I must love you or something.*
Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. A single tear was rolling down her cheek, and Harry wiped it away with his thumb. *Don*t cry,* he said softly. *Please don*t cry.* But his pleading only made Hermione cry harder.
*** Harry hadn*t expected this. He hadn*t expected Hermione to fall to pieces like this. *Don*t,* Harry begged again. *I can*t bear to see you cry.*
Hermione obediently stopped. She stared up at him with an almost fearful look on her face. *Harry,* she said slowly, moving his hand which was on her waist back to his side, *I can*t do this. We can*t just start over and pretend nothing ever went wrong between us.*
*We don*t have to start over,* Harry said. *We can learn from our mistakes.*
Hermione didn*t look convinced. She cleared her throat and said in a painfully formal voice, *I was going to stop by the Weasley*s on my way out, but it*s getting late . . . I have to go . . . work, you know. Please tell them I*m sorry.*
***
Hermione touched Harry*s cheek. The more she looked at him the more she could feel her will weakening. *I have to go,* she told herself. *I have to go before he kisses me again and makes me want to stay.*
She turned and started to walk away. At first she thought that Harry might come after her, but he didn*t.
Hermione only dared to look back when she was at her car. Harry was standing beneath the tree, watching her. She quickly got into her car and fumbled around in her purse for the keys. When she found them she looked up again. Harry was still there. The sight of him standing there, alone, made Hermione*s eyes well up again. She cried for a bit and when she cast another glance at the tree Harry was gone.
