Disclaimer: Don't own it. Unfortunate, I know.
A/N: Harry/Hermione one-shot because everyone could use them. Takes place at the end of Goblet of Fire, AU, slight movie-verse, etc. etc. Enjoy the goodness of pumpkin pie! Oh, and I forget whether or not students take their trunks down, but they do here, because it's important to the story.
'' random thoughts.
POV: Third Person omniscient
Rating: T. Because I just want to be safe.
Pairing: I really hope you know by now.
Summary: Harry heard Dumbledore say, "Personally, I've never had much time for heroes." Hermione, however has a second opinion.
Mutual Heroism
It seemed to Hermione that wiping tears from her eyes was all she was doing today. Cedric's memorial that morning let her somewhat emotionally strained. She never knew Cedric very well, but that didn't mean she had anything against him. He was a hard worker, something Hermione had always respected, and he was kind and loyal to his friends. In a way he was like Harry, whom Hermione looked up to a great deal. When she heard that Cedric was murdered by Voldemort, she couldn't help but imagine that Harry was also close to dying.
Hermione closed her trunk and looked around the empty room. Her hand was still tight from Harry squeezing it during the ceremony. Hermione's heart went out to him, now more than ever. It wasn't fair that he had to go through such emotional strain at such a young age. No one should have to. But Hermione knew that she would always stand by him. She wanted nothing else than to hold him and reassure him that everything would be fine, even though she knew how unlikely that statement would be.
Sitting on her bed, Hermione clasped her hands in her lap. She didn't know why or when, but she knew that she loved her best friend, Harry Potter. To anyone this wouldn't seem odd. Almost every girl in the school loved the idea of Harry and being famous. But Hermione saw past the label of "the boy who lived." She loved the humble, carefree, courageous, and slightly clumsy Harry. That is what she saw in him. A hero.
It was, in fact, cliché. She was his best friend after all. And she wasn't nearly as pretty as Cho, Lavender, or even Ginny. Then again, their love for him, if any at all, was for the idea of being Mrs. Potter, the fame and fortune they would acquire by his name. Hermione knew that she would probably never be seen as more than the bushy-haired bookworm. To her, beautiful and Hermione didn't belong in the same sentence.
"Oh hush now," she whispered to herself. "Don't go berating yourself. Harry is your best friend. So far he hasn't cared about your looks, and neither should you." These words brought short lived comfort. Hermione did, however, receive comfort from one recent memory.
It was Christmas time, which meant the Yule Ball was to take place. Hermione didn't recognize herself when she looked in the mirror. Her hair was soft and cascaded in curls from using Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, and she had a lovely blue dress. Harry's reaction was one of bewilderment and admiration, while Ron was a complete thickheaded git to her. He made it seem as though she was a child, and then made it clear that she wasn't deserving of Viktor Krum's attention. He made her feel worthless and hurt. Harry, though, made her feel happy, even though he didn't know it. Harry displayed a great swell of pride for her by not having a row with her about Viktor. He thought she was worthy of the great Quidditch Seeker's affection. Hermione respected him greatly for that.
Snapping out of her reverie, Hermione looked around her room one last time before scooting off her bed. She collected her trunk, opened the door, and was shocked to see the Headmaster Professor Dumbledore walking out of the boy's dormitories.
"Ah, Miss Granger," he said, acknowledging her. "Good day. I trust you are all packed?"
She smiled faintly, "Yes sir, completely."
"Wonderful. Then I am right to say I shall see you downstairs?" Hermione nodded. "Excellent. Would you like a lemon drop?" he asked.
"You have lemon drops?" Hermione was astounded. The Headmaster at Hogwarts having muggle candy?
"Yes of course. I have found them rather delicious," said Dumbledore with a wink.
As much as she wanted one, Hermione declined. "No thank you sir."
"Ah. Well goodbye for the moment, Miss Granger."
"Same too you."
As Dumbledore headed downstairs, Hermione saw a twinkle in his eye that was different than the one that usually resided there. It was if he was extremely anxious for something that may happen soon. Brushing it off, Hermione continued down the stairs a few moments after Dumbledore had. Half way down, Hermione heard a door open. Obviously curious to know who was coming down as late as her, she turned her head slightly, only to be welcomed by the sight of emerald eyes and black, unruly hair.
"Hello Harry."
He looked up, and his somber expression became one of relief. "Hey Hermione," he returned. Hermione noted the fatigue in his voice. Together they continued down the stairs
"H-how are you?"
"Good as I can be." Hermione didn't wish to push the subject anymore. Harry was in a right state and the last thing she wanted for him was to relive the terrible things that had happened only hours before. As she walked to the portrait to go to the Hogwarts grounds, Harry stopped her. "Hermione?"
She turned. "Yes, Harry?" came the earnest reply. Harry let go of his trunk and walked towards the small fire, hands in pockets. He then sat on the couch and looked at her. He had something to tell her. Without being told twice, she hurried to his side and sat, ready to listen to everything he had to say. Harry took her hand. Hermione felt immediate warmth, and it wasn't from the flames dancing before them.
"I need to talk to you, Hermione. I've been wanting to tell you everything that's been happening, but I couldn't do it last night. Not while the events were still so close to me." He paused. "May I?"
"Of course, Harry," said Hermione.
So Harry told her everything. About what he saw in the Pensieve with Crouch and his son, then how the Professor Moody that had been with them the entire year was Barty Crouch, Jr. and how the real Moody was locked in one of his own Dark Arts items- a trunk like cell. After this first confusing part of information, Harry paused for a moment to catch his breath. He glanced at Hermione, and despite the situation, smiled at her present state. She was in her proper thinking mode- furrowed brow, biting her lip, and twirling a bit of hair with her right index finger.
She spoke. "So the Moody at the tasks... that was all Barty Crouch's son?"
Harry nodded fervently. "He put my name in the Goblet of Fire so I would be killed! And when the first two tasks didn't finish me off, he bewitched Krum to take out Fleur and Diggory, but Cedric..." he paused. "Cedric disarmed him, and we both reached the cup. Crouch Jr. had made the cup a portkey, sending me and Cedric to the graveyard in my dreams so that Voldemort would kill me."
Hermione looked on the brink of tears. Harry hesitated in continuing; he didn't want Hermione to look anymore terrified than she already was.
Then, "Will you tell me what happened there, Harry?" she asked, so softly that Harry strained to hear every word.
He looked at her firmly. "Are you sure Hermione? I-I don't want to frighten you."
She shook her head violently. "No, Harry. I want to know. Of course, only if you want to tell me! I don't want to make you retell it to me! If not I understand-"
"I do. I want to tell you. Tell me if you want me to stop." She nodded. Harry sighed and began to tell her how they had landed in the graveyard, then Wormtail had come out with a horribly looking baby-type creature in his arms. He continued with much hesitation about how Wormtail, by order of Voldemort, killed Cedric with the killing curse. Harry struggled to keep his voice. He then told her about the bone from the father, the blood from the enemy, and the flesh from the servant. Hermione gasped and immediately made to look at his arm, but Harry stopped her. ("I don't want you to have to see it.") He went on about the death eaters, the torture curse, and finally about the duel, and how their wands connected. Hermione awaited every word with baited breath. Then Harry's voice became much happier as he told Hermione of seeing his parents again when the wands were together. They, along with Cedric's spirit, an old man, and the missing Ministry of Magic worker Bertha Jorkins, held off Voldemort as he escaped with Cedric's body. Harry suddenly stood and walked towards the hearth, blinking back familiar tears.
"Oh, Harry..." She couldn't finish. Then she, too, stood, and walked to him and coming to a stop right behind him. Harry went on.
"After I came out alive, you saw Moody take me away? ("Yes.") Well, he took me back to his office. I didn't know why exactly, but soon I found out. Barty Crouch Jr. was going to kill me there since Voldemort didn't. I would have been killed if Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape hadn't arrived." Harry turned around to face her.
Without any sudden warning, Hermione launched herself at him, enveloping him in a hug that both of them needed. Harry returned it whole heartedly, all the while getting goose bumps from Hermione whispering in his ear, "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry," and other things like that. As they pulled apart, Harry wiped away the tears from her face. He let his thumb linger on her right cheek momentarily, before he trailed his hand down her arm to her own hand and took it.
Hermione was shaking in a very noticeable way, whether she meant to or not. Harry hesitated before kissing her forehead and pulling her close. She relaxed visibly, but her silent tears soaked his shirt still. "Mione, please don't cry. It hurts me when you cry. It's alright now; it's all over."
She detached herself quickly and tried to ignore the growing cold that she felt. "Well for now! Voldemort is back, you know that! What if when you face him again you aren't so lucky?" Hermione stared into the fire, her shoulders shaking again. Losing Harry would devastate her.
"You'll always have me, Hermione," said Harry, coming to stand by her again. "I won't be going anywhere... if I do, you'll go with me." He grinned at her as she turned to him.
Hermione looked down and held her hands behind her back. "I know, Harry. I'm just scared. For you especially. I mean, not all heroes have their day," said Hermione, giving a faint sigh.
Harry smirked and shook his head. "I'm no hero, Hermione."
"According to who?" she asked. Harry looked at her with a loss for an answer. They stood wordless for a few moments till Harry found a reply.
"Well, to me. I haven't done anything for anybody."
Hermione openly gaped at him. She couldn't hide the surprise from his response. Hadn't done anyth- Oh, why that was the most absurd thing Harry had ever said. Ever.
"Haven't done anything?" she repeated slowly, as if realizing what those words meant together. "Harry! You've faced Voldemort four times and survived! In first year, you saved me from the troll! In second year, you saved Ginny, and in third year, you saved Sirius! Haven't done anything? You've done so much for all of us, and we've given nothing back! You're there for me to talk to, Harry, and that means the world to me."
It took a few seconds for Harry to register all that she said, and slowly he began to agree. He couldn't help himself, even though his conscience was constantly telling him to stop being so prideful. He had done those things. It was up till now that he thought they were meaningless. As the impact of her words sunk in, he felt a bit of satisfaction arise within him, especially concerning those of his best friend in front of him.
But then he shook his head, leaving Hermione with a fresh, agitated look. "I heard Dumbledore say to Crouch that he never had time for heroes. What's the good in being one if no one would appreciate you?"
Hermione couldn't stop herself. "I'll always have time for you, Harry." She could feel pink patches on her face. Harry glanced at her, and she saw a speck of hope in his eyes. Or maybe it was the fire.
It was then that Hermione Granger could no longer speak or think of any explanation for her previous statement, and she became oddly fascinated by her black, worn out shoes. It was only a matter of seconds until Harry's own tattered foot wear came into her line of vision.
"Hermione," said Harry. "Is there something you want to tell me? I'll listen. You've always done that for me. And I can't think of a better way to show my gratitude... at the time." Harry actually knew the perfect way to thank her, but decided to steer clear of that road if he wanted to keep her friendship.
She thought over his proposal for a moment, then shook her head 'no'.
"Well," he said, sounding very disappointed. "There is one thing I would like to tell you." Hermione nodded, and as his hand came to rest at the crook of her neck, she felt the warmth rush back in. "I...I, er..." Harry swallowed hard. Where was his Gryffindor courage? "I want to thank you," said Harry finally. "You've risked your life for me countless times, and you've always had the shoulder for me to lean on, and you've always had the ear to listen. The truth is I-eh, have never been more grateful to know you than right now."
Hermione looked genuinely overjoyed by these words, and she leaned into his hand which had moved to her cheek. If either felt the warmth and static running through that contact, they chose to ignore it for the time. Hermione gave him a watery smile, and he returned with his own lopsided grin.
"I'll always do that for you, Harry," she told him. "You deserve it."
As usual, Harry smirked. "Heh, I wouldn't say that, Mione." He moved his hand back to his pockets. Both felt rather cold.
"Harry you don't give yourself enough credit."
"And you give me too much." Hermione laughed and shook her head.
The silence grew from comfortable to slightly awkward. Both were battling at their inward feelings, both having the fleeting thought, 'Did he/she not feel the electricity? The heat? Or did I imagine it?' Harry, on one hand, was absolutely amazed at himself for not seeing it sooner. He had run after Cho, given slight recognition to Ginny's crush, and looked for random girls to take to the silly Yule Ball. But everything he needed was right in front of him. His faith, his courage, his hope, his sanity, his life. It was all there, in her. How did he not see her before? Why had it taken him so long? Harry needed his Gryffindor courage to get him out of this the way he wanted.
Hermione wished that she could say something. Awkward silences were scarce between her and Harry, and this fact made her extremely uncomfortable and nervous. Usually she could be laid back and carefree with him, but now she had the idea that anything she did might look wrong to him. Finally the only words she could say were, "I'm glad that you talked to me, Harry."
He shrugged, attempting to look casual, but knew he must've failed terribly. "Thank you for listening." He smacked himself inwardly. 'Is that the best you could say you thickhead?'
Hermione gave a forced nod and said, "I suppose we should head down. V-Viktor wanted to say goodbye." The last part was a barely audible whisper.
Harry grimaced. "Right." But then, the moment of Gryffindor courage came. The thought of Hermione talking and writing to Viktor made him as angry and jealous as Ron had been, although Harry was certain that his reason was a bit different from his red-headed friend. If he was going to do anything about his situation, he knew now was the only time. The thought of bearing Cedric's death and Voldemort's return alone made him cringe; he knew that with Hermione, he could do anything. And he meant, anything. He needed her. He wanted her... That startling thought broke him out of his reverie to see Hermione getting something from her trunk. It was a letter from Viktor, and to Harry's delight, she was looking at it with distaste and perplexity.
He walked up behind her. "Hey, Hermione?"
Of course, she turned to face him. "Yes?"
He exhaled. "I just... need to know." And before Hermione could think of a book to find an answer to his statement, he answered it for her. With his lips. On hers.
To say the least, Hermione was rather shocked. And of course, she couldn't respond to the wild sensation flying through her veins because suddenly, her lips were cold again. She stared at him in bewilderment. He thought her lack of reaction was refusal. In reality it was the exact opposite.
"I-I'm... sorry, Hermione," muttered Harry. He walked past her and fumbled to get his trunk.
But Hermione gasped in sheer amazement and happiness of what Harry had just done, and then wheeled around to say, "Harry James Potter!" He froze as he was bending over. Harry mentally slapped himself for doing such a rash thing to Hermione. He felt his face heat up as his gaze met hers.
"What ever gave you the idea..." said a breathless Hermione. Harry wanted to kill himself from the way things seemed to be going. "The idea that you should be sorry for what you did?" Hermione smiled. SMILED.
Harry was baffled. If he had just heard correctly, Hermione had wanted that kiss. Hermione, who had always been so secret when it came to her feelings, had just revealed them to him. He couldn't believe his ears. At the beginning of the year, Harry stupidly would have wanted to hear these words from Cho, or at least he thought he did. Before the thought of Cho was wonderful. Now, any thought of her tainted who he really was. Hearing Hermione say that felt better than when Gryffindor won the House Cup. It felt a million times better.
Not wanting to delay any longer, Harry gave a wistful smile before walking to her and cupping her smooth face in his calloused hands. She seemed to like it, which worked very well for his part. He lowered his face inches from hers and whispered, "Hermione, please don't scare me like that again!" Hermione grinned in such a simple way that Harry felt his heart in his throat.
Then, both equally nervous about what to do and exhilarated at what was transpiring between both of them, their faces made their way slowly to one another's until finally their lips brushed, sending shivers all the way down to their toes. Harry pulled her the short distance to him and his mouth crashed onto hers, a new sort of pleasure creeping in on him. Kissing Hermione was more exciting and relieving than the Quidditch World Cup could have been. He noticed that Hermione was better than a lot of things.
She kissed him back, her arms snaking around his necks and hands flying through his already messy hair. It went on for minutes. One arm had come around her slender waist and pulled her close, making her arch against him. Harry's mind had been blown beyond repair, and this was only making it worse. But in truth, he liked it like that. Then Hermione did some weird thing with her tongue that sent Harry over the edge of reason. When they broke away, their faces still inches apart, Harry saw her lip red and swollen and her eyes quite hazy. 'Goodness. I did that to her.'
Finally finding his voice, Harry asked playfully, "Wow, Hermione. Where in the name of Merlin did you learn to do that?" She smirked. "Did you read some in depth book on this as well?" He gave a smug grin.
"Harry!" she laughed, hitting him lightly on the arm.
"I was just curious," said Harry as he brushed his lips over hers again. It was here that Harry realized that being her hero was the best thing he could ever do.
Mmm mmm. Pumpkin Pie. Review and I'll send you some.