orokid/disclaimer: I don't own squat, but what's new really? Other than I don't own Harry Potter, and the song "There Is", by Boxcar Racer. Okay, this had taken me a while to figure out because I've been kinda busy, plus I had no idea which song to use. After listening to my sister's collection of music, I seem to have found the perfect song. (Truthfully, it had taken me longer to know which song to use than to write the fic.) And, once again, in case you missed this, I don't own anything. No song, no characters. Nothing.

Notes-

Lyrics

Flashbacks

Normal

Chapter Two- There Is

Harry gazed helplessly at the young woman who sat next to him, her eyes dull and watery. Ron's death had hit her extremely hard, more than he had expected it to, really. He wondered if this was how he was when Sirius had died. Their whole sixth year was of him mourning over his lost father-figure, and his best friends consoling him the best that they could. One time, he had taken his depression to a whole other level.

In his sixth year, he had tried to overdose on aspirin, failing thankfully with Hermione's help. She had used her extensive knowledge to flush out all of the toxins in his body and brought him to the infirmary. He had no clue how to thank her for saving him that day, nor did he think that she wanted any praise. The only praise he could offer her at that time was trying to be happy, for her sake as well as his, and to silently smile as she made his life all the better by… just being Hermione.

The emerald eyed man slowly turned off the lonely highway, onto the side where some few people would rest until a tow-truck would come. As his eyes moved to his closest friend, his sad green orbs never missed how she sighed heavily, almost unable to notice that the truck had stopped it's long drive. He wanted nothing to do other than take her into his arms and hold her until the hurting stopped, until she cried out her worth of past memories that would never be continued with the third member of their trio.

This vacation's useless
These white pills aren't kind
I've given a lot of thought on this 13-hour drive

Harry Potter scooted over to her seat, carefully placing his arms around her slim body in hopes that it would help both of them grieve. Doing so had made him remember the night Viktor Krum had broken up with her, the night he found her sitting by the lake with barely a soft glow left within her usually vibrant cinnamon eyes. He had held her in his arms in a loving embrace then too, unsure of what else she needed other than the only love he knew she would except from him.

But the other times this reminded him of was the times that made this forlorn, over-popular wizard love the woman she had become.

The day he had gotten his truck, for example.

The feeling he had received that summer day, when he had driven up to the Weasley's front door with a grin as large as the Grand Canyon, seeing her face light up so much by just seeing him in the front seat of something that didn't have lights twisting to different colors on the top of it, was something no quidditch game could give him. The two of them had stayed up until almost midnight, which was when Mrs. Weasley had gone outside to get them, chatting about how the Dursley's had bought Dudley two cars, one he despised so they had given it to him, and Harry driving school earlier that summer as long as Harry had promised not to come back.

Which, of course, he wasn't planning to.

I miss the grinding concrete where we sat past 8 or 9
And slowly finished laughing in the glow of our headlights

She held onto him, burying her face into his warm, over-sized t-shirt, forcefully holding back her tears Harry noted. It seemed like so much had happened since then. Too much was gone and he was unable to get it back. He couldn't go back and enjoy his final years at Hogwarts like everyone else. He was unable to go back and stop Ron from dying in his arms. The messy haired eighteen year-old had reached a conclusion after living his life as long as he did:

Time was a devil, he was.

I've given a lot of thought to the nights we use to have
The days have come and gone
Our lives went by so fast

"It's alright, 'Mione", he cooed softly into her ear, holding her, if possible, even closer. "That's a lie", he corrected himself dully, "Nothing's alright. Nothing will be. Not right now." His hands softly patted her back and stroked her hair caringly.

He felt her body shudder against him. She was letting go of the withheld waterworks, he noted with an extremely small smile, a little happy that she was allowing him to condole her once again this trip. No matter how many times she needed it, he thought to himself, he would offer her all that he had to give her.

Having her this close to him made him remember one actual day he had decided to tell her how he had felt for her, but everything had been misunderstood. It seemed to Harry as if his whole existence was misunderstood at the time, but he had realized back then that she was the only person to read between the lines, to understand his inapt environment and incomprehensible personalities.

Somehow, she hadn't that night.

"'Mione", he had whispered softly, finding it hard to breathe in her presence at the moment. He could only assume that it was because of all the effort he had placed in getting up the stairs to the girl's dormitories, not the fact that she had looked absolutely stunning in an old sleep-shirt an pajama pants. "I came to tell you something. It's about… Well, I love you, Hermione", he told her lamely, unable to come up with the right words to tell her how much she meant to him, that he'd kill himself if she said so.

But, slowly, he had begun to lose confidence in his admittance as she stared at him as if he had grown horns or something. Did his feelings made her that uneasy?

"As a friend should", he added quickly, his face a shade redder than he wished it was. "I just… wanted you to know that."

Quickly, he tried to make his way out of her room, only to feel her soft hand touch his skin, goose bumps growing at her beloved touch. "I love you too, Harry", she told him with a lop-sided smile, her eyes glinting with different emotions as he stared into them, him unable to comprehend what was inside.

I faintly remember breathing on your bedroom floor
Where I laid and told you, but you sweared you loved me more

Now, he only wished that he could go back to those days, to see her smile at him again like she used to. He didn't know why, but that simple gesture of upturned lips had always placed him on some new plateau, one he had never experienced until the day he had met her on the train-ride to Hogwarts so long ago. All he wanted to do for her right now was give her the same security she had always given him over the years.

Do you care if I don't know what to say

He held her for a moment longer, just before turning back to the wheel and continuing their hazardous trek that seemed to last forever and getting off the next off-ramp, pulling into a near-by hotel. It was a basic Best Western, but at least it was going to be their home for one night. He got one room, deciding it best since both needed the comfort of the other nearby, whether they would admit it or not.

As he easily pulled their bags into the room, he caught the scent of her not far behind, then the feeling of her hand holding his lower arm. He wondered how well she would sleep in this room, without the comforts of home or school dormitories. Would she cry herself to sleep, mourning their friend's death still? Would she fall asleep but dream of the day she watched her best friend die in their hands? Stranger thoughts invaded his worried mind:

Would she think of him while she slept in her dreams?

He shook his head. No. He couldn't think about that. Yeah, he did love her, more than a friend should really, more than the amount of crush Ron ever admitted to having on her. He had to be her friend, not want to snog her every moment of the day. He had to be her support on this trip of self healing, nothing more, and nothing less.

But God, he wanted to be more, to kiss her deeply and to make her tears go away.

Will you sleep tonight, will you think of me
Will I shake this off pretend its all okay

In the back of his mind, almost unnoticed with the current confused jumble of thoughts running through, was a hope that maybe, just maybe, this girl whom he loved was having the same trouble as him, for him.

Little did he know that she was.

That there someone out there who feels just like me
There is

Her tears of depression seemed to sway underneath the command of her beating heart, which quickened every time his pained emerald eyes would look upon her with such sadness, one she knew wasn't just from losing a good, close friend. There was hope within her soul, but she wouldn't make the first move and start kissing him after such an ordeal.

She remembered the notes he had wrote he throughout their time at the castle, enjoying the remnants of their childhood innocence still left over by the horrid actions of Voldemort. She had kept most of them, almost afraid that if she had thrown them out, he would leave with them. Hermione, the bookworm, the know-it-all, had only one secret that she had kept from her friends, both actually, and still intended to keep it a secret as long as she could, but…

Although she had always been one to disagree with writing notes during class, she had, truthfully enough, been meaning to write one to him since their fourth year, to explain to him why she refused to give up on him and why she wanted nothing more than for him to be happy with his choices- one especially by the name of Cho Chang (which she still disagreed with).

Those notes you wrote me
I've kept them all
I've given a lot of thought of how to write you back this fall

All the letters she had written to him beforehand, way before the bell of the towers chimed to tell all the students if they had been late or not. This bushy, brown haired young woman had written over a dozen of letters explaining to him how she had felt, and all of those letters were hidden in her trunk. She was planning to give them all to him eventually- eventually meaning sometime in the far off future, when she could forget how her heart sped every second he was near and laugh about it all with him sometime.

Some, you could peel off a second coating of Fred and George's high selling invisible ink, used only to erase what the witch or wizard desires. She had used the whole bottle almost, and refused to buy anymore after she had "misplaced" her favorite quill in a vat of the liquid.

With every single letter in every single word
There will be a hidden message about a boy that loves a girl

"Harry, would you mind if I slept with you?" she asked as innocently as she could, her tone soft and filled with the sorrow she felt to her core. His eyes, which had been looking into the mirror at his tired self wryly, averted to her, obviously surprised by her seemingly ridiculous request.

"W-What?" he choked out, blinking madly to make sure this wasn't some daydream he was having, that he wouldn't wake up in Saint Mungo's the moment he had awoken.
Do you care if I don't know what to say

"I just… need someone", she said, playing up the grieving friend routine to the best of her ability- which, it seemed, to be working exceptionally well as her blushing-like-mad best friend nodded, gulping for some unknown reason to her. Her heart appeared to be more than giddy of the news, although you wouldn't have known if you had looked straight at her grief worn face and body.

"Promise to sleep, though?" he asked her, worried over her health. He had known for days, ever since the final battle was leading up to the day where the prophecy would come true, that she hadn't been sleeping, that the pressure was getting to her. None of them truly had. She nodded solemnly, finally realizing just how tired she was as she yawned deeply.

Neither actually had changed into clothing that would best suit sleeping that night. The eighteen year-old quidditch player had shed his shirt, which had made Hermione wish to confess what she had been hiding for years right then and there. Her mind had wandered all on its own to what would happen if she did, the positive side stealing her visual aspect at the moment.

Will you sleep tonight, will you think of me
Will I shake this off, pretend it's all okay
That there's someone out there who feels just like me
There is

He heard his heart pound loudly inside his chest as he watched with hungry eyes as his best friend and, unknowingly to her, the love of his life turn her back to him, pretending to not know that he was watching her intently as she removed her t-shirt. Harry gulped once again, his eyes slowly drinking in the sight of her in just a bra and jeans. How would he get through the night with her like that? Especially lying next to him like she wanted to be? Would he actually sleep without having every single thought a man could have in the situation he would be in? Without waking her up in the black of night and confess everything he had done so well to hide?

He shook his head, turning around, hoping that doing so would pull his mind from the gutter. "Its okay, Harry", she said, barely above the volume of a whisper. "You can… look." He turned around slowly, loudly gulping in his fear that his body would find her sight more than enough to handle.

Do you care if I don't know what to say?
Will you sleep tonight, will you think of me
Will I shake this off, pretend it's all okay
That there's someone out there who feels just like me

Even he could tell, right through the lines of sleep deprivation and sorrow etched into her face, that she was probably as red as he was, if not more. "We are… best friends", he told her loudly, as if agreeing- although he was more forcefully telling himself the news. His voice was about an octave higher than usual, which made him instinctively cough and clear his throat, trying to hide the truth. "Right?"

Do you care if I don't know what to say?
Will you sleep tonight, will you think of me
Will I shake this off, pretend it's all okay
That there's someone out there who feels just like me
There is

"Yeah", she responded, laughing a soft chuckle nervously, looking at the one bed she herself had asked to share with him for the night. "This shouldn't feel… abnormal to us." The dark haired man cleared his throat once again, just before jumping underneath the covers, his flashing emerald eyes staring at her almost naked form, expecting something to happen. Neither of them knew what, but something was supposed to happen right then. And it felt as though they were denying fate as they did nothing.

Slowly, Hermione joined him, lying as far away from him as she could on her side of the bunk- which, to her joy and disgust, wasn't very far. Her arm stretched out to the light beside the bed which was on, turning it off with ease.

Ten minutes passed the two of them, their breathing steady and normal although both weren't able to fall asleep as easily as they thought it would be.

"Goodnight, love", Harry whispered into the darkness of the room, unknowing that the girl he had meant it towards had heard him utter the words. For what seemed like hours, she had taken into pondering what he had meant by that one little word. Maybe a friend type of love? Or was it more? After thinking all she could about it, and still getting nowhere, she drifted off to sleep, body's weariness finally grasping her into her calm dreams, where the two had no problem to love each other, where she could finally be honest to him.

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orokid: Okay, so that took me a while to think about and write at the same time. I didn't know what song to use on this chapter, but I knew it had to be happy at some point. Maybe you guys can request some songs for future chapters? I know what I'm using for the next chapter (I think), but I could always use the suggestions.

I promise to think really hard about the next chapter!

BTW, if you think that the ending was kinda fast, I was just trying to end it so I could go back on Gaia-online. Sorry guys, but I am addicted to it. I need a twelve-step program right now, I'm so addicted to it.