orokid/disclaimer: Well, okay … I'm back with the forth installment. Another song, another chapter, another dimension… Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I still own nothing and I'm still unhappy about it. What's new? Please note that I'll probably be updating a lot later (or sooner, whichever. Depends on how much fire is under my butt.) than usual because my mom is saying no more home internet use.
By the way, in case you haven't noticed yet, I'm using Maroon 5 this chapter! My friends will be happier with me now, and they won't try to kill me for never using a song sung by them.
I guess that's it for now. I'll try to keep posting and I promise that I'll try to update my Gundam Wing story Sees evil reviewers that read my other fanfics with maces and clubs. Eep. Don't kill me. I promise!
Once again, I don't own anything. I don't own this song (damn…) nor the characters. The song belongs to Maroon 5 and the characters to JK Rowling.
lyrics
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flashbacks
CHAPTER FOUR
Sunday Morning
Morning called to Hermione, which had been a usual thing for her around the time she was assuming it was. She had become used to the Hogwarts schedule- waking at one time, getting up long enough to get dressed, fumble about to find the bathroom with a haze from sleep still covering her eyes…
But she wasn't at school anymore. She was a graduate now, degree to do whatever she was capable of- which was almost everything a witch or wizard was able to do. Ron had made a joke that she could be Flich's cat's assistant, yet still get paid more galleons than him and another teacher combined. They all had laughed, and it only saddened her to know that he was now a distant memory of chuckles and smiles. Ron Weasley was…
…a spirit that visited her in her dreams last night.
She said that if he was so rudely going to interrupt with something that was so important, that he should somehow give her a sign that he was. That way she would have wet dreams about her and one certain wizard another time, and he wouldn't have to pretend to barf in a corner of the space he stood in.
His message had surprised her. He, a young man who had problems with saying what he thought about certain people (unless her was angry about it), had advised her to confess to Harry about what she felt toward him, a wizard who had defeated the most powerful man of their time. She couldn't possibly do that. He didn't love her.
Not like she loved him at least.
She slowly opened her eyes, listening to the lull of raindrops falling outside the room, sleepily pulling the covers toward her. She had forgotten that her best friend was still using them as warmth. At least, she had until she heard him moan as the cold enveloped him so quickly. Instead of awakening to the harsh removal of the covers, the brown haired witch felt the young man who had taken residence in the same bed as her last night (on her request, of course) snuggle closer to her body.
"Five more minutes", she heard him whisper as his strong arms firmed around her waist. She hadn't even known that he was holding her right then
How had they gotten into this position last night? Harry? Did he-?
Sunday morning rain is fallin'
Steal some covers; share some skin (I'd like that)
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in
"Harry, get up", she whispered, not entirely wanting to herself. She feared that if he had decided to get up, that this was to be the final time this would ever happen to her. She didn't want that. She wanted to be near him. Always.
But she needed to live up to the title that had been given to her by her fellow graduates- the ever resilient, always responsible Hermione Jane Granger. The last thing she needed right now, especially after what had happened during the second war a week or so ago, was to not justify that remark because she was responsible. She was resilient.
She was only human.
"I don't wanna", he mumbled childishly, pulling her closer, his face digging into her hair. She heard him breathe in, and she only wished that he had done that on purpose, not because he was sleepy and wanted to sleep a bit longer. "Just a little longer, 'Mione."
'At least he knows who he's talking to', she thought with a smile, placing her arms upon his as if to rest them. "Fine. But only a little longer. I'm waking you in thirty minutes, Harry." She only heard him grunt in response before she felt his arms loosen and his breathing become heavier.
This memory was going to always be imprinted into her mind, and it was going to be harder than she thought it would be to get them out of this position in thirty minutes time.
But things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do
Thirty minutes passed and there seemed to be no way that she was even in the remote thought process of moving either of them. With a sigh, she heard him murmur a spell, the windows letting in enough sunlight to wake him up.
His muscled arms slipped out from underneath her, and she blushed as she realized that she had enjoyed the feeling, and ambled out of bed, heading for the back of the room, towards the bathroom hidden by a wall that separated the room and the shower. She realized something as she heard the shower turn on:
How was he not realizing that she had slept in his arms the whole night?
She wished Ron were here. At least then she'd have a confidant to speak to about her hidden fixation with her best friend. That was the whole reason that they had broken up in the first place- she loved Harry and Ron had fallen for Luna. It was an agreement as lovers that they were better off as friends. Many times, she had spoken to him about her feelings and he gave the best advice he could from a guy's perspective. Not that she didn't find the hints helpful; It was just that she just didn't use any of the advice he had given her.
God, she wished that there was someway to get her best confidant back.
And I would glad hit the road, get up and go if I knew
That someday it would lead me back to you
That someday it would lead me back to you
Slowly, she closed the curtains, no light allowed to enter the room yet after waking up from her long, tiring sleep, and then used her magic to clean the room and pack both of their things. Nothing went wrong, not like it always had ever but she was glad to know that she had perfected the techniques so well that she barely had needed her wand to cast the spells.
She heard his shower end, only to see Harry come out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel around his waist and his glasses upon his face. She nearly fainted at the sight, remembering that this was how her dream last night had started before being so rudely interrupted.
His dark ebony hair, usually wild, was tamed by the water and a quick comb through his hair. She knew that they wouldn't stay that way, but it was just so much for her to see. Plus, his abs, although seen the night before, were dripping wet, the water gleaming seductively at her, seemed to be even tougher than she had supposed only hours ago.
Why was God tormenting her with this? Now, of all times? Why couldn't she just love some other bloke instead of him? At least then, gazing at him so hard wouldn't seem too bothersome to herself.
"No lights?" he asked her with a laugh, a crooked smile upon his face. As she shook out of her harsh gaze, she fumbled to the light switch, blushing like mad. She thanked the fact that there wasn't any light. That way, he didn't see how red her face was right then. "No. It's okay. I think its better this way. No unwanted parts seen in view then." She felt herself nodding, but only barely.
She was too numb at the prospect of seeing Harry without that towel…
That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
After dressing in the same jeans he had worn the day before and a white t-shirt, they walked together to his truck, both still in their own little worlds, the rain softly beating against their brows.
"'Mione, what day is it?" he questioned suddenly as he placed both of their bags down in the truck's bed. It just struck her that she didn't know herself. She had been too busy mourning and loving her two best friends, not to mention fighting in the world's second, more lethal might I add, war.
Hermione bit her bottom lip as she opened the passenger side door, staring down at the side Harry would be on seconds later. "I don't know", she answered him truthfully. She counted back, trying to remember the last day she remembered being important to her. Her mother's birthday, a week before the war had started. Thirteen plus… Take over the one… According to her calculations, today was-
"Sunday", he said aloud as he looked down the highway which lay beside the hotel, beating her to the answer to her displeasure. "Not a lot of people on the road today." His gaze turned to her, and he only smiled. "We can take as long as we want."
"Yeah", she whispered back at him, his smile catching. "Let's go slow today."
The dark haired adult jumped into his seat, overturning the engine. Today, it was just her and him on the road. She had forgotten to mourn, to look sad about her friend's death. All she could think about was that she didn't want to stop driving with him, that she never wanted to stop smiling and laughing with him ever again, and that she would always have this feeling shown yet not known.
Driving slow on Sunday morning
And I don't ever want to leave
Harry and Hermione's laughter paused as they passed a place in the middle of nowhere that both of them held dearly, secretly, remembering a past memory that seemed to sting their hearts. He pulled over, trying not to allow the memory to overtake him at his presently weak state, and stared straight down at the steering column. His hands seemed glued to the wheel.
A soft familiar hand touched one of his tense palms, and he sighed out a breath he hadn't known that he was holding. She understood. More than anyone else would.
This was where Voldemort's downfall took place.
Where Ron died in their arms.
Where their innocence was lost to the next generation.
This was Hell.
Hermione gave him a reassuring smile, wanting to do anything that would take his mind away from the pain that this place made them both remember. They had been running for a couple days now, trying to escape everything that they could of the war's pain, of their past. Now, they couldn't hide from it. It was right there, beside them.
On an impulse, she moved toward him, slowly but… she was moving towards him. Her lips parted slightly as she moved closer, close enough to feel her breathing on his cheek. Was she-?
"Forget", she whispered into the air, touching his face with a worried hand, her fingers lightly dabbing the scars on his left cheek. She remembered how he had received them. During the final battle, one of the women Death-Eaters had clawed him in the face. He only allowed a silent scream escape his scabbed lips as the pain had coursed through his veins.
Fingers trace your every outline
Paint a picture with my hands
Her arms circled around him, her eyes drowning in the tears that she knew were coming. How could she ask him to forget the pain in their lives so fast when she herself had trouble placing the pain behind her. What type of person was she to say such a thing?
Then she realized that, once again in life, she, Hermione Granger, was being hypocritical.
But here he was, smiling, although weakly, and nodding at her as if he didn't care how hypocritical he was being. They had survived a war together, their best friend had 'kicked the bucket', and they still were standing as strong as they could under the pressure the world placed upon them.
And back and forth, we sway like branches in a storm
Change of weather, still together when it ends
They sat there until nightfall, the engine off and their gazes lost upon the world. Yet their minds were centered upon the same subject- how the world would have been without the other, just the same as with Ron still among the living.
Every time their thoughts about their lost friend came to the surface of their minds, they both seemed to remember what he had said during their dreams. Hermione would blush madly, unsure if he should have even seen that. She didn't really care if he was dead- he had walked into her most erotic dream and he had needed to be punished immediately. Something that had to be worse than death, she told herself, her face growing even pinker at the memory.
Harry, on the other hand, would just stare at the leather bound steering wheel, slightly red-faced, just thinking about how he would keep his promise to Ron.
His head swiveled to look at her, his emerald orbs drinking in the sight of her every curve and her surprisingly red cheeks. This, of course, gave the dark haired young man an idea.
That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
She was cold- that's why she looked so red- and she needed some warmth, right?
One of his hands dug underneath his seat, fingers clinging to whatever he felt that he needed at the moment. Where was it? Keeping to his blind search, he finally felt something soft at his fingertips, bringing a small smile to his lips.
"Come here", he ordered lightly, pulling out a bundled up blanket from under him, it burnt lightly on it's edges and looked to be a couple years old.
Dumbledore had sent it to him on his birthday this year. At first, he had been confused- until he had seen his initials on the corners and a message of love from his own deceased parents. The message was nearly worn out by now, but he knew that it was there, strung into the fabric forever, no matter what would happen.
Hermione, although a little confused, scooted nearer to him until she was right up beside him. She took her chance to smell his musky scent, to enjoy being so close to him, only to feel something wrap around her legs. Looking down, she noticed the blanket he had been fiddling with before the final battle encircling both of their legs. Why did he-?
She shook her head. This was plain, nice Harry. He didn't do this for any other reason other than the fact that he cared for her.
"Sleep", he told her with a smile, turning the cold engine over. The noise almost whited-out the sound of raindrops hitting against the truck, but you can always hear rain no matter what you try. "It's been a long day." He patted his shoulder, gazing at her, his emerald orbs seemingly playful for the first time in a long while. "This will always be here as your napping space, 'Mione."
She nodded, lying her head down upon his calm shoulder as he pulled out from the space they had sat in for hours on end. He drove slowly, either wanting to escape an accident from the rain or just trying to lull her to sleep with his easy breathing.
Whichever it was, it was working.
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
And I don't ever want to leave
Memories beckoned at her dreams.
"'Mione, do you love Harry?" Ron asked her, him saddened by a fact that hadn't been presented to her at any time. She looked at him, unsure if the question was serious or just a joke. If she said yes, either way she'd have one less boyfriend than she had yesterday, and her current total at the moment was only one.
"Of course, Ron", she answered almost defiantly, hoping to hide her blush as she pulled a large book with an incredible two-thousand pages in front of her face. "He's my best friend. Why wouldn't I love him?"
"Hermione", he called to her seriously, a thing this red-headed young man had always had a problem of with her, him unmoving from his current position in the chair opposite of hers. He reached over the space that separated them, his hand pulling the book down from her eyes. "The truth, 'Mione. I promise that I won't be so mad."
"Says the man who exploded to Harry about getting into the Tri-wizard Tournament", she muttered to herself, closing the book that was in her grasp. "Why does it matter all that much, Ron?"
"Because I don't want to be the reason that's holding you back from your true love", he explained sadly, his eyes glued to the floor now. "I'd understand it if you were. He's just… bloody perfect. I can't compete." He looked up briefly, giving her a weak gaze. "I love you enough to let you go, 'Mione."
"Then…" She bit her lower lip, not quite trusting herself to answer him truthfully. If she told the truth, how would he take it? He had said that he'd understand, but she truthfully didn't trust that. He was the type of person to say one thing yet end up doing another. Her answer stayed stuck in between her hesitant 'ums' and 'uhs', and that didn't give him all that much hope. "I… I guess so, Ron", she whispered, defeated by her own inner struggles.
"I guess… no more us."
She nodded sadly, feeling horrible for telling her boyfriend that she loved another man. It seemed to be the knife in his wounded pride; she understood it like that inside her head. "Friends still? All of us?" she asked, hopeful that this hadn't ruined everything.
He watched her with an amused smile. "Of course."
But things just get so crazy, living life just gets so hard to do
"Harry…" she mumbled out as she slept peacefully on his shoulder, surprising him out of his mind. So much so that he had almost slammed onto the brakes and pull over to the side again so he could wake and question her about it.
What was she dreaming about? And what did he have to do with it? Was it about him? If so, was he good?
"Harry…love … Ron… me….I … why… love…"
He didn't understand. It was just a mumbled speech of burbles to him, and it was killing him inside to no end that he didn't know what her dream was about.
He felt her snuggle up into his side a little more, her head burying itself into the crook of his neck, softly sighing in a content way that it even made the tense eighteen year-old young man calm down. It didn't matter right now what she was thinking about in another universe. All that mattered to him was that she was alive and currently, although slowly, getting herself into a position that would call for questions once again.
And Sunday morning rain if fallin' and I'm calling out to you
Singing someday it would lead me back to you
Harry continued to drive, careful not to awake the beauty that slept on his shoulder for about an hour now. He was even going numb by the pressure that was placed upon his arm.
He wondered what Ron would say. Probably something about waking her up and telling her that he loved her with every fiber of being in his soul, then to pull over to the next stop and snog her senselessly. Yes. That would be something Ron would tell him. Also, the red haired man would somehow put in a comment about driving to the next town and doing… something else… senselessly to her.
Not that he was going to pay attention to the advice.
At least, not right now.
Find a way to bring my soul back home to you
And you may not know
That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
I'm drivin' slow
Harry smiled peacefully, resting his head upon hers as he drove, never keeping his eyes off the road or his mind off of the young woman beside him.
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orokid: Well, what do you think? A little weird? Maybe, but it all depends to you. As of now, I have no idea what song I'm using for the next chapter so I'd like your help on this one. Please. I'm not joking. I'm looking through all my favorite songs and I still can't find anything. Cries and grabs your shirt. Please! Help me! I need help! Not just mentally any more! Goes back to normal Oh, and by the way, have any of you noticed that my chapters have ended up like J.K. Rowling's books- longer than the last, I mean. I'm trying to cut down, although I'm asking if you'd like it like that. Tell me if you'd like my songfic-chapters to be longer. I'd appreciate it. Thanks.