orokid: Heheh… yeah… so I changed my name. Sue me. Anyway… I got bored, and I really like this group! Lol. This is my second song made by this group, but it's not the second song I've used in my fanfics writing career!
Disclaimer: No ownership of Harry Potter or the characters let alone the song "Not Just Me" by Rascal Flatts. Plot- kinda, but not enough that it's completely MY idea… but whatever. Don't sue, 'cause I don't have any money…
Lyrics
Normal
Memories
'thoughts'
Chapter Six
Harry couldn't remember how he had winded up in the arms of the woman he had been holding the night before. He could barely remember how he had driven into the parking lot of a nearby inn, and how he had asked for a room, and how he had stumbled inside with her on his heels.
And how she had asked to, once more, join him in the same bed, claiming the same reasons as before.
But… here he was, the two of them entwined with one another as though it were the easiest thing in the world. And to Harry, it was the hardest thing to get out of- especially in the mornings, when all he wanted to do nowadays was to hold onto her and never let her slim form from his embrace. And why, of all things, was he awake and just now noticing these things?
Because he had found it becoming harder each time to fall into his dreams while she pressed her body to his in the middle of the night. He couldn't have nice, sterile dreams while she'd wrap her arms about his waist and hold him tight, saying his name every once in a while (although he wasn't sure if it had been out of fear or ecstasy, although he'd secretly like the latter of the two…). Sure, to Harry, 'sterile' meant that he'd be reliving the entire bout with He-Who-Killed-Harry's-Other-Best-Mate, but it was better than feeling his… um… wand… yeah, wand… rev up with… uh… magic. Especially against the person whom his 'wand' was reacting to.
And, to anyone who didn't understand yet, he'd dream of the two of them, of her, doing things that shouldn't be mentioned here. At least, not yet… He had to sum up the courage (because his Gryffindor pride seemed to leave him each time he was by her side).
Tell me you've had trouble sleeping
That you toss and turn from side to side
That it's my face you've been seeing
In your dreams at night
But it wasn't as it he could do anything about how his mind would react to her closeness- but he should be used to it! How many nights had he and Hermione fallen asleep upon each other in the common room while working on a report, or just reading about something or nothing in particular? Too many to count!
But that though alone made him think of some of those mornings, where something he couldn't even get explained to him happened.
Harry shook himself awake, not sure where he was but obviously trying to remember. There before him were many things that could jog his memory, of course, like they would always when this happened- and the brown curls that seemed to obscure his view every once in a while seemed to jog his memory as well.
They had fallen asleep, right there on the couch, his right hand still standing on the paper with a quill still laying lazily in his grip- although there seemed to be a large blotch from where the ink had dripped onto the page, staining it until it had become useless. That meant that he had to start all over again, as 'fun' as that sounded, but he didn't want to be the one to cost his house points from Potions, like always. Not that it mattered all that much, considering the fact that their certain teacher seemed to have it out for him…
Still… he didn't mind it at all. There was a reason to it, like there always was when things like this happened, but he wouldn't throw himself around and act like a child, such as their good friend Ronald would have by now. And the reason was simpler than anyone could understand- the woman he loved had spent her night with him and had found her place to dream on his (now numb) arm, albeit inadvertently.
But that wouldn't ruin the feeling inside his body. Nothing could. She was too perfect for him, so a treat like this was welcomed more than anything he had gotten in his entire life.
But… something did pull him out of his perfect reverie. His unfocused emerald eyes (since his glasses had somehow found their way off of his face) had turned to look at the blurry yet angel-like form of the young woman that was his One and Only, the love of his life, and found his heart breaking with every millisecond that was passing.
She was crying in her sleep.
"'Mione?" he asked softly, nudging her gently, trying to wake her from whatever it had been that had caused tears to come to her eyes. He was worried about her, and he wanted to see what he could do to cheer her up. All he knew then was that he'd do everything in his power to hear her laughter, see her smile that would day, even if it'd make him look like a total buffoon before his very peers. It didn't matter to him what people thought of him when she was like this. What did matter was her happiness, and he hated it when she was sad.
"H-Harry?" she whispered gently, slowly opening her eyes, and the young man's heart broke even further at the sound of her voice. She had sounded terrified, and he had a gut feeling as though he had been the whole doing of her fear. How could he be, though? It's not as though she though of him like that, hurting her when all he would ever think of doing (even now) was kiss her pain away.
Almost surprising him, her arms had tightly wrapped about his body, sobs reaching his ears now, and he wondered if waking her had been the right thing to do. "Shh… Shh… It's alright. I'm here."
She nodded gently as she cried to her heart's content, although she refrained herself from saying anything more, but it HAD seemed as though she had wanted him to promise her something, as she had always had him do when she had a nightmare. It usually was 'I'll be more careful' or 'You know I wouldn't do that' or… well, the list went on. He just didn't want to name all of the things he had agreed to.
And he still hadn't gotten an answer for what she had been so afraid of back then, to only cry into his shoulder and embrace and say absolute nothing. She'd avoid the question, or say right to him that she felt uncomfortable telling him. That alone had always gotten him off of the subject and onto ones that she would answer to- like what she had read lately or what had happened with her.
All he knew was that he missed wrapping his arms around her like a friend would, without cursing his body's reactions to her touches or holding on longer than he should. At least then it wouldn't have been so complicated.
But, then again, he liked the complications that were there. He liked how his chest warmed when she looked at him and smiled. He liked how butterflies would erupt from the pit of his stomach when she'd say his name. He just loved everything there was about her and all the things she made him do and feel. If she didn't make him feel all of these things, than he'd be an empty man without a clue on how love feels or have any hope of finding it.
Tell me that you wake up crying
And you're not sure exactly why
Tell me that something is missing
In your life, in your life baby
Harry wanted to just admit to her all the feelings in his heart, that he could take her into his arms and kiss her like no other. But he couldn't. His courage wasn't as strong as people thought it should've been, considering who he was, since it had been spent fighting in the war. He couldn't drop his best mate facade for the world, but he wanted to.
He wanted to tell her that she was all that he had ever wanted in a woman, and that he was madly and deeply in love with her. It was impossible, but it was still a wishful ideal that he wished to have done.
And he wanted her to feel the same for him. Yet another stupid ideal that he knew wouldn't ever be reciprocated. No matter how long he'd want to hear those words come from her lips, they wouldn't ever be spoken, so he didn't want to break his own heart by taking the step towards something they most certainly couldn't be.
She… loved Ron…
And she couldn't ever love Harry Potter, the Man-Who-Lived. Not as much as he would always love her.
Tell me that you live for love
That forever is never enough
That you've waited all your life to see
That you want so badly to believe
Tell me that it's not just me
Hermione listened as he steadily breathed, although she wouldn't dare open her eyes and let him know that she was wide awake and simply using him as a cushion for the nightmares (or VERY pleasant dreams) that were to come. But it wasn't as though she'd tell him that either, since she'd die of embarrassment for either one of them- one because they were about him dying endlessly, and she couldn't do a thing while Voldemort and his followers cursed him into his own destruction.
And the other… well… that seemed to be more than obvious… especially since her other best mate walked in from one while he was supposed to be in the grave.
But her memories repeated of this one memory she just couldn't ever forget, no matter how hard she'd try to. It was just something that wasn't meant to be, she supposed, and it wasn't in her to fight with her soul anymore.
She had found herself out under the shade of the great oak tree that stood beside the magnificent lake- although it didn't seem all too wonderful while the skies above poured out the tears she only wished she could shed. Still, despite the fact that she had taken cover underneath the tree, she had been soaked to the bone, her uniform sticking to her like elastic did to whatever it was wrapped about.
But… it was beautiful, but not the sort of beautiful where you ooh and ah over it's innocent state, glistening in the mid-afternoon sun. Its beauty came from the tragedy its look upheld, the mask of rain hiding everything about the landscape except the lake before her now. Its beauty came from the fact that it reminded her of a boy she could not have, that she wouldn't ever have in her arms, loving her like she loved him.
As the rain lessened, her view of the world surrounding her opened to a wider expanse, showing the form of a man with a smile upon his face. His raven hair glistened in the rain, and his skin looked as though he should be an appetizer in some sort of restaurant- the kinky sort of ones, mind you, although she'd never admit to anyone that she had thought that. Especially about a young man who she was watching while she hid beneath the branches of an old magical tree, having no clue if she knew him or not.
His head was tilted upwards, as though he was looking to the sky- but his eyes were closed so that was surely out of the question. Still, her heart couldn't help but pound excitedly within her chest at the sight of him, dripping with the water the rain poured upon them both.
Then… his eyes opened, gazing into the pouring heavens above them, showing to her the emerald pools she so very much liked, although never admitted to such a strange fascination. They didn't keep their intended course for long though, and, as if he had felt her gaze upon him, turned his eyes to look straight to her, watching her watch him.
And a smile came to his handsome features, causing a rushing heat to come to her cheeks.
She shyly smiled back, forcing down the words that dared to barge out from her lips, into the world where her confidence rested only in battle and not in relationships.
Standing, the young woman with chestnut hair plastered to her lovely face ran towards the boy, grinning like a fool even though she knew her precious books were possibly getting wet. Hermione dropped her book bag, running into his strong arms as soon as she was able to. She started to laugh as he caught her, seemingly hitting him with full force. Words begun to spew from her lips, no matter how hard she had tried to hold them back from his ears.
"I missed you, Harry! I can't believe you're finally here! I know it's just Hogwarts and all, but-"
The boy put his fingers to her lips, stopping her sentence, chuckling as he did so. He seemed so at ease, and her heart pounded within her breast. So far, as she watched him give her that sheepish smile, holding her gently even though Mrs. Weasley (if their dear friend wrote to her about it) or some professor would be after them because they didn't come in immediately, since it is raining. "Let's get inside, 'Mione." His sheepish grin grew ever so slightly, and she felt herself bite down on the inside of her bottom lip so not to drool over it. "No need to get hypothermia just because you wanted to see me come back."
"But-"
"No buts." He smirked at her, pulling her close to him, not caring if she tried to pull from his embrace- which, of course, she didn't. "No more talk. Just… Just let me hold you, alright?" She nodded, snuggling into his embrace as the rain began to lighten up to a gentle sprinkle. "It's just that-"
This time, Hermione silenced the young man, smiling at him with care. "I don't need to be told what happened, Harry, because it's between you and him," she told him, wrapping her arms about his waist the best she could. They both knew who she meant by the phrase- Sirius Black had fallen into the veil, and Hermione Granger, the girl he had been friends with since he ever had friends, had nearly joined him in the ranks of the dead.
It was more than obvious to her that he felt sorry for risking her life, for nearly killing her because of his failure. Although Pomfry had just released him by now, he'd always apologized previously to this moment, whether verbally or with his eyesight alone, whenever she entered the infirmary.
And, as the rain subsided, the two held one another- one for assurance, and the other just to hold on.
She had felt so stupid for bringing up his godfather at the time, but she knew, and he knew, that he had needed to hear that someone cared. Hermione knew that he just needed someone that wouldn't make him talk about it, but still would hold him without talking. And she was glad to be just that for him, holding on to a moment in time that couldn't ever be relieved.
The young woman with chestnut colored hair knew that he'd forever be hurting for his losses, but she just had to be there for him- through rain, sleet, and shine. She had to be his mail truck, sending him merely words of encouragement and care, and to hold on when he needed it the most.
I could have sworn I saw you smile at me
Standing in the pouring rain
At a loss for words and running out of time
I said this crazy thing (crazy thing), I said
'I never want to let go', she thought to herself as she moved in closer to him, wrapping her arms tighter around him. The young woman snuggled in, knowing that he wasn't asleep at the moment, knowing that he supposed she was. For a fraction of a second, she thought that she had heard his heart quicken within his body, which was very close to her's at the moment. But, as soon as it was there, it was gone, and her hope for a returned love seemed lost to her. Harry wouldn't ever look at her again as someone other than a friend who needed a helping hand, who needed help after a mutual friend had met his end. The emerald eyed god that she held onto right at that moment would never see her, a mere mortal breathing in and out as calmly as possible while in his presence, as anything but what she had become to him as a child- his friend.
And it hurt to know that. Her pain and pleasure radiated from the exact same person, whether he knew of it or not.
She just wished that, for once, he could see her as a girl, and not the trademark smile he gave to only his closest best mate- who just happened to have breasts and a high pitched voice, instead of the masculine ideal that muscles were what would make you wonderful to a woman's eye.
Although, personally, she couldn't admit to ever complaining during their hugs, or that night he held her, dressed only in pajama bottoms…
Tell me that you live for love
That forever is never enough
That you've waited all your life to see
That you want so badly to believe
Tell me that it's not just me
"You're awake", he whispered softly, so not to wake her just in case his thoughts and feelings had been wrong. Not that he'd admit to ever whispering his knowledge (or ideas) to her at this moment, let alone any other one. Maybe… just maybe… he would tell her of his thoughts and feelings, of his heartache and internal warmness when there wasn't any reason to worry about rejection, about being without her ever again.
Maybe.
But, then again, maybe not.
He felt her freeze within his arms, a certain way to tell that she was- in fact- awake right at this moment. The emerald eyed young man could feel the fleeting yet wondering question, asking him why she hadn't said something to him about their closeness. 'What if she likes you?' his heart would ask him with excitement, but his mind would shoot down that idea immediately, barely allowing it a moment's breath. 'What if she just did it because she didn't want to wake you up?' The questions were there, and they weren't the sort to ever go away to tell the truth, but… for now, he'd ignore them. Why not? It was easier to pretend to never have loved her than to tell the truth, to say those three little words that could kill a man with only a few more.
Her answer would be "I'm sorry", but he just didn't want to hear it. Not now, when his heart was so weak after the war and losing his best mate. Not now, when he was still a boy trapped in a man's body. Not now, while he was still healing, while he was recuperating in his own sort of way.
Just… not now. And, hopefully, not ever.
"You are too." Her words seemed a tick or so too late, although he barely noticed it with as much of a thought that maybe she could have been panicking because he knew her so well. Harry assumed that it was mainly because she had been asleep earlier, and that she had shaken herself awake only moments before. With a smile on her lips, although she did her best to hide it, she began to think of what to thank the Powers-That-Be for. Sometimes, she thanked God for her friend's thick head, and that he wasn't as in tune with a woman's emotions as she would've liked him to be at times.
Although there were those other times when she was just so frustrated that he didn't know of the signs she was giving out like no other… But now just wasn't one of those times. It was the one where she was glad for his informative ways, and that he just accepted her sometimes awkward behavior like it was nothing.
"What's wrong? Thinking, or… can't sleep?" His words had surprised her, considering the fact that he never took to asking her that sort of question. It was like it had been a forbidden line that they hadn't dared to cross before, yet… here he was, asking her the forbidden question as though it was nothing at all. Why did he have to be interested in her thoughts now, when all they consisted of was him?
With a sigh, she answered him, but it was only because she just didn't know what else to do about it. She had to answer him, or else he would grow concerned and protective of her, thus not allowing her to go back to her musings. "Just thinking, Harry." About you… "Go back to sleep. It's no problem."
He seemed all the more hesitant to question her about it some more, but he knew that tone of voice more than he knew his own. No matter how worried he'd be of her, she'd never answer him with the one he wanted- so why try if all he was going to get was a goose-chase? The fact is, there just wasn't any good why around her stubborn-mindedness, and so he just wouldn't try. "Alright, Hermione. You win. I'll go back to sleep, just because you said to."
'No battle. No World War III, like Ronald would've done.' She smiled thoughtfully at his words, snuggling into his embrace as he began to drift off into dream world once again. She was the happiest in his embrace, and he was thankful for it. 'That's why I love you. You're willing to give me space and time to open up, and you don't try to force anything out of me- if you know I won't tell you, but still…' Once more, she sighed, although, this time, there was happiness embedded within every molecule of oxygen. And it was because of him.
He was the one she loved, and the only one she ever could love.
Hold me now and tell me that you do believe
In a soul, a soul mate
And tell me, and tell me, tell me
Harry wrapped his arms protectively about her waist, his arms her reassurance that she would wake up to see another day. She was the one who gave him that same hope, the faith and knowledge that there would be another day on the horizon. This cinnamon eyed woman was the one who encouraged him to believe that there was a life beyond Voldemort, and that he could live past everything.
Now, all he had to do was make sure she understood the same. He wanted to be her pillar of strength so bad, and he hoped that she trusted her body and soul to him every night they laid in each other's arms like lovers even though they were just friends (although he did like the first thought very much…). This incredible woman needed to know that there was a life beyond Ron's death.
She needed to know that he was there for her, even when no one else was. Hermione Jane Granger, the beautiful yet conservative woman he had known for years, needed to know that he was her life after the death of their friend. That was all there was to it, although he had no idea that there was another side to this…
And Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and the Man-Who-Defeated, the one who held her in nights that she felt like she could die from, needed to know that she was his life after Voldemort.
Tell me that you live for love
That forever is never enough
That you've waited all your life to see
That you want so badly to believe
Tell me that it's not just me
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orokid: Heh heh… yeah… it might seem JUUUUUUUST a bit bad, since I kind of ended the chapter on an awkward note there. But… eh, if you don't like it, click the blue-gray button in the corner and tell me about it. I'd love to know about what you guys have to say, and I will pay close attention to your criticisms. Thanks.
But… really! Please Review for me. ((Puppy eyes, and whimpers sadly))