Disclaimer: None of the characters or places described in this story belongs to me. They are the property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury, and are used without permission. All likenesses to other author's works are coincidental.
A/N: This is the freshly edited version of "All I Ask of You". Even if you've read it before, you'll want to reread it, because there have been some major changes.
Prologue:
The full moon shone brightly over Hogwarts Castle. The dark lake reflected the silky black sky above, showing a multitude of glittering stars. The Hogwarts Grounds were freezing cold, and covered with heaps of soft snow.
In spite of the peaceful surroundings, the air was filled with shouts and cries. Somebody moaned in pain as a spell hit him squarely in the chest, but nobody noticed him falling. Everybody was too intent on winning their own duel to pay attention to any of their friends. The Park was filled with fighting, both between men and creatures.
One duel was fiercer than any of the other ones. It looked like something personal, virtually smelling of a deep hatred and an old desire for revenge. Upon a closer look, the duelists were very different. One of them was a grown man with red eyes and parchment-white skin, the other was little more than a boy, his jet-black hair plastered against his forehead, but not quite covering a lightning bolt-shaped scar.
A small pause; the duelists looked each other in the eyes. The tension between the pair was thick enough to be cut with a knife. In one movement, both of them drew back their wands, preparing for a final curse.
"Avada-" the red-eyed man cried, but he only managed to get out half the curse before the young boy yelled "Sectumsempra!" With a gasping sound, the grown man fell to the ground, clutching his hands to his stomach. The man seemed to try and keep his blood from flowing out of his body. When he realized that it was hopeless, he raised his wand one last time. A jet of blue light shot from it, hitting his victorious opponent. Then, the man fell back; he was dead.
-Well, if this is the end, it's not all that bad, Harry Potter thought to himself. He was lying on the ground, panting. The curse Voldemort had thrown after him made his chest sting, and Harry found himself unable to breathe. Pain followed his every movement, even blinking his eyelids, and an unfamiliar darkness started to obscure his vision. –I did what I set out to do, and Voldemort is gone. For good this time.
A distant voice called his name, but it didn't matter anymore. He was going to die; in a way, he'd always known that it would end this way. Soon, he'd see his parents again, and Sirius. –I just wish I could have seen Ginny, only a glimpse, one last time, Harry thought. With a rasping gag for air, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the savior of the world, lost consciousness.
"Harry" she cried, her tears running quick and thick down her cheeks, and hurried over to the dead figure on the ground, fearing the worst. When she got there, her heart almost stopped when she realized that the boy in front of her didn't breathe.
"Come on, Harry," she whispered frenetically, "come on! Oh, this is ridiculous. Enervate!" The red spell shot out of her wand, hitting Harry squarely in the chest. Her frustration continued to grow when she realized that the spell failed to work.
"Get out of the way, you silly girl," a familiar voice snarled form behind. Before Hermione managed to turn around, the haughty shape of Severus Snape hurried past her. Without pausing to explain, he knelt beside the unconscious boy. With a low sing-song voice, the former Potionsmaster started to speak in a foreign language.
Hermione didn't know how long Snape was speaking, or what it was he was doing, but she didn't care. When he finally rose, Harry was breathing.
Only then did Hermione notice the extensive injuries on Snape himself. Huge cuts crossed every part of his body, and one of his hands looked stiff and painful. His otherwise pale face was marred by an enormous, lilac welt. Apparently, the Death Eaters didn't take getting betrayed by one of their own very well.
"Ron!" Hermione called out. "He's alive, he's breathing, and he's going to be fine!"
The red-haired boy came over, a slight look of uncertain disbelief on his face. When he saw the rising and falling motion of Harry's chest, Ron smiled widely. Hermione flung herself around his neck and laughed relieved. The war was over, and they would finally be able to get on with their own lives. Everything was going to be fine.
With all the excitement jumping in her blood, Hermione found it hard to be standing there, doing nothing. The sounds of fighting had died away, and the night was clear and beautiful. The silence surrounding them was only broken by the creaking steps of the surviving duelists.
Maybe it was the magic of the mood got to Hermione. Maybe it was the relief of knowing that all her friends had survived one of the biggest battles wizard-kind had ever seen that got to her. Whatever her reasons were, she acted on an instinct. Without any conscious thought, Hermione Granger bent her head around and kissed one of her best friends.
Life as Harry Potter's best friend had never been boring. There had never been a day, or at least not a week, without something strange happening. From fighting a troll in a girl's bathroom to luring Lord Voldemort's traps, something unexpected was always just around the corner when the Boy Who Lived was around. Many odd things had happened to Ron since the day he shared Harry's compartment for the first time on the Hogwarts Express, but none of them came close to the one he was experiencing right now.
Hermione was as close to him as she could possibly get. Her hands in his neck, her hair gently brushing against his face. Her lips pressed firmly against his own. And then, as soon as it had begun, the kiss was over.
With his head filled with buzzing thoughts, Ron walked over to Harry. His best friend was still breathing, but he had no chance to Apparate back to the Burrow in his current state. Taking care to avoid Hermione's eyes, Ron took a firm grip of Harry's arm and got ready to Disapparate. All the time, his mind was filled with questions.
-Why did she kiss me? After all, she's behaved as though she wanted nothing more than friendship from me. And how am I supposed to react? She was probably just caught in the moment, letting her emotions make her do things she normally wouldn't have done. But what if she actually meant something by it?
With a confused look painted on his face, Ronald Weasley Apparated back to the Burrow, where Ginny was waiting for them.