Understanding
by Ydream08
Chapter 6
It was physically painful to be away from her.
Life on the hunt was excruciating enough but apparently, Harry had to endure more. It wasn't fair that she continued as nothing happened, but continue she did. Harry was awed sometimes how Hermione acted out the days without doing anything more than to function. And while she did that, Harry shouldn't have expected her to come to his arms. But after Ron left, a small part of Harry just desperately wished she would come to him.
Actually, he was the one who wanted to finally be wrapped around a warm embrace.
Harry sighed, his breath making a visible cloud in the cold of February. He was outside, taking the watch. While Hermione was inside the tent, a soft light giving away her research, Harry was stuck here looking at nothing and thinking.
He never read as Hermione did on her watch. Harry never liked to read, anyway. Not anywhere close to how much Hermione adored the written word.
Instead, Harry gazed at the darkness of the forest. He looked out for small animals, in fact some days counted how many wild animals passed by their camp. When the weather was cold and they never received any visitors, he would count the leaves of trees.
He used to eavesdrop on Ron's radio in such boring watches, but now even that was absent. Harry had the rustling of leaves and howls of wolves to listen to.
It scared him to listen to wilderness sometimes. He and Hermione were alone out here, and regardless of how good they were with their wands, there crept up a feeling back at his neck that somehow the mother-nature would kill them in their sleep. Never mind the wards and all that.
One of these days, those Snatchers coming too close to their camp would do the business of killing them instead of nature, but Harry prayed everyday to let the universe know he would much rather die of starvation.
It ashamed to admit to that sinful thought, but some days the notion of just… just stopping to eat and stopping to fight overwhelmed him.
Even those days were not as awful as how it was now with Hermione. She had her nose buried in a book, the one Dumbledore had left her, and if she was not reading she was strengthening the wards.
Harry watched whenever she cast spells. Not only because she was more interesting than the rather monotone wilderness -much more interesting-, but also because he couldn't help it when his eyes were drawn to her.
There was this feeling whenever he looked for her upon entering inside the tent to switch watches. His increased heartbeat would vibrate his chest. The shudder climbing up his spine would be unrelated to the cold from outside and the flush to his face would not be about his recent step into the warmth.
Since her confession, Harry had been an expert at playing as if nothing had happened. He could behave just as her, and pretend nothing had happened. Not the confession, not the kisses, not the passion.
Harry had done that until the day of the Weasley wedding. That day when he asked Hermione to dance, and she evaded him and ended up dancing with another, Harry started to notice how she made it her mission to be away from him.
Because of Dumbledore's death, Harry had not had the time to notice it. Hell, he had been a mess even before that.
Regardless, this summer before their hunt, Harry should have paid more attention to Hermione. Even if he had been busy thwarting Ginny's advances, on top of everything, Harry should have been more mature than to get angry at Hermione at the sight of her and proceed to act as ignorant as her.
It took for their friend group of three to be alone for Harry to fully understand the situation after that initial wake-up call in the wedding.
It wasn't simply both of them moving on with their friendship -because from outside it must have looked like that (Ron had said the contrary, but still)- but the fact was that their friendship had crumbled.
It shouldn't have been this way.
Harry had just meant to… well, he hadn't thought with a straight head the first time he kissed Hermione. It had happened and conveniently continued. Whatever that could have been with Ginny, Harry had never yearned for, because Hermione gave even more than he could have imagined.
He had loved it. It had been simply amazing.
It had never occurred to him that Hermione could love him that way. For real. It had never occurred to him that, on hindsight, Harry's own feelings essentially ran deeper than he thought they did.
What Hermione now wanted and what Harry concluded this would indicate, was commitment. One thing Harry had prominently thought (only a slight idiot part of him was smart enough to know better) was that Hermione had arrived to the same understanding that their lives were too unpredictable for such a grave mistake.
Nobody could blame him when Voldemort was after his head. He could not have a relationship when he tried escaping from death.
Harry only now realised why their understanding was so indispensable for him, though.
Sure, he had lost his virginity to Cho and their intimacy was functionally the same as what Hermione and he did. It was sex. It was feeling better.
But with Hermione, Harry felt loved.
Such a foreign feeling considering his childhood. It was a different love compared to being like a son to the Weasley family. Not the feeling when Ron welcomed him with a big smile or Mrs. Weasley fussed over him during dinner.
Scratching the back of his head, Harry snorted at what he was thinking. Of course, he felt loved! Because Hermione had loved him.
When she circled his neck and responded to his kiss, she indeed melted against him. When he kissed the crook of her neck, she affectionately grabbed his hair and caressed his back. Every touch, every breath, every kiss meant more when it came from her.
And he loved it. He loved being loved. He loved that Hermione loved him. He loved her.
He loved that she gently woke him from a short nap on top of his parchment after an exhausting Quidditch practice. He loved how she bumped her shoulder to him while she laughed, checking to see whether he joined to her happiness. He loved how she hopelessly smiled and apologized whenever he replied to one of her endless questions muttered out loud for no one in particular. With a habit like that, it was a wonder how his girl has never been kicked out of her sanctuary: the library.
Wait- his girl?
Harry must have spaced out because when that alarming thought woke him up, the mouth of the tent was open and Hermione had left.
It was like this nowadays. She silently disappeared whenever around him. She just… She hated him, didn't she?
"Fuck," he muttered and angrily sat down at the bunker. This was ridiculous. They were friends- should be friends. They had a world to save, too. They could die tomorrow and here Harry was thinking-
Hermione could die, the thought hit him hard.
The sudden fear of death, Hermione's death, was so powerful that none the dafter could have thought of making a Horcrux for her would solve the problem, that this was a good idea.
None but him.
"Shite, no, no, no." Tom Riddle had gone a similar path, albeit more egotistical, but it was concerning for the notion to cross Harry's mind. No. Simply no.
"Are you alright?" came a voice he had long forgotten.
Harry rose his eyes to meet with Hermione. "I- I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, doubtful. Harry blinked and quickly checked his body as if he would find a limb detached or something. Crazy.
"You didn't hear me," Hermione continued.
"No. Yes." He took a deep breath and resigned. "I mean, I didn't hear you." Harry fixed his glasses at the same time Hermione sighed.
Realizing Hermione's stretched hand, Harry saw she offered the Locket to him. "It's your turn to wear it."
"Umm, yeah, sure." A thought came to Harry. "Did you come in just now?"
Confused, Hermione decided to shrug. "Just a moment ago."
Taking the Locket from her, Harry decided it was the Locket whispering about that last insane idea of making a Horcrux. Harry was nothing like Riddle. He refused to be.
Harry didn't want to wear the damn thing -a part of Riddle's soul- with how his mind circled around Hermione, but wear he did.
It was only the two of them to share the burden now.
"I'm outside," Hermione said to which Harry nodded. Clasping the Locket, Harry watched her leave as he was alone with his thoughts now. And the Horcrux. Great.