Well, I guess this is the next chapter. I hope you like it. It's starts off with a little bit of wedding stress, but ends with good old HHr fluff, which caused it to become one of my favorite things I've ever written. Just remember, I own nothing but the plot. The characters belong to JKR and you all know the song, and that it doesn't belong to me. Enjoy.
Chapter Six -- A Familiar Song
On the eve of the wedding, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were going over some last-minute details, including where Hermione was going to stay that night.
"But, Hermione, dear, it's bad luck for a groom to see his bride before the wedding starts," Mrs. Weasley was saying.
"I don't care," Hermione retaliated, "I'm staying with Harry. I can't sleep otherwise."
"You're too attached to him. Someday you're going to be forced apart, and you won't know what to do --"
"Harry and I will never be separated!" Hermione screamed, feeling a mood swing coming on.
"But, sweetie, it's only for one night. It won't hurt. You can stay at the Burrow."
"It'll hurt a lot more than you think it will."
Hermione's mind was flashing back to the two times she had tried to sleep without Harry to cuddle up to. Both times had ended with nightmares, crying, and fear.
"Hermione, what's wrong?"
This made Hermione realize a stray tear was rolling down her cheek. She knew she couldn't avoid the truth any longer.
"What do you know about my parents?" Hermione asked, wiping the tear away impatiently, and looking a taken-aback Mrs. Weasley in the eye. She had never heard Hermione freely talk about her parents before. However, she did her best trying not to upset Hermione any more.
"Well, they were Muggles, and --" she stopped short, realizing that that was all she knew.
"Yes, they were. You know my father's in jail, yes?"
"Yes."
"Do you know why?"
"Dumbledore didn't say anything about that."
Hermione took a deep breath, realizing she would have less control over her emotions than planned.
"It was him who killed my mum."
"Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry. How could he -- How could he do something like that?"
"He was drunk. Just like all those other times," Hermione said, her eyes now shining with unshed tears.
"What other times?" Mrs. Weasley asked, fearing the answer.
"Listen to this," Hermione said, reaching back behind her couch to place an old CD of her mother's into the player, "This is what my life was like from ages six to seventeen."
Harry, who was in the kitchen, perked up, worried, but curious as he heard a song that he had never heard Hermione play willingly, but was all too familiar just the same;
She walks to school with the lunch she packed
Nobody knows what she's holding back
Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday
She hides the bruises with the linen and lace
The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask
Bearing the burden of a secret storm
Sometimes she wishes she was never born
Harry heard Mrs. Weasley gasp with shock, but he was really listening to Hermione. He could tell she was close to tears, but he wanted to make sure she wanted to try to fare on her own before he interfered.
Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete Angel
Somebody cries in the middle of the night
The neighbors hear but they turn out their light
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate
When mornin comes it'll be too late
Harry moved to the doorway separating the kitchen and sitting room and watched Hermione trying to regain control over her emotions. Her back was to him, but her shoulders shook every few seconds with suppressed sobs. Mrs. Weasley looked at a loss of what to say.
Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete Angel
Knowing the last verse was the hardest to hear, Harry threw caution to the wind and, whether she wanted his comfort or not, he walked over and sat down behind her. She leaned against him, but it made her lose even more control over the tears pouring down her face.
A statue stands in a shaded place
An angel girl with an upturned face
A name is written on a polished rock
A broken heart that the world forgot
Mrs. Weasley gasped in shock again, as Hermione tried with all her might to regain enough control over her tears to get a coherent sentence out, but the comforting touch and scent of her fiancé was too much; he always had a way of getting her to cry everything out right away.
Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete Angel
As the song ended, it became too much for Hermione to bear; she tore away from Harry's grasp and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door in her wake. Harry sighed and reached back to turn the CD player off, waiting to hear Mrs. Weasley's reaction. She was quiet for a minute before finding her voice.
"I never knew," she said softly as they listened to Hermione's muffled sobs coming from the next room, "Will she be all right?"
"She'll be fine," Harry assured, "She just needs to calm down. She might even cry herself to sleep."
"But she said --" Mrs. Weasley said, confused at Harry's sudden grin.
"She's only like that at night. During the day she's able to sleep fine, but it's a completely different story when the sun goes down. What got her started on the that, anyway? She's never willingly played that song before."
"I'm afraid that was my fault," Mrs. Weasley said, now slightly uncomfortable, "I was following the old superstition that it was bad luck for a groom to see his bride before their wedding, so I was trying to get her to stay the night at the Burrow. I had no idea she would react like this."
"We appreciate your concern, but Hermione better stay here tonight."
"I can see that now," Mrs. Weasley said, giving Harry a half-hearted smile before glancing at the clock, "Well, I had better get going. Tell Hermione I'm sorry. See you tomorrow."
"See you," Harry said with a small wave, before turning to go check on Hermione. With a slight surprise, he realized that she was no longer crying.
Wondering if she had cried herself to sleep, he opened the door as quietly as he could, only to find her sitting at the edge of their bed, her cheeks red and tearstained, but her sobs reduced to sniffles. She looked up at him when he entered with a look that clearly told him she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, so he just walked over and sat down next to her, allowing her to crawl onto his lap. She snuggled up to him as his arms wrapped around her.
"Feel better?" Harry asked after a minute, placing a kiss on the top of her head. When she didn't respond, he looked down and had to smile; she had fallen into a doze in his arms, the only trace of their conversation with Mrs. Weasley in her peaceful face was the tearstains that were fading from her cheeks.
Harry carefully fell down onto his back, so he was laying with Hermione on his chest. He looked up at the clock on the bedside table and saw that it was only three, so he figured he had enough time for a quick nap of his own. Cautiously, he twisted around so his entire body was on the bed, but it also caused Hermione to stir enough to roll off him. He watched her for signs of awakening, but she just rolled over again, so she was tucked into his chest.
After one last kiss to Hermione's temple, Harry removed his glasses, and drifted into a nap himself.
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Ready? On three. One… two… three: Awwww! I love fluff, and this is the best luck I've ever had writing it. I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it. R and R please. TTFN