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His breath seemed to catch in his throat and if he hadn't known better, he could have sworn that the fitting room's walls were closing in on them both. Though even then, as he gazed into her brown eyes, he could not summon the words to his mouth. As the seconds passed, her face froze and stiffened, refusing to turn from his stare. 'Maybe I should tell her…' he thought to himself. Those thoughts were quickly pushed back by the now constant anxiety in his life. 'No, I can't! What if she rejected me? I'd have…ruined the best friendship I ever had. She deserves better than that, and definitely better than me.' The doubts snowballed as his mind swarmed with intensity. 'What life could she have with me? Instead of going to the library for fun, it would be to avoid people pestering her with questions. I can't do that to her.'
Her eyes briefly drifted closed and she gave a determined swallow before opening them once more. Still silent, he peered searchingly into her eyes, trying to find some kind of cue as to what she was thinking. The evidence he found in Hermione's eyes shattered his very soul. Though her face remained frozen in place, as if an artist had sculpted her from a polish rock, her eyes quivered with doubt, betrayal and hurt.
'What have I done?!' Harry's mind froze in horror at the result of his own silence and yet at the same time, scrambled to remediate the situation. 'I hurt her... I hurt her! How could I do this? Ugh! Me and my idiocy.' His mind swam through the thoughts faster than his face could even register them. 'Maybe I should just tell her. Any kind of rejection would be better than this…this torment I've put her through. No. I can't. I'll just say it was something else. It's not right to tell her how I feel…like this…' He tore his eyes away from her gaze, 'in a fitting room…' He heard a sharp inhale and thought twice. 'I should atleast tell her something. Even if it's just a lie.'
Harry looked back to the only person in his life that he still truly cared about and made his first attempt at speech. "Hermione. I, ah…"
Shamefully, though he managed to project a few words from his once paralyzed throat, a sharp knock sounded on the door. Harry jumped and Hermione spun in place as an angry feminine voice sounded through the door. "Excuse me, patrons, but we have VERY strict rules about these dressing rooms. Only one person allowed in each at a time. If you require a private room for other business, we'd be happy to, ah, locate a suitable hotel for your activities."
Hermione's cheeks flamed into a deep crimson hue and she immediately strode out the door, her eyes glued to the floor muttering an embarrassed "my apologies, ma'am" as she went. Though Harry could not see her face, he knew from her tone that she was still upset over his silence.
"Wait, Hermione!" He exclaimed, reaching an arm out to her turned shoulders and starting after her.
"That outfit fits you perfect." Hermione replied in monotone, not once looking back. "You should get it. I'll wait outside for you."
He watched her leave, before he turned back to the open fitting room, broken and downcast. The sales clerk eyed him suspiciously as he walked past her again and cut, "I take it this mound of clothes will not be needed?"
"I guess not." Harry replied sadly. Closing the door, he began to disrobe.
---
Harry stood silently in line with the chosen outfit. Ahead of him, an old man fumbled with his own order, a few shirts and several socks, and he couldn't help but wonder just how long he had stood in line. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he stared towards the door that Hermione had left through just moments before.
"Sonny," a strange voice sounded near him. "Sonny! I'ma talkin' t'ya!" Suddenly an old weathered hand landed on his shoulder, scaring him almost out of his clothes. Harry stared at the man wide-eyed and unsure of how to respond to this unexpected lapse in personal space. "Could you bend r'over right here and hand me my'sa wallet? Y'see, my back just ain't what it use'ta be." He held his other weak hand over the edge of his back and it was evident he had already attempted to reach for the treasured item.
"Oh! Of course, sir!" Harry exclaimed, immediately stooping down to pick up the old worn out leather wallet. Returning it to the old man, Harry stepped back a couple of feet and let out a heavy breath of relief.
"Why thank'ya sonny…" The old man said, eyeing Harry with a wrinkled eye. "Ah, miss, I think I'll take one'o those blankets up 'dere on the top shelf too…" The sales clerk rolled her eyes and stalked off to find the stores' ladder. Turning around, the old man zeroed in on the only target left in the entire store. "Ah, sonny…what I'd give t'be yo' age 'gain." He said the words with such wistfulness that Harry could not help but turn to listen. "That lady friend'o yours. You two courting?"
Surprised at the man's frankness, Harry almost took a step back, "well, no…" he began before being cut off by the old man's rambling words.
"I remember courting back when I'us young. Young and foolish and lost'n love. You should tell'er. She's a beaut and yous's young, but best now befo' it's too late."
Though the old man's dialect was somewhat difficult to understand, Harry could pick up on the meaning of the conversation. "What do you mean?"
"Wells…" the old man launched, apparently having told the story many times by the way it rolled off of his tongue in a recited manner. "I waited like'a fool, just watchin' and bein' next'ta her fur so long! And those'r good days, boy! I couldn't trade'm fur d'world! But then, she was a'dying and I," the old man faltered with perfect timing and took a deep practiced breath. "I was livin'."
Forgetting his own situation a moment and for the sake of having nothing else to do while waiting for the clerk to return, Harry decided to let the old man continue with his little speech. "So, what did you do?"
The old man turned his head to Harry and shook his head with a grin. "I's broke down an'told 'er!" He closed his eyes and started to laugh. "An' what's worse….she wanted t'tell me's d'same thing too!" His laughter died away as he continued with his next words. "Wish I'd told'er sooner. We missed a'lot o'time ter'gether."
The woman returned with the ladder and immediately set about to retrieving the blanket. "Ah, the blue one on the'er bottom, missie." The old man turned to Harry and whispered, "she's a cute'on too."
'I can't believe this guy…he tells me all about the love of his life and then looks up that girl's skirt!' Harry thought to himself, watching the old man checking out the salesclerk. 'It scares me that he could be the mirror of my future….but…he has a point.'
"Oh, wait, missie…my eyes'r bad. I meant that red'un, on dis'shelf right'ere!" This was going to be a long wait…
---
After an invariably long wait in line, Harry finally stumbled out of the door, his legs tired and cramping from the long stand. He looked to his right and then to his left before he spotted Hermione sitting on a nearby bench. Her arms were crossed and her eyes clenched shut in a distressed manner. Hanging his head, Harry knew what he had to do.
He slowly made his way over to her, and sat down next to her. Dropping his bag on the fresh snow, he meekly looked her way. Delicate snowflakes drifted down all around them though they could not obscure the pain evident on her face. Even though he had sat down, she would not even look his way. "I'm sorry, Hermione." He said softly. Her eyes registered a reaction though she still would not look at him. Sliding a little closer, he wrapped an uncertain arm around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry Hermione!" His voice broke, and he squeezed her shoulders as he spoke. "Forgive me. I've been a fool."
"You idiot!" She snapped sharply at him, finally turning to look him straight in the eye. Cold tears slid down her face in small streams, as she could not hold her hurt in any longer. Holding his breath, Harry pulled her into a hug as she sobbed quietly on his shoulder. "You're such an idiot sometimes…" she kept repeating. Harry closed his eyes, and held her tightly, feeling for a moment as if she would drift away like one of the snowflakes falling around them.
"I…I know I am, Hermione." He kept his hold on her until her sobs lessened. When she had finally calmed to a quiet sniffle, he whispered, "I just didn't want you to hate me."
She pulled back from his embrace and stared at him in shock. Her tears had dried but her eyes remained swollen from her crying spell. "Hate you?" she echoed in disbelief. "Harry, why would I hate you?" Her eyes furrowed and she peered into his own.
"I just…" he said, stopping himself again. 'This is it this time. I won't put her through this again just for myself.' He took a deep breath and started again. "Hermione, I want to tell you something, but just know, I'll understand no matter how you feel about it…"
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A/Ns: Thank you everyone who reviewed! I must apologize for the lengthy update period…my cousin's computer broke and then she gave up on writing. Thankfully, she gave me her account so now I have full access to posting my story (and since I got a computer for my birthday, I can actually do it too!).
The quota's the same as last time and hopefully I won't have any time issues posting the next chapter! I hope everyone enjoyed it. Take care folks!