Chapter Two

From The Journal Of Hermione Granger: Entry 2

It has been too long. I believe it has been a week or so. I've lost count of the days that pass by so fast. But I must write this entry in haste. It is morning now and I'm in my room. I'm afraid I'm staining this entry. It's already so wet and I've just started!

So much has happened. Harry and I have been awkward ever since the moment we kissed. He rarely speaks to me. Harry, I mean. Whenever he does, it's either to tell me something related to Voldemort or to ask me questions. He never tells me anything. But I know one thing.

Harry's nightmares have gotten worse. I don't know what to do. I can hear him down the hall in his parents' old house, screaming and yelling. He often whimpers and sobs, crying out, "Don't hurt her!" or "Leave her alone! It's me you want not her!" I don't whom he is talking about. I assume it is Ginny. With every passing night, his yells get louder and his nightmares get worse. Every night I jump out of bed and try to go to him. But then as my hand is on the doorknob, I always come to the same conclusion: Harry is avoiding me for a reason. So I drag my feet back to my bed and lie there, tears streaming down my face as he yells once more.

Several times, I caught him looking at me. He stares at me with a strange expression on his face. His gaze is one so powerful, I blush under it. But his expression pierces me. I feel that he is looking at me yet not seeing me. He looks at me but sees Ginny. My heart breaks at that. No matter how much I love him, I will never be under that stare of his.

He talked to me about Bathilda Bagshot. We believed she had the real sword of Godric Gryffindor. But a few nights before we set out for Bathilda, something happened between Harry and I. I was lying in bed, trying to drown out Harry's howls of agony. But every attempt was futile. So I threw off the duvet covers and ran to the door. Then my logical side started to function. Convinced I would only bother him, I went back to bed. I tossed and turned all night while Harry yelled. Then everything went silent.

I strained my ears to listen for anything. But there was silence. Just as I was about to sit up, my door flew open. Harry was standing there, covered in sweat and shuddering. He was clutching his scar and breathing as if he had been running instead of lying in bed.

"Hermione," said Harry hoarsely, "are you there?"

"I'm here, Harry," said I, sitting up.

Quickly, Harry went over to me. He hugged me tightly. "He killed you," mumbled he.

"Who killed me?" I asked although the answer was obvious.

"Voldemort. He killed you in front of me, called you a filthy mudblood," He murmured, shaking as he held me in his tight in his embrace.

"Well, I'm not dead," said I simply, "I'm alive and well and Voldemort isn't coming near me. He's a stupid man to think this will make you stop looking for the Horcruxes,"

Harry nodded but he continued to sob. I shushed him quietly and gently pushed him onto the bed, still in his embrace. Once we were both lying down, Harry continued to hug me and run his hands up and down my back.

"Don't leave me," whispered Harry.

"I'm not going to, I promise. Now go to sleep, we need our rest," said I, running my hand through his hair.

He nodded once more and slowly we drifted into sleep.

When I woke up, Harry was staring at me. I shifted uncomfortably. "Er—" I started.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not a problem, really. You're welcome anyway."

"I didn't have a nightmare when I was with you," stated Harry.

"Oh? Well, that's good."

He looked at me with a dazed expression, as if he couldn't believe I was real. I felt a pang strike my heart. He was thinking about Ginny.

"D'you miss her?" I asked, my emotional side getting the better of me.

"Who?" He asked slightly flummoxed.

"Ginny," replied I.

"Oh. Ginny. Well, no. No, not really. I haven't really thought about her or getting back together with her either."

"But I thought you broke up with her because she wasn't safe?"

"Well, yeah. But I'm starting to think this break-up should be permanent."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry I broke up with the only girl you ever approved of for me," said he, looking sincere.

I gave him a pointed look. "I never approved of you and Ginny,"

He looked confused. "But you beamed at me when I kissed her."

"Of course I would. What kind of friend would I be if I wasn't happy for you?"

"You were faking your happiness, so you weren't happy for me?"

"Yes I was! I just—I just, you know, didn't like you with Ginny,"

"Whom do you like me with then?"

"Well, it's not my opinion that matters in your choice of dating, really,"

"Yeah, but you said so yourself that you didn't like me with Ginny, and you are my best friend, your opinion matters greatly."

"It's not my place to tell you who not to date."

"It isn't, yeah. But I want to hear what you say,"

"Well, I don't want you to hear what I say,"

He was quiet for a while and then, "We kissed,"

I stared at him. "Yes. Yes, we did."

"What would you do if I kissed you again?"

My eyes widened. "I—I'd probably—"

I never finished because Harry really did kiss me. I stiffened but deepened it. I was kissing Harry! It felt like oblivion, like I could just keep doing this. Kissing Harry… kissing Harry… my best friend…

Then I pushed him away.

"You can't!" I yelled.

"What? Why not?"

"Because—because you don't love me!" My mind was going into overdrive. What was I doing?

"Excuse me? How would you know?"

"Because I know you love Ginny! You think about and kiss her. You love her and you dream about her—"

I gasped while Harry's eyes widened. "How did you—?"

"I'm sorry! It's just that you fell asleep in the Common Room and you were muttering in your sleep! I was worried so I-I—"

"You what?"

"I did Occlumency on you! I went into your dream and as soon as I was Ginny—"

"As soon as?"

"I'M SORRY! I didn't mean to! I was worried!"

"What did you see?" He demanded. We were both sitting up in the bed. I was clutching the bed covers to my chest as if I were naked and even though I wasn't, I felt very much so.

"I s-saw you and Ginny. She ran to you. Then you—you kissed her," I stuttered.

Harry looked furious. "How could you?" He murmured, quietly as though he was talking to himself.

"I WAS WORRIED!" I bellowed, crying now. "I'm sorry I'm not perfect, Harry. I'm sorry I'm not as pretty as Cho Chang. I'm sorry I can't be funny like Ginny. I'm sorry I'm not good at Quidditch—"

"Hermione—"

"I'm sorry I'm not ruddy perfect! Why don't you go into my mind and see how much I fancy you—"

I stopped myself quickly, covering my mouth with a hand.

"Hermione—"

But I already sped out of the room. I ran out of the house, my tears blurring my vision. I tripped and fell, landing face first. Spitting some dirt out, I crawled to the nearest tree and sat there. There was a sting coming from my knee and my right knee was cut deeply. There were twigs and dead leaves in my hair. I sat there, sniffling every few minutes. I was still in sleeping clothes. It didn't take long for the snow to start falling. Sneezing, I shook the snow out of my hair. Then I heard a twig snap. I spun around, my breath coming out in fog.

Harry was standing there; clad only in a white T-shirt and his loose, Snitch-patterned pajama pants with his Invisibility Cloak draped over his shoulder.

"Hermione—"

"Don't! I'm sorry! I just blurted that out and—" I interrupted.

"You mean you didn't mean it?"

My eyes widened as he walked closer until he was standing right in front of me. He bent down and healed my wound with his wand before standing up again. "M-mean it?"

"You didn't mean that you fancy me?"

"I-I—of course I meant it!"

"Then," he swallowed, "could you give me some time?"

"Time?"

"To think about my answer."

I let out a shaky breath. "O-okay…"

"Come on," he held out his hand to me, "we've got to see Bathilda Bagshot."

I took his hand, feeling the normal sensation every time I touched it, and stood up.

He draped the cloak around me. "This should keep you warm for now. I couldn't get another cloak fast enough," said Harry.

"It's okay, thank you," I murmured, blushing.

"Let's go, you ran pretty far from the house." He said, grinning. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, together, we headed back to the house.

~*~*~

I don't like to talk about what happened in Bathilda Bagshot's house. It was terrible. I broke Harry's wand and he was extremely mad. He didn't show it but I knew he was. He wasn't talking to me. I knew it when he stalked off outside where we had another row. This time, it was about Dumbledore. I told him Dumbledore did care for him all these years, but Harry thought differently. He dismissed me curtly, so with tears in my eyes, I picked up my teacup to leave. But before I left, I kissed his forehead, holding on as long as I could. Harry had even closed his eyes at my touch. And with that, I left him alone.

The next day, today, we were eating in silence at breakfast again. Things have been even more awkward than before. I regretted telling Harry I fancied him since it came out of my mouth. We weren't talking. But today, everything would end. Harry was going to respond and I had no idea that it would happen.

I was washing the plates when Harry's plate fell onto the floor as I was walking to the sink. It fell with a resounding crash. Silently, I began to pick up the pieces. Harry bent down and started to help me, silently as well. When we threw it away, I turned to thank Harry but I noticed something. He was stilling holding a shard from the plate and was lightly rubbing his index finger against the sharp tip. His head was bent down to look at it and his eyes were blocked by his bangs.

"Harry—"

"You told me to think really hard about it, and I did," said he rather quietly.

"What—?"

"About what you said… I—" he looked at me with a certain glint in his eyes, "—I just can't start thinking of you that way, I'm sorry,"

I froze. "H—hey, it's fine." I stammered, trying to sound cheerful. I pushed the stinging tears back. "I should've known from the start. Ha, ha, stupid Hermione! I'm such an idiot!" I started to laugh in such a jovial way, I sounded scary to even my own ears.

"Hermione—"

But I had already spun around and ran back to my room, my tears gushing out. When I reached there, I sat on my bed and cried. I knew. I knew all along that he wouldn't say yes. But still.

I guess this is how it feels to be heartbroken.

~*~*~

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Been really busy since it's exam week here. Anyway, maybe if your review more, I'll try to update faster. :-)