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Chapter 6 – Feelings –(as felt by Harry Potter)

EVERYONE HAS ALWAYS EXPECTED ME to be perfect all the time. I'm never supposed to be angry. I'm never supposed to be afraid. I'm not allowed to show any emotions at all. For the most part that has been fine with me. I usually like to keep my feelings to myself. I prefer to keep them hidden away, or rather, behind an imaginary armor that I placed around my heart years ago.

It wasn't that I didn't feel things. It wasn't that I didn't want to feel things. I did feel things. I felt them acutely, severely, and I reacted honestly in regard to them. I would even say that I usually wore my heart on my sleeve…it was just that usually my heart and my sleeve was covered by that same armor that I learned to put up from the time I was a small boy.

When I was little, I used to cry for a mother that I never knew. I wanted a mother's arms to hold me, and to comfort me when I was afraid, or hurt, or sick, or sad. Instead, I was treated with cruelty and hatred. I was made to feel like I was a burden and that I wasn't loved, wasn't wanted, and didn't belong. That was when I grew the 'armor'. The armor was an imaginary shield that went around my heart and it protected me from feelings. It protected me from my own and from those of others.

I was still able to feel empathy. I was still able to react correctly to the hurt, sadness, and injustice of others. It was only when it came to me that I blocked it all, turned it away, and protected it with a fake shield around my heart.

It was like this: when I was small the only time I was truly able to 'feel' was when I was all alone in my little cupboard under the stairs. Later in life, when I was no longer hidden away in the cupboard under the stairs, I no longer had a hiding place in which to feel, so my feelings had to hide deep within me.

It wasn't that I didn't cry when my friends cried, because I did. It wasn't that I didn't cry when my friends died, because believe me, I've cried a bucket of tears for the people that I've lost, and for the ones I've never known. But even when I cry for the loss of a loved one, I feel selfish. I shouldn't 'feel' anything. What right do I have to feel?

I'm tired of putting on a happy face. I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of being a savior. I'm tired of wearing a crown. My crown was always made of tin, not gold, and it's tarnished and worn after all these years. It was time to put it on the shelf, along with the armor around my heart, and just be plain old Harry again.

When I saw Hermione in the arms of Draco Malfoy, a man that I truly have hated most of my life, as much as it pains me to admit that I can hate, something inside me shattered. It wasn't my heart. It was deeper than my heart. It was more like my soul. I felt as if my soul was wrenched out of my body and was crushed and then shattered into a million little pieces. The shield covering my feelings couldn't have protected me against such a sight, such a feeling, such an invasion.

I felt broken. I felt angry. I felt jealous. I felt…well, I FELT.

God help me. I lost her before I ever had her. It was my fault. I didn't even know what she meant to me until it was too late. Or perhaps I've always known and wasn't able to feel it until now.

When we were very young, and just started school, there was no question that Hermione Granger was one of my best friends in the world. I used to imagine that she was my long-lost sister. I thought perhaps we would discover that she was adopted, or I was, and somehow we would find out that we were really siblings. She was almost a year older than me, so it was possible.

A few years later, I started to see Hermione differently. Everyone did, though few people talked about it. I knew Ron liked her as more than a friend, though he wouldn't admit it. I also knew that several other Gryffindor boys had crushes on her, though again, no one would say anything outright. It was because she was something special, someone different, and so no one would admit how they felt. Then Victor Krum came along and everything changed.

Everyone finally thought, hell, if he could admit to liking her, (international Quidditch star and all) then everyone else could admit it, too. Ron finally admitted it to me. I was speechless, mainly because I felt the same way. But Ron was my best mate, and Hermione was my best 'girl' friend, so if they liked each other that way, so be it.

For one thing, I knew I had a task to finish. I didn't even know if I would live or die. It was a lot to place before a young boy. It was a heavy weight on my shoulders, but it was my life and all I ever knew. Back then I dared not think of a future, especially one with Hermione.

In addition, I started to see Ginny Weasley differently. She had always liked me, and to be truthful, I liked that she liked me. She was sweet, daring, smart, and a hell of a Quidditch player. And more important, she never argued with me. She didn't challenge me. She didn't question everything I did. No, those things were left to Hermione Granger. Yes, for a while, I think I hated Hermione, because she was my conscience when I frankly just wanted to be a teenage boy with hormones.

When we went for the Horcrux search I left Ginny behind. I missed her, but I had to admit, there were times I didn't even think of her. I didn't miss her the way I should have. Ron and Hermione grew closer, and even with my protected heart, I resented both of them. I thought it was the best thing for all of us when Ron left us. For one thing, he really wasn't much help in the beginning, though later he saved my life and I would be forever grateful.

But when he left and it was just Hermione and me, everything changed. It was just the two of us, alone. Yes, we were tired, scared, and weary. Yes, we didn't know what we were doing. Yes, every day was fraught with tension and fear. Nonetheless, we were together. She never thought about leaving me. Ron begged her to go with him and she refused. Though she cried and cried after he left, she stayed with me. She took care of me. She helped me and protected me.

I fell completely in love with her that year, and have loved her ever since. The only problem was that I was never been able to tell her and now I never will.

It was my fault. I've had every opportunity. She's not been with Ron for over two years. I've not actively been dating Ginny for six months. I could have told her how I felt many times, but I didn't. I was afraid. Imagine that. The Boy Who Lived, the man who killed Voldemort, afraid to tell a woman that he loved her.

I had no clue she was dating Marcus Flint. Where did that come from? No wonder she kept that secret to herself. No one would have approved. I think I'm more surprised of the fact that she admitted to Malfoy that she was still a virgin. I had never asked Ron about that part of his and Hermione's relationship, because frankly, I wouldn't have been able to handle it, but still, Ron alluded to the fact that they had, had sex many times.

What a pile of shite. Ron was such a wanker. I think I'll tell him that the next time I see him.

Why would she tell Malfoy that, though? I'm her best friend! She should tell me her secrets, not Malfoy, the bloody prince of darkness! He probably got evil Malfoy germs all over her today. I wonder if they kissed after I left them. They were embracing, and it looked as if they were going to kiss.

If he kissed her I will have to kill him. I've killed stronger men than him, so I have no qualms about killing him.

I couldn't even stay at work after I saw them. I had to tell my boss that I was sick. I was sick. I was sick in my heart. I was sick to my stomach. I left as soon as I could, went straight to my house, and with my bare hands I destroyed my entire living room and most of my kitchen. I broke my telly by throwing it across the room, and I liked my telly. I pulled down my drapes. I tore a pillow right down the middle and feathers went everywhere.

Now, as I sat among the rubble and ruin of what was once my already very messy house, I wondered what I was going to do. I could not let Hermione be with Malfoy. I could not let her give her virginity to him. Even if she wasn't meant to be with me forever, the least I could do for her was to be her first. Or perhaps, I should say, the least she could do for me was to LET ME be her first.

I needed to call her. I crawled around my floor looking for my phone, but it was probably broken anyway. As I crawled around I heard a gasp behind me. I looked up toward the foyer. God no. It was her.

"Harry?" she said with another gasp. "What happened in here?" She ran over to me, and since I was on the floor she knelt down and began to feel around my head and arms. "Are you hurt? Was there a fight? Should I call the Aurors?"

"I am an Auror," was the only thing I could think to say.

She sat down beside me and picked a feather out of my hair. She held it up to me and said, "Harry James Potter, what in the hell happened in here?" She looked around as she sat beside me on the floor. She gasped a few more times. She pointed to a place on the wall where my large plasma screen telly used to reside, and then she pointed to the floor where it lay in pieces.

"Oh my God, oh my God," she repeated. "You loved your television."

"Hermione?" I asked.

She looked at me, concerned, confused.

"Are you seeing Malfoy now?" I asked.

"What?" She shook her head and stood up. It was apparent that either she didn't hear me, or she was pretending that she didn't hear me. In reality, she was probably in shock. She was such a neat, tidy person that just the sight of my house in such disarray was probably causing her to have a severe anxiety attack.

I stood up as well and pulled on her arms. I forced her to face me. "Are you seeing Malfoy?" I demanded.

"In what sense?" she asked back.

"IN WHAT SENSE?" Was she barking mad? Was she dense now? Had some of Malfoy's 'stupid' genes rubbed off on her?

"ANSWER THE QUESTION!" I demanded.

Instead of answering my question she pulled her arms from my hands and started to pick up pieces of what I think might have been either part of my sofa or perhaps my coffee table. I wasn't sure and I didn't care. I grabbed her arm again and spun her around to face me.

"Harry, please, you're scaring me," she said in barely a whisper. "Please, tell me what happened here."

"I HAPPENED HERE!" I bellowed. "I lost my temper and I threw a fit and I tore up my house! So what? It's my house. They were my things to destroy if I wanted to! I have plenty of money to buy new things! I could even buy a new house if I wanted to! What I don't want is for you to be dating Draco Malfoy!"

After my outburst I wanted to sit down in defeat but there was no place to sit in the living room so I went to the foyer and sat on the stairs. I leaned my head against the wall. If I had a cupboard under my stairs I might have crawled into it. The only thing I had under my stairs was more stairs, leading to a basement, dammit.

Hermione stayed in the living room for a long time. She used her wand to right everything the best she could. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything anymore. In my mind she answered my question by NOT answering my question.

Finally, after an hour or so she came to sit beside me on my stairs. The stairs were narrow so she was very close. I looked up at her as she sat down. She smelled so good. Like cherries and vanilla crème. Damn.

I closed my eyes and placed my head back against the wall.

She placed a hand on my arm. "I'm not dating Draco Malfoy. He was very kind to me today. He was an available shoulder, so I cried on it. I did kiss him, though. I don't know why." She placed her head on my shoulder, her arm around me. "I shouldn't have. I did it because I wanted to, though."

"Why didn't you tell me you were dating Flint?" I asked. I placed my arms around her. Now we were holding each other. I liked it.

"Why didn't you tell me that you had feeling for me that went beyond friendship?" she asked softly.

I didn't answer right away. I decided to lie. "I don't."

"Why did you tear up your house?" She looked up at me. I looked at her. I knew she knew I was lying. She could always tell when I was lying. Double damn.

I swallowed hard. I wasn't ready to tell her how I felt. I just wasn't. Instead, I asked, "Is it true you're still a virgin?"

"My goodness, how do rumors spread so fast?" She pushed away from my arms and moved slightly so that she was facing me on the stairs.

"I overheard you telling Malfoy. I saw you two on the stairs," I admitted. "I can't believe you would tell him something so incredibly intimidate and not tell me!"

She started to stand. I could tell she was angry with me. I didn't care. I grabbed her arm to force her to stay. She sat back down a few steps lower than me. I moved so that I was behind her. Her back pressed against my chest. I placed my arms around her. "Is it true?" I asked.

"That you were eavesdropping, yes, I guess it's true," she said flippantly.

"Hermione," I warned.

She took a deep breath. "Yes, it's true. Commence with making fun of me."

I hugged her tighter. I whispered in her ear, "Why do you think I would make fun of you?"

"Well, wouldn't you? I'm twenty-six years old, for cripes sakes. Something's wrong with me." She pulled on a thread that was dangling from my sleeve.

I hugged her tighter and placed my cheek next to her cheek. "Nothing's wrong with you, but may I ask, why are you still a virgin?"

"I can't talk about it with you," she said in a voice that was so pitiful it made me sad. I don't know if it was the reflection of her voice, or what she said that made me the saddest.

"I'm your best friend," I reminded her.

She looked over her shoulder at me and in her ever insightful wisdom, which could only come from Hermione Granger, she said, "And is that all you want to be, Harry?"

"It's all you want," I replied, "so it's what I'll take. I would never do anything to jeopardize our relationship."

She suddenly pushed out of my arms, stormed down the rest of the stairs, and stood before me at the bottom. She pointed at me and said, "You know nothing, Harry James Potter! Maybe I have wanted more before, but I've never seen any indication from you that you ever wanted more! Have you ever thought of that? Maybe that's why I can't tell you certain things, because certain things have to do with you!"

What the bloody hell did she mean by that statement?

I held up my hands, in defense, and walked down the remaining stairs until I was standing right in front of her. "Okay," I said. I didn't know what else to say. A sudden surge of physical awareness washed over me the closer I stood to her. And then there was only one awareness – awareness of her, of me, of US.

"Where do we go from here?" I asked.

"I don't know," she responded, shaking her head. "I don't even know what you want. I don't know what I really want. It's all been too much. It's been a strange day, Harry." She seemed resigned. "If there was ever to be something between us, wouldn't it be awkward, and even a bit improper? I have to admit, there's been times in my life when I've loved you more than as a friend, and there's been times in my life when I knew that you loved me as more than a friend. The problem's always been that they've never occurred at the same time."

She looked up at the ceiling and laughed. "This is madness, insanity. We can't, I mean, we shouldn't, should we? I mean, I kissed Draco Malfoy today."

I groaned. "Don't remind me. I'll have nightmares about it forever! I bet they'll replace the Voldemort trying to kill me for eighteen years nightmares." I leaned against the wall and looked down at the floor.

"Well," she said slowly, "let me at least remedy that, and give you something to replace that nightmare." She placed one hand on my face. Her skin was warm. She leaned closer and her lips, partly opened, touched mine. They moved slowly over mine until my lips softened and opened beneath hers. And then it was done. Simple, sweet, but enough to arouse me beyond belief.

I thought it would be awkward to kiss her like that. It wasn't. It was more than I ever imagined, chaste though it was. She leaned into me, her arms going around my waist. I held her and placed another kiss in her hair, and then one on her forehead.

"What are we going to do, Harry?" she asked.

I usually asked her those types of questions. I hardly knew what to do. I did know one thing. Life was a short and fleeting. The people we became were formed from the life experiences that we lived. Joy wasn't part of the bargain, neither was happiness. If joy and happiness came our way, it was our choice to either grasp them by the tail and hold on for dear life, or let them pass us by and deny their existence. Either way, I couldn't deny the little piece of joy and happiness that she gave me with that one little kiss. It was enough to finally pierce my armor for good.

And it was enough for now.

A/N: My beta said this was her favorite chapter! Poor Harry.