Vengeance , and Victory.
Harry spent the next few weeks alone in Grimmauld Place. He occasionally met Hermione for lunch, those times he felt so happy and relaxed, but as soon as she left, the depression settled on him, like a huge weight on his shoulders. Ron and Hermione had made up, and this was killing him, but she seemed happy. They would row occasionally, and Hermione would tell him, his sprits would soar. The next time they'd meet, she'd tell him they were all good again, and he felt like he wanted to burst into tears.
"She's slipping away from you, Harry," chided the little voice. "You need to do something. Something permanent. You can do this."
"I don't know what to do," he said aloud.
"It's all there you know. You do know what to do. Think!"
Harry picked out the old spell book from the case again, and settled at his writing desk. He found his page, and read on. He re-read the pages on memory charms, and then slammed the book shut in disgust. This was old, dark magic.
"How far would you go, Harry?" urged the little voice. "How far would you go for love?"
Harry leaned back in his chair. He'd go to the ends of the earth for Hermione. He would do anything. Dark magic? Harry shuddered and shook his head. No. He would continue to be a friend to Hermione, to be there for her. She would realise soon enough.
A few months passed, and Harry had all but forgotten about the thoughts he'd had. He continued to meet Hermione for lunch, give her flowers, but still experiencing the same cycle of incredible highs, and crushing lows. He would go home to Grimmauld Place, and sink into depression, so much so that Kreacher had taken to making Calming Draughts for him. He was sinking into himself.
The following week, he met her for lunch again, deciding after many, many days of deliberation he would tell her how he felt for her. They'd been friends for so long, he knew she would understand. Ron would never understand. They met in Diagon Alley in one of the many cafes, he was so pleased to see her, she was looking hauntingly beautiful, and Harry's breath caught in his chest as she walked towards him.
"Hey, Harry!" she called.
Harry grinned, and produced a bouquet of roses for her. She accepted them, and planted a big kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you, Harry. You know I love these."
"I know," replied Harry. "How's your week been?"
Hermione paused, and flushed a little. "I think Ron is going to propose soon. Well... he said he had something to talk about later. "
Harry's face fell, and he could feel the emotion welling up inside him.
"That's great, Hermione," he said, in that awful hearty voice. "I'm so happy for you."
Hermione cocked her head, and looked at him carefully. "Really?"
"I... I..."
"Tell her now!" cried the little voice. "You're going to lose her!"
Harry's voice cracked. "I just want you to be happy, Mione."
He could feel his eyes welling up, and he looked away from her. He beautiful concerned face looked worried, and she spoke softly.
"I'll always be here for you, Harry. Even if I do get married, it won't change anything between us. You're my best friend, Harry."
Harry looked up, and smiled at her.
"I'll always be here for you."
Their food arrived a little after, and Hermione was telling Harry about her week.
"We were in Flourish and Blotts yesterday, and I bumped into Malfoy."
"Really?"
"Yeah, Ron was furious. Malfoy called me a mudblood, and called Ron a blood traitor. I thought he was going to kill him, but I held him back, and Malfoy just sort of swaggered off."
"This is it!" screamed the little voice.
Harry smiled, and nodded.
"What are you up to tonight?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm going to some work party. I don't really want to go, and Ron's not coming either, so Ginny is coming with me. I'm not going to stay long, but I know how much Ginny loves those sorts of things," she said.
Harry and Hermione finished their lunch, and they said their goodbyes. Harry felt the crushing weight settle on him again, and he disapparated back to Grimmauld Place. Plans were already forming in his mind.
He raced up the stairs to the sitting room, and quickly grabbed the spell book, and found the page on the memory charms. He read, and re-read; ideas, thoughts and feelings were swarming and bubbling around in his head.
He had tried getting drunk. He tried exposing Ron as a cheat. He bought her expensive presents. Ron hit her, and it still didn't work. He'd been the best a friend could be, and that didn't work. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
Kreacher came into the sitting room, and served Harry coffee and sandwiches. He noticed the scraps of parchment and books, and the invisibility cloak.
"Is the Master going out tonight, Kreacher wonders," croaked the old elf.
Harry turned and looked at the elf, and smiled. "Yes, Kreacher, I am going out tonight. You are forbidden to mention this to anyone. If you are ever asked, I did not leave this house."
"Yes Master. The Masters word is a House-Elf's highest bidding."
Harry quickly ate the sandwiches and slugged back the coffee. He glanced out of the window; he'd been working for hours without realising, and noted it was starting to get dark. He checked his pocket watch; Hermione should be heading out soon. Harry picked up his travelling cloak from the hallway, pulled on his leather gloves and disapparated from the top step. The little voice in his head was now screaming instructions.
"Go to Ron, imperious him, use him to kill Draco Malfoy, and plant a false memory in Ron's mind. He will be sent to Azkaban, and she will be free, free for you," howled the voice.
Harry arrived with a small pop, in Hermione's garden. He tightened his grip on his wand. This was it. The plan seemed so easy. The little voice was screaming again.
"Do it!" shrieked the voice. "Do it now!"
Harry took a steadying breath, and slowly and silently moved to the back door. He gently tapped the door with his wand, which opened with a small click. He walked quietly into the dark kitchen, into silence. Harry took what seemed like his first breath, and entered the lounge. The lamps were lit, but the room was empty. Harry flicked his wand.
"Homenum Revelio!"
Harry waited for a second, nothing was revealed. The house was empty. The little voice screamed at him, but Harry ignored it, as he looked at the mantelpiece. There was a photograph of him and Ron, arm in arm on the Quiddich pitch. Another picture, on the wall, of himself, Ron and Hermione in their sixth year at Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron outside their first house. Ron showing off his new broomstick to Harry.
A sudden rush of emotion hit Harry, as if swamped by an ocean wave. Harry choked, and slumped to his knees, his whole body shaking as he sobbed. Time seemed to stand still for him; he did not hear the back door open. Hermione walked cautiously into the lounge with her wand out, and immediately saw Harry, on his knees, shaking. Harry finally heard her and turned and looked up at her beautiful face.
"Hermione..." he croaked
"Oh Harry!" said Hermione, as she dropped down beside him
"I'm the worst kind of... bastard... you could ever imagine..."
Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders and spoke to him in a low, soothing voice. She helped him up onto the sofa, where Harry continued to shake with emotion. Harry had his head resting in the crook of her neck, and her beautiful scent seemed to bring him back. He slowly sat up, Hermione took his hand. A bolt of panic shot through Harry.
"Where's Ron?" he asked.
"He's at The Burrow," said Hermione soothingly. Her voice cracked slightly. "We broke up this evening, and he's gone back."
"Oh, Hermione. I'm sorry," whispered Harry. He expected the little voice to start screaming at him again, but there was only silence.
"It's ok..." began Hermione, but she too began to sob gently.
Harry pulled her towards him, and he held her and after a few moments, she looked up at him. Harry stared into those deep chocolate eyes, and they moved slowly together, their lips met, and they kissed, slowly and gently. Harry softly stroked her long, soft hair as their tongues met. They pulled apart, and Harry spoke.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," said Harry slowly. "I've wanted to kiss you, for the longest time. I've wanted to tell you how I felt for years now, but until recently you seemed so happy with Ron. You drive me wild, every time I see you. I wanted to kiss you, to hold you in my arms, to make love to you."
"Harry, I know," she replied. "I see it every time we meet. That time when I stayed at your house, and I woke up in your arms, I felt so safe and happy and warm. I wanted to stay with you."
Harry composed himself, and stood up.
"I'd better go Hermione. I came here tonight with the worst intentions, but I couldn't go through with it. I wanted you so much, and I would have done terrible things. I would go to the ends of the earth for you; I would have used Dark Magic for you. I would have used the unforgivable curses for you.
Hermione looked at Harry, visibly shocked.
"What do you mean, Harry?" she asked quietly.
Harry broke down again, and Hermione pulled him close to her.
"I couldn't go through with it, Mione, I just couldn't do it," he choked. "I think I should just go."
"Harry. I'm coming with you."
Hermione quickly went upstairs, and reappeared with a weekend bag over her shoulder. She led Harry out to the garden by his hand, and disapparated to the top step of Grimmauld Place. Harry tapped his wand on the front door, and they headed up to the sitting room. She sat at his desk, and cast her eyes over the spell book, and the various scraps of parchment littering the desk.
"You were going to do this, for me?" she asked quietly.
Harry hung his head in shame. "Yes," he whispered.
"This is old, dark magic Harry. "
"I'm so ashamed, Hermione. Can you forgive me?"
"You didn't go through with it, Harry. This tells me that these plans are only in your head. You couldn't have gone through with them. Your heart is too pure. Just in case though..." Hermione flicked her wand at the parchments flew into the fireplace, and began to burn fiercely.
Harry sagged into the sofa, and Hermione sat close to him, and rested her head on his shoulder. She stroked his face and Harry felt the weight and gloom of the last few months slowly evaporating away.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" he asked quietly.
"Of course I will, Harry," she replied. "You need a friend now, and I'm here for you."
They sat together on the sofa for another hour or so, Kreacher served tea and little sandwiches, and Harry felt better and better as the night wore on. They chatted quietly, and watched the fire burn down, all the time cuddled together. Harry felt so peaceful with Hermione in his arms. Everything felt right.
A little later Hermione and Harry made their way up to the bedroom, Harry quickly undressed, and climbed into bed. He couldn't help but watch Hermione as she undressed, taking a thin tank top from her weekend bag. Her pale, creamy skin was to Harry, perfection itself. Harry again expected the little voice to be urging instructions to him, but again, just silence. That burning, powerful, almost forceful desire had evaporated, and it felt different. Hermione climbed into bed, Harry couldn't help but stare a little, the outline of her breasts, the shape of her long legs, the way her hair fell over her face. Hermione half laid back, propped up by the pillows, and invited Harry to cuddle up alongside her. He did, placing the side of his head on her chest, and put his arm gently across the small mound of her belly. He let out a long sigh as Hermione ran her fingers gently through his hair, as he drifted off to sleep.
He awoke after a long, peaceful and dreamless sleep, pressed up against Hermione's back, with his arm around, gently cupping her. Harry felt so warm and comfortable, and did not move. His head was nestled in her long hair, her soft breath, her scent, her beauty; Harry felt the emotion almost overwhelming.
How far would he go for love?
He would do anything for her.