I dont own any of the Harry Potter characters
--
Godric awoke to the feel of Hermione's lips pressed gently to his, at which he released a soft growl of lust, his hand tangling itself into her curled hair, holding her close to him as he savoured the brief moments of delight, before pulling back and smiling lightly into her eyes.
"I do hope I get this rude awakening every morning Sunrise," he whispered softly, lightly nipping at her ear and sliding his lips lightly over her jaw.
"You will.." she told him breathlessly, hand rubbing the back of his head. "Every morning that you stay here..."
Godric stilled himself, pulling back and looking at her seriously. "How long do you want me to stay here?"
"How long do you want to stay?"
He shifted, pulling her into his chest and letting her head rest on his slowly rising chest. "Forever," he said honestly. "Would that be alright?"
She sniffed, nodding and burying her face in his chest, her lips pressing gently into his skin. "Yes..." she whispered. "I want you to stay forever too."
Tilting her head up to meet his eyes, he spoke in a soft voice that was barely audible. "Then I will." He promised, his only thought that he couldn't bear to be parted from her. The timeline was insignificant, and his possible future did not mean anything to him; as far as he was concerned, his future lay right here, in the arms of his Sunrise.
"You can't..." she said tearily. "You have to go home, back where you belong..."
He pressed his lips to her head. "You're where I belong... right now, nothing else matters. I doubt it ever will."
"Don't say that..." she whispered. "You'll make it harder when you have to go."
"I'm not going." He said quietly. "Not in your lifetime. I'll stay here, with you. I don't care about where I come from, where you think I should be... I know where I belong."
"Godric," she whispered, pressing her face into his neck through her tears. "If you never go back, you'll never have children. And if you never have children, then the lives of people now won't exist.. which means we will never meet... which means..."
"Which means nothing." Godric insisted. "Here and now... that's all I care about. Right now, we're together. You're here with me, which in my eyes is the only thing worth considering."
"But I could be your... great great great great great great grand-daughter for all you know!"
Godric chuckled, pressing his lips lightly to her neck and whispering into her skin. "Now you're just being silly," he informed her. "You told me yourself you're muggleborn... couldn't possibly be my relation... and if you were... well it'd be very," he kissed her jaw, "very," another kiss, "very distant... and naughty..." the last word passed between his lips as a husky, dirty whisper, and she whimpered involuntarily, gripping his back tightly.
"Godric... I think..."
"Shh," he whispered. "You think too much!"
"I'm just... I don't..."
He pulled back and sighed, stroking her cheek gently. "I like you. I like you very much. And whats a thousand years where sex and lust are concerned?"
"Sex and lust?" Hermione replied distastefully. "Is that what you think this is?"
He grinned. "I think," Godric replied, "that they are the basic foundations for any relationship, and so, yes, that's what this is.. for now at least." He kissed her forehead gently. "That doesn't mean," he murmured, "that I see you as a plaything; you are much more than that to me."
"What am I to you?" Hermioned asked, her hand tracing between his pectorals lightly.
Godric's smirk spoke volumes. "You're my Sunrise." He frowned, then asked. "What am I to you?"
"Mmm..." she murmured, rubbing her nose into his chest. "You're my sextoy."
He pinched her waist sharply, laughing as she shrieked. "Be honest," he implored, stroking her back and holding her against him.
"I don't know..." Hermione said impishly.
He raised an eyebrow. "You don't know? Or you don't want to tell me?"
"I... well.. you're... it's hard to say.."
"Am I you're friend?" He asked.
"No."
"Enemy?"
"No."
"Well that's a relief... am I your friend with benefits?"
"You mean officially?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
"No.. what do you see me as?"
She blushed at him. "I guess... I see you as my boyfriend... without the long dating spell..." Godric smiled goofily, unable to hided his ridiculous wave of happiness.
"Really?" He grinned from ear-to-ear.
"Definitely."
He kissed her soundly, then muttered, "I see you as my boyfriend too."
She hit him, and he laughed, rolling onto her and softly pressing kisses into her collarbone. "You know you're a beautiful young man... I can't believe the women manage to keep their hands off of you..."
"You're disgusting." Hermione groaned.
"I'm dirty," Godric corrected, smiling. "And particularly proud of it."
She sighed and kissed the end of his nose gently. "I'm not... though I like your nose..."
He frowned, then shook his head, chuckling. "That's because you know exactly what my nose can do to you..." His eyes danced with mischief and she blushed, giggling.
"Later," she said, "we have to go and see Dumbledore now."
"About what?" Godric complained, pinning her down and looking at her dejectedly. "I don't want to go anywhere today Mummy, I want to stay home and eat you up!" He growled and attacked her neck. Hermione laughed, but shoved him off.
"That, would be seriously wrong."
"Well..." Godric shrugged, "who wants to be right, when being wrong feels so..." he seemed to search for the words, his eyes glinting as he whispered, "naughty!"
She shivered, pulling herself from the bed and shaking her head at him. "You're incorrigible." She muttered, pulling on her clothes and scourgifying them quickly.
Godric stood up, waving his own wand and letting his clothes fall on his body. "You'll see just how incorrigible I can be tonight. Mark my words."
Hermione smirked. "I look forward to it."
--
Godric was disillusioned as they walked along the corridors, despite it being a sunny day, meaning that all those who were not labouring over homework were enjoying the uncharacteristically warm day that came in late November. They walked silently, his arm draped over her shoulder; though she wished desperately to respond and wrap her arms around him, she attempted to walk as though there was nobody beside her - it would not do for Snape to round the corner and question why she walked as though she were dancing with a ghost, after all.
"You look delicious," he whispered in an undertone. She could feel his breath on her neck and she felt a delightful shiver ripple through her.
"Thank you," she muttered from the corner of her mouth. "I'd like to say the same, but unfortunately I can't see you."
"Well my dear," he whispered softly, "I'm sure I can prove how perfect YOU look, without you having to see me..." his hand slid up her top, a rather peculiar sensation given that she could not see him; it felt rather like she were having water poured over the slight crevice of her back- his hands were slightly chilled, and sent repeating shivers through her whole body.
"I don't think that would be considered normal..."
"Normals a word we use to disguise the majority's faults, Sunrise. If people disagree with me fucking you while invisible, I propose that it is them, not me, that suffers a problem." She couldn't see him, but could hear the smug smile in his voice. His hand slid higher, resting lightly below her bra clasp. "If someone saw your back at this moment, you'd look awfully hunchbacked my dear... perhaps you should simply remove the offending garment and save them the speculation?" His voice was heated and suggestive, and she let a small whimper pass her lips.
"Stop it..." she managed. "We'll be there soon."
He chuckled deeply and she felt his hand undo the clasp with ease. She was about to snap at him, her arms darting round to her back to re-do the attachment, when Snape swept around the corner. She was positive that the blush on her cheeks turned her purple.
"Miss Granger," Snape said, with a sweeping glance at her unorthodox position, "perhaps you will remember to appropriately dress yourself before venturing from your Head Girls quarters next time?"
"Who's that?" Godric whispered from beside her. His hand had fallen from her and his voice came from behind her.
"Professor Snape..." Hermione managed, half as an exclamation, half as an answer to Godric's question. "I just... it was an accident... I was... my top... it.."
"Perhaps if your wardrobe is causing you such a problem, you should re-evaluate it..." Smirking wickedly, he flourished his wand, turning her blouse into a baggy black t-shirt that hung to her mid-thight. "At least there shall be no obvious lack of support with such a top." He turned, sweeping from view, his black robes billowing. Hermione stared at the space which he had previously occupied and flushed red. Without warning, her blouse re-appeared, replacing the baggy black top Professor Snape had bestowed on her. At the same time, she felt her clasp reattach itself. She felt some of the anger at him ebbing away, though she felt the remainings of her anger burning strongly.
"I dislike him." Godric murmured into her ear, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pressed his mouth against her skin. "And the way he looks at you." His tongue flicked out against her cheek. "And the way he forces you to dress." He tickled her waist lightly, and she felt every little bit of anger dissipate into nothingness.
"We're late..." she sighed, trying to tap his invisible hands, it seemed as though she hit his forearms, but he let go, pressing a light kiss to her cheek as he pulled back.
"Let's go then I suppose..." he sighed.
"Yes... let's go."
--
Dumbledore sat smiling at the couple over his half-moon spectacles, eyes glinting with happiness and something alike to mischief. Godric met Dumledore's gaze with a pleading look the moment Hermione sat down, and the old man seemed to understand from that his exact meaning; their prior conversation was to remain a secret. They sat holding hands subconsciously, and Dumbledore made no notion to discourage them- indeed, if it were possible, he seemed to be positively thrilled at their newfound closeness.
"I have news of Voldemort," he said gravely, noting the couples differing expressions. Hermione's face showed fear, horror and apprehension - all the signs of a woman who had grown up to fear the horrors of that name. Godric's face spoke of determination and vengeance without so much as a trace of fear. "It appears," Dumbledore continued, "that his army is gathering strength. Several of our own supporters have been reported missing and dead, whilst others have publicly spoken of their loyalties to him."
Hermione gasped and Godric frowned. "You mean they're cowards?" Godric said distastefully.
Dumbledore shook his head, his long silver beard rippling slightly. "I mean, my dear boy, that they swear allegiance as an act of protection over the ones that they love. It is the supreme act of love, you will find."
"It's an act of cowardice." Godric retorted, jaw set. "If any were in Gryffindor I'd..."
He was interrupted by the Professors annoyingly calm voice, which spoke with too much reason, to the point Godric thought the man had overdosed on Gleeful Gin, his favourite form of beverage in his own time. "But my dear Godric, they are mostly in Gryffindor; loyalty to family is above all else in their eyes. Do you not feel as though, if given the choice of your family's death or their safety, you would pick their safety, first and foremost?"
Godric did not miss the slightly smug smirk on Hermione's face, and swore to reprimand her for it later on. "I founded Gryffindor," he growled back, "I know exactly how my House is meant to act. Bravery, above all else."
"And what is bravery?" Dumbledore enquired, as politely as though he were asking about the latest new quill at the local stationery shop.
Godric glared. "There's only one kind of bravery Dumbledore, and I am assured that your intelligence is of such a level you can contemplate its meaning."
"Why my boy, there are many kinds of bravery! The bravery you speak of is the most basic type, based on egotistical ratings of males who deem themselves capable of great deeds, paying little or no attention to others, working merely for ones own self-merit."
Hermione stared at her headmaster. It was very unlike him to make such bold statements of seemingly one-sided nature, when he was most often the peacemaker in such debates. She remained silent, watching events unfold with a great deal of interest.
"There is no self-merit to be gained; it's protection of others!" Godric's tone had risen to one of menace, and his hand gripped Hermione's so tight she thought her bones might splinter and break.
"My dear Godric, you have much yet to be learnt; there will come a time in your life when you put your life on hold, risk everything you hold dear materialistically, to save a person who means a great deal more emotionally. There is no bravery such as the bravery of a mother, for example, willing to throw herself in front of a killing curse for her child." At this, Dumbledore looked at Hermione with a knowing gaze which Godric could not fathom. "None such as the bravery of a man who risks ridicule and hurt to stop his son from being kissed by a Dementor. It is bravery that causes a man to put aside a single person he loves, for the wellbeing of the world..." this knowing look was directed towards Godric, who felt a chill, as though this had something to do with his past... or was it his future? When looked at it from one thousand years on, it seemed odd to think he had much still left to live. In this time, he was dead... it was at that moment that strange and surreal thoughts entered his mind, before Hermione squeezed his hand and brought him back to the present. He looked at her, shook his head in an effort to clear his train of thought, then looked back at Dumbledore.
"Your bravery description is much the same as mine; if a man fights for his people, he fights for his family and friends."
Dumbledore sighed in defeat. "One day, perhaps, you will understand the intricacies of such a complicated emotion."
Godric snorted in reply. "It's uncomplicated. It is simply rare."
"My story continues," the Professor said, suddenly, and without so much as a glance at Godric, he carried on from where he had left off; "several people have been reported missing, others have been found dead, a number of whom are or were members of the Order..."
--
Dumbledore went on for at least an hour, in which Godric remained stubbornly quiet and Hermione asked gently probing questions, in as subtle a way as she seemed to be able to manage. On more than one occasion, she was informed that there was little else to tell, and that the little else was most assuredly confidential until later dates. Godric's attention had waned on more than one occasion, his mind trailing instead to the night before, or the morning that he had just spent entwined with Hermione, though he managed to keep his attention long enough to grasp the basics, and Hermione filled him in on the rest. Voldemort had amassed supporters- more than The Order of the Phoenix (an organization Dumbledore himself had set up to fight back) could have foreseen. The Ministry of Magic was being overtaken, influential people killed or kidnapped, all done so discreetly that they could not catch him at it, but knew it was him. Voldemort was said to be setting his sights on Hogwarts itself, and on one particular boy, who, it turned out, was Hermione's best friend, the bespectacled, messy haired, green eyed, cocky boy who had burst in on them earlier that morning. Dumbledore had filled Godric in on the very basics of Harry's story - how he had survived a Killing Curse at the age of one, and had been fighting Voldemort off ever since he enrolled at Hogwarts school seven years ago. The boy himself could not remember it, and yet he was a celebrity, and believed to be the only person capable of rectifying the mess of their time. Godric was slightly proud to hear that the boys parents were both Gryffindors, and that they died defending their son, though clearly it was the wrong time to express such pride to either Dumbledore or Hermione.
When they left the office, Godric's mind was swimming with thought and wonderings. Hermione watched him with interest, not speaking a word until they were back in his rooms, sat silently on the comfortable mattress.
"What are you thinking?" She asked softly. He shrugged.
"It seems so... unlikely... unreal even."
Hermione nodded in understanding. "Yes... yes it does, even for me..."
Godric looked at her, stroking her cheek gently. "He's your best friend... I can't tell you how sorry I am for you."
She smiled, kissing his hand. "I've known it was going to happen for the last seven years Godric. I just worry that he won't come out of it... that he'll... that I..."
He kissed her lips softly, gently reassuring her. "I'll be here." He assured her. "I promise. Even if something happens to Harry, you'll always have me..." She put her arms around his neck and hugged him, face pressed into his neck as she tried to keep from crying.
"I wish you could be. I really do..." Her voice was strained, almost painful.
"I will be." He promised, hugging her tight against his chest and feeling her heart pound against his.
--
It was a few weeks before Godric returned to see Dumbledore; he was alone this time, as Hermione had classes all afternoon, and the older man seemed to think it best to see him alone. Godric did not ask why, as he had come to find that most of Dumbledore's invitations had a good purpose, which he would explain when and if it was necessary. He sat in the chair opposite Dumbledore, his hand running through his hair as the older man spoke.
"It would seem, Godric, that you stick by your decision to remain here, am I correct?" The blue eyes were piercing and searching, and, after suppressing a shiver, Godric nodded. "In which case," Dumbledore continued, "it seems only fitting that you join the Order itself, rather than remaining behind at school, where you can neither learn anything of your enemy, nor anything of our defence."
Godric blanched, his face draining of colour as he looked at the Headmaster. "Leave?" He asked, his throat dry. "I... what about Hermione?"
"Miss Granger is more than capable of looking after herself, my dear boy. And, on that particularly sensitive topic, I must add that it would not be wise to continue your relationship with her; it will, I'm sure you agree, cause particular difficulty if and when this war rolls by." The Headmasters tone was somber, yet not sympathetic, and Godric felt a dire need to throw something, anything, at the old man, in order to make him see sense.
"I can't not continue!" Godric said bitterly. "I'm happy! She's happy! I care about her! I never have to return to my own time, I can stay here until I'm old and wrinkly!"
"Whilst your ever-so-wonderful choice of words in the presence of an 'old wrinkly' is flattering, I must remind you that you live a thousand years behind the present day, and your return will most definitely be crucial in your own future, and indeed, in the future of wizardkind."
Godric stood up and slammed his fists down on the table. "I don't want to go back!" He roared. "I wish to stay here, with Hermione! My life is mine! Not anyone elses; its not yours to decide where and when I live."
Dumbledore did not sigh in exasperation, nor argue back, or even question Godric's point. Instead he sat and spoke in a gentle voice that was deliberately difficult to decipher. "I cannot stop you from seeing Miss Granger by any means; I merely advise caution. Given the time difference, it would be cruel on both parts if you were to fall in love with her."
The silence that stretched between them spoke volumes to both of them; Dumbledore saw the denial, then the shock, and then the realization that dawned on Godric's face, whilst all number of thoughts were running through Godrics mind.
"Minerva will collect you from your room tomorrow evening." Dumbledore said, breaking the silence and standing slowly and gingerly. "Good afternoon." It was a dismissal, and Godric took it as such, walking dazedly from the room without showing any other sign of acknowledgement.
--
As he descended the stairs and emerged on the other side of the gargoyles, Godric thought desperately about what Dumbledore had said to him. He could not be in love, he told himself, simply because it was so... he frowned. What was it, exactly? Was it wrong? No. There was no way something like his relationship with Hermione was wrong. So was it the age difference that made it impossible? Again, no. They had discussed on more than one occasion their age difference, even their time difference, and niether cared anymore, it was not a neccessity to be of similar age after all. How did you tell whether you were in love with a woman, he thought. Was it in the strange, peculiar, almost fuzzy feeling in his chest when she pressed her lips tenderly to his cheek? Was it the way in which his stomach did flips whenever she smiled at him? Was that even love, or was it simply lust? He thought about her, about waking up beside her for the last few weeks, and feeling so warm, so included, so safe... did that amount to love?
In every book of his time, every work of fiction he had ever read, love was described as being wonderful, warming, delightful... could it be bad to be in love with Hermione?
When he considered it, it was in all likelihood that he truly did love her; he treasured those moments when they lay together after sex, and the way he felt when he awoke to her gentle kisses. He delighted in her voice sounded, in its seductive whisperings, its loud outbursts and exclamations, it's uncontrollable high pitch when he claimed her as his own in the bedroom. The way in which she tickled her own lips with the tip of her quill as she though intrigued and amazed him, more than was normal, he knew. Her kisses sent shivers of delight and warmth through him like no other had, whilst her hand in his felt like a promise, a certainty almost. When she said she wanted him to stay forever, he had never felt so happy, so thrilled. Her hair, with its sometime unruly curls post-sex, fanned out behind her on his pillow, was beautiful. Her eyes were enticing, intriguing, loving, warm...
Did he love her? He asked himself again. In retrospect, he thought, yes, he must do.
--
She was on his bed when he returned from a long walk around the grounds, reading a book so thick he wondered how she managed it. The moment he entered, she looked up and sent him a winning, beautiful, beaming smile, that made his stomach twist and flames of lust lick at him. She returned to her reading, letting him lie down behind her, draping one arm over her hip and supporting his head on his other. His thumb traced absent patterns on the waist of her skirt as he leant to kiss her neck gently, brushing the hair aside and moving his lips over her pulse.
"I'm trying to concentrate..." she murmured quietly, her hand stilling on the book before her.
"Concentrate then," he whispered, lathing the hollow of her collarbone with his tongue. "I'm just entertaining myself."
"You're a distraction." She muttered, attempting to shift her body and pull away from his tempting kisses.
"A distraction you welcome all too easily it would seem..." his hand slid under her blouse and towards her bra, rolling her nipple between his fingers and smiling gently into her skin as her breath caught in her chest.
Hermione shifted backwards, pressing herself into his pelvis and smirking at his sharp intake of air. "You should know by now I give as good as I get," she said quietly, attempting to maintain her intelligent look by reading the page before her. The words passed through her head and straight out again. Unable to concentrate, she closed it and placed it on the bedside table, turning over to face him and stroking his lightly stubbled cheek. "You need a shave," she murmured, grinning at him.
"I need lots of things," he whispered softly. "But the only thing I really want right now, is you..." he pulled her face to his, kissing her softly and gently, in a way that contradicted the fierce lust that he had just seemed to profess.
"Mmm," Hermione murmured in agreement. "I want you too." Her hand slid to his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly and teasingly.
Godric sighed, lightly kissing her nose and shaking his head. "I don't mean like that..." he trailed off, biting his lip and avoiding her eyes as she looked at him searchingly.
"What do you mean then?" She asked, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. The question hung in the air for several moments, and Godric's head swirled with thought, and wonderings of what to say.
"I mean that... I think... I want you."
She raised her eyebrows. "And... you have me. I'm right here aren't I?"
"I don't mean like that." Godric snapped. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I just... maybe want isn't the right word... I do want you like that, obviously... but I want something else too..."
"What something else?" She probed, running a hand through his hair. He caught it, bringing it to his lips and pressing it to them in a light kiss, a brief contact that sent warmth through his very soul.
"I want forever." He said honestly. "I want to see you every day of my life, to wake up to you, to kiss you, to hold you..." He met her eyes and whispered to her. "I want to stay in love, for always. With you."
--
She searched his eyes for what felt like a lifetime, trying to decipher which part of it had been a joke, said in jest to shock her, scare her, worry her maybe. There was nothing. It seemed to her that he was telling the truth, laying out everything he had to offer before her. The realization of what his words actually meant dawned on her, and she tried to stop tears from leaking out of her eyes; he wanted to stay in love, which meant, in no uncertain terms, that he already was. How was that meant to make her feel, she wondered. Was she supposed to feel happy? She did, definitely. It was nice, of course, to know that you were loved... and yet, why did she feel guilty at the same time? Had she been leading him to think that they had a future, that they could ever be more than just lovers while he remained in her time? She knew, instantly, that she had. She'd told him she wished he could stay. She came to him every night, and only after several hours of gentle, comfortable conversation did they go to bed. But at the same time as realizing that she had been leading him on, she realized too that she had fallen just as badly in love with him. Somewhere along the line of lust driven sex and growing friendship, she'd crossed some border, some line between lust and love. Did she feel guilty for loving him, then? No. She felt guilty because she had not told him first; she felt guilty because she knew she never could.
"You can't love me." She told him softly.
The sentence hit Godric like a ton of bricks thrown at his gut. He felt sick, the wind left his body, and all he could do was stare blankly at her, the question of why not hanging unsaid between them.
"I'm not in your time Godric... it's just wrong for me to pretend that we can ever be more than... than just..."
"Just what?" Godric managed to grind out, some form of anger mixed with confusion and hurt brewing in his stomach. "Just fuck buddies?"
Hermione looked at him, pained. "You know that's not what I think of you!" The hurt in her voice twisted his stomach, and Godric shook his head.
"No... I don't think that of you... I just... if I can't be the person you love, why did you call me your boyfriend?" He felt rather good about himself, managing to remember that, but it was quickly replaced with a cold ache in his chest at her reply.
"Because I got lost in the moment! Everyone says things after sex they don't mean! For Merlin's sake Godric, I was just post-sex high!"
Godric stared at her, sitting up on the bed and averting his eyes to the wall instead. "So I'm just a bit of fun, is that it?"
"No! You're my friend! You're... you're..." what could she call him? She'd already denied that they were just 'fuck buddies', and that he was her boyfriend. Lover was too close to love, and anywhere near that word was forbidden at this moment.
"When you look at me," Godric whispered, "how do you feel?" He turned to look at her, his piercing eyes resting on hers, his mouth set, his hair slightly floppy. The honest answer, Hermione thought, was that her heart beat quickened, her stomach twisted, her knees went weak and her head went light.
"I'm attracted to you," she said shrugging. "That's obvious, because I'm sleeping with you. There's nothing else."
"Really?" Godric asked, apparently unconvinced.
"Yes." Hermione looked away for several moments, then said. "How do you feel when you look at me then?"
Caught off guard, Godric debated whether he should answer or avoid the question. Yet avoiding it seemed like such an incredible waste. He loved her, and even if the feeling wasn't mutual, or if she scorned him afterwards, he needed to tell her, to show her exactly how he felt for her.
"Right now?" He asked softly.
"Yes." She sat up, sitting on her ankles and looking at him, sat on the opposite side of the bed.
"I get cold," He said softly, "because I'm not holding you. I get goosebumps when you're smiling at me; my head's light, my heart's racing, my palms are sweaty... I'm worried you'll walk out that door and I'll never see you again. I'm terrified that I'll never get to kiss you again, and that this is the last time I'll get to look at your beautiful face..." He trailed off and waited for her to say something.
"It sounds like lust..." she whispered, knowing it was a lie. It sounded like love, and she hated it.
Godric looked at her for several moments, then stood up, walking towards the door. He put his hand on the doorknob, then looked at her, saying softly, "then I guess this is goodbye, right?"
Hermione stared, mouth open. "Why would this be goodbye?" She asked softly.
"Because I'm leaving tomorrow evening," he said softly, "and I doubt that you'll be staying the night." He left the room without another glance at her, hardly daring to think in case tears threatened to flood from his eyes.
--
Hermione sat on his bed, her whole body frozen, her skin chilled and clammy with cold sweat. He was leaving; after all that talk of love, and wanting to stay forever, he was leaving her, returning home and not even looking back. Why had he said such things to her? She wondered if perhaps he had been searching for a reason to stay, and yet it seemed that his voice had been doused with regret ever since he entered the room. She didn't know how he planned to return, she had no idea why his mind had suddenly been changed, or why he no longer felt the need to stay behind and fight Voldemort with her. All she was certain of now, in this moment, was that he was leaving, and she might never tell him how she felt... but telling him would mean the timeline would stop, that everything she had argued and pressed had been pointless. If he stayed because she admitted her love for him, she couldn't forgive herself. Yet she knew she had to say goodbye, that she had to kiss him one last time... her body acted of its own accord, carrying her out of the room and down the flight of stairs, following the sound of his footsteps.
"Godric!" She called out, seeing his retreating back a little way down the corridor.
He turned to look at her, and seemed to sigh with annoyance and frustration. He stopped, tapping his foot impatiently as she drew level with him.
"Don't go yet," she whispered softly. "Please.. don't go."
"Why not?" He asked bitterly, "so that we can fuck around a little longer?"
"No," she whispered... "no... I just... I don't... I don't want you to leave." She reached out to touch his face, but he caught her hands and looked at her carefully, searchingly.
"Do you love me, Hermione?" He asked gently, eyes not leaving hers, watching the fear, sadness and confusion that welled up in her eyes as he said so. She didn't reply.
"Do you love me?" He repeated, stepping closer so that their lips were mere millimetres apart.
She pressed her lips to his, as if hoping it would create a distraction; anything to avoid that question.
"Answer me," he said quietly, eyes half-lidded as he looked at her. "Do you love me?"
She blinked, eyes wet, but shook her head. "No.." she whispered softly. "I don't."
Godric's eyes burned, and he pressed his lips fiercely to hers, seeking some kind of closure, some kind of promise from her mouth on his; he found none. She didn't kiss back, she merely froze in his arms, unable to move. Tears slid down his face as he pulled back to look at her and whispered quietly.
"I love you."
He dropped her hands and turned on his heel, walking down the corridor and listening to the empty echo of his feet on the marble floor. Nobody elses feet echoed along with his, and he felt, for the first time, temptation to truly leave, not just Hogwarts, but this time.
--
In the next chapter I'm thinking these characters at Grimmauld Place:
-Lupin
-Tonks
-Sirius
-Molly
-Charlie
-Bill/Fleur
Let me know what you thought of this :)
Mage of the Heart