Author's Note: I've been sitting on this one for a while. Finally had the urge to finish it. I hope you enjoy some feels! xxDustNight

Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to J.K. Rowling. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Open Arms
Rated: M
Pairing: Hermione/Harry
Summary: Even though Harry and Hermione love one another, they find their relationship at an impasse.
Song Recommendation: "Open Arms" by Journey
Prompt: Danger. Fence. Seven. "Just because you're afraid of losing them, doesn't mean—" "Lesson one, don't tell me anything about myself. Lesson two, learn to keep your mouth shut." (courtesy of starrnobella)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Open Arms

19 September 1998: 12 Grimmauld Place

Sitting alone in the kitchen, Hermione stared forlornly into her cooling cup of tea. Her shoulders were slumped and her chest ached with each breath she took. Tears prickled her eyes, but she refused to cry. She shouldn't cry on her birthday. She kept telling herself that, but it was no use. As a single tear escaped from her eye to slide down her cheek, she gave into the torrid of emotions that ravaged her. Teardrop after teardrop cascaded into the teacup held gingerly in her trembling hands.

That's how Harry found her half an hour later, his bare feet shuffling him into the kitchen just after seven. At first he didn't notice anything wrong, but then he saw the way her shoulders shook and heard her quiet sniffling. Suddenly wide awake, he hurried to her side and dropped to his knees next to her. Wrapping his arms around her middle, he tried to soothe her with his kind words.

"Hermione," he murmured, his hand rubbing soft circles on her back, "what's wrong? Why are you so upset?" When she was unable to reply, he just held her close until her tears subsided. It didn't matter that it took quite a while, or that his knees ached from crouching on the floor; he just wanted Hermione to feel better. When at long last she'd calmed, Harry released his hold to stand and pull the chair at the end of the table closer so he could hold her hand.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, wiping at her eyes to remove the remnants of her remorse. "I didn't mean to fall to pieces like that." She gingerly met his stare, her red-rimmed eyes full of sadness.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Harry replied with a reassuring smile. "I know you and I are still trying to figure out this whole relationship thing, but I want you to know I'm here for you."

Sighing, Hermione used the hand Harry wasn't holding to reach out to caress his cheek momentarily before dropping it to her lap once more. "Yeah, we are," she agreed, a tiny smile of her own breaking through the sadness. "That's what I love about you, Harry; you're always so understanding of my circumstance."

Drawing her hand upwards, he brought his lips down to place a gentle kiss upon her knuckles. "I love you too," he whispered, giving her a pointed look. "And you've always been there for me since we were kids—of course I'll be here for you just the same."

"That means everything to me…" She trailed off biting her lip and causing Harry to sit up a bit straighter, concern clouding his green eyes.

"What is it?"

"It's just that it's my birthday and I'm no closer to restoring my parent's memories." Her breath hitched, but she swallowed back her emotions, done with tears for the moment.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, knowing this topic was always such a sore spot for them. Hermione had been reprimanded for altering her parent's memories by the new Minister for Magic, so now she had to wait for approval to restore Jean and Thomas Granger to the way they were before. In fact, there was a chance the Wizengamot would rule that it was a danger to restore their memories at all, leaving Hermione with no choice but to let them go…forever…

Every time one of them broached the subject, it would end in a fight. Harry thought she should wait it out, and that everything would turn out alright in the end. Her parents were obviously happy in Australia, having built a new life for themselves. On the other hand, Hermione wanted to meet with the Wizengamot and beg them to hasten their decision; after all, she'd lost enough time with them as it was. It was hard for Harry to understand the way she was feeling. He'd never known his parents…

It took him a moment, but he suddenly realized Hermione was speaking. Shaking his head slightly to clear away his thoughts, he asked, "What? Sorry, I got a bit lost there for a minute."

Giving him a slightly annoyed look, Hermione continued, "I was saying, I'm going to go and speak with Kingsley this week. I can't just sit on the sidelines and do nothing any longer. I just—I can't lose them completely. Knowing they're alive and well, but out of my grasp…it's killing me, Harry. And I know you don't agree with me on this issue, so…I think it might be best if we go our separate ways for now." Biting her lip as she stopped talking, it was clear Hermione was nervous about what Harry's reaction would be to her decision.

Feeling as if his entire body had been doused in cold water, Harry simply stared at Hermione in shock. Had she really? Did she just? What was she trying to tell him?! He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but found that words escaped him. Dropping her hand, which he still held, he shoved the chair away from the table and stood before beginning to pace the meager kitchen. She watched him as he moved back and forth, occasionally stopping to run a hand through his still bed-tousled hair.

When finally he came to a stop in front of her, but on the other side of the table, he leaned forward with both hands flat upon the wooden surface. She waited with bated breath to hear what he had to say, knowing he was angry. They stared at each other for a while, the silence heavy on their shoulders. At long last, Harry exhaled, voicing his concerns.

"You're the smartest witch I know," he began, voice strained, "but wanting to go and bombard Kingsley with requests to override the Wizengamot's process is certainly the most idiotic idea I've ever heard. There is a process for a reason, and we need to follow it." He paused, watching as red splotches formed on her fair cheeks. When she made no attempt to stop him, he kept going, hoping he wasn't making a mistake. "And I thought our love meant something to you? Just because you're afraid of losing them, doesn't mean—"

Shooting to her feet suddenly, unable to hold it together any longer, Hermione slapped her hands down on the table in a mirror image of Harry himself. Glaring at his startled face, she practically screamed, "Lesson one, don't tell me anything about myself. Lesson two, learn to keep your mouth shut, Harry. These are my parents, and just because you have no idea what it's like to know your parents are alive, don't presume you can make decisions for me!"

Harry's mouth snapped shut as he stumbled back from the ugliness of her words. "Just…I'll let you alone for now," he decided, throwing his hands into the air and storming from the room. It was impossible to talk to her when she was in this sort of mood. Maybe after she calmed down they could relax and go meet up with Ron and the other Weasleys for her birthday celebrations like they'd originally planned.

Watching Harry leave, Hermione placed a trembling hand over top her lips as she sank back into her chair. Once more, tears ran down her cheeks, but this time they were from a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Wrapping her arms around her shaking form, she tried to make sense of what just happened. How could she have said such a hurtful thing to him?

"Bugger…"

. . . . . . . . . . .

Late that night, Harry and Hermione were lying in bed, both quietly thinking about earlier that morning. They'd never made it to the Burrow; instead, they stayed home, each hiding in a room so that they wouldn't disturb the other. It was a miserable way to spend your birthday, Harry thought, but there was nothing to be done. They'd both said things they regretted, and now it was time to either fix it or let it go…

Rolling onto his side so that he was facing Hermione, Harry whispered, "Hermione?"

Through the darkness came her quiet reply, "Harry?"

Without saying anything else, he opened his arms. Almost timidly, Hermione shuffled closer under the blanket, fitting easily into the space he created for her. They both sighed as he wrapped her in his embrace, the tension of the day leaking from their bodies as they took comfort in one another. This was something they'd always done, curling up with one another after a particularly trying day. It started innocently enough back when they'd been hiding and hunting for the Horcruxes, but now they did it almost every night.

They stayed like that for so long, Harry almost thought she'd fallen asleep. He could feel her heartbeat, in sync with his own. It was calming, but she soon shattered the silence, her voice laced with tears and sorrow. "Harry, I'm so sorry…I love you, but I'm leaving tomorrow…"

He said nothing in reply, simply holding her as they both succumbed to their tears. Eventually, they fell asleep, and when he awoke, she as gone.

. . . . . . . . . . .

22 November 1998: 12 Grimmauld Place

Wandering the quiet house, Harry was looking for something the pass the time this evening instead of just reviewing his Auror field study notes and going to bed. Passing each room, he couldn't help but imagine Hermione there. In the kitchen making a pot of tea, turning to flash him a sweet smile over her shoulder as she asked if he wanted that or hot chocolate. In the lounge sprawled out on the sofa, working on the crossword puzzle or knitting more clothing items for the house elves she helped at work. Curled up on the reclining chair in the library, her lip caught between her teeth as she read happily by the fire. Or in the bedroom, naked and waiting for him underneath the covers…

Stopping in the front entryway, Harry removed his glasses and rubbed a hand over his weary face. Staring at the front door, he wished for the umpteenth time that she would come walking right back through it. He missed her desperately, hating living here alone…on his own…in this big old house. Returning his glasses to his face, he sighed heavily, the familiar ache radiating in his chest. If she came to that door right this moment, he'd still take her back. He'd pull her into his arms and hold her near, never letting go again.

She had always been there, and now that she wasn't…everything seemed a bit colder, darker even. Deciding there was nothing else to be done, he set the wards and moved for the staircase. Without Hermione, this place just didn't feel like home anymore. Without Hermione, he didn't feel whole anymore.

. . . . . . . . . . .

6 January 1999: 12 Grimmauld Place

Leaning against the fence across the street from Grimmauld Place, Hermione worried at her bottom lip, unsure whether or not she'd be welcomed back with open arms. Maybe a few months ago, when she first left…or even after the Wizengamot had ruled in her favor in early November. But now? Now it had been months without so much as a single letter, a glance in his direction at the Ministry. Did he still love her? Did he even want to look at her? Swallowing, Hermione hated the uneasiness those questions stirred within her. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she whispered, "Harry Potter lives at 12 Grimmauld Place." She waited with bated breath, praying that he hadn't changed Secret Keepers.

Relief, warm and sweet, flooded her as Harry's home slowly slid into view. Quickly, so no Muggles would notice, she dashed forward, up the few steps, and then used the ancient knocker on the door. She didn't falter, afraid her nerves may get the better of her if she did. Hell, he might not even be home. The seconds ticked into minutes, and soon she was sure he wasn't home at all. Just as she was turning, fully prepared to leave, the door burst open and there in the light from the hall, stood Harry, chest heaving as if he'd run to get the door before it was too late.

They stared at each other, both seemingly unsure what to do or say. Hermione suddenly burst into tears, apologies falling from her mouth one after the other.

"Oh, Harry—I'm so sorry. How could I have said the things I did? You must think I'm truly awful," she sobbed, not caring if the neighbors heard or saw. Harry said nothing as she cried, just watching a she opened herself to him. "Believe me, Harry, I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have left—we could have made it work. I—I love you, please don't send me away. Your love means everything to me. Everything." Finished, she stood there trembling from head to foot in the cold of the New Year.

His breathing having returned to normal, Harry waited patiently for her to say her peace. It was such a shock to hear the knock on the door so late at night. When he'd looked out the upstairs window and seen her standing there, he'd practically flown down the stairs to get to her before she left again. Closing his eyes, he let her words wash over him, easing away the pain of the past few months until he could only feel the love she still had for him radiating inside his very soul. Eyes brimming with tears of his own, Harry opened his arms to her, gesturing for her to come to him. She did without question, slamming into him with so much force he was nearly knocked backward.

Harry wrapped her in his embrace, relishing in the feel of her after being apart so long. He kissed the top of her head tenderly, ignoring the slew of apologies still whispering from her mouth. Getting ahold of his own emotions, he said thickly, "Now that you've come back, Hermione…I need you to stay. I can't do this without you…you're everything to me." He held her chin in his hand, wanting to kiss her most desperately.

"Of course," she gushed, "You're everything to me too..."

Whatever else she planned on saying was lost as Harry covered her lips with his own, kissing her soundly. Closing the door as they moved inside, both Harry and Hermione decided that, at long last, their night had returned to day, and all was well.