Hermione's reaction to the prophecy, Ron too. Short chapter but necessary.
Disclaimer: As far as I'm concerned, I still don't own Harry Potter. It still belongs to Rowling. Personally if it were my series none of the golden trio would have been romantically interested with anyone in their own friend group, I'd have kept them all best friends. I think I'd have put Harry with Ginny, Hermione with Fred or George, and Ron with Luna. That way they all would have become family anyway ,).
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives …" Hermione recited his words "Neither can live while the other survives." She repeated, eyes wide. "Harry, what does that mean?"
The boy in question let out an uneasy sigh; despite the great weight that had removed itself from his shoulders by merely telling her, he was shaking; he could feel her shaking through the tight grip of their still interlocked hands.
"Harry ." The brunette pressed, fear and desperation both present as she spoke.
"It means-" His voice cracked; he stared at his lap, gaze fierce enough to burn holes into his jeans. "It means that one of us has to kill the other in the end." The raven-haired boy squeezed his eyes shut, his heart hammering in his chest.
He was going to be sick.
"No." Hermione barked suddenly. "No, that's not- it can't be-" She shook her head furiously, recoiling from his grip and standing to pace the room. "When did Dumbledore tell you?" The young witch whizzed back around to face him.
"Before the end of the year…" He trailed off, "I was so angry, I destroyed his office... he told me he should have told me sooner, he was just afraid of how I'd react…" his knuckles turning white as his fists gripped the fabric of the duvet. "All of you being here; you being here; you staying with me. It's not safe. He'll use you to get to me, to weaken me, because he knows how much it'll hurt." He addressed her personally.
"So he decides just to let you know after Sirius? After everything? You have every right to react like that!" Hermione huffed in vexation. "And me being here isn't your choice; it's my own. I want to be here, and you do not have any say in whether I am here or not." She choked out a sob, anger flashing across her face.
Harry stood, reaching out to grip her flailing arms, "Hermione- Hermione, it's okay." The young wizard tried to soothe, ignoring the lump in his throat.
"No!" She screeched slightly, jerking backwards, unchecked tears now falling freely down her cheeks. "No, it's not okay; he can't just throw something like this at you and expect you to be alright!" She cried in disbelief. "Had he told you earlier, you may not have gone to the Ministry in the first place. He-"
"No, it was my choice to go. I made the decision, it's no one's fault, but my own" Harry quickly interjected, eyes stinging.
"You can't just pin the blame on yourself, Harry!"
"But I can take responsibility." He finished quietly. Hermione opened her mouth to protest but quickly closed it, and he saw the fight go out of her. "Come here." He ordered softly, arms open. She threw herself at him, falling into his embrace completely; her hands gripped the back of his dampening shirt so tightly Harry thought it might rip, not that he cared.
"I'm sorry." Her muffled voice apologized, sounding more fragile than he had ever heard it. Her lips rested on his neck; he could feel her uneasy exhales next to his frantically beating jugular.
"You have nothing to be sorry for." He assured, just below a whisper.
"Neither do you, Harry…" The girl in his arms countered, pulling back slightly to look at him. "You didn't ask for any of this, any of it." She raised her hand, brushing his fringe to the side, her fingers tracing his scar. "You are meant for so much more than this…" She voiced her thoughts absently, her hand coming to rest on his cheek, the way it had downstairs. He felt his eyes close at her touch. "There is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise."
His eyes opened at her vow, green meeting brown. He studied the girl in front of him; her swollen, red eyes that were slightly hidden by her long lashes, unshed tears swallowing the flecks of gold and honey that lay in the hazel pool; her dark skin that was dotted with freckles; her chestnut hair, loose strands framing her face, causing his hand to retract from her waist to curl a piece behind her ear absentmindedly, the young witch's eyes fluttering closed at his gentle fingers; hee slightly furrowed eyebrows; her button nose; her lips. His mouth went dry. Her mouth was slightly open, giving him the view of the cuts from where she had been biting her bottom lip; his gaze lingered there as he pushed away the urge to capture them with his own.
When he did drag his gaze away from her lips, he caught her doing the same as him, now looking at his mouth. He felt heat trail across his cheeks as she lifted her head, and they locked eyes, hope once again present in her dark orbs.
Harry was vaguely aware that their heads were moving closer to one another on their own accord.
Just when their foreheads were about to touch, the door flew open, causing the couple to spring apart like they were the same ends of two magnets. They turned to the intruder, who was doubled over, holding their wrist in pain.
"Banged my arm on the bloody door." Ron hissed, his face screwed up in pain, utterly oblivious to the blushing couple in front of him.
"Oh, honestly, Ronald! Don't you know how to knock!" Hermione said, exasperated, glaring at him accusingly.
"All you were doing was unpacking! Besides, I heard yelling. Figured it's unlike you two to fight, so when it went all quiet, I came up to make sure you hadn't killed each other." He rubbed his arm, moving it to test the pain. "Anyhow, it's a nice change not being the one driving you round the bend." The redhead chuckled.
"You are unbelievable." Hermione said into her hand, shaking her head in disbelief.
"So," He turned his attention to Harry, "What were you talking about?"
Both Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, nervously.
"I have to tell you something, Ron." He spoke for the first time, his tone serious.
"So you're the only person who can kill him?" The ginger questioned weakly from his place on Fred's bed.
Harry nodded numbly, beside him, he heard Hermione squeak at his words, her forehead coming to rest on his shoulder as she gripped his arm tightly to her chest, afraid to let go.
"Blimey…" Ron ran his hands through his hair. "You really are the chosen one." He looked up, his freckles strikingly visible as his face went pale; the only response Harry gave was a light shrug, "What are you gonna do?"
"Dumbledore talked about some private training…" He said lightly. "And I guess we could start the DA up again, now Um-bitch isn't around anymore."
A muffled Language came from Harry's shoulder, the latter apologizing in response as Hermione lifted her head, only to rest her chin on his shoulder instead so she could look at Ron.
"I'm with you all the way, Harry." Ron promised, holding his hand up to stop Harry's retort before it could begin. "You've been with me through it all, mate; through everything. I'm not leaving you now."
"Oh, Ron." Hermione whispered, standing up and walking over to hug him, pulling Harry along with her.
Here in his best mates older brother's room, gripping onto his best friends for dear life. Harry could sense it.
That hope he kept seeing.
He could feel it here.
There will be no Weasley bashing on my watch.
.