# Once, Before I Go

Bingblot

Rating: NC17
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 30/03/2005
Last Updated: 30/03/2005
Status: Completed

He was leaving tomorrow. He needed to tell her that, needed to say goodbye... One-shot SWS.

## 1. Once, Before I Go

Disclaimer: HP and everything related to it belongs to JK Rowling, etc. Only borrowing her world for fun and not for profit, yadda yadda.

Author’s Note: Inspired by Goldy’s “Promises to Keep” and for Libbie, because her “A Time for Goodbye” is still the best ‘saying goodbye’ fic I’ve ever read.

The text in bold are lyrics from the song, “Once Before I Go” by Peter Allen, from the ‘Boy From Oz’ musical.

~~~

Once, Before I Go

Tomorrow. He was going to leave tomorrow.

He was simply sitting at his window in his room looking outside at the darkness when he knew. It wasn’t a revelation or a shock but a quiet decision.

It was time to end this. Tomorrow.

He didn’t know if he was ready but he was going to leave Hogwarts tomorrow. Leave to face Voldemort for good. He had been studying, practicing, training for this for two years now and it was time. He would never be any more ready than he was now, he knew. No matter how long he trained, he was never going to be more ready than he was now. And he knew it was time to end the waiting.

He was so tired of it all, too. Tired of the apprehension, the tension, the mounting dread. Tired of waiting.

So he was going to leave.

He got up mechanically, oddly calm now that the decision had been made.

There were things he needed to do.

He headed first to the Headmistress’ Office. McGonagall would need to know. She would inform the Order to be prepared to back him up if necessary.

He said the password tonelessly. “Alberta Tutskill.” (The name of the first Headmistress of Hogwarts after Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff.)

McGonagall looked up in some surprise when he entered the office. “Mr. Potter, what is it?”

And then she looked at his face and her own paled slightly, reading in the set determination of his expression, his decision.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. It’s time to end all this. Tell the Order I’ll be leaving in the morning. Alone.” He spoke flatly.

For the first time, he was not merely a student speaking to his Headmistress. He had, in this one moment at least, become an equal, an adult. The hero was set on his course; everyone else would follow.

“Are you sure, Harry?” McGonagall ventured.

“Yes,” he answered briefly and certainly. “It’s time we stop playing defense. I’m going to face him tomorrow.”

Tomorrow…

The word echoed in his mind as he left the office.

Tomorrow…

He went to her next. Telling everyone else- saying goodbye to Ron- could wait. But he needed to see her, to tell her. And he needed to say goodbye…

She was in her room, reading a book on ancient protection spells, when he knocked.

She opened the door and looked at him. Saw the look in his eyes, the lines of determination framing his mouth, and she knew.

He was going to leave tomorrow.

He didn’t need to say the words to tell her.

He didn’t know which of them was the first one to reach for the other, or perhaps they both moved at the same moment.

His arms closed around her with stunning force, his face burying itself in her hair as he simply breathed in the scent of her for a moment, feeling her against him.

And for the first time since making his decision, he allowed himself to feel, to think, about what it meant. He was leaving her tomorrow… Would he ever see her again?

The first time his mouth found hers, it was like an explosion. His lips were hard, unyielding, against hers, as he kissed her with all the emotion, the desperation inside him.

She returned his passion, molding herself against him, her hands clutching at his hair, his shoulders, his back. He was leaving her tomorrow. And the knowledge fueled her own sense of desperation.

He finally broke the kiss when breathing became a necessity, his lips wandering, pressing kisses on her eyelids, her forehead, her cheeks, the corners of her lips, to return to kiss her fully on the mouth again. But this time the kiss was gentle, tender, at once a farewell and a promise to return, a declaration…

Once, before I go, I want you to know

That I have loved you all along;

And even when we’re far apart

I only need to feel you’re living in my heart

And I’ll be strong;

I love you just the way I’ve loved you all along…

The mood shifted yet again, becoming more passionate, desire mingling with emotion.

His hands began to wander from where they’d been idly caressing her back down to her butt, bringing her hips in closer to him as his lips moved down her chin to her neck, causing her head to fall back and her mouth to open on a gasp.

Then she was walking backwards, or being walked backwards, until they both fell on her bed, him landing half on top of her.

She didn’t stop to think that this was her first time, their first time, or to wonder at what they were about to do. He was leaving tomorrow—nothing else mattered right now except that he was leaving and she loved him and she couldn’t help but feel a sick sort of fear that this just might be the last time she would see him and it was only right that they do this now—just once, before he left.

His hands were on her breasts now, touching her, caressing her, through the barrier of her bra and her jumper. She could feel the heat of his touch and her nipples hardened, a pool of molten heat settling in the pit of her stomach and a jolt of wetness seeping into her knickers.

Her hands slipped inside his jumper to caress the bare skin of his back and then slipped inside the waistband of his trousers to touch his butt- which, she had to admit, she’d admired for a while, especially when he was in his Quidditch uniform, but was only now getting to feel up-close.

He gasped and ground his hips against her, his arousal pressing into the core of her body between her legs, causing a mounting frustration to build at the friction there.

She pushed his jumper up over his head as his lips paused in their wandering over every inch of her neck, finding all the little sensitive hollows and spots that made her gasp or squirm when he pressed his tongue to them.

He returned the favor in stripping her of her own jumper, unhooking the clasp of her bra with a clumsiness born of haste and inexperience, until she was bared to his gaze.

She cringed slightly, feeling the first flicker of uncertainty, of vulnerability, since this had started, her arms automatically moving to shield herself but he stopped her with a hoarse word, the first word he’d spoken since entering her room. “Don’t.”

His head lowered as he took one nipple into his mouth and she jerked in a mixture of arousal and surprise at the wet heat of his mouth on her breast. Oh God… Who would have thought that this could feel so good?

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered softly, between kisses, his breath tickling her sensitized skin.

His mouth moved to her other breast as his hand slid down from her breast to her stomach, pausing at her hips, before slipping under her skirt to caress her thigh.

Her legs clamped shut instinctively, trapping his hand, so he returned his attention to her breast, tasting the salty-sweet essence of her smooth skin, his free hand continuing in its caresses of her breast and stomach.

Her hands which had been wandering in their own course of exploration over the taut skin of his back and shoulders moved up to tangle her fingers in his hair.

Insensibly, her thighs parted and his hand moved upward to touch the center of her and she let out a gasping moan.

He lifted his head to kiss her mouth again, deeply, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth, as his hands fumbled for the zipper of her skirt, pushing it down along with her knickers.

She slipped one hand down to the front, to cup his arousal through his trousers, and he let out a guttural groan, his eyes closing. She felt her lips curve into a slight smile before she undid his fly and pushed his trousers and his boxers down. He kicked them the rest of the way off and for a moment she just stared at him.

She wasn’t thinking coherently but the vague thought, as insubstantial as a puff of smoke, formed and then vanished, that now she really knew all of Harry…

He reached for her, drawing her close to him, kissing her again, gently, one hand cupping her cheek in a gesture of so much love and tenderness it brought tears to her eyes.

He shifted before thrusting fully inside and she gasped against his mouth at the sharp flash of pain, the odd feeling of being stretched, filled, completed.

“Hermione,” he breathed, her name an endearment and a promise and a prayer all at once.

She brought his mouth to hers again, her kiss giving him tacit permission to begin to move and he did.

It was a little uncomfortable but it was beautiful as well and it was perfect, because it was him and she loved him and he loved her…

His hand moved to caress her breast, his fingers pausing on her nipple and she gasped, arching into his touch, feeling a tingling beginning inside her and spreading, growing.

His breath was coming faster, in gasps, and she could sense the tension building inside him and automatically tightened her muscles around him. And he thrust one last time inside her, his name on her lips.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard and she tightened her arms around him.

She was really his now, and he was hers...

He lifted his head to look at her, his gaze shining into hers, and she smiled slightly even through the tears that suddenly welled up in her eyes at the thought that this just might be the last time she would see him.

“Did I hurt--” he began hesitantly and she shook her head.

“You were perfect,” she said softly.

The corners of his lips lifted into the faintest of smiles but the moment was too solemn, too serious, for smiles and they faded again.

He was leaving tomorrow…

He rolled onto his side, bringing her in close to him, her body fitting snugly beside his, his lips brushing her hair.

“When will you leave?” she finally asked, her voice so soft he barely heard it.

“In the morning,” he murmured.

He sensed her tension and spoke first, pre-empting what she’d been about to say. “I have to do this alone. You- I- I can’t let you come with me,” he said, his voice a raw whisper. “I can’t.”

They had been over this before, time and time again, and she knew no good would come of arguing. It was too late to argue; she couldn’t argue with him now, not on this last night.

He shifted slightly and she turned to meet his gaze, filled with love and regret and resolve.

“Besides, you’re always with me, here,” he lifted his hand to touch his heart, “and here,” touching his head. “And you’ll be with me tomorrow.”

She blinked back tears furiously at his uncharacteristically sentimental words but right now, at this moment, there could be no thought of embarrassment, no boyish reticence to discuss feelings. He was leaving and there was so much more still to be said, a lifetime of thoughts and words filling her, everything she’d ever wanted him to know…

And they all mingled, summarized in only four words. “I love you, Harry.”

His eyes darkened and he bent his head to kiss her again.

She gave herself up to his kiss, the feeling of his lips on hers, his tongue stroking hers, the heat of his body beside her, and savored the sensation of it. He was here with her now. He was here and he was warm and alive and safe- and for that moment, she was happy. There was nothing in the world she wanted…

The lightening of the sky outside her window, the gray beginnings of the dawn beginning to creep inside her room, was the most terrible sight ever.

Today. He was leaving today. And the dawn was suddenly a horrible, hateful, frightening thing.

She shivered slightly, reaching over to run her hand gently through his hair, her finger brushing his scar.

He had fallen into a light sleep, his breathing deep and even next to her and she’d stayed up, only listening, glorying in the feel of his chest rising and falling gently with every breath.

His eyes opened at her touch and for a moment their gazes met and melded, each seeing a reflection of their own fear and sadness and love in the other’s eyes.

Once, before I go, I need you to know… I love you…

He opened his mouth to say the words. “I lo-”

She cut him off with a kiss. “I know. But don’t say it now, say it when you come back.” She made a valiant attempt at a smile and tried, heroically, to inject some semblance of lightness into her tone, an attempt that fell sadly flat. “And I’ll never forgive you if you don’t come back to tell me.”

His lips twitched in the closest approximation of a smile he could manage. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Their last kiss was hard, desperate, filled with all the sorrow and heartbreak of all the farewells ever said in the world and all the hope for a tomorrow that might never come…

Once, before I go, I need you to know, I love you… And I always will…

She didn’t go with him when he left for the Great Hall where McGonagall, where Ron, where everyone, would be waiting to say goodbye and see him off. Her last sight of him before he left, their last goodbye, was in the privacy of her own room. She knew she couldn’t say it with others watching. Not that she actually said the word, goodbye; her throat closed on the word and she knew she couldn’t say it. It was too final, too conclusive—as if she didn’t expect him to return. So she only looked, letting her eyes say what she couldn’t, and only said, “Be careful.” And he nodded, just once, his eyes burning into hers. “I will,” was all he said, before he left her room to say goodbye to Ron and then everyone else.

It’s so hard to say goodbye

When there’s so much that’s left unspoken in your eyes…

She waited until she knew he had gone, left the relative safety of Hogwarts grounds, felt the sudden chill of apprehension take possession of her heart.

And it was only then that she allowed herself to cry.

Once, before you go, I need you to know, I love you and I’ll wait for you…

~The End~