Never Normal by dream_boat

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 14/03/2005
Last Updated: 14/03/2005
Status: Completed

Voldemort has been defeated, but where is Harry? [Could probably pass for 'G' but you
never know who's going to bite your head off about a kiss. Short, cute, enjoy!]




1. Never Normal
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NOTE: JK ROWLING owns all of the characters in this story. (Lucky her!)

Also: Well, this is pretty much my ideal H/Hr situation. Unfortunately, not including the smut.
However, those of you who have read my stories know how dreadful my smut is and therefore will
understand how skewed the ending would be if I were to add that extra little bit. But I find solace
in knowing that Rowling would never go that far in her books, so perhaps I won't be too far off
the beaten path. Sorry it's short!

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Through the darkness, he crept quietly. He made his way toward her bedside and stood. She was
lovelier than he remembered. Perhaps it was the calmness of sleep that helped to soften her
features from that of worry and exhaust, which he remembered more recently, to that of
peacefulness. The lines of concern weren't evident as she lay curled in her bed sheets, he head
pressed softly against her pillow. Bending over slightly, he brushed a hand through her unruly
hair; which was made even more untidy from the fitful sleep she was enduring. His slight touch was
enough to stir her from her shallow realms of slumber. She rolled comfortably in her sleep, facing
him more directly. Her eyelids began to flutter and Harry had the fleeting urge to run, to leave.
But he remained, anchored firmly to the wooden floorboards beneath his feet.

It had been two weeks since the Dark Lord's defeat, and nobody in the magical world had seen
Harry since that rainy night. News of Voldemort's defeat had spread rapidly, along with that of
Harry's disappearance. For some reason, he hadn't been able to bring himself to face the
rest of the world; the world he had saved. He had fled from the prying eyes to a run down hiding
place, where he had forced himself to face old demons; along with new, unexplored realizations.

Sitting up slowly, Hermione rubbed her eyes and disbelievingly raked her eyes over his frail
frame. He knew he must appear to her as one of the living dead and worried he might frighten her.
However, as he sat beside he on the bad, she reached a weary hand our and placed it gently on his
cheek. He moved his hand to cover hers and forced a smile.

“Harry?” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.

“Yes,” he replied shakily, “it's me.”

“Oh Harry,” she cried softly, flinging her arms around his neck. She sobbed softly into his
shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. “You're alive,” she sniveled quietly.

“Of course I am,” he spoke, pushing her away from him to look at her face. He was alarmed by the
amount of tears streaking down her soft cheeks.

“I thought…I mean…we didn't know whether….”

“Everything's okay, Hermione, I'm here.” He drew her into his arms once more and
breathed in deeply, taking in her dreamy scent. Suddenly, she pushed him from her and gave him the
look which he had been expecting, “Harry, where were you? I haven't been able to sleep,
I've been worried so sick!” Harry was reminded of a look Mrs. Weasley had worn one morning upon
arriving at the Burrow in a flying Ford Anglia.

“I'm sorry, Hermione. It's just…I-I needed to be alone.”

Her face softened immediately, and she took his hands in her own, warmer ones. She smiled at him
as she swept her hand quickly through his disheveled raven hair. She then scooted herself over in
the small bed and pulled back the corner of the bed sheets, patting the mattress beside her,
beckoning him.

He stood and pulled off his windswept cloak. Kicking off his shoes, he crawled under the sheets
into the warmth of Hermione's bunk. They lay side by side quietly before Harry spoke, “How is
everyone?”

“They're all doing fine. A few minor injuries here and there, but nothing drastic,” she
paused for a moment, “except Dumbledore…”

“I heard.”

They were silent once again. Harry's mind raced for some way to explain his absence. It was
Hermione who spoke first, “I know you probably have your reasons Harry, but we needed you here….I
needed you.”

“I know.” The air was still, and then Harry spoke again, questioningly, “*You* needed
me?”

Hermione rolled to face him, “Yes. I needed you Harry. I've been taking potions to help me
sleep since you've been gone. I couldn't sleep otherwise. I've had the worst
nightmares…I've been worried so much Harry,” he voice trembled as she spoke. Harry saw that her
lips quivered with each word. He heaved a deep breath and shifted his eyes back to the ceiling.

“I feel empty.”

“Harry?”

“Like I'm not really here. Like I'm hollow or something.”

Hermione remained quiet, waiting, letting him take his time. She had always been an excellent
listening. The only person who had always *really* listened to him. Who had really
*heard* him.

“I know I should be happy,” he began, “Voldemort's gone. But I just can't seem to wrap
my mind around it all. For eleven years I was a normal little boy…well, so I thought. The thing is,
even though the Dursleys were horrible, I didn't know any different. So it was always normal to
me. I thought that's just how Aunts and Uncles were. So I felt normal.”

He felt Hermione sigh beside him and she draped a slender arm over his chest.

“Well, you and I both know how good it felt to get those letters. I had felt so misplaced for so
long and it all suddenly became clear when I found out I was a wizard. For the first time, I
finally felt as though I was a part of something bigger, greater. Hogwarts soon became my home, but
at a cost; Voldemort. Every year, it seemed, I was battling for my life against my parents'
murderer.

Then, suddenly in fifth year…it wasn't just about me anymore. After that night in the
Department or Mysteries, I wasn't just fighting for my life. It was about the entire world,
magical or not. It was so much…too much,” a long, shuddering breath escaped him.

“My whole life since I was eleven has been something less than normal. And now, suddenly,
there's nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione said softly, sitting up to look down at him, “you're wrong. You have so
much more than you think. We all care about you Harry. Hagrid, Ron and the Weasleys, Lupin, Moody
and…” she trailed off.

“You?” he asked, trying to disguise the hope in his voice. He had known it for some time now, he
loved Hermione Granger. Truthfully, it had all started that night in the Department of Mysteries.
Friendship was all their relationship had ever been before that night. But upon arriving back to
Privet Drive the summer after their fifth year, after the prophecy had settled in, feelings of that
night resurfaced in his dreams. Always, it was Sirius and the Veil, Ron and the Brains…and her.
*Always*, her. Every night, he watched helplessly in his dreams as her listless body slumped
to the floor following Dolohov's devastating curse.

Of course, he had become much more protective of *his* Hermione after that. However, his
mind had never wandered quite so far as to see Hermione as anything more than a friend until a
specific rainy night two weeks ago. It was then that Harry realized just how much his best friend
meant to him. It was then that Harry had defeated Voldemort, with Hermione in his heart.

“Yes,” her voice wavered, “and me.”

Sitting up to face his friend, he placed a hand on her waist and looked deeply into her eyes;
searching for feelings to match his own. As if having a mind of their own, his lips spoke what his
mind was thinking, “So beautiful.” A visible tremor shook through Hermione and she shifted her eyes
away from Harry's. He watched as they filled with tears and finally spilled over their puffy
brims, coursing gently down her face. He reached out to wipe the tears away, dragging the pad of
his thumb over her features to erase the glistening stains.

Slowly, almost as if in slow motion, she leaned forward and brought her lips to his. Holding her
face in his hand, Harry kissed back with his entire being; moving his lips over hers with such
urgency and passion that soon their lips parted, gasping for breath. Hermione bent forward once
again and pressed her forehead gingerly against his. Harry searched her face; her eyes were closed
and unreadable, but soon her lips formed themselves into the most beautiful smile Harry had ever
seen. He lifted his forehead from hers and kissed her again. He felt her smile against his lips and
knew that normal would never be an option with Hermione Granger in his arms, and that's just
the way he wanted it…

Das Ende

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