This Final Time by Goldy

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 06/07/2005
Last Updated: 06/07/2005
Status: Completed

Hermione worries that she's failed him. Again.




1. untitled
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**Title:** This Final Time

**Author**: Goldy

**Disclaimer**: The lovely Jo. Rowling will grace us with a new book in, oh, nine days or so.
Not me.

**Summary**: She feels like she’s failed him. Again.

**A/N**: Another old LJ fic I’m brushing the dust off of. I figure that now that I’m into the
final countdown, I better get all these things posted before they become terribly AU.

The last thing she remembers before blanking out is being furious with herself. It wasn’t
supposed to happen like this—not again. This final time she was going to stay. Before the fight,
she swore to remain by his side. They would not take her down. She would not leave him alone.

Not. Again.

That’s the last thing she remembers. Not the injustice, not the helplessness of the situation,
not Harry’s eyes as they met hers with grim realization. It’s simply the fury.

When she wakes, she can feel her earlier anger slam into her. She wakes half blind—panic
clouding her vision. She’s terrified of what she might find. Have they won? How badly is she
injured? Is she being held captive? Where is she? Harry—if anything’s happened to him, it’ll be her
fault and he won’t ever know, and they won’t ever have a chance to—

She’s half sobbing as she claws her way up from sleep, with the millions of questions and
worries flashing through her mind in a manner of seconds. She can’t believe she let it happen
again. She can’t believe she left him to go on alone.

She struggles up, her head feeling heavy and her muscles barely cooperating. She keeps pushing,
needing to know. She can’t take not knowing. She can’t stand it, the thoughts flying through her
mind, the whatifswhathappenedpleaseohpleasedon’tlethimbedead…

Hands grab her arm and she starts to fight, but she’s far too weak for that so instead she tries
to open her eyes. A palm slides across her forehead, smoothing away her hair and she goes
completely still. She breathes in deeply, the scent familiar. And then she really is crying.

She reaches out blindly, grasping a fistful of a shirt and pulling it to her. Strong arms wrap
around her middle. She presses herself close, drawing in harsh breaths and listening to her
heartbeat and she realizes she’s chanting his name over and over. “Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry…”

She’s never felt quite so relieved before and she’s watched him go through countless dangerous
experiences. His neck is smooth against her cheek and she clutches him tightly, only mindful of the
fact that she’s holding him to her and he’s notdeadnotdeadnotdead.

“Shhh…” his voice is a whisper in her ear, tickling her skin with the warmth of his breath.
“Shhh, Hermione… it’s okay. It’s okay now. Everything’s okay.”

She shivers because she still remembers her fear, she still remembers her anger when they took
her down. When they took her away from his side.

And he went on. Like he always has.

“Is he dead?”

Silence hangs in the air and she realizes that it’s her voice that spoke the words.

He pulls away and she wants to weep, needing to feel his arms wrapped around her. She forces her
eyes open and his face swims into focus. They’re in the hospital wing. There’s a large gash on his
jaw but otherwise he looks fine. She trails her fingers gently across his marked skin and he
doesn’t flinch, just stares at her with trust in his eyes.

“He’s dead,” he says.

She draws her hand away, his words hanging between them.

“Dead?” she croaks.

He nods. “After you…”

She bows her head, shame colouring her cheeks. “I left you alone.”

“No—Hermione—you…”

There’s real anguish in his voice and she has her arms back around him before she even knows
what she’s doing. She grips him tightly around his neck, his cheek slightly rough against hers.
Holding her close, he continues on, his voice quiet but steady.

“It was like… everything stopped. I saw you crumple and everything else faded into the
background. I knew I couldn’t go through it again—losing someone else. That was it. I looked at
Voldemort and I knew. I was going to kill him.”

He stops and they sit in silence, holding each other. She wonders if this is the first time he’s
allowed himself to process what happened.

“He… he came near you. I though I was going to burst. I’ve never felt anything like it. It was
like… I could *feel* the magic inside of me. I didn’t even need a wand. I just looked at him
and I thought, ‘Well, that’s it, then. He’s gone and done it now. If he takes one step closer to
her, then I might fry him with my eyes.’ Nearly did too.” He sighs and presses his lips to her neck
for a brief moment. Her skin tingles when he pulls away.

“After that, I started throwing curses at him. Don’t remember which ones. Nothing he did hurt
me—he tried curse after curse and it didn’t matter. I didn’t even have to do much. He exhausted
himself out trying to kill me. I think I sucked it out of him—his power. Without all that dark
magic he’d used to stay alive all these years, I reckon he just withered away. Bit anticlimactic,
really.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she says.

“The worst part was afterwards.” He pulls away and she almost cries out, but then his lips are
covering hers. It’s the first time they’ve kissed and she thinks, this is it, this is something I
have to remember forever, *this is our moment*.

When he ends the kiss, she feels hollow. She licks her lips, wanting it again—the feel of his
lips against hers.

“I wasn’t sure….” His breath is coming out in harsh gasps. “You were just lying there…”

There it is again, his lips on hers. *I’m here*, she wants to say. *I’m here and I’m
sorry I left you again, but you did fine without me, you did so well and I’m so proud of
you…*

His hands tangle in her hair and she moves even closer to him, their high emotions giving their
kisses a desperate feel to them. His tongue sweeps into her mouth and she muffles a moan because
*finally*, *finally* here they are, giving in.

Her face feels wet and she doesn’t know who’s crying, him or her. Or maybe it’s both of
them.

I love you, I love you, Harry, I love you more than anything and I can’t believe that we’re both
okay and that you’re kissing me like you’re afraid I might disappear and nothing’s ever felt so
good so don’t stop, don’t ever stop, don’t ever let go of me…

There are so many other things she needs to know. Who survived. Who didn’t. How many Death
Eaters are left. Where they go from here.

But she gives herself a moment to let it go. They’ve given in and they can’t hold back their
feelings anymore, *not one more damn second*.

This time—this final time—Voldemort lost the war.



