The Gift by danielerin

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 17/07/2005
Last Updated: 17/07/2005
Status: In Progress

As things come to a head during 7th year, Hermione explains her feelings to Harry. Chapter 2 is
a fix plus a bonus scene.




1. The Gift
-----------

A/N: This is an excerpt from a longer story I had attempted to write but never got around to
finishing. I was going to start working on it again after HBP, but no longer have the desire. What
you need to know to "get" it is that Hermione’s parents were killed during the summer
between 6th and 7th year – in a brutal way which she was forced to witness.
Also, it’s not a "complete" story. It may seem choppy because of that, especially at the
beginning and end. Sorry about that.

This is most likely my last post here at Portkey. I wanted to say thank you to everyone for
making it all so much fun. I appreciate your feedback and support more than you’ll ever know.

This is for the Hermione Granger that I love…may she rest in peace. J

Harry looked around the room and sighed. The Room of Requirement was filled to bursting with the
students who had swelled the DA’s ranks by his seventh year, the Order members who signed up to
give them extra training in the art of defence, and two very tired best friends. He knew they had
to do this – they had to proceed as if there was hope. They had to work harder than ever in order
to toughen up and face this war head on. Even if he didn’t have a chance of surviving, he wanted to
make a difference. He wanted his friends – his generation – to survive and fight and never be
forced to give in to hatred.

For the past hour, he, Ron, and Hermione had been working on deflecting spells. The rest of the
students had finished up their work on shields and sat around talking – decompressing, really –
while watching the trio continue to pound away at a solution to the inevitable Voldemort
problem.

Ron and Hermione would combine to defend Harry, while he tried to turn the energy used in the
deflection of magic to increase the power of his own attack. The work was exhausting. They would
take attack spells from Remus or Tonks, not knowing what was being sent their way. They had
absorbed so much over the weeks and this extensive workout was draining them. The strain was
showing on all their faces; their tempers were running high as well.

"Get up, Ron! Now!"

"Bloody hell, Hermione! Sod off! I’m completely knackered. I’m bruised and battered – so
are you. I can see you limping and you’re wheezing like a hippogriff in heat. Harry can barely keep
his eyes open and I saw him wiping blood off his arms at least twice. We’re all dead tired and we
need some sleep, not to mention a few healing charms for good measure. Give it a rest, already! I’m
off to bed and if you’ve any sense left in that thick skull of yours, I’d suggest you do the same!
You’ve gone completely, barking mad, you have!"

Ron sat on the floor not moving a muscle, seemingly in protest. His arms were crossed and his
breathing was slowing to a steady strum, though his nostrils were still flaring.

Harry couldn’t help but be grateful for Ron’s rant. He, too, was feeling incapable of going on,
but he never wanted to be the one to suggest stopping. Hermione had become a witch possessed.

"Get up, Ron, and get ready for another go." Her voice was dangerous – lower than
usual, strikingly quiet and yet clearly understood by everyone in the room. Even the adults looked
apprehensive. Her arms were crossed and she stood squarely on the strength remaining in both of her
legs. Her feet were hip-width apart. Her head angled downward and her eyes looked up at Ron in a
way that made the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stand up. Her mouth was barely a slit in the
middle of her face. In the chairs by the wall, some of the onlookers shifted uneasily.

"Hermione…," Ron began but would never have a chance to finish his sentence. She moved
so quickly that there were gasps heard throughout the room. In an instant, she was in front of his
face, violently grabbing his shirt as she pulled him to his feet.

She was breathing fire.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK IS GOING TO HAPPEN, RON? DO YOU THINK VOLDEMORT WILL WAIT UNTIL WE’RE
READY? DO YOU THINK HE’LL SEND US A GODDAMNED INVITE? YOU’LL BLINK YOUR EYE ONE DAY AND HE’LL BE
GONE."

She pointed to Harry with emphasis without even turning her head to look at him.

"THAT BOY, RIGHT OVER THERE. THE ONE YOU *SAY* IS YOUR BEST FRIEND, YOUR BROTHER. THE
ONE YOU *SAY* YOU’LL DO ANYTHING TO PROTECT. THE ONE YOU *SAY* YOU’LL DIE FOR. WELL IT’S
TIME TO ANTE UP, RON! NO MORE PRETTY WORDS AND CLICHES. NO MORE *WISHING* IT WEREN’T SO.

"I WILL NOT LET YOU FAIL, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? I WILL NOT LET HIM DIE! I DON’T CARE IF IT
KILLS ME. AND I’M NOT FUSSED IF IT KILLS YOU. I WILL NOT LET HIM DIE! I WILL NOT LET THAT
SNAKE-WORSHIPPING, SLIME-INFESTED, MUGGLE-HATING, TWISTED, SICK SON-OF-A-BITCH GET HIS HANDS ON
HARRY ONE MORE TIME! HE’S WORTH MORE THAN THE REST OF US IN THIS ROOM PUT TOGETHER. HE DESERVES
BETTER THAN THIS. HE DESERVES A LIFE, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. *HE. WILL. NOT. DIE.* DO YOU HEAR ME,
WEASLEY? NOT AS LONG AS I HAVE LIFE LEFT IN ME. DO YOU GET IT? DO YOU BLOODY WELL UNDERSTAND, YOU
GREAT PRAT? NOW GET YOUR ARSE IN GEAR AND RAISE YOUR *FUCKING* WAND!"

She let go of Ron’s shirt and let out a breath. Her face had turned red, then purple. Her eyes
had gotten so wide that she looked a bit like Trelawney. She hadn’t bothered to take more than
enough breath to speak her peace. Everyone in the room was completely still. Eyes were wide, tears
ran down faces, but no one moved.

"Remus," she whispered. "Send us another curse." Ron straightened up a bit
and raised his wand, his mouth still hanging open in shock. Remus took a deep breath and let it go
without comment. He hesitantly raised his wand.

"NO!" Harry stood in front of Ron and Hermione. He looked at Remus. "No more.
We’ve done enough for tonight." Looking around the room, Harry was shaken by the fear
Hermione’s rant had instilled in all of them. "Everyone get some rest. Ron, you should go see
Madam Pomfrey before you head back to the common room."

Ron barely nodded, glanced warily at Hermione, who was looking fit to burst again, and turned to
pick up his robes. Before Hermione could launch into another tirade, Harry had silenced her with a
look. She simply huffed loudly and walked to the side of the room where she had left her robes.
Colin Creevey jumped out of her way as if he was evading an oncoming train. Harry heard her gasp in
surprise when he grabbed her by the back of her shirt and dragged her out of the room.

* * *

He dragged her out of the castle. They hadn’t exchanged a single word since Hermione’s explosion
in the

Room of Requirement. He practically pulled her along behind him, not caring that her stride was
shorter than his. She tripped several times, but he wouldn’t be waylaid. He walked down past
Hagrid’s hut and continued to the lake beyond, making sure they were well and truly out of the
sight of prying eyes before virtually throwing her to the ground.

"Honestly, Harry, what is wrong with you?!"

"Me?! ME?! You *are* mad. You know that. Ron’s right. You’re completely mental! What
has gotten into you, Granger? Just who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Ron’s right?! Ron is right? Now that’s a sentence you don’t hear often. He’s perfectly
willing to pull the same old ickle Ronnie routine and you’re going to let him get away with it!
‘I’m tiiired, I’m hurt. I don’t

want to do any more than what’s required of me.’ Boo-fucking-hoo. That won’t do this time, and
you very well know it." She narrowed her eyes. "What’s wrong, Harry? Do you *want*
to die? Do you have a death wish? Are you looking for a way out, too-?"

She choked on that last word. She obviously hadn’t meant for it to escape. She stepped away from
him and averted her gaze.

But the silence was deafening. And Harry replayed the words in his mind.

*Are you looking for a way out, too?*

He noticed she was shaking. But then, there wasn’t much about Hermione Granger that Harry Potter
didn’t

notice. Not anymore.

"Merlin, Hermione." His voice was a whisper. "Can you hear yourself? Can you see
what you’ve become? You’re a machine, and you’re driving yourself to destruction. I had thought it
was unintentional. Now I’m not so sure." The mere thought of what she was suggesting was
heartbreaking. He couldn’t fathom the unfathomable. He couldn’t.He pushed further. "So you’re
saying it’s not all right for me to want to die, but it’s perfectly acceptable for you. Can’t you
see what that would do to me? Don’t you get it?"She stood staring at the ground, arms crossed
as if protecting herself. He was a good five feet away from her, his eyes never leaving her
shattered form. He was pleading in his own inimitable way. He wouldn’t bridge the distance. He
couldn’t. His upbringing had left him completely deprived of the skills needed to express what was
now filling his heart. And his fear and insecurities where she was concerned wouldn’t allow him to
open himself up to injury that way. Her rejection, which he was so certain would come, would be a
wound he would never recover from.No. She would have to do it.She raised her eyes to look at him.
One look and her stony face crumpled. The tears filled her eyes and dropped quickly down over her
cheekbones. "What’s going to happen to us, Harry? If we die, we willhave failed them. Their
deaths will have meant nothing. If we live, if we survive this confrontation…"Her voice
trailed off. A choked sob escaped her throat.He felt tears sting his eyes so he squeezed them
shut.*I will not cry. I will not cry.*He plopped down on the ground where he stood, no longer
able to hold his weary body up. He sat with hisfeet flat on the ground, his legs bent and his arms
propped up casually on his knees. His head was bent in sorrow.*This didn’t have to happen. She
wasn’t in the prophecy. She didn’t deserve this. I never should have dragged her into this mess –
into my life, my nightmare.*"I know what you’re thinking," she said, a renewed sense
of purpose in her voice. "You’re such a dolt, Harry. Monumentally stupid, you are. You sit
there mired in your martyrdom, letting the guilt suck you in. Too right, really. It’s all your
fault, isn’t it? Hermione is an orphan. Hermione is losing her marbles. Hermione hasn’t studied for
N.E.W.T.s and her world is falling apart. Hermione is barking mad, and it’s all the fault of the
stupid Boy-Who-Never-Saw-a-Problem-He-Couldn’t-Claim-for-His-Very-Own!"She almost seemed out
of breath. He was sure she was building up another head of steam, but if it meant she didn’t suffer
in silence, crying her eyes out, then he’d let her berate him all she wanted.

But she didn’t go there. She turned away from him and her shoulders sagged. She seemed to
consider her next words very carefully."It’s a gift, Harry. You think it’s a burden – a curse,
even. But your life is a gift to the rest of us. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t thank
my lucky stars that you are in my life. And I don’t mean because of your bloody destiny, either!
Just you – you’re so beautifu1." He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks but he was helpless
to stop them. She continued in a tone so soft and quiet, it could have lulled him to sleep if the
words weren’t so almighty powerfu1."I came to this school with nothing but my books for
company. It took me all of a day to alienate and enrage people…Ron, Malfoy, Snape, even you. I was
alone again and ready to bury myself in the library for seven years, living off traded owls and
care packages from my parents. I sunk so low, I even imagined that they were glad to be rid of me.
And then the troll." The memory brought a smile to each of their faces. "You and Ron
saved my life in more ways than one that day. After that, my mission in life was clear. I would get
you two through school with *respectable* marks and I would do everything in my power to keep
you alive and make your life easier. Well, maybe not always easier, but definitely better than the
Dursleys, right?" He could see her half-hearted smile. Then she looked up at him and their
eyes met and in one strange instant, they could feel the power of their stare. Some sort of
tangible electrical current sparked in the air. Neither knew if it was real or imagined, but they
both felt it. It was happening more and more lately. They’d come to accept it, and so had Ron. She
continued."For seven years, Harry, I’ve watched you. I’ve studied you. I’ve dissected you.
I’ve taught you. I’ve learnt from you. I’ve helped and hindered you. I’ve held you and pushed you
away. I’ve cheered for you and yelled at you. I’ve listened and I’ve talked – Merlin knows I’ve
talked. I’ve broken you down, Harry, and I’ve built you back up. I’ve *cherished* you.
Cherished you above all else. And I’ve had to ask myself why."After Mum and Dad died…after all
that hell last summer, I began to examine my feelings for you and for Ron. I needed to know where I
stood in this world and who stood with me. The people who brought me into this world were gone and
I began to understand how you’ve felt all these lonely years. Floating without a compass. Existing
in a sort of vacuum." She shook her head clear of that train of thought and continued."I
looked at our friendship and I realised two things. One, Ron is my brother. My irritating,
over-protective, immature, exasperating…wonderful, loyal, lovely brother. If it wasn’t clear after
the fiasco known as ‘Our One Date’ last year, then it certainly was after my parents’ deaths. I
wanted to see him so he could make me laugh, or so I could concentrate on whatever it is that I
need to nag him about. I thought long and hard about it. I love him and I treasure his
friendship.""Two," and here she whispered. "I cannot live without you in this
world. Plain and simple."She gathered herself and began with renewed strength. "This
revelation hit me like a tonne of bricks, Harry, make no mistake. It may be obvious to other
people; it may not. Some may say they saw it coming all along, but I can tell you for certain that
I didn’t. I didn’t look to love you in this way. I didn’t want to lose myself to you, or to anyone
for that matter. But it happened just the same. Thinking back, I wondered what had caused this rift
in my soul. The rift that said I had given control of so much of it over to someone else."I
thought of our adventures over the years. I thought of the fact that you were the first person in
the world to ever befriend me of your own accord. I wondered if I was so desperate for acceptance
that I gave up myown self-respect to do your homework and solve your problems just so I could hang
on to you. Then we got older and you…well, you blossomed, and I wondered if it was because you
became popular with the girls and I was jealous. I even wondered if I was just another fan girl who
wanted a piece of the *famous* Harry Potter.

"It’s none of that, Harry. Do you know how I figured it out?" The question was
rhetorical. She didn’t even glance at him for an answer. "I imagined the unimaginable. After
all, my own parents’ deaths made it so clear to me…how I valued them, what they meant to me, what
my life was because of them and what it would become without them. So I imagined that Voldemort
killed you that night as well. How would my life be different?"Well, obviously, I’d be without
one of my two very best friends, so I’d be sad. But I’m sad without my parents anyway. I’d no
longer be working my arse off to defeat Voldemort, as I imagined that you, being you, would have
taken the smarmy bastard with you, and that was a plus. Thanks, by the way. I’d be at Hogwarts
revising for N.E.W.T.s, much the same as I am now."She turned to look at him and he was struck
dumb by the look in her eyes. They were so full of…life. He could feel the energy pulsing off of
her. While he thought her almost suicidal a few moments earlier, he found the look in her eyes
comforting. *His* Hermione would never give up. She would never leave him – not willingly. He
felt more and more certain of that as she continued to lay herself bare for him. "But in all
this imagining, Harry, I was watching myself as a body, a shell of my former self, moving around my
boring life like an automaton. There was nothing of *me* left…because you took it all with
you. My heart and soul. You have them both, completely tied up in your sweetness and your courage
and your kindness and your daftness and your handsome face and your boyish grin and your blasted
hero complex and your countless insecurities. And in that great big heart of yours and in that
troubled mind." She took a deep breath."And in exchange for my heart and soul, you’ve
given me colour, you’ve given me meaning. You’ve shown me what we learn things *for.* You’ve
given me companionship and camaraderie where I had none before. You’ve given me hope and compassion
and a reason to spend even *more* time in the hallowed halls of the library. For all my
learning, Harry, you’ve taught me how to live. How to love. You’ve given me a reason, Harry…for
everything. Quite a gift."I cherish Ron’s friendship; I cherish *you.* Fears and risks
and possibilities and probabilities be damned. It just wouldn’t mean anything without you."She
was whispering now. "It’s my choice and mine alone. Where else would I be? Where else could I
go? This is where I belong." And then, barely audible, "With you."He blinked and
another tear dropped over his lower lid. His heart swelled, even with the weight of his guilt
burdening his conscience. That *anyone* could find him worthy, let alone Hermione, was a dream
he thought impossible. Years of abuse pressing down on him. Years of being told he was a freak,
worthless and insignificant, and yet she’d managed in one night to make him feel more than worthy.
He felt loved. And as he looked in her eyes, he thought to himself, *There is no greater feeling
in the world than to be loved by Hermione Granger.This is it.*This was the moment he’d wondered
about for the past year or…how long *had* he been wondering about it? He wasn’t altogether
certain. And he wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen. Should he stop her or should he beg her to
come to him? It was a war being fought between his conscience and his heart. His head and his
gut.*Please come to me. Please let us have this before we die. Just a few moments of happiness. I
won’t ask for anything more.*As sure as if he had spoken out loud, she’d read this thoughts.
Their communication had long left the realm of the explicable. That was what had spooked Ron the
most. He might have fought. Ron had confided in Harry that he might have tried again with Hermione,
but for the looks. The unspoken understanding. The bizarre connection between these two people who
defined Ron’s world. Harry had shrugged off Ron’s assertion that there *was* something going
on between Hermione and him, even if neither one of them admitted to it. Secretly, though, he was
not at all unhappy that Ron had given up on her. That had been his first clue as to the depth of
his feelings for Hermione.She moved toward him in a slow and deliberate manner. It seemed to him
forever before she knelt before him. She took his hands in hers and stared at him with an intensity
that caused his heart to beat faster. "Harry. All I’ve ever wanted, since our first grand
adventure together when we were children, is your happiness. I didn’t think you’d want me to…I
didn’t think you could ever want…I mean, you’re so beautiful, inside and out. I’m not…beautiful.
I’m not…refined, in that way. I’m loud and arrogant and obnoxious. I’m not good enough…I don’t want
you to feel…"

For the first time, she looked lost for words and a bit helpless. The tears, which had subsided,
returned in full force. The frustration got the better of her. She shook her head and breathed out,
"Oh! This is so hard!" She dropped her gaze to the ground in defeat.He squeezed her hands
gently and she lifted her head to meet his gaze. "You don’t have to say the words, Hermione.
You said them inside – shouted them, really, much to Ron’s chagrin." He smiled weakly.
"The thing is, if I was as eloquent as you…" He smirked. "If I was as strong as you,
then you’d hear the samespeech on your behalf. I mean, for you to think you’re not good
enough…well, you’ve got that one backwards." He blushed a bit and lowered his eyes, waiting
for her to save his life.*Please, God, let her save my life, one more time.*She smiled back at
him, a meek but meaningful attempt.Then she did it. She leapt off the cliff without a
parachute."I love you. I love you, Harry Potter, more than life itself. And I will cease to
exist if you leave me."His heart soared. He could not suppress his smile this time. He took a
deep breath and opened his arms toher. She barreled him over and they burst out laughing. Rolling
around in twigs and leaves and dirt, they held on to each other for dear life, laughing like the
regular seventeen year-olds they were supposed to be. Finally, he pulled back. He was leaning on
his left elbow, half of his body resting against hers. Her smile at this moment was the greatest
gift anyone had ever given him. His expression became serious as he studied every inch of her face.
Not that he needed to. He was sure he knew every nook and cranny, every adorable flaw, every
beautiful detail of her loving, devoted, angelic face. Her expression became serious, as well,
under his scrutiny. He pushed several stray hairs out of her eyes with his fingers, then traced her
jaw line and rested his fingers ever so gently on her lips.

He swallowed audibly and licked his lips. Hermione did the same. Their hearts were beating
wildly and loudly and their whole lives were this moment. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. If he
could have this moment, he’d die a happy man.He leaned in slowly, closed his eyes just as hers
fluttered shut, and very tentatively pushed his lips against her soft mouth. *Thank you, God.*
He pulled back to gauge her reaction. She slowly opened her eyes and gently framed his face with
her hands. She moved first this time, lifting her head to encourage him. They met in the middle and
their mouths very quickly opened up to each other. Just a bit. Then more and more until what they
were doing was more akin to tasting than kissing. She took his upper lip between hers and kissed
it. His tongue reached out to taste her lower lip. When he got his chance, he took her lower lip
between his and suckled it a bit. Small touches. Gentle kisses. Quiet caresses.This intense
snogging session was all about discovery. The new frontier. He lay down on his side and pulled her
to face him, his mouth never letting go of hers. He had imagined this so many times, but the
reality far exceeded his expectations. She was here, with him – soft and strong, loving and
forgiving. And all the pain and fear faded away in her embrace.

"I love you, too, Hermione." She smiled while more tears filled her eyes.

"We’re a mess," she laughed.

"Yeah. In a lot of ways…but I don’t care. Do you?"

"No. Not as long as we can be a mess together."

Harry smiled and leaned in again to kiss her.



2. Oops
-------

A/N: Okay, I feel SO guilty. I uploaded that little scene I titled "The Gift" without
every checking the formatting. I can’t believe more of you didn’t yell at me for that! It was all
messed up – headache-inducing LOOOONG paragraphs are not my idea of how to soothe the beaten souls
at HMS Delusional. So I’m posting a fix-it job. The second half of this posting is "The
Gift" how it should have looked. Sorry. *is sheepish*

And because I must have caused so many headaches, I am including bonus footage. LOL The first
scene is another part of my longer multi-chaptered fic that never made it to life. To set it up,
Hermione is eating with Harry and Ron in the Great Hall when she spots Lucius Malfoy (insert great
reason for his being at Hogwarts during seventh year…oh, wait, since there is no more Hogwarts, who
cares?). Anyway, since she knows he’s a Death Eater, she holds Lucius accountable for what happened
to her parents during the summer…i.e., vicious torture and murder.

One final note. Thank you to everyone who is encouraging me to write more H/Hr stories. I
appreciate all of your kind words. I am going to take a break, as many of you suggested, but who
knows when the muse will strike? I can be evil, and my evil self may well want to show PEOPLE
(let’s just say…billionaire bestselling authors and their faithful, albeit misguided, fansite
companions…but it will most likely just be…brilliant Portkey reviewers) what incredibly rich
potential was discarded so abruptly last week.

It’s been suggested that my One Big Happy TWISTED Family needs to work out some issues in
therapy…. (If you’ve got red hair, you’d better duck. *cackles*)

____________________________________________

"Mr. Malfoy? Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione cried out.

Lucius Malfoy stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around, a wicked grin forming on his face.
He was clearly delighted at the prospect of facing Hermione. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand,
looked oddly sick, even frightened.

*Typical,* Hermione thought. *The big bad ferret withers in the face of the storm. I
wonder if he has to conjure a backbone in order to walk upright.*

She was nearly breathless when she reached them, having become obsessed with confronting him.
Adrenaline was pumping through her body at an alarming rate and she knew she wasn’t entirely in
control of herself. The voice in her head that oversaw all her decisions prior to the previous
summer was meekly attempting to be heard.

*Don’t do it. Please don’t do it. You’ll regret it. You’ll get in trouble. He’s an adult. He’s
a school governor. Oh, bloody fucking hell, he’s a known Death Eater! Where in Merlin’s sweet,
sacred name are the so-called responsible adults in this school?!*

But that voice was silenced as she brought to mind the image of her mother and father, writhing
in pain and begging for mercy.

*What do I have left to lose? Aren’t they worth it?*

After taking a moment to gather herself, she said in her cheeriest and most rushed voice,
"I ran into some of your colleagues this summer at my home, Mr. Malfoy. And what delightful
people. They came for tea. Well, not *tea* so much as to dole out torment and suffering to the
innocent, but I think they had a grand time nonetheless. I’m never quite sure what to serve at
those affairs, to be honest. I mean, does the obliteration of a person’s spirit call for a light
buffet of finger foods or does one work up one’s appetite when annihilating people? I thought you
might know, being a convicted Death Eater and all."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, hidden by the white noise caused by the rush of blood in her
brain, Hermione knew that Harry and Ron were racing after her. Her peripheral vision had caught the
rather comical sight of the two of them climbing over the table to try to get to her before she
stormed out of the Great Hall.

"My, my, Miss Granger. You are quite the brazen Mud-…muggleborn, aren’t you?" His
sneer morphed into a scowl. "You should check your facts. I was cleared of any and all charges
by the Ministry. One would think that the Head Girl of Hogwarts would be a bit more careful when
accusing people of…"

"Oh, you misunderstand me," she said in a falsely polite tone of voice. "I’m not
accusing you of anything. No, I’m quite sure where you stand, *Mister* Malfoy. Your
association with the dark arts in general and Lord Voldemort in particular is well known by anyone
with a brain between their ears. ‘Course, I don’t expect you hang around a lot of people who fit
that description."

By this time, Harry and Ron had caught up to her and were trying to coax her away from this
train wreck waiting to happen. But their faces betrayed them. They found the situation morbidly
curious, as did the small group of students who’d stopped in the Entrance Hall to get a good
look.

"Your opinion means less than nothing to me, you…you…impudent little girl." Hermione
was sure he had wanted to call her something else. "One would think after what happened to
your parents, you would learn…."

"Oh, I have learnt, Mr. Malfoy." Her voice rose in volume and the adrenaline pumped
faster. "I’ve learnt quite a bit. In fact, I’d like you to pass on a message for me to your
boss. Tell him for me, Mr. Malfoy, that he made a rather large mistake in letting me live. A
mistake he will live to regret."

"Hermione, let’s go," Ron pleaded, tugging on her arm.

"I believe it is you who has made the mistake, Miss Granger," Lucius said in a low
voice that approximated a snake’s hiss. She absently wondered if they were schooled for that.
"You are frightfully unaware of what your insolence will cost you. You *and* your
friends. As if Mr. Potter here didn’t already have enough to worry about."

"Fuck you, Lucius." Her tenuous control on her temper had snapped. "You
*and* your pathetic master. If you go near Harry, I will never rest until your bones are
ground to dust and scattered over a dung heap. Do you understand me, you worm? Tell your
narcissistic, half-blood, yellow-bellied master he can kiss my arse. My *Mudblood* arse. I
will not rest until you’re all destroyed!"

"Why you…you’ll pay for that, Mudblood! Get out of my sight, you dirty, wretched tart! If
you ever…."

"If what?"

Harry and Ron became more forceful. As she was being pulled away, Hermione continued to rant at
him, yelling louder to make up for the distance. "I’ll see you in hell, you deranged
murderer!"

With her second wind, Hermione became akin to a madwoman in her rage. Her strength was
impressive. Ron had to put his arms around her body and lift her feet off the ground to move her.
Harry then pushed him in the direction of the front doors to the castle. But before they could
escape, Lucius Malfoy’s cold voice drew their attention once again.

"Better keep your pet away from me, Potter. She’s likely to find herself in a spot of
trouble."

Harry turned around and there was murder in his eyes. "You touch her, and I’ll kill you
with my bare hands."

Lucius laughed, but it was forced. "Ha! Big words for a paranoid orphan who can’t fall down
without visiting the Hospital Wing. You’ll likely end up on the mental ward, Potter, if you survive
to see eighteen, that is."

"Well, that’s where your boss and I have something in common, Lucius." Harry walked
back to where Hermione had confronted Malfoy. He drew himself up to his full height and stared
Lucius down. His voice became almost unrecognisable. He was quiet and dangerous, his eyes twinkling
with magical energy. "We’re both a bit mad. And let’s face it – we’re not half powerful, are
we, Tom and I?" His voice had quieted with each sentence and Lucius Malfoy was leaning forward
a bit to hear him, a look of mingled curiosity and disgust on his face. "You’ll want a
ringside seat, Lucius. Be sure to butter him up. Maybe he’ll let you watch, you ruddy
coward."

Lucius’s eyes widened and he advanced on Harry, baring his teeth and letting everyone in the
Entrance Hall know that Harry had gotten to him. His son held him back. "Let’s go, Father.
They’re not worth it. The old man is sure to be here soon." Draco was looking at the advancing
forms of Professors Vector and Flitwick and pulling his father toward the doorway that led to the
dungeons.

As Lucius began to walk away, Harry raised his voice and said, "Stay away from Hermione
Granger, Lucius. Don’t speak to her, don’t seek her out, don’t bloody well *think* about her.
Don’t talk about her to Tom, Lucius, or I promise you I’ll find an extra special way for you to
die."

Then Harry turned to catch up to Ron and Hermione. The two teachers looked puzzled but let them
go without a word. The students looking on had kept their distance and were now retreating into the
Great Hall, the murmurs growing to a dull roar as the rumour mill began churning in earnest.

Ron was restraining Hermione, holding her from behind, but he needn’t have bothered at this
point. Her breathing had slowed and her trembling furor ceased as she watched the scene playing out
before her with wide eyes and rapt attention. When Harry caught up to them, Hermione shrugged free
of Ron’s grasp and took Harry’s hand. She looked into his eyes wanting to make sure he was all
right after that bizarre scene, and he looked right back at her. He tilted his head in the
direction of the doors and she nodded in agreement. She turned around and grabbed Ron’s arm with
her free hand. The three of them strode out of the castle without another word and headed to
Hagrid’s hut to regroup.

***

"All right, this isn’t going to work. You’re mucking up the whole dynamic. You two are
supposed to be the clever ones. The level-headed, think-things-through corners of the triangle. I’m
the fiery ginger-haired wild card. You’re stealing my lines." Ron was walking around a bit and
smiling, but in a nervous way.

When they’d reached Hagrid’s hut, they’d found it empty. So they sat outside in the pumpkin
patch. They were quiet for some time before Ron had broken the silence with his attempt at
levity.

Harry finally spoke, sitting on a huge pumpkin and throwing acorns into the woods. "You
can’t go off like that, Hermione. You can’t get in their faces like that, as beautiful as it was to
watch."

Ron snickered in what seemed like relief at hearing one of his friends say what he had wanted to
say all along.

"It *was* beautiful. Bloody brilliant, it was. You were a sight, Hermione. You made
him look like a rattled schoolboy, the tosser. I wonder what the ferret was thinking. He looked a
bit peaky, didn’t he? ‘Course, it’s hard to get any paler than a Malfoy."

Harry cleared his throat and gave Ron a pointed look, not lost on Hermione. "Yes, well, I
think the point is, Ron, that Hermione needs to learn how to control her temper or else…"

"Or else what?" Hermione was lying back on the grass and looking up at the sky as the
sun started its descent. "What more can they take from me?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a worried look.

"We’ve been through this before, Hermione," Ron said with more than a note of
apprehension in his voice. "We know you’re hurting, but there’s still quite a bit they can
take from you." He looked at Harry. "From us." His eyes turned to the ground.

"Do you think they’d want you to throw your life away? Your parents?" Harry said.

He then rolled his eyes, apparently disgusted by his own words. "Oh God, Hermione, don’t
make me spew out all the lame ‘orphan’ cliches. I’ve had enough of them used on me. I could recite
them all in my sleep."

Then he cleared his throat, sat up straight, and mimicked a deeper, more adult voice.
*"Your parents would want you to live, Mr. Potter.* Right. No worries, Mum and Dad. If
you could just take care of the wanker trying to off me, that’d work out fine."

*"Your parents gave their lives for you, Harry.* Yeah, well, I couldn’t do much with a
full nappy, could I?" Ron snorted at that one.

*"Your parents are looking down on you.* Please tell me they’re not ‘looking down on
me’ when certain natural urges strike." Hermione screwed up her nose while chuckling.

*"Don’t make your parents’ sacrifice all for naught, Harry my boy.* Right, yes – I’m
all in on that plan, but you might want to have a chat with Tommy Riddle."

By now, Ron and Hermione were chortling along. Harry turned to Hermione and said in his best
Dumbledore impersonation, *"Your parents would want you to brush your teeth and floss after
every meal, Miss Granger. Don’t let them down by eating all those sweets."*

Hermione was rolling on the ground in laughter. Harry and Ron smiled at each other.

A laughing Hermione was a rare sight indeed these days.

Hermione tried to catch her breath. She sat up and flashed her best friends a grateful smile.
She bit her bottom lip to force herself to stop the giggles. "I reckon Hagrid’s out for the
evening. We’d better get back to the common room and get some studying done before it’s pitch dark
out here and they come looking for us."

____________________________________

The Gift – formatted correctly, I hope

Harry looked around the room and sighed. The Room of Requirement was filled to bursting with the
students who had swelled the DA’s ranks by his seventh year, the Order members who signed up to
give them extra training in the art of defence, and two very tired best friends. He knew they had
to do this – they had to proceed as if there was hope. They had to work harder than ever in order
to toughen up and face this war head on. Even if he didn’t have a chance of surviving, he wanted to
make a difference. He wanted his friends – his generation – to survive and fight and never be
forced to give in to hatred.

For the past hour, he, Ron, and Hermione had been working on deflecting spells. The rest of the
students had finished up their work on shields and sat around talking – decompressing, really –
while watching the trio continue to pound away at a solution to the inevitable Voldemort
problem.

Ron and Hermione would combine to defend Harry, while he tried to turn the energy used in the
deflection of magic to increase the power of his own attack. The work was exhausting. They would
take attack spells from Remus or Tonks, not knowing what was being sent their way. They had
absorbed so much over the weeks and this extensive workout was draining them. The strain was
showing on all their faces; their tempers were running high as well.

"Get up, Ron! Now!"

"Bloody hell, Hermione! Sod off! I’m completely knackered. I’m bruised and battered – so
are you. I can see you limping and you’re wheezing like a hippogriff in heat. Harry can barely keep
his eyes open and I saw him wiping blood off his arms at least twice. We’re all dead tired and we
need some sleep, not to mention a few healing charms for good measure. Give it a rest, already! I’m
off to bed and if you’ve any sense left in that thick skull of yours, I’d suggest you do the same!
You’ve gone completely, barking mad, you have!"

Ron sat on the floor not moving a muscle, seemingly in protest. His arms were crossed and his
breathing was slowing to a steady strum, though his nostrils were still flaring.

Harry couldn’t help but be grateful for Ron’s rant. He, too, was feeling incapable of going on,
but he never wanted to be the one to suggest stopping. Hermione had become a witch possessed.

"Get up, Ron, and get ready for another go." Her voice was dangerous – lower than
usual, strikingly quiet and yet clearly understood by everyone in the room. Even the adults looked
apprehensive. Her arms were crossed and she stood squarely on the strength remaining in both of her
legs. Her feet were hip-width apart. Her head angled downward and her eyes looked up at Ron in a
way that made the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stand up. Her mouth was barely a slit in the
middle of her face. In the chairs by the wall, some of the onlookers shifted uneasily.

"Hermione…," Ron began but would never have a chance to finish his sentence. She moved
so quickly that there were gasps heard throughout the room. In an instant, she was in front of his
face, violently grabbing his shirt as she pulled him to his feet.

She was breathing fire.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK IS GOING TO HAPPEN, RON? DO YOU THINK VOLDEMORT WILL WAIT UNTIL WE’RE
READY? DO YOU THINK HE’LL SEND US A GODDAMNED INVITE? YOU’LL BLINK YOUR EYE ONE DAY AND HE’LL BE
GONE."

She pointed to Harry with emphasis without even turning her head to look at him.

"THAT BOY, RIGHT OVER THERE. THE ONE YOU *SAY* IS YOUR BEST FRIEND, YOUR BROTHER. THE
ONE YOU *SAY* YOU’LL DO ANYTHING TO PROTECT. THE ONE YOU *SAY* YOU’LL DIE FOR. WELL IT’S
TIME TO ANTE UP, RON! NO MORE PRETTY WORDS AND CLICHES. NO MORE *WISHING* IT WEREN’T SO.

"I WILL NOT LET YOU FAIL, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? I WILL NOT LET HIM DIE! I DON’T CARE IF IT
KILLS ME. AND I’M NOT FUSSED IF IT KILLS YOU. I WILL NOT LET HIM DIE! I WILL NOT LET THAT
SNAKE-WORSHIPPING, SLIME-INFESTED, MUGGLE-HATING, TWISTED, SICK SON-OF-A-BITCH GET HIS HANDS ON
HARRY ONE MORE TIME! HE’S WORTH MORE THAN THE REST OF US IN THIS ROOM PUT TOGETHER. HE DESERVES
BETTER THAN THIS. HE DESERVES A LIFE, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. *HE. WILL. NOT. DIE.* DO YOU HEAR ME,
WEASLEY? NOT AS LONG AS I HAVE LIFE LEFT IN ME. DO YOU GET IT? DO YOU BLOODY WELL UNDERSTAND, YOU
GREAT PRAT? NOW GET YOUR ARSE IN GEAR AND RAISE YOUR *FUCKING* WAND!"

She let go of Ron’s shirt and let out a breath. Her face had turned red, then purple. Her eyes
had gotten so wide that she looked a bit like Trelawney. She hadn’t bothered to take more than
enough breath to speak her peace. Everyone in the room was completely still. Eyes were wide, tears
ran down faces, but no one moved.

"Remus," she whispered. "Send us another curse." Ron straightened up a bit
and raised his wand, his mouth still hanging open in shock. Remus took a deep breath and let it go
without comment. He hesitantly raised his wand.

"NO!" Harry stood in front of Ron and Hermione. He looked at Remus. "No more.
We’ve done enough for tonight." Looking around the room, Harry was shaken by the fear
Hermione’s rant had instilled in all of them. "Everyone get some rest. Ron, you should go see
Madam Pomfrey before you head back to the common room."

Ron barely nodded, glanced warily at Hermione, who was looking fit to burst again, and turned to
pick up his robes. Before Hermione could launch into another tirade, Harry had silenced her with a
look. She simply huffed loudly and walked to the side of the room where she had left her robes.
Colin Creevey jumped out of her way as if he was evading an oncoming train. Harry heard her gasp in
surprise when he grabbed her by the back of her shirt and dragged her out of the room.

* * *

He dragged her out of the castle. They hadn’t exchanged a single word since Hermione’s explosion
in the Room of Requirement. He practically pulled her along behind him, not caring that her stride
was shorter than his. She tripped several times, but he wouldn’t be waylaid. He walked down past
Hagrid’s hut and continued to the lake beyond, making sure they were well and truly out of the
sight of prying eyes before virtually throwing her to the ground.

"Honestly, Harry, what is wrong with you?!"

"Me?! ME?! You *are* mad. You know that. Ron’s right. You’re completely mental! What
has gotten into you, Granger? Just who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Ron’s right?! Ron is right? Now that’s a sentence you don’t hear often. He’s perfectly
willing to pull the same old ickle Ronnie routine and you’re going to let him get away with it!
‘I’m tiiired, I’m hurt. I don’t want to do any more than what’s required of me.’ Boo-fucking-hoo.
That won’t do this time, and you very well know it." She narrowed her eyes. "What’s
wrong, Harry? Do you *want* to die? Do you have a death wish? Are you looking for a way out,
too-?"

She choked on that last word. She obviously hadn’t meant for it to escape. She stepped away from
him and averted her gaze.

But the silence was deafening. And Harry replayed the words in his mind.

*Are you looking for a way out, too?*

He noticed she was shaking. But then, there wasn’t much about Hermione Granger that Harry Potter
didn’t notice. Not anymore.

"Merlin, Hermione." His voice was a whisper. "Can you hear yourself? Can you see
what you’ve become? You’re a machine, and you’re driving yourself to destruction. I had thought it
was unintentional. Now I’m not so sure." The mere thought of what she was suggesting was
heartbreaking. He couldn’t fathom the unfathomable. He couldn’t.

He pushed further. "So you’re saying it’s not all right for me to want to die, but it’s
perfectly acceptable for you. Can’t you see what that would do to me? Don’t you get it?"

She stood staring at the ground, arms crossed as if protecting herself. He was a good five feet
away from her, his eyes never leaving her shattered form. He was pleading in his own inimitable
way. He wouldn’t bridge the distance. He couldn’t. His upbringing had left him completely deprived
of the skills needed to express what was now filling his heart. And his fear and insecurities where
she was concerned wouldn’t allow him to open himself up to injury that way. Her rejection, which he
was so certain would come, would be a wound he would never recover from.

No. She would have to do it.

She raised her eyes to look at him. One look and her stony face crumpled. The tears filled her
eyes and dropped quickly down over her cheekbones. "What’s going to happen to us, Harry? If we
die, we will have failed them. Their deaths will have meant nothing. If we live, if we survive this
confrontation…"

Her voice trailed off. A choked sob escaped her throat.

He felt tears sting his eyes so he squeezed them shut.

*I will not cry. I will not cry.*

He plopped down on the ground where he stood, no longer able to hold his weary body up. He sat
with his feet flat on the ground, his legs bent and his arms propped up casually on his knees. His
head was bent in sorrow.

*This didn’t have to happen. She wasn’t in the prophecy. She didn’t deserve this. I never
should have dragged her into this mess – into my life, my nightmare.*

"I know what you’re thinking," she said, a renewed sense of purpose in her voice.
"You’re such a dolt, Harry. Monumentally stupid, you are. You sit there mired in your
martyrdom, letting the guilt suck you in. Too right, really. It’s all your fault, isn’t it?
Hermione is an orphan. Hermione is losing her marbles. Hermione hasn’t studied for N.E.W.T.s and
her world is falling apart. Hermione is barking mad, and it’s all the fault of the stupid
Boy-Who-Never-Saw-a-Problem-He-Couldn’t-Claim-for-His-Very-Own!"

She almost seemed out of breath. He was sure she was building up another head of steam, but if
it meant she didn’t suffer in silence, crying her eyes out, then he’d let her berate him all she
wanted.

But she didn’t go there. She turned away from him and her shoulders sagged. She seemed to
consider her next words very carefully.

"It’s a gift, Harry. You think it’s a burden – a curse, even. But your life is a gift to
the rest of us. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t thank my lucky stars that you are in my
life. And I don’t mean because of your bloody destiny, either! Just you – you’re so
beautifu1."

He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks but he was helpless to stop them. She continued in a
tone so soft and quiet, it could have lulled him to sleep if the words weren’t so almighty
powerfu1.

"I came to this school with nothing but my books for company. It took me all of a day to
alienate and enrage people…Ron, Malfoy, Snape, even you. I was alone again and ready to bury myself
in the library for seven years, living off traded owls and care packages from my parents. I sunk so
low, I even imagined that they were glad to be rid of me. And then the troll."

The memory brought a smile to each of their faces.

"You and Ron saved my life in more ways than one that day. After that, my mission in life
was clear. I would get you two through school with *respectable* marks and I would do
everything in my power to keep you alive and make your life easier. Well, maybe not always easier,
but definitely better than the Dursleys, right?"

He could see her half-hearted smile. Then she looked up at him and their eyes met and in one
strange instant, they could feel the power of their stare. Some sort of tangible electrical current
sparked in the air. Neither knew if it was real or imagined, but they both felt it. It was
happening more and more lately. They’d come to accept it, and so had Ron. She continued.

"For seven years, Harry, I’ve watched you. I’ve studied you. I’ve dissected you. I’ve
taught you. I’ve learnt from you. I’ve helped and hindered you. I’ve held you and pushed you away.
I’ve cheered for you and yelled at you. I’ve listened and I’ve talked – Merlin knows I’ve talked.
I’ve broken you down, Harry, and I’ve built you back up. I’ve *cherished* you. Cherished you
above all else. And I’ve had to ask myself why.

"After Mum and Dad died…after all that hell last summer, I began to examine my feelings for
you and for Ron. I needed to know where I stood in this world and who stood with me. The people who
brought me into this world were gone and I began to understand how you’ve felt all these lonely
years. Floating without a compass. Existing in a sort of vacuum."

She shook her head clear of that train of thought and continued.

"I looked at our friendship and I realised two things. One, Ron is my brother. My
irritating, over-protective, immature, exasperating…wonderful, loyal, lovely brother. If it wasn’t
clear after the fiasco known as ‘Our One Date’ last year, then it certainly was after my parents’
deaths. I wanted to see him so he could make me laugh, or so I could concentrate on whatever it is
that I need to nag him about. I thought long and hard about it. I love him and I treasure his
friendship."

"Two," and here she whispered. "I cannot live without you in this world. Plain
and simple."

She gathered herself and began with renewed strength. "This revelation hit me like a tonne
of bricks, Harry, make no mistake. It may be obvious to other people; it may not. Some may say they
saw it coming all along, but I can tell you for certain that I didn’t. I didn’t look to love you in
this way. I didn’t want to lose myself to you, or to anyone for that matter. But it happened just
the same. Thinking back, I wondered what had caused this rift in my soul. The rift that said I had
given control of so much of it over to someone else.

"I thought of our adventures over the years. I thought of the fact that you were the first
person in the world to ever befriend me of your own accord. I wondered if I was so desperate for
acceptance that I gave up my own self-respect to do your homework and solve your problems just so I
could hang on to you. Then we got older and you…well, you blossomed, and I wondered if it was
because you became popular with the girls and I was jealous. I even wondered if I was just another
fan girl who wanted a piece of the *famous* Harry Potter.

"It’s none of that, Harry. Do you know how I figured it out?" The question was
rhetorical. She didn’t even glance at him for an answer. "I imagined the unimaginable. After
all, my own parents’ deaths made it so clear to me…how I valued them, what they meant to me, what
my life was because of them and what it would become without them. So I imagined that Voldemort
killed you that night as well. How would my life be different?

"Well, obviously, I’d be without one of my two very best friends, so I’d be sad. But I’m
sad without my parents anyway. I’d no longer be working my arse off to defeat Voldemort, as I
imagined that you, being you, would have taken the smarmy bastard with you, and that was a plus.
Thanks, by the way. I’d be at Hogwarts revising for N.E.W.T.s, much the same as I am now."

She turned to look at him and he was struck dumb by the look in her eyes. They were so full
of…life. He could feel the energy pulsing off of her. While he thought her almost suicidal a few
moments earlier, he found the look in her eyes comforting. *His* Hermione would never give up.
She would never leave him – not willingly. He felt more and more certain of that as she continued
to lay herself bare for him.

"But in all this imagining, Harry, I was watching myself as a body, a shell of my former
self, moving around my boring life like an automaton. There was nothing of *me* left…because
you took it all with you. My heart and soul. You have them both, completely tied up in your
sweetness and your courage and your kindness and your daftness and your handsome face and your
boyish grin and your blasted hero complex and your countless insecurities. And in that great big
heart of yours and in that troubled mind." She took a deep breath.

"And in exchange for my heart and soul, you’ve given me colour, you’ve given me meaning.
You’ve shown me what we learn things *for.* You’ve given me companionship and camaraderie
where I had none before. You’ve given me hope and compassion and a reason to spend even *more*
time in the hallowed halls of the library. For all my learning, Harry, you’ve taught me how to
live. How to love. You’ve given me a reason, Harry…for everything. Quite a gift.

"I cherish Ron’s friendship; I cherish *you.* Fears and risks and possibilities and
probabilities be damned. It just wouldn’t mean anything without you."

She was whispering now. "It’s my choice and mine alone. Where else would I be? Where else
could I go? This is where I belong." And then, barely audible, "With you."

He blinked and another tear dropped over his lower lid. His heart swelled, even with the weight
of his guilt burdening his conscience. That *anyone* could find him worthy, let alone
Hermione, was a dream he thought impossible. Years of abuse pressing down on him. Years of being
told he was a freak, worthless and insignificant, and yet she’d managed in one night to make him
feel more than worthy. He felt loved. And as he looked in her eyes, he thought to himself, *There
is no greater feeling in the world than to be loved by Hermione Granger.*

*This is it.*

This was the moment he’d wondered about for the past year or…how long *had* he been
wondering about it? He wasn’t altogether certain. And he wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen.
Should he stop her or should he beg her to come to him? It was a war being fought between his
conscience and his heart. His head and his gut.

*Please come to me. Please let us have this before we die. Just a few moments of happiness. I
won’t ask for anything more.*

As sure as if he had spoken out loud, she’d read this thoughts. Their communication had long
left the realm of the explicable. That was what had spooked Ron the most. He might have fought. Ron
had confided in Harry that he might have tried again with Hermione, but for the looks. The unspoken
understanding. The bizarre connection between these two people who defined Ron’s world. Harry had
shrugged off Ron’s assertion that there *was* something going on between Hermione and him,
even if neither one of them admitted to it. Secretly, though, he was not at all unhappy that Ron
had given up on her. That had been his first clue as to the depth of his feelings for Hermione.

She moved toward him in a slow and deliberate manner. It seemed to him forever before she knelt
before him. She took his hands in hers and stared at him with an intensity that caused his heart to
beat faster.

"Harry. All I’ve ever wanted, since our first grand adventure together when we were
children, is your happiness. I didn’t think you’d want me to…I didn’t think you could ever want…I
mean, you’re so beautiful, inside and out. I’m not…beautiful. I’m not…refined, in that way. I’m
loud and arrogant and obnoxious. I’m not good enough…I don’t want you to feel…"

For the first time, she looked lost for words and a bit helpless. The tears, which had subsided,
returned in full force. The frustration got the better of her. She shook her head and breathed out,
"Oh! This is so hard!" She dropped her gaze to the ground in defeat.

He squeezed her hands gently and she lifted her head to meet his gaze. "You don’t have to
say the words, Hermione. You said them inside – shouted them, really, much to Ron’s chagrin."
He smiled weakly. "The thing is, if I was as eloquent as you…" He smirked. "If I was
as strong as you, then you’d hear the same speech on your behalf. I mean, for you to think you’re
not good enough…well, you’ve got that one backwards." He blushed a bit and lowered his eyes,
waiting for her to save his life.

*Please, God, let her save my life, one more time.*

She smiled back at him, a meek but meaningful attempt.

Then she did it. She leapt off the cliff without a parachute.

"I love you. I love you, Harry Potter, more than life itself. And I will cease to exist if
you leave me."

His heart soared. He could not suppress his smile this time. He took a deep breath and opened
his arms to her. She barreled him over and they burst out laughing. Rolling around in twigs and
leaves and dirt, they held on to each other for dear life, laughing like the regular seventeen
year-olds they were supposed to be. Finally, he pulled back. He was leaning on his left elbow, half
of his body resting against hers. Her smile at this moment was the greatest gift anyone had ever
given him. His expression became serious as he studied every inch of her face. Not that he needed
to. He was sure he knew every nook and cranny, every adorable flaw, every beautiful detail of her
loving, devoted, angelic face. Her expression became serious, as well, under his scrutiny. He
pushed several stray hairs out of her eyes with his fingers, then traced her jaw line and rested
his fingers ever so gently on her lips.

He swallowed audibly and licked his lips. Hermione did the same. Their hearts were beating
wildly and loudly and their whole lives were this moment. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. If he
could have this moment, he’d die a happy man.

He leaned in slowly, closed his eyes just as hers fluttered shut, and very tentatively pushed
his lips against her soft mouth.

*Thank you, God.*

He pulled back to gauge her reaction. She slowly opened her eyes and gently framed his face with
her hands. She moved first this time, lifting her head to encourage him. They met in the middle and
their mouths very quickly opened up to each other. Just a bit. Then more and more until what they
were doing was more akin to tasting than kissing. She took his upper lip between hers and kissed
it. His tongue reached out to taste her lower lip. When he got his chance, he took her lower lip
between his and suckled it a bit. Small touches. Gentle kisses. Quiet caresses.

This intense snogging session was all about discovery. The new frontier. He lay down on his side
and pulled her to face him, his mouth never letting go of hers. He had imagined this so many times,
but the reality far exceeded his expectations. She was here, with him – soft and strong, loving and
forgiving. And all the pain and fear faded away in her embrace.

"I love you, too, Hermione." She smiled while more tears filled her eyes.

"We’re a mess," she laughed.

"Yeah. In a lot of ways…but I don’t care. Do you?"

"No. Not as long as we can be a mess together."

Harry smiled and leaned in again to kiss her.



