Meant to Last by Amethyst

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 18/07/2005
Last Updated: 13/03/2006
Status: Completed

A late night talk with Hermione forces Harry to see what's right under his nose. Rather
literally, at that. / Chapter 2...er, what you all wanted in the first chapter, I reckon.




1. Meant to Last
----------------

Disclaimer – I do not own this, as I’m not JKR, and you can be sure I’m not, since Hermione
shockingly remembers that she’s Harry’s friend in this fic. JKR would never write something that
weird. *sarcasm is an excellent coping mechanism*

So, I hope you enjoy, and I hope this gives you a bit of hope for Hermione’s character.

Meant to Last

Harry fell back onto his bed in another random inn in another random part of England. Again,
they’d failed to obtain a horcrux – two, just two, were missing still. They’d found Hufflepuff’s
cup and destroyed it with deceptive ease when they began their quest. A month later, Voldemort had
foolishly sent Nagini to spy on them, thinking, perhaps, that a snake would be less detectable than
a wizard, not knowing that the snake was precisely one of the things they were after. Nagini was
dead before Voldemort could find out.

But there were still the two missing objects – the locket, taken by the mysterious R.A.B., and
the still unknown relic of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.

Hermione spent most of the time at Hogwarts now, holed up in the library with Dumbledore’s
private collection of books now there to assist her, researching names, objects, locations –
anything that could be of use, but little ever was these days.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron trekked the country, searching for potential hiding places. If they
found something, one would Apparate to a point just outside Hogwarts grounds and call Hermione; she
would come, and they would take her to the place. Once there, the three would work through
Voldemort’s elaborate enchantments and puzzles. Harry was becoming quite adept at detecting magic,
Hermione was cleverer than ever in deconstructing it, and Ron – well, Ron was still Ron, and that
was enough.

Tonight, Harry was tired as all hell. This was the fifth location that had not panned out, and
his hope was waning more rapidly with each failure.

He found he couldn’t quite remember what it was like to worry about Quidditch and girls and
exams, petty rivalries and bickering housemates. All that was gone now, replaced with the
seriousness of their mission.

Hogwarts had closed. Dumbledore’s death left the school too susceptible to attack, according to
the governors, and most mothers were thoroughly disinclined to send their children back, anyway.
Harry hated leaving Hermione there in the lonely, abandoned castle with only the Order to protect
her, but she insisted that she must. “I’m the one who finds the answers,” she’d told him quite
firmly in the beginning. “You risk your neck your way, I’ll do it mine.”

Hermione was staying with them tonight, however, too magically exhausted from heavy spellwork to
travel back. He tried not to think about her sleeping just across the hall. Her very nearness had
him wanting to be closer lately, and he wasn’t exactly sure why.

Thoughts like that, he knew, were a betrayal to Ginny. Sometimes, Harry couldn’t quite remember
*why*…but they were. After all, he’d loved her, hadn’t he? And they could still be together,
after this was over…they could have a normal life together.

But for some reason, that thought didn’t comfort him like it used to. Harry couldn’t quite
imagine going back to Ginny at the Burrow and having a chat about Quidditch or poking fun at Ron.
He couldn’t imagine trying to tell her all he’d been through, all the searches and the near-death
experiences…but just now, he couldn’t imagine talking about much else, either.

No…he couldn’t imagine a life after this mission…after Voldemort, provided he lived through that
confrontation. If he did…he wasn’t sure what he’d do with his life. Plans such as those would have
to wait until he was at leisure to make them – until the seventh piece of Voldemort’s soul was
destroyed.

There was a soft knock on the door. Harry knew it was probably Hermione. Her late-night visits
weren’t frequent, but they weren’t unusual, either. Nevertheless, he grasped his wand as he called
through the door, “Who’s there?”

“Honestly, why would a Death Eater bother to knock?” came his best friend’s muffled voice.

Harry grinned, loving this part of the ritual. “What’s your favorite jam flavor?”

The exasperation in her voice was potent as she replied, “For the millionth time,
raspberry.”

Harry opened the door for her with a flick of his wand, and she walked in, illuminated by the
light of her own wand. She shut the door behind her, and Harry could see by the furrow in her brow
that she was performing a series of nonverbal security spells.

Satisfied, Hermione turned back to him.

“What brings you here?” Harry asked as she made herself comfortable on his bed.

“Same thing as always,” she said, valiantly faking a pleasant tone of voice. “I miss talking to
you.”

Harry offered her the usual sad smile. “I miss talking to you, too.”

“You’re not looking too well,” she said, peering critically at the bags under his eyes and the
stubble along his jaw from not shaving in five days.

Harry shrugged helplessly, noting the matching bags under her eyes. “Is anyone?”

“No, I suppose not.”

There was a long silence before Hermione asked him something she’d never asked him before.

“Do you miss Ginny?”

Harry was slightly surprised by the question. Of course, it hadn’t used to be unusual for them
to discuss his love life, but that time seemed so far away…they’d talked about very little other
than the search lately.

“I – I don’t know. I can hardly remember what it was like to be with her. I can hardly remember
who I was with her.”

“Do you think that will change, when this is all over?”

Harry wondered why she was so curious after four months.

“Honestly? I doubt it. I know she’s probably counting on us to be together again, but…I don’t
know. We’ve all changed so much. How can it ever be the same?”

Hermione gave him an odd look. “Can I be honest as well?”

“Of course.”

She shifted, settling back against the headboard of his bed. From the angle he was looking at
her now, he couldn’t easily read her expression.

“I don’t think that relationship was ever meant to last. I know you were really happy with her,
and I was happy for you, but…she never could have understood your world. Everything that you’ve
been through, and all we’re doing now…the prophecy and all you’ve given up to do this. I know that
not even Ron and I fully understand, but…Ginny, she really doesn’t know who you *are*.”

Harry stared at the ceiling as the truth of her words sunk in. Yes, that was exactly why he
couldn’t imagine returning to Ginny. Ginny only knew the Harry that returned miraculously alive
from his latest adventure to win the House Cup for Gryffindor. She never saw the part where he
fought tooth-and-nail for survival. Well, she had – she’d seen it for herself in the Department of
Mysteries, and sure, she’d been brave and handled it well…but she hadn’t insisted on standing
beside him when he’d ended their relationship and left her behind…not like Ron and Hermione would
have done, had he tried to push them away.

“Yeah. I suppose you’re right. Again.”

Hermione reached for his hand and patted it in a simple but oddly comforting manner. “Do you
think maybe you were more in love with the idea of her than Ginny herself? You know…something
normal? Something that, for awhile, wasn’t affected by Voldemort?”

Harry craned his head on his pillow to smile slightly up at her. “Why ask? You’ve got it all
figured out already, haven’t you?”

Hermione shook her head in that *you’ll-never-learn* sort of way that used to drive him
nuts. He found he missed it now. “Harry, I’m trying to help *you* figure it out.”

He looked up at her, not at her face this time, but eyeing the curves of her body, not quite
hidden under the satin dressing gown she was so fond of. He’d always known she’d had a pretty face
– that was simply fact. But he hadn’t quite seen the merits of her body until lately. Harry sighed,
remembering the subject of their conversation. “I think I get the gist of it now.”

Hermione seemed satisfied with this. She readjusted herself again so that she was lying
alongside him, propped on an elbow. They often ended up like this.

“So…what about you and Ron?”

Neither Ron nor Hermione had ever spoken to him about their relationship, if there was one.
Harry would have liked to think that they would have told him…but he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps they
thought it best not to distract him, to leave him thinking his two best friends were entirely
devoted to him.

Hermione, to Harry’s surprise, looked completely and genuinely confused at his question. “What
about me and Ron?”

“Well, are you two…you know…together?”

Hermione looked very uncomfortable. “Harry…whatever my behavior – or his – last year may have
suggested, there was never really anything between us.”

And Harry’d thought he was done with puzzling over relationships. “There wasn’t?”

“No. I – I’m really embarrassed about the way I behaved, actually. I wasn’t really jealous
because I wanted to be with Ron, I just…I didn’t like that he’d moved on. He’d fancied me for the
longest time, and even though it was for all the wrong reasons, I sort of liked that…I’d gotten
used to it. And then other girls started taking an interest in him, and when I saw that he was
enjoying that…well, I just…panicked, I suppose. It was like I had to prove I was better than
Lavender and that he wasn’t the only boy that would ever fancy me, if only to myself, although I
wanted him to get the message, too.

“In any case, Ron and I were both moving on by the end of the year. I think he had to realize
that I wasn’t the only girl around just because I was the closest to him, and I had to get over my
silly insecurities…but we’re well past that, now.”

She smiled awkwardly, and Harry felt inexplicably relieved. “In retrospect, I feel like I let
you down. I was too busy acting stupid and immature to really help you – I could have tried harder
to help you figure out what Malfoy was up to. I should have believed you. We – we could have
stopped it, somehow.”

Her voice cracked with tears as she finished, and Harry wished somebody, somewhere had taught
him how to comfort a crying girl.

“It wasn’t your fault, Hermione. You know that,” he said, watching her wipe furiously at her
eyes. “Dumbledore knew what Malfoy was up to…he knew he’d been assigned to kill him, and he never
did a thing about it. I think…I think Dumbledore’d almost gotten through to him that he didn’t have
to do it, but then the Death Eaters showed up, and…we couldn’t possibly have expected Snape to turn
out the way he did.”

“You did,” Hermione said, her voice strained. “You *knew*.”

“And I tried to tell Dumbledore, and he didn’t care,” Harry said firmly, feeling as though he
should offer some physical comfort somehow, but he’d never quite gotten the hang of physical
gestures. “Hermione, there was nothing you could have done that I didn’t try, believe me.”

Hermione nodded, sniffling. “I just wish he was here…he’d know a way to find the horcruxes. He’d
know what to do. And I have no idea.”

Harry tried placing a hand on her upper arm. It didn’t seem to do much. “Nobody expects you to
find all the answers, Hermione. We’re working with you on this…we’ll find them, we always find a
way.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears and honesty. “I still feel like I’ve let you
down.”

Harry shook his head. “No, never think that, Hermione. You’ve always done your absolute best to
help me – I’ve never thanked you enough for that. You’ve worked so hard, just for me…how could I
possibly ask for more?”

“You deserve more,” she said quietly. “You deserve more, when you’ve given me so much.”

Harry swallowed. So she’d finally gone mad. He wasn’t exactly surprised…all that time spent with
books had to do something to a person. “Hermione, I’ve never given you anything.”

“You’re wrong,” she said insistently. “Don’t you see? You gave me my life! Without you…I would
have been lonely and friendless forever, buried away in my books.”

“You would have been safe.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, really, Harry, no one’s safe, no matter whose side they’re on. If
I hadn’t been friends with you, I’d still have had to leave Hogwarts this year…I’d be home with my
parents, where I’d probably be captured and killed simply for being Muggle-born. I’m safer
*with* you, Harry…you’re the only one that can defeat him, after all. Who better to protect
me?”

Harry felt tears pricking at his own eyes. “Yeah, well…I’m not so sure how easy that’s going to
be, considering how well things are going just now.”

Hermione reached up a hand to cup his cheek. “You said yourself, we’ll find a way. We always
do.”

Harry nodded and found himself amazed by her. There she was, clearly as disheartened and
hopeless as he was, and yet she was trying to tuck it all away, only to comfort him. It was
astounding to him at times, the extent of her loyalty.

“You really think we can do this?”

“Of course, Harry. I have faith in you – in what we can do together. I wouldn’t be here if I
didn’t.”

Harry felt his cheeks flush. Hermione had faith in him. She always had, he supposed…more than
anyone else.

*I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.*

And Harry supposed that was why it was her lying on his bed in the middle of nowhere, and not
Ginny or anyone else. She was the only girl – the only *woman* – that had ever believed in him
enough to do so.

It all fit together like a very elaborate puzzle, ten thousand or more pieces that had been
slowly and meticulously put together throughout the years, starting with a childhood friendship
that had been built onto until the bigger picture was so much more, and so drastically
different.

“Hermione?”

She looked at him expectantly. “Hmm?”

“You know how you said you thought me and Ginny were never meant to last?”

Her eyes took on a curious glint he’d seen many times before. “Yeah?”

Harry wet his lips. “You think…you think we were?”

Hermione smiled at him in a way she hadn’t smiled in a very long time – a radiant, beaming smile
that made her eyes dance with life. “Yes…yes, I think we were.”



2. What He'd Been Missing
-------------------------

Harry stood outside the gates of Hogwarts, still flanked by rather extravagant – and rather ugly
– winged boars. Hermione had called him there using the fake galleons she’d created for the D.A. –
quite handy, now that standard lines of communication like owls were out of the question. Owls were
far too traceable.

He’d left Ron at their safe house – Number Twelve Grimmauld Place – where they stayed between
searches. The hope was that he’d have a few moments alone with Hermione before they had to depart –
whether that meant him leaving her at Hogwarts again or going off to check out another
location.

Soon he saw her walking hurriedly down the path, cloaked against the November wind with her wand
drawn and ready. Though he would have rather seen her moving easily and without fear, he was very
glad to see her at the moment.

“Harry,” she said as she drew near. “Jam?”

“Blackberry,” he replied promptly.

She grinned back. “Grape.”

“Impostor,” he accused, though Harry knew that neither of them need ask. Hermione would know him
anywhere, and no one could fake the smile on her face so well.

“We need to get somewhere we won’t be overheard,” she said without preamble. “I think I’ve got
something.”

“Let’s go back to the house, then,” Harry said, grabbing her hand so they could Apparate
together.

*So much for alone time.*

~

Five minutes later, they were settled around the kitchen table with a pot of tea heating on the
stove.

“So you’ve found something?” Ron asked Hermione.

“Yes,” she said. “I have an idea what the last horcrux may be.”

Harry felt his entire body tense with anticipation. Could this really be it, the missing
piece?

“I was thinking about the two objects that he’d found of the Founders – a cup and a locket. They
seem quite unrelated, don’t they? But then I remembered Gryffindor’s sword – a sword, a cup, a
locket – like a coin. Reminding you of anything?”

Ron gave her a blank stare, the patent, “You’re mental” look. Harry raised an eyebrow.

“No, can’t say it is.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry almost laughed at the sight. It was like being back at Hogwarts,
having Hermione lecture them over their homework with her little exclamations of, “Oh, honestly,
can’t you two *read*?” But the laughter died quickly. Those days were gone, and reminiscing
could do no good. Nothing could bring back those times…

But at least Hermione hadn’t changed.

“Maybe if you’d paid attention in divination, you’d understand – although, I’d be surprised if
Trelawney actually managed to teach you this. They’re three of the four suits of tarot.”

It was a moment before the idea came together.

“You think the missing object is the fourth suit?”

“Yes. Once I had that idea, I started researching something of Ravenclaw’s that might have fit
the bill – I finally came across a staff she used to carry, and Harry, I think he got his hands on
it. It was last known to be in the hands of a wealthy French collector, but he was killed twenty
years ago – the staff was never found amongst his possessions.”

Harry sighed. “Sounds about right. Now we just have to figure out where the bloody hell he hid
it.”

The tea kettle whistled sharply and Hermione went to tend to it. “That’s always the hardest
part,” she said with a note of weariness. “I’ll start researching that when I go back, and you two
can be brainstorming here.”

Carefully, she sat steaming cups of tea in front of them, and it suddenly struck him how much he
*missed* her. Of course he’d longed for her until it had ached while she was away, but having
here there in the house again, doing her typical Hermione things, drove home how empty life had
been without her.

“Have you two been taking care of yourselves?” she asked in a motherly fashion. “You look thin,
Harry.”

He couldn’t help smiling in his affection for her. “I always look thin, Hermione.”

Ron chuckled. “He’s got a point, the scrawny bugger. And you sound just like Mum when you’re
checking up on us.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I can’t help it if I care. You’re my boys. I have to take care of
you.”

“Bloody hell, now you’re *channeling* her!”

They all laughed easily – all laughter had been locked up for so long that it was dying to
bubble up to the surface, to see the light of day. Now that they were all together again, they
couldn’t resist.

“I’ve missed you both,” Hermione said. The bittersweet tone of her voice jabbed at his heart
just a bit. He didn’t want her to go back to that lonely, lifeless school without anyone but a few
Aurors to keep her company, to protect her. He wanted her safe by his side, under his careful watch
– for he certainly could never keep his eyes off her.

“Don’t go back tonight,” Harry said on impulse, without caring what his words implied to
Hermione or Ron. “You’ve still got your bedroom here,” he continued. “I doubt you’re going to get
much research done between tonight and tomorrow anyway.”

Hermione smiled and nodded. “That sounds really nice, actually. Maybe…maybe it wouldn’t hurt for
me to stay a few days, even. I did bring a few volumes with me that I thought might be relevant, so
we could go over those together….”

Harry grinned, his heart rising as though it were filled with helium. “That sounds even
better.”

Hermione held his happy gaze for less than a full second, but it was long enough to attract
Ron’s suspicion. In her subtle way, Hermione shifted Ron’s attention to other matters, and Harry
could breathe easily again.

It wasn’t that they were hiding anything in particular. They’d only managed to kiss a few times
in the past few months – when they’d reached a dead end in their search, Hermione had returned to
the Hogwarts library almost full time and Harry and Ron returned to Grimmauld Place. There was
nothing else to do but turn to what they did best – Hermione researched; Harry and Ron went flying
headfirst into Merlin-knows-what kind of danger as soon as they knew when and where to do so.

The defining lines of their new relationship hadn’t even been laid – how could they even begin
to explain? “Um, Ron, we’re sort of snogging now and then and we might have some sort of romantic
relationship.” No, there was no sense risking turning their trio on end until they knew what it was
they had.

Nevertheless, Harry couldn’t deny that he felt something intense for her…that she was certainly
more than a mere friend now, that he thought about her night and day…that he quite possibly loved
her. And that…well, that was quite a lot to keep from Ron.

Hermione babbled away about something irrelevant – Harry was too engrossed in his thoughts to
pay much attention to what she was saying. It was mostly idle chatter anyway, fit to pass the time
until they had to return to serious matters once more.

They ate a comfortable dinner and spent the rest of the evening in the drawing room, pretending
they were still normal teenagers doing normal things. When the clock struck ten, Hermione stretched
lithely and excused herself. Some fifteen minutes later, Harry could resist no longer and followed
after her.

He considered going straight to her room and stealing the kiss he’d been dying for, but thought
better of it. Perhaps she didn’t want that anymore…she’d always come to him before. He would wait
for her to do so again.

But when he entered his room, he got the shock of his life – and considering he’d once found out
that he was not only a wizard, but a famous one, that was saying a lot.

The first thing he noticed was Hermione’s shoes on the floor with her socks placed just inside
them. The second thing he noticed was her pile of clothing at the foot of his bed – her jeans, her
blouse, and folded neatly on top, a lacy white bra. Third and finally, he noticed his old Quidditch
T-shirt, which was currently wrapped nicely about Hermione, who looked quite cozy in his bed.

She smiled shyly at him. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Harry swallowed. “No, of course not. I…um…I’ll change,” Harry said, almost as a question,
searching for confirmation from her as to what to do next. He’d never been in this situation with a
girl, especially not one as important and essential to his being as Hermione. He couldn’t afford to
mess this up.

Settling back against the pillows, she watched him remove his socks, pants, and shirt. He could
*feel* her eyes on him, and that left him hot and flustered. She was looking at him the way he
looked at her, full of appreciation and – dare he say it – desire.

He pulled on a T-shirt to sleep in and slid into the bed beside her, very eager to take her into
his arms. She looked so snug and warm under the blankets, so soft with her hair fanning out across
the pillow…she looked like a brilliant night’s sleep. Whatever she intended to happen tonight, he
would be content if he could just hold her close to him until the light of morning stirred them
from their slumber.

As soon as he pulled the covers back over them, she snuggled into him and he gladly embraced
her. She nuzzled his neck.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered. He shivered as her hot breath drifted across his
skin.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, running his fingers through her hair. Letting the strands
slip through his fingers, he continued, “I hate that you’re not here…with me.”

“So do I,” she said. “But I’m here now.”

Harry read the look in her eyes as an invitation and took the chance he’d wanted to take ever
since he’d met her at Hogwarts. Soft and full, her lips accepted his kiss eagerly, and she
tightened her hold on him.

Oh, how he’d needed *this*, her softness all around him, smooth legs sliding against his,
her delicate fingers tangled in his hair. Life was so lonely without her around. Ever since they’d
met, she’d been the only constant source of affection in his life – the only person that hugged
him, that kissed him, that would pat his arm in reassurance. He’d had no idea he relied on that
physical contact until he’d had to be without it, and now, he needed to make up for lost time.

Harry was glad Hermione was offering this affection, that she only pressed closer to him when he
slipped his tongue into her mouth, that she responded with a moan of approval to his hands slipping
under her shirt to caress her skin. She had a way with him, a way of completely clearing his mind
of everything but her. He loved that about her.

When she tugged off his T-shirt, he didn’t question her; he didn’t *want* to, didn’t want
to risk ending these few moments in heaven. She tossed her own shirt to the floor, and he knew he
needn’t ask – no need to ask permission to take what was being freely given.

Soon he was naked, and so was she, and he dove into her beauty and drowned in it. He wasn’t sure
if he was in love, but if he wasn’t, he was so close that he certainly would be by the time he woke
up in the morning.

From the first gasp as he slid into her to the final cry as she came, making love to Hermione
was like…music. All the harmony, all the discord, the rhythms and crescendos, came together in one
fantastic melody that continued playing in his soul long after they’d ceased to move, nestled close
under the covers. She’d given him an unexpected peace in this time of war, had shattered his doubts
and left him somehow more complete than he’d been before, even though he hadn’t known he’d been
missing anything at all. And even though he knew the worst was yet to come, he had a strange
feeling that the best years of his life had just begun…with her.

As she fell asleep in the crook of his arm, his mind that had been so restless of late finally
stilled, and he went to sleep that night without worrying what the next day would bring.

The End

A/N: I’m not sure if this will be the very last installment in the universe, but I’ve no more
plans for it as of now, so don’t hold out hope. Soon to come is, hopefully, an update to Sanctuary,
and then work on my novel-length…and, of course, more one-shots. Thanks for reading, all of
you.



