Someone to Watch Over Me by Bingblot

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 23/11/2004
Last Updated: 23/11/2004
Status: Completed

Dark dreams and darker thoughts torment Harry until he turns away from everyone around him. Only
to find that even then, he still has the most important person of all. One-shot.




1. Someone to Watch Over Me
---------------------------

Disclaimer: All JKR’s and not mine.

**Someone to Watch Over Me**

~*~*~*~

“Where is he?” was Hermione’s greeting to Ron and Ginny when Remus let her in to Number 12
Grimmauld Place.

“Sulking,” Ron said shortly and uninformatively.

“Ron!” Ginny chided her brother before addressing Hermione. “Hey, Hermione. He’s upstairs in the
room he used last year.”

Now Hermione smiled by way of a quick greeting at Ginny and Ron before making her way quickly up
the stairs. She ignored the evidence of Ron’s apparent disgruntlement with Harry’s voluntary
isolation. She wasn’t surprised. Since Remus had explained to her how Harry had been acting in the
past week since he’d arrived in Grimmauld Place, she’d almost been expecting it. So she knew
without asking that Harry must have snapped out something incredibly cold and frankly
insulting—when it was addressed to your best friend of 5 years—and Ron’s ever-ready temper had
ignited.

She stifled a sigh and mentally braced herself as she knocked softly on the door.

Harry’s response was expected, harsh and utterly implacable. “Go away.”

Instead Hermione opened the door and stepped inside, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness
before shutting the door. She kept her voice soft and calm as she said, “Hello Harry.”

He’d visibly stiffened when the door opened but he hadn’t turned around. He still didn’t as he
said tersely, “Leave me alone, Hermione.”

“Why should I?”

He turned to look—or more accurately glare—at her before turning his gaze away and saying in a
flat unemotional tone, “Because I’m a murderer.”

Only 4 words but they made her suck in her breath first with shock then with a sudden flare of
anger.

Her response was as terse as his had been if not nearly as unemotional. “Don’t be an idiot,
Harry.”

She crossed the room to sit beside him on the bed. “You are *not* a murderer. What happened
to Sirius wasn’t your fault!! He was a grown man and he chose to leave Grimmauld Place, chose to
protect you. You can’t—”

His voice when he interrupted her was low and trembling with the force of his contained
emotions. “It’s not because of Sirius.”

Surprise silenced her for a moment and Harry used it to turn away from her, huddling into the
corner of the bed furthest from her. She could sense his retreat, the walls he put up around
himself, his emotions and his fears. He was always so good at that, putting up walls and not
letting people in. But there was something about his position now that struck at her heart for the
very vulnerability and loneliness it projected. And for all his wanting to be alone and rejecting
the advances of all the Weasleys as well as Remus and Tonks in the Order, she somehow knew that he
*wanted* someone to break through his self-imposed isolation. He needed someone to turn to… He
needed her.

She grasped his shoulders and forcibly turned him around to face her but when she spoke, her
voice was soft, gentle. “Harry, you’re the kindest person I know. It’s not in you to willfully hurt
another person, to callously take a life. You’re not capable of the kind of cruelty that commits
murder. I know you, know the kindness and gentleness and friendship in you.”

Her very gentleness broke through the walls of his restraint when her previous vehemence
couldn’t and he erupted, the words spilling out of him, starting softly with muted violence but
crescendoing to a near-shout at the end. “You don’t know! I’m the same as Voldemort; it’s why he
can get into my head and I can get into his! Why do you think we have the connection that we do?
It’s because he and I *are* connected; we’re the same! I’ve *seen* him, Hermione! Seen
him torture, seen him kill and knew it was *me* doing it. The Howards- I was there, in his
mind, as he tortured and then killed them, and I felt the same malevolence he did. I *felt*
it!” His voice cracked and he stopped, his chest heaving with emotion as he finally released
everything that had been haunting him for the past two months since he’d left Hogwarts. He didn’t-
he *couldn’t*- look at Hermione, to see the horror and the fear he knew he would see in her
eyes. Seeing it would kill something inside him, the one part of him that still felt human, the
part of him that had him hiding here in his room so he couldn’t somehow hurt the Weasleys or the
other members of the Order, the part of him that wanted to believe Hermione’s affectionate words…
When he spoke again, there was resignation, defeat, in his tone, his earlier anger gone. “I felt it
all, felt the power at speaking the Unforgivables. And I- I *enjoyed* the feeling of power. I
am Voldemort’s equal; he knows it too and that’s why he wants me gone.”

Hermione stared at Harry, her mind grasping the depth of the horror which Harry had been
subjected to, since Voldemort had discovered his power over Harry. Now Voldemort was deliberately
inviting Harry into his mind when he was at his most cruel, so Harry would experience it too.
Experience it in such a way as to feel guilty over it, in the mind and body of the true killer… It
was brilliant in its sadism and its effect on Harry’s mind… And she knew that nothing she really
said would change Harry’s thinking; he had had two long months to think of nothing else, to set his
fears and beliefs in stone…

“Stay away from me, Hermione. I’m a danger to you and to everyone. I--”

She cut his words off with her lips.

She kissed him with all the love, all the loyalty, all the sympathy and all the understanding
she felt, instinct making up for her lack of experience as she angled her head. She felt him
stiffen first with shock and then with resistance but she persisted, her hands tangling in his
hair… Until she felt his mouth soften and then part in hesitant response…

It wasn’t a perfect kiss; there was too much raw emotion behind it, too much inexperience on
both their parts and initial resistance on his. But it was an honest one, one that stripped away
Harry’s defenses, leaving only himself and his fears and his loneliness…

How long it lasted neither of them knew for sure.

Harry was the first to pull back, breathing fast, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He
suddenly realized that this was the only thing that would have broken through his defenses so
completely and so quickly, the kind of physical contact he’d been avoiding for weeks and yet,
conversely, that he’d craved to make him feel human still. He stared at her, feeling as if
something inside him had shattered. “Why- why did you do that?”

Hermione was flushed, partly from emotion and partly from embarrassment at her own boldness. Her
voice was soft, slightly hesitant, as she tried to put into words what had been more an instinctive
reaction than a conscious decision. “To make you understand that you’re not the same as Voldemort.
You’re human and you’re a *good* person. I- I couldn’t think of any other way to show you how
sure I am that you’re *not* evil, *not* Voldemort and *not* a murderer. And that, no
matter what you do or where you try to escape, I’ll *always* be here for you.”

She continued on, gaining confidence now that she knew he would really listen to her words,
holding his gaze with her own, knowing he’d see the sincerity, the faith, the unconditional love,
in her eyes. “You’re not guilty for what happened to the Howards any more than you’re guilty for
what happened to Sirius. You weren’t the one controlling Voldemort to kill them; it *wasn’t*
you that said the words. He’s trying to weaken you, Harry, because he’s afraid of you, afraid of
the goodness and the love in you because he knows that that’s what will defeat him in the end.”

“I- I want to believe you but I don’t know if I can,” Harry said in a strangled whisper. He
looked at her, naked vulnerability in his expression that she knew he showed to no one else.

“Trust me,” she responded softly.

And she knew she’d said the right words, that just those two words were enough, at least for
now, to get through to him. She could feel the tension leave him, the first glimmer of light in his
eyes that had, until now, been so bleak.

Harry sighed, letting his shoulders slump and his fingers entwine with hers. *Trust me…*
And he did. For right now, even if he didn’t *feel* the truth of her words, still felt the
lingering darkness inside him, he did trust her. Believed her and allowed himself to hope… Because
this was Hermione—and the person whose opinion he respected and trusted the most. More, at this
moment, than he trusted himself.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, letting his kiss tell her what he didn’t know how to
express in words, a kiss of gratitude, of relief, of renewed hope, of nameless fears relieved… A
kiss of trust, deep and profound, stronger than fear, stronger than doubt, stronger than
friendship, even…

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Harry said softly, breaking the comfortable silence
that fell after that kiss.

She smiled and tightened her grip on his hands. “You’ll never need to find out.”

There was another beat of silence before she said, with an encouraging smile, “I think Mrs.
Weasley has dinner ready.”

Harry visibly hesitated but then made his decision and stood up, still holding her hand.

He paused before she opened the door which he hadn’t left except to go to the loo for days now.
“I don’t know how to face them after how I’ve treated them all.”

She smiled, understanding in her eyes. “They’ll understand and they’ll forgive you.” She paused
for a moment before she stepped through the door into the hallway and turned to face him. “It’s
what families do,” she added quietly.

Family… He tightened his grip on her hand and stepped outside the room of his self-imposed
isolation.

He saw Ron and Ginny look up as he came down the stairs and smile, as naturally as if they’d
last seen him at lunch and this wasn’t the first time he’d come downstairs for a meal since he’d
arrived at Grimmauld Place. He heard Mrs. Weasley’s voice scolding Fred and George for something
and the vague buzz of what he recognized as Mr. Weasley’s and Remus’s voices as they talked to each
other. And felt a warmth in his heart he hadn’t known for what felt like years. For the first time
in months, he felt fully human, connected, a part of something, a part of a family…

And he had Hermione. He glanced at her, leading the way down the stairs, still holding his hand
in a reassuring grip. And smiled his first real smile for months as he greeted Mr. Weasley and
Remus.

Hermione quietly slipped her hand out of his as they entered the dining room as she went to help
Mrs. Weasley, but with a last squeeze and a last backward glance that said, *Don’t worry*, and
prevented his instinctive trepidation and wish to hold on to her.

He turned to Remus and responded to his quiet question and searching gaze with only the
slightest hesitation.

He faced Ron fully for the first time since entering the dining room, remembering how coldly
he’d rebuffed Ron’s last attempt before lunch today to get through to him. He wanted to say
something: *I’m sorry…* But hesitated and then his eyes met Ron’s and he read the forgiveness
and more, the understanding, in them, before Ron spoke, casually, on the subject of the last
Quidditch match. And he allowed himself to relax a little. It really was okay…

Hermione had been right. As usual, he thought, glancing at her as she looked up and met his eyes
for a moment, giving him a brief smile, before returning her attention to her task of cutting the
bread.

*It’s what families do…*

And he *did* have a family, that most human of institutions… A family… And Hermione, more
precious than any friend and more necessary than any other person on earth…

There was still some lingering doubt, could remember all too clearly, if he let himself, the
terror in the Howards’ eyes as they looked at hi- no, as they looked at *Voldemort*…

But now, in the warm dining room, surrounded by the people he cared about most, still hearing
Hermione’s voice in his mind, *Trust me* and *It’s* *what families do*, he felt his
mood lighten.

*Trust me…*

*I do…*



