The Hard Road is Worth the Reward by DarthMittens

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 05/05/2011
Last Updated: 05/05/2011
Status: Completed

During his sixth year Harry comes to the conclusion that Hermione no longer wants to be his
friend. So he stops being her friend. Rated PG13 for language and a disturbing amount of fluff.




1. The Hard Road is Worth the Reward
------------------------------------

**A/N: Just a little plot bunny that didn’t want to seem to leave me alone. Takes place during
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. One-shot.**

**I hope you enjoy it!**

**The Hard Road is Worth the Reward**

“No, Harry!” snapped Hermione angrily. “For the millionth time, I don’t think Malfoy is a Death
Eater! Now can you please be quiet? I’m trying to study.”

Harry clenched his fists at his sides as he reluctantly sat back in his chair and picked up his
Quidditch notebook to study the plays. Well, that was a lie—he actually picked the Quidditch
notebook up to hide his reddening face. He was royally pissed off at Hermione. No matter how many
times he said it or how many valid reasons he gave her, Hermione just did not want to even consider
that Malfoy just *might* be a Death Eater. Crazier things had happened, right?

It may have seemed a little childish to an observer at first, but once the person had seen how
Hermione had been treating Harry this school year they might begin to understand. He didn’t know if
it was because puberty had drastically changed her over the summer or if being in love with
*Ron* might have addled her brains or if she was just jealous because with the Half-Blood
Prince’s help he was better than her at potions, but this was not the Hermione he knew. The
Hermione he knew was always there for him and cared for him, always paying attention to what he had
to say and thinking through everything logically.

This Hermione seemed to only have eyes for Ron and didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about Harry
anymore. She was yelling at him more than Ron, laughing less around him, and generally seemed to be
annoyed with him anytime he was around. She only seemed to appreciate his company when Ron had hurt
her and she needed someone to unload her problems and worries on.

And he was sick and tired of it.

From Harry’s point of view, it seemed that Hermione didn’t want to be his friend anymore—she was
just using him at this point. She just didn’t care about him anymore. It pained Harry greatly, for
he was in love with the bushy-haired braniac, but it seemed to be the only logical explanation.
Hermione had always told him to think things through and here he was, finally doing it, only to
realize that she didn’t want to be his friend anymore.

Harry glanced over at the woman that was causing him all of his troubles…well, most of his
troubles at the moment. She was eyeing Ron, book forgotten in her lap. She had lied to him. She
didn’t want to study, she was just annoyed with him for interrupting her daydream about the
thick-headed oaf. Harry couldn’t even see what she saw in him. Ron was lazy, abrasive, unreliable,
and to be perfectly honest, a bit dim. Sure, he did have striking blue eyes, but that was just
about his only good quality.

Harry disappeared quietly upstairs and no one noticed, which only added to his depression.
*Nobody* seemed to care about him anymore. It was okay though, he didn’t need them! He would
show them that he could get along just fine without a certain Hermione Jean Granger. He didn’t need
any friends.

Perhaps it was even better this way.

Now he wouldn’t have any emotional ties to worry about. His entire family was dead and he had no
friends. He would be able to walk into the fiery depths of hell without dragging anyone with him.
At least nobody would feel anything in particular when they learned that Voldemort had killed him.
Well, nobody except for Malfoy—he would probably cheer and high-five Crabbe and Goyle.

He would still fight for the sake of giving Hermione a happy, Voldemort-free life, but at least
now he didn’t have to worry about her getting hurt. Harry didn’t know how he felt about Ron. On the
one hand, Ron was his oldest mate. But on the other hand, Ron wasn’t very loyal to him, seemed to
harbor quite a bit of jealousy concerning him, and not to mention the fact that he seemed to have
won the heart of Hermione.

No matter. Now that he had no friends, Harry had plenty of time to focus on other things. He
took out his wand and transfigured some pieces of parchment into a set of weights. It was about
time he did something about his scrawniness.

---The Hard Road---

Two months later, Harry was sitting at lunch at the end of Gryffindor Table while reading up on
complex offensive and defensive magic. Now that he had completely devoted himself completely to
eradicating Voldemort, he was first in the class, even topping Hermione. Hermione had stopped
coming to the extra-credit hands-on study sessions about two days after Harry had started doing
them…which also happened to be the day she and Ron had become an item. He hadn’t talked to either
Hermione or Ron in the past three weeks and they had instigated no conversation with him, which
obviously led him to believe that he was right in the idea that they no longer wanted to be friends
with him.

Funnily enough, it now seemed that Harry and Hermione were switching roles. Harry’s grades were
quickly rising and he was answering more questions in class than Hermione. Hermione’s grades had
all dropped around three percent and her assignments were being finished later and later as she
procrastinated, putting time with Ron in front of her studies. Oh, how it disgusted him to see them
eating each other’s faces in the common room.

Hermione had even received a detention along with Ron. They had shown up five minutes late to
Snape’s class, both of them looking particularly rumpled—obviously they had just arrived from a
particularly wild snogging session. And Hermione didn’t even have the modesty to blush or
apologize.

It devastated him to see how much Hermione had changed now that she had decided to fall in love
with Ron. No longer there was the sweet, innocent, friendly girl he had fallen in love with in
fourth year. Harry doubted she would even make Head Girl in seventh year. All of her dreams and
dignity, gone because Ron was rubbing off on her.

Harry checked his watch as the bell rang. He had a free period right now, which meant that he
and Dumbledore were going to continue their search for the Horcruxes, of which only Nagini and
another they did not know the identity of remained. They had really accomplished a lot in the past
few weeks.

When Dumbledore had asked Harry to accompany him to the rock in the sea, Harry had asked that
they postpone it a week. With full access to the restriction of the Library, Harry looked up all
the secrets of dark curse-breaking and Horcrux auras. Then it had clicked that he had felt
something similar to the feeling they had described in the book.

The two travelled to Grimmauld Place, where they found Voldemort’s locket Horcrux and asked
Kreacher how he had attained it. It turned out that him and Regulus Black, who was Sirius’s
brother, had gone into a cave in the sea and swapped a fake Horcrux with the real one. Both Harry
and Dumbledore were glad that Harry had decided to postpone on going to the cave. They had found a
Horcrux without having to jump through Voldemort’s hoops.

Harry, on top of learning Occlumency, learned how to control his connection with Voldemort. He
could look into Voldemort’s mind whenever he wanted without the Dark Lord being any the wiser. They
had learned of the location of Hufflepuff’s cup from a conversation Voldemort had had with
Bellatrix Lestrange. Dumbledore had unrestricted access to Gringotts for helping them set up some
of their newer security features, and had recruited the help of Griphook in breaking into
Bellatrix’s vault, even swapping the real Horcrux with a fake one just as Regulus had done.

They were currently trying to find the last of the Horcruxes besides Nagini. But Harry had a
good idea of what that last Horcrux was going to be. He had searched for one of Ravenclaw’s
heirlooms for what seemed like ages in the library and had only run across one: Ravenclaw’s diadem,
which had long since been lost. But Harry wasn’t so sure about that. He had come across a piece of
information stating that the Grey Lady was Rowena Ravenclaw’s daughter, Helena Ravenclaw. He would
make sure to have a word with her before seeing the headmaster.

---The Hard Road---

It was Graduation Day. Parents were sitting in the chairs behind the seventh year students.
Harry had just returned to his seat after giving a speech as the Head Boy—he refused to do one as
the conqueror of Voldemort.

He had killed the bastard by the end of his sixth year. After destroying Ravenclaw’s diadem, he
and Dumbledore had planned a raid of Riddle Manor along with the Order and trustworthy—trustworthy
meaning haven taken three drops of Veritaserum and answering questions—Ministry workers for two
months. One hit team of Aurors and Order members led by Dumbledore went after Nagini while Harry
led a group through the Death Eaters toward Voldemort.

Voldemort had really been no match for Harry in the end. Harry had used a long-lasting memory
retention spell, which allowed him to perfectly remember every spell he had read up on for the past
four months. Harry killed Voldemort without even receiving a scratch, finishing the Dark Lord by
holding his attention while he transfigured a table behind Voldemort into a broadsword. He had
fired three curses at Voldemort while summoning the sword, which ended up impaling Voldemort
through the chest. As the Dark Lord stared down in shock, Harry finished him off with the killing
curse. The rest of the Death Eaters were easy to round up and had all been given the Dementor’s
kiss.

And so here Harry found himself at graduation watching the Head Girl Padma Patil give her
graduation speech. Hermione didn’t seem particularly perturbed that she wasn’t named Head Girl. In
fact, she never seemed bothered when she had missed and assignment or received a failing grade on
one of her essays or tests. She hadn’t even finished in the top three that year. But she did have a
ring on her finger.

Yep, Ron had proposed. Just after Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup again,
Ron had taken Hermione up on his broom, sonorused himself, and proposed to her in front of the
entire school. Ron had worked all summer at Fred and George’s shop, saving his money for an
engagement ring. They were to be wed after the Graduation Ceremony.

And Harry wasn’t even on the guest list.

---The Hard Road---

Two years. Two years it had been since Harry had graduated from Hogwarts. Two years it had been
since he had seen Ron and Hermione. Two years since he had last set eyes on Britain.

A week after graduation, Harry had moved to Burundi, which was in Africa, to help them establish
a functional magical government. Then he did the same in Ecuador. He had just finished in Honduras.
Now he was on his way back to Britain, having accepted the position of Foreign Ambassador in the
British Ministry. It wasn’t exactly what he had envisioned himself doing when he had been in
Hogwarts. But then again, neither had he seen himself assisting country after country in setting up
their magical government. He was glad that he was actually doing something to help the world.

And now he was next in line for the floo to London. He was whisked away by the familiar spinning
sensation, ending up in the international flooport in London. He quickly apparated to Grimmauld
Place, dumping the rucksack with all of his belongings on the floor next to his bed when he
arrived.

He had lived simply and hadn’t made any friends in the past two years. He was very accomplished,
both monetarily and satisfactorily, but he felt as though his life was missing something. All he
needed was a friend. He wasn’t one to kid himself or live in denial: he had been lonely as hell the
past three years.

Despite his accomplishments and the role he had played in helping the world become a better
place, he was miserable. He barely talked anymore and buried himself in work. But at least when he
was working he was doing something. Times such as these, when he was all by himself with nothing to
do, he found his mind drifting to Hermione and he sank into a deeper depression. No matter what he
tried to do he couldn’t seem to move on. She had been his best friend and true love and she had
turned her back on him and never looked back.

She was the reason he was so lonely. Being given the cold shoulder by her had crushed his
confidence and self-esteem into nothing. Obviously he had done something wrong or wasn’t good
enough for her to just ignore him like that. As usual, he found himself reliving his sixth year up
until when he and Hermione weren’t talking anymore.

She had been seriously weird that year. Not only with her fixation with Ron but with everything.
Her studies, which had always been what she had taken the most pride in, had been put on the
backburner for a relationship. She had always seemed to be an independent, strong woman but seemed
to succumb to a helpless female stereotype as soon as she had started dating Ron. From what Harry
had heard, Hermione only had a part-time job at the Ministry, earning minimum wage. Ron played for
the Chudley Cannons as their breadwinner, Hermione seemingly his trophy wife. Whenever Harry had
gotten his hands on the *Daily Prophet* it was to find Hermione hanging on Ron’s arm, gazing
up adoringly at him.

Harry didn’t even know who Hermione was any more. She definitely wasn’t anyone he had ever
met.

A knock sounded at Harry’s door, which he found very odd. He wasn’t due to return until
tomorrow, so not even the Ministry knew that Harry was back yet. So who could know that he was
home?

It was midday, a dark, rainy April midday. He opened the door to find a woman soaked to the
bone, hair plastered to her head and face. Harry was just about to inform the stranger that she was
in the wrong house when she embraced him in a familiar bone-crushing hug, burying her face in his
chest.

“Oh, Harry!” she exclaimed, her petite frame shaking from a mixture of cold and sobs. “Thank
goodness you’re here!”

Harry sighed. It was Hermione. Why did she think that he was even an option for a shoulder to
cry on anymore? “What, so you’re just going to dump all of your troubles on me after not speaking
to me for three years?” he asked coldly. She looked up at him in shock, arms only limply wrapped
around him. “Only you could show up and hug me and act like nothing has happened. Well guess what,
Hermione, I don’t care anymore!” he shouted, showing more emotion in that one sentence than he had
over the past three years. “I don’t care if Ron’s cheated on you, I don’t care if he broke your
heart! Learn how to grow up and deal with your problems on your own, or at least tell someone who
gives a damn! I stopped giving a damn when you threw away our friendship and sold yourself out to
become a completely different person! I’m starting over in Britain, Hermione, and this time I plan
to do things right, which means that I don’t want you over here darkening my doorstep!”

Hermione’s hand came up and connected with Harry’s cheek, sending him recoiling backwards. He
stood up to see Hermione panting, tears filling her beautiful brown eyes. And Harry laughed.

“Okay, I get it,” he said. “I’m the bad guy in this situation. I should’ve figured.”

As Hermione’s lower lip trembled and she pushed her hair off her face, Harry’s disbelieving
smile slowly slid off his face as he took in the black ring around her left eye. “H-Hermione?” he
asked, reaching a hand toward her face.

“Don’t touch me,” she spat as she swatted his hand away and her tears spilled over onto her
cheeks. “I came here for a reason, and I don’t give a damn whether you want to hear what I have to
say or not. All I wanted to say is…” she gulped and a sob escaped her throat, wrenching Harry’s
heart, “…I love you, Harry. But you don’t give a damn, so I’m leaving.”

“No, Hermione, wait!” he called, but it was too late, she had disapparated.

“Son of a bitch!” he cried, punching a hole in the plaster next to him. He had been waiting for
five years to hear her say those words and he had finally had his wish granted only to have no
explanation accompanying the confession.

Thinking things through, he decided on his next course of action. Hermione had a black eye,
which could’ve only meant that Ron had punched her. She was soaking wet, which meant she had been
walking for a while before arriving at his house. She would only ever walk in the rain without
using drying and warming charms if she was seriously shocked or confused. And she had not only been
trembling from the cold and crying, but fear as well. And the most important bit was that she
wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

Swearing to himself out of frustration, he apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. “Harry!” Tom called.
“It’s so good to see you!”

“Tom,” Harry said desperately, muscles tensed, “Have you seen Hermione anywhere?”

“She just went up to her room two minutes ago bawling her eyes out,” Tom informed him. Before
Harry could ask, Tom smiled at him and said, “Room eleven.”

“Thanks,” he said before he apparated straight inside her room.

Hermione’s head shot out of her hands and she stared up at Harry in shock from where she was
sitting on the side of her bed, eyes rimmed red, making her left eye look even worse.

“What do you want?” she tried to ask fiercely, failing as her voice broke. She was shivering
like mad, clutching her arms to her chest for warmth.

Harry cast drying and warming charms on her, then healed her eye. “Explain,” he demanded when he
was finished.

“I…I…woke up this morning, and…” she burst out crying again, her whole body heaving with her
sobs.

Harry sighed and sat down next to her, pulling her close to him. She tentatively wrapped her
arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, and he rubbed her back soothingly. He
couldn’t believe he had succumbed that easily. But it was kind of hard not to when he was in love
with her. No matter how she treated him he would always be here for her, helping ease her pain. He
hated himself for it because it meant he was weak. He had made a pact with himself to keep Hermione
out of his life yet within ten minutes of arriving back in Britain here he was, rubbing her back as
she clung to him desperately.

“I woke up this morning,” she mumbled into his neck. “And it was like I had woken up from a
trance. I can barely even remember the past three and a half years of my life. Ron had always
prepared my tea or poured my glass of pumpkin juice. But I hadn’t been feeling good the past week
and liquids seemed to upset my stomach more than anything else, so I secretly dumped them. I
thought he had been pouring my drinks to be sweet and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But this
morning I woke up and found myself disgusted to be in Ron’s arms. Everything felt wrong. I went
downstairs and looked through all of the cabinets for something, *anything*, and guess what I
found in the farthest recess of the top shelf of the corner cabinet.” She laughed like a crazy
woman into Harry’s neck, sobs bursting out when she was regaining her breath. “*Amortentia*,”
she finally cried, clutching him harder.

Harry sucked in a gasp through his teeth, his eyes almost bugging out of his face. If she had
been ingesting Amortentia since, say, the beginning of sixth year, everything made sense. Why she
only seemed to be paying attention to Ron. Why she put her studies second…why she put *Harry*
second. Why she suddenly seemed different one day. Because something *was* different one
day.

“Oh my God, Harry,” she sobbed. “He ruined my whole life! My one dream in school was to be Head
Girl, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! I didn’t even help you bring down Voldemort! I’ve loved you
since fourth year and only today did I finally get to confess it to you! I have no career, I have a
crappy job, and my life is nothing like how I want it!” she cried hysterically, now
hyperventilating. Harry sent a silent Patronus message to Tom as he continued to soothingly rub
Hermione’s back.

“I confronted Ron about it,” she continued. “It took a few threats, but he finally started
talking. Long story short, the only reason he even put me under the effects of Amortentia was
because you had told him that you liked me. And only once did he want to have something you wanted.
When I told him I was leaving he punched me in the face and told me that I was worthless and
nothing without him. But…you know me…I took off the ring, slapped him in the face, and ran in the
direction of Grimmauld Place.”

“Oh, Hermione,” Harry said, holding her warm body close. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. If
I just…” he trailed off.

“If you just what, Harry?” she asked. “There was nothing you could’ve done, you didn’t
know!”

“But I should’ve recognized it!” Harry said angrily. “I knew you wouldn’t just brush me aside
like that. And it was entirely my fault! He gave you love potion to get back at me!”

“How were we supposed to know he’d do something like that?” she asked. “We only thought
Voldemort was our enemy, we never expected Ron to betray us! Stop blaming yourself! Can’t we just
be grateful that I’m no longer imprisoned?”

“We can do that,” said Harry, rubbing her back again.

Tom came in with the potion Harry asked for and said, “Calming draught you asked for,
Harry.”

“Thanks,” said Harry as Tom left the room.

Hermione was crying into Harry’s neck again, and she quietly said, “I love you, Harry. I have
ever since fourth year. Please…please tell me you feel the same. Please tell me you love me.”

Harry tilted Hermione’s head up by her chin, gazing intensely into her eyes. They were full of
vulnerability, hope, and self-doubt. They were rimmed red and tears glistened in them. Her nose was
also red from crying and the cold. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He moved so his lips were millimeters from brushing hers, their breath mingling in the miniscule
gap between them. He just barely let their lips brush, his lips tingling where they had touched
Hermione’s. “How could I not?” he softly asked her before really capturing her lips with his.

“Please say it,” she panted against his lips after a breaking the kiss off. “I’ve waited five
years to hear you say it.”

Harry smiled against her lips, moving one of his hands to her arm. He gently pried it off his
neck, where it had moved during their kissing, and gently interlaced their fingers. He whispered
against her mouth, “I love you,” before kissing her again, soft and sweet.

“And tomorrow we can get to work on getting your life just how you want it,” he said.

Hermione shot back, a wild look in her eyes. “It’s impossible! I wanted a perfect score on my
NEWTs! That’s definitely not possible now! I—”

“Shh,” said Harry before kissing her again, grabbing the potion off the bedside table. “Drink
this,” he said, putting it in her hands.

“Calming draught?” she asked a touch maniacally.

Harry nodded and Hermione drained it. Harry took the goblet away from her and put it back on the
bedside table. When he turned back to Hermione, she was lazily smiling and shaking her head. “You
would, Harry,” she slurred as she felt the effects of the sleeping draught begin to shut her
systems down, just as Harry had planned.

Harry laid her down on the bed, kissing her forehead. “You wouldn’t have taken it. I did it for
your own good.”

Her smile grew on her face a bit and she said, “My life is how I want it, Harry…’cause you’re
here with me.” Her eyes shut and she fell into a peaceful slumber.

Harry smiled at her sleeping figure for a few minutes before transfiguring her clothes into
pajamas and tucking her in.

They had a lot to talk about and a lot of pain to deal with, but as long as they had each other
Harry knew they could make it.

**Epilogue**

Thirty years. Thirty years it had been since the love of his life had appeared on his front
doorstep soaking wet.

One year after that fateful encounter they had gotten married. They had their first child a year
after that and three more followed.

Hermione took Ron to court and gave evidence to the Wizengamot that resulted in a 50 year
Azkaban sentence for the youngest male Weasley, who also had his wand snapped.

Harry and Hermione worked together to make Hermione’s life how she wanted it, Harry secretly
pulling a few strings in the background to make his girlfriend happy.

Harry quit the Ambassador position the next day and decided to work in the Department of Magical
Games and Sports as a promoter. Hermione eventually gained enough political power to start a
division in the ministry that focused on gaining rights for magical creatures (and this time she
avoided the word SPEW).

All of their children had homes of their own and their three eldest had children of their
own.

And that was how they found themselves cuddled together in bed on a peaceful April Saturday
night, bodies tangled, faces centimeters apart.

Harry kissed Hermione and said, “Did you see Ron got released today for good behavior?”

Hermione smiled. “Funny, he takes away three years of my life and I take away thirty of his. He
should’ve known better than to mess with me.”

Harry smiled at his wife and kissed the tip of her nose. “There was no way he could’ve possibly
stood in between the two of us for long. I would gladly spend another three years in lonely misery
to spend just one day with you.”

Hermione sighed happily, gently brushing her nose against her husband’s. “I love you so much,
Harry.”

Harry grinned before kissing Hermione’s lips. “I love you too, Hermione. I love you too.”

**A/N: Well there you have it. Merlin, there’s so much fluff that it’s suffocating me.**

***Sigh* And yes, I know I could’ve made this a 15K+, 20K+, or even 30K+ fic, but I didn’t feel
like it. So if you don’t like how short it was…tough, deal with it. Don’t complain to me about it
in a review because I won’t care anyway. I just wanted to put up a one-shot and I did just that.
And no, I didn’t proofread it because I finished it at 12:30 in the morning last night and was too
tired to do so, so sorry about any and all mistakes. :)**

**Please Review! (If you’re still alive after almost experiencing death by fluff!)**



