Autumn Leaves by JonClift

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 09/03/2005
Last Updated: 09/03/2005
Status: Completed

AU after HBP: After Ron’s death at the end of their sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione
are unequipped to deal with the grief and pain. Harry’s distance from Ron and Hermione may have
been through good intentions, but even the best of intentions can often turn out to be a wrong
decision…




1. Autumn Leaves
----------------



**Title:** Autumn Leaves

**Author:** JonClift

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** After Ron's death at the end of their sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry and
Hermione are unequipped to deal with the grief and pain. Harry's distance from Ron and Hermione
may have been through good intentions, but even the best of intentions can often turn out to be
wrong decisions…

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all related characters, names, etc. are property of J.K.
Rowling, all publishers concerned and Warner Brothers. The only things owned by the author are the
plot and any names not featured in the official Harry Potter books or movies. No money is being
made from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Word Count:** 2152

**Dedication:** Dedicated with endless love to my Soul mate.

**Author's Notes:** This story was written months ago, and I've only recently found
it again. I personally don't believe this ficlet is finished, but I'm uploading here to see
what everyone else thinks.



School had already been in session for a whole month, and warm September turned into cool
October. Leaves changed from vibrant greens to burning ambers and the Whomping Willow became more
sallow, as if preparing itself for the long winter ahead.

Through the winding corridors, some which had different entrances on Tuesdays, and past shut
doors that often led to strange places if you'd not had a shower that morning, a seventeen-year
old girl walked briskly. Clutched tightly to her chest was rather a large and dusty leather-bound
book, and in her hand an eagle-feathered quill.

Her mind was elsewhere, as it so often was these days. If you could see her face, you'd know
that she'd gone through a particularly torturous time… and you'd be right, of course. For
Hermione Granger had indeed suffered terrible trauma mere months earlier.

Before her mind could find the words to describe the images she saw in her every waking moment,
her feet had brought her to a dark, ebony door. She tried to compose herself before entering,
tucking an errant strand of bushy-brown hair behind her right ear.

Tentatively, being careful not to drop her book, she twisted the handle and pushed the door
inwards. The sight that greeted her was of a gloomily lit classroom, with perhaps half a dozen rows
of wooden desks, upon which each held a pewter cauldron.

Behind the stone podium at the forefront of the class was another door—one Hermione knew all too
well. It was the gateway to a realm both she and Harry would never forget - Snape's office. She
breathed a sigh of relief when she realised it was shut, and there was no sign of the greasy-haired
professor. She was early for the lesson.

Her reprieve from human contact ended as the faintest glimmerings of chattering voices reached
her ears. She recognised two voices instantly as that of Draco Malfoy and her best friend, Harry
Potter. Once more she sighed, and found herself a desk midway between both doors. She busied
herself with unloading her canvas satchel of all the necessary ingredients she'd need. Thus,
her eyes down turned as they were, she did not see the other eleven students enter the
classroom.

“Hey, Hermione,” whispered a warm and familiar voice. “Haven't seen you since breakfast. How
was Arithmancy?”

“Hi, Harry. Arithmancy was wonderful, like it always is.” She responded perhaps a little more
sarcastically than she'd intended.

“Are you sure you're okay, Hermione? I'm worried about you…” There it was… that tiny
quiver in his voice that only she seemed able to hear. He was worried about her because she was
known as being close to Harry; she'd `*be next.*' It was never anything more than
that. Try as she might, she could never remember if Harry had ever shown anything but friendship
towards her. In fact, he'd even seemed more distant than before, last year. It was as if
he'd been making a conscious decision to back off… but why would he have done that? What could
have—?

The gentle swishing of a cloak over the cool flagstones interrupted her thoughts. Never had she
been more thankful for Snape's appearance than just then.

“Hello, class. I pray that you have all brought with you the correct ingredients for today's
lesson. If anyone does not have them, then you will be required to purchase some from my private
stores. Mr. Potter, if you were leaning any closer to Miss Granger anyone would think you were
conjoined twins. Five points from Gryffindor.”

Harry's eyes flashed hotly and his fists clenched tightly beneath the desk, but he clamped
his teeth together. What good would angering Snape do anymore?

Malfoy's sniggering was cut short by a mere glance from Snape.

Snape droned on for a further ten minutes, making absolutely certain to repeat his instructions
not at all; it wasn't like Snape to dote on his students, even those that he despised less than
others. Despite still being at the top of her year, Hermione realised she'd been slowly
slipping away from her high standards. She'd been distracted by pain, depression, and
hopelessness. What was the point anymore, now that the Trio was down to two?

She shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand. This potion would be one of those
they'd be tested on for their NEWT's. It was so difficult, though… with Harry unknowingly
reminding her of all that had brought her to this point. A gust of wind rattled the windows with
sudden violence. Damp and chill, it prowled 'round the castle, almost as if it were trying to
get in at her, howling in her heart, turning the restlessness that had haunted her all year to near
reckless abandon, pushing her to the brink of… what? She forced herself to admit that she knew
exactly what.

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes and screwing up her courage to get this finally over with. She
couldn't wait `til they were back in the Common Room to say what she needed to. It was now or
never, Snape be damned.

“Harry… why were you so distant last year?” Hermione asked out of the corner of her mouth,
whilst mixing in the dragons' scales to their cauldron. “Why didn't you spend time with
R-Ron and I?”

He hesitated for a few seconds, as if trying to come to terms with it himself. “The Prophecy,
Hermione… I… I didn't want you to be labelled as targets, because you were known as my best
friends. I knew you'd manage… knew you'd be happy together, without me around.”

“What!” She whispered fiercely, “How… why… you jeopardised our friendship because you thought
we'd be safe! Better off together than with you? Whatever possessed you to do such a
thing?”

“Hermione, I thought you and Ron were… you know… going out together. I didn't want to
intrude… I didn't want to split you two up. I thought you were in love with each other…”

Five words… five little words and they had just done more damage to her than the Polyjuice
Potion, Basilisk, Whomping Willow, and Antonin Dolohov combined.

The abrupt screech of her stool against the flagstones caught everyone's attentions,
including Snape's, but Hermione had eyes, albeit angered ones, only for Harry.

Words refused to come to her, so she made do with staring forcefully at her best friend,
allowing time to gather her wildly spinning thoughts.

Hermione held a rapt audience of the whole classroom, as she took her things and backed away
from Harry.

“Miss Granger, if you do not return to your seat immediately, I will be forced to take… action.”
Snape was glowering, now. Hermione could positively feel the anger and hatred flooding through the
Potion Master's voice.

“Harry… I didn't… I couldn't… I would never… how could you of all people think that?”
She was crying freely now. It didn't matter. Snape could rot in hell for all she cared - him
and his silly pureblood-prejudices - and Harry… As Dumbledore had once told her, she wasn't
just a muggle-born—she was the brightest, most talented witch Hogwarts had ever known, much less
taught. She should have expected that not everyone could think as quickly as her.

“Ron was my… he was *our friend*… nothing more!” No more tears could come, yet still she
was racked with sobs. Her breathing sounded shattered. “I have to leave…” she whispered, “I need to
get out of here.” As Harry reached out to her, to place his hand on her arm, in a purely intuitive
move to comfort her, she almost screamed and backed away. “Just leave me alone!”

She left the classroom at a speed not seen elsewhere but on a Quidditch pitch.

Harry didn't even think about what to do—he instinctively shot after her, as if his life
(and hers) depended upon it.

“HERMIONE!”

Snape, despite being livid at this… *display*… in his lesson, was silently impressed at how
long the jars on the shelf nearest the door kept rattling afterwards.

How could Harry ask such a thing? How *could* he think that she liked anyone but *him*
in that way?

She didn't know where her feet were taking her, nor did she care as stone flooring gradually
gave way to blades of grass and small thickets of bracken.

“HERMIONE!”

She didn't turn to face him—she knew he'd be right behind her in seconds.

“Harry… how could you think that I was in love with Ron? I… you… this is so hard for me…
I——”

She wasn't able to continue. Harry had taken her shoulders beneath his hands, turned her to
face him and then placed one finger lightly against her lips, the very feel of his touch sending
her into shock.

“Hermione… I'm sorry… I'm sorry for a lot of things… sorry for Trelawney making that
stupid prophecy… sorry for Voldemort choosing me… sorry for Cedric, and… and Sirius… and…” his
voice trailed off to nothingness. “And I'm sorry for being a stupid prat for the past seven
years. I care about you so much, Hermione… I never wanted anything to happen to you… ever…”

All she could do was nod in numb comprehension.

“I've spent the past seven years being your friend when I should've spent them being
something… more…”

Though he was now looking away, she could tell his emeralds were glinting brightly, teardrops
welling in the corner of his eyes forming a brilliant sheen. She knew her own eyes had watered up,
for the world was a blurry mess of light and shade and Harry.

Her heart leapt into her throat, making it impossible to respond, impossible to scream out what
she'd wanted to for so long…

“Hermione… I…”

It was her turn to quiet him.

A thousand thoughts swam through her mind but only one mattered, as she pressed her lips to his.
`*This is really happening… it's not a dream anymore…*' He seemed quite shocked by
this turn of events, as if he hadn't expected something like this to happen… until he responded
to her touch.

It no longer mattered that she'd been the one to initiate the kiss… it no longer mattered
that it had taken them both seven years to get to this bittersweet moment… the world only held
Harry, and he was holding her.

Slowly they broke apart, though Hermione's arms had crept around Harry's neck, and his
arms were all that kept her from falling to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Their noses brushed, and she giggled as the sensation tickled her. His lips curled into that
half-grin which had always sent shivers through her whole body. She parted her lips into an “oh” as
Harry pulled her closer to him, his fingers tracing maddening patterns at the small of her back.
She doubted he realised what he was doing… his eyes had lost their sheen and had grown smoky, as if
a fire had been lit behind them.

Growing inside her had been a feeling of need… a hunger that had yet to be satisfied… She
brought her hands up into his hair—`*how many times had she longed to do that?*' —and
gently drew his head closer to her own. She rose on tiptoes, not because she had to, but because
she wanted to.

Hermione caught the corner of his mouth between her lips and gently ran her tongue across his.
She could feel him shudder with pleasure against her, feel his warm body against her own. As he
opened his mouth in response, she darted inside and began nibbling on his bottom lip. She'd
never felt this way before… never felt such… desire… and to think that had she not ran from a
lesson she wouldn't be experiencing this… experiencing *him*…

`*That was different*,' she tried to think, as his tongue traced the tips of her teeth.
She was drowning in his touch… drowning in utter joy that they'd finally acted upon their
feelings…

Tentatively, and oh-so-slowly, she ventured inside, to savour the honey-sweetness that lay
within. He tasted like nothing else she'd ever known… like cinnamon and chocolate, pumpkin pie
and the faintest hint of butterbeer, Quidditch and magic, all rolled into one amazing aroma… she
was breathing him in… inhaling him as if he were the very air itself…

And suddenly it wasn't just about her kissing him… *loving him*… the moment Harry began
to respond—to feel the licking flames rising in his own heart—was the very instant the world around
them shattered and time stood on its head.

In his embrace, her heart unfolded like a tender leaf drinking in sunlight; a fruit ripening,
turning golden as he touched her, loved her… until their passion, their love, their deep and mutual
understanding set it ablaze… so that the fires of Autumn were contained in her heart and in her
eyes forever.

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