Abstract by Nousia

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 22/08/2004
Last Updated: 22/08/2004
Status: Completed

He finds her abstract. He doesn't know how or why he does – he just knows that she's
abstract.




1. Abstract
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter’s not mine. All that belongs to J.K. Rowling and other related
companies. The only thing that belongs to me is this fic.

Author’s Note: This goes out to **Leila**, for being an absolutely great person and a crazy
obsessed squeeing Dan fangirl ;) Happy (late) birthday!

This is from Harry’s POV, and “she” is Hermione.

- - -

He finds her abstract.

He doesn’t know how or why he does – he just knows that she’s abstract. Maybe it’s because of
the way she does things – or maybe it’s because of her personality.

She’s unique, but not contrary. He’s absolutely fascinated with her, but not to the point where
he’s stalking her. She’s a kindred spirit to him – almost as if she and he were the same person. He
wouldn’t be surprised if they were.

To him, she’s a breath of fresh air from the ordinary. She isn’t boring at all – she finds new
ways to do and see things – giving him, or anyone else, a completely different view on everything
and at everything.

She does everything in her own way and doesn’t care what anyone else says about it. He finds
that appealing – her being independent instead of dependent.

But what he finds that pulls him the most to her is that she’s a person who thinks and acts on
her own mind, not anyone else’s.

She’s herself, a woman who makes her own decisions and chooses her own path. She might make some
mistakes along the way, but she knows – and admits – that she’s not perfect. It’s her strength and
perseverance that he admires, that he needs the most. They comfort him, *she* comforts
him.

Not that he’s needy or anything, but the thing he lacks the most is the kind of strength she
has. Sure, he can pull himself together when he wants – and needs – to, but he just isn’t strong
like she is.

He’s something between a boy and a man, in between. When he needs to cry, he holds it in
sometimes, but then when she’s there everything inside him just breaks, and the invisible dam in
him cracks, letting all his pent up frustration, anger and sadness go. He’s stuck somewhere, and he
doesn’t know how to get out. She helps him figure out where to go so he wouldn’t be lost
anymore.

That, he feels, says a lot about her. More than enough – there’s not enough words in the world
to tell how much he needs her or how lovely she is. His whole world is her, and nothing else. He
knows that’s a blessing – definitely not a curse. It’s the best blessing there ever was, in his
mind. She’s the only blessing he’s ever had – besides actually *having* a family. People who
accepted and loved him for who he was. Like her, but at the same time, not quite like her.

Every thing she does is always done for her own or other people’s good. He marvels at her. How
one person could care so much about the world leaves him at a loss for words. Caring for people
like him, caring about humanity and nature. The “little things” in life that were often taken for
granted, and that people don’t really care about. She cares for all of them and more.

Just seeing her give food or money or clothes – whatever she has that they don’t – makes him
think. And marvel even more at her; at how incredible and unbelievable she is. But he knows she’s
not a dream and is believable. “Too good to be true” definitely didn’t apply to her, although at
first he had thought that about her. Now he doesn’t anymore.

He treasures every moment he has with her. Every bright small smile and twinkle in her eye that
she sends at him he stores in his mind to keep and remember forever. He’s not the type to think
he’s lucky or really unworthy to have her – because he knows he’s just happy that she’s in his
life, nothing less. He’s happy to be her friend, even if he wants to be something more, and he’s
happy that she wants to be – and is – his friend. Those are the best things in life, he thinks –
having friends and being alive. Like he always feels whenever he thinks of her or whenever he’s
with her. Even when she’s far away from him, he feels the same way, as if something inside him has
been born and it’s a wonderful wonderful feeling. The best feeling in the world, he knows.

Sometimes he doesn’t need to be near her to know how she feels. It can all be told in her
gestures, in the way she speaks to him, the way her eyes light up and a smile forms on her face.
And sometimes she doesn’t need to be near him to know he feels. He knows that, and can feel it
buzzing in him everywhere – in his head, in his heart. His hands shake a little and it’s when he
finally realizes that nothing and no one should be stopping him, now or ever. He exhales slowly, a
trembling urge to run nearly overcoming him; but he doesn’t. Since there’s nothing to run from.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees her strolling by, admiring the grounds. He smiles to
himself, gathering up all the fragments of courage he has, and catches up with her, the two of them
immediately getting immersed in conversation. He revels in every look she gives him and in return
he gives her his full attention – the both of them glad to be near each other and having one of
their many conversations to remember.

He finds her abstract, but to him she’s the kind of abstract that he loves, and which makes him
love her all the more. And for him, being abstract – and her being abstract – is the best thing in
the world.



