Unpredictable
by Nousia

Rating: PG
Ship: Harry & Hermione
Canon: Books 1 - 5
Genre: Angst, Romance
Status: Complete
Length: 1,619 words in 1 chapter
Published: 29 Aug 2004
Last updated: 29 Aug 2004

She thought of him as unpredictable. Wild, fierce, reckless. It wasn't as if she could help it – that was how she saw
him.

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/2877/

------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. Unpredictable

Disclaimer: The story’s mine, the characters aren’t. They belong to J.K. Rowling and other related companies.

Author’s Note: This goes out to Crys – for being my support and evil comrade. Hopefully this makes you feel better.

- - -

She thought of him as unpredictable.

Wild, fierce, reckless.

It wasn’t as if she could help it – that was how she saw him. With all his cautiousness and reasoning, at heart he was
reckless. And he couldn’t help it either – it was a part of him.

Sometimes that recklessness cost him. Like now. She sighed. Whenever he didn’t listen to his mind, or her – he paid the
price. Dearly – and everything and everyone that were close to him got the so lucky chance to be used to bring him down.

She frowned at that thought. Such gloomy thinking she had done lately – to no use. Daily brooding wouldn’t help him or
her in the long run – not at all. So why did she keep doing it? She sighed again. Maybe she was being apprehensive – and
thinking so much of the inevitable. And how that would happen, and how she couldn’t do anything about it.

She felt helpless. She hated feeling and being helpless. But what could she do? All the smarts and common sense she
possessed wouldn’t help him – especially when he “finally” came face to face with Voldemort.

She winced at that. Wouldn’t that be a pretty sight, she mused – especially with his tendency to be unpredictable.

Not that she could blame him. That recklessness, although it had cost him to lose Sirius, the sole epitome of a true
father figure he had in his life, had saved his life countless times. How it did, she was astounded at that herself.

But it had – and she was honestly grateful that it did. That unpredictableness was a part of him – and she couldn’t
change him, she knew. He was the way he was. She was perfectly fine with that; she wouldn’t have him be any other person
than himself. Much like he would rather have her be herself than a superficial, egoistic person who did nothing but
backstab people. She smiled slightly to herself; that was the sweet harmony they had between them – they had come a long
way since accepting each other.

A shadow crossed her face at that moment and she exhaled deeply. In the past seven years she had known him, she had
never known his unpredictability would reach a height like this. Never had she expected for him to do this. But you knew
he would pull something like this one day, her mind mocked, and that day came.

She wished it would shut up.

And now she couldn’t blame him for running off. But taking off without a notice, and to fight Voldemort? She shook her
head. Where that impulsiveness of his would take him, she did not know. She only hoped that it would not lead him astray
and have him venture into another inlayed trap of Voldemort’s. One was more than enough; way more than enough.

And then again, who knew? she thought bitterly. He could meet up with anything at any time; he couldn’t safe guard
himself from every single devastation there was. Not forever, not now, not ever. A mocking smile spread across her
mouth.

Right now all she could hope fervently was that his impulsiveness wouldn’t land him into grave trouble – or worse. She
gulped silently at that thought.

Get a hold of yourself, she sternly reprimanded herself. It won’t do any good to be all blubbery and a nervous wreck. It
won’t help anything. She combed her fingers through her hair anxiously and continued to wait. Waiting for him to appear
– or any silent or clear sign that would tell her how he was.

The sound of the portrait hole opening caused her to cease moving . . . to cease breathing or anything to make her
presence known altogether.

A voice – a very familiar voice – greeted her. “Miss me, Hermione?”

- - -

They talked for hours, about everything and yet about nothing. She was so happy she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t cry –
she was relieved beyond belief. No words could convey how deliriously elated she was then – a mix of relief and
happiness bubbled in her. Relieved that he was alive, happy that he was there with her.

Grief and a glimmering something she couldn’t describe illuminated in his clear green orbs; she couldn’t even begin to
imagine what he had seen, what he had heard, what he knew now.

He told her everything, never flinching as he revealed the innermost intimate and most delicate details. She admired
that – in the harsh slap on one’s face reality of war, horrors too unimaginable to even think about that were unleashed
upon the earth, couldn’t be discussed airily, or even talked about at all.

He could talk about it – make the horrors unknown, without one cringe as he did so. Steeling himself to bear it and not
grin happily, but grimly, was his game plan, she knew. He didn’t stutter and instead spoke clearly, without emotion.

There was a detached tone to his voice, she couldn’t help but notice. He didn’t speak flatly – he just didn’t let any
emotion seep into his voice. She knew everything had changed him; and still he remained the same person he had been for
the past seven years.

She knew better than to assume that he was the same, though. In an instant everything changed around a person and then
they were no longer the same person they were before. Something inside them changed; they weren’t the smiling, broody
teens they had been before the war; now they were experienced non cardboard cut people, but they were uncertain of
everything still. Uncertain of the future, unsure of the past, unsure of the present. Uncertain of everything.

They didn’t know what to do, what to say anymore. In one instant, they had changed drastically. Innocent they no longer
were; as much as they wanted to wallow in naivety more, they knew they couldn’t.

They knew how the world truly was now and couldn’t erase that knowledge away from their minds, as much as they wanted
to. That’s how he felt now. He wanted to erase everything he knew now from his mind, so he wouldn’t remember and
recollect it every minute of his life.

But he knew he couldn’t – it would stay with him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Not that he could do
anything about it in the first place – once something was with you, it stayed with you. That he knew, and knew very
well. Every screaming and bloody memory he had would haunt him for the rest of his life – all the pent up regrets would
tease and taunt him in nightmares. Darkness was all he knew at night.

But now, he mused, there was a light in his vision. A bright light – his savior. The sole person he could trust with his
life and everything of him and wouldn’t expect anything in return. The sole person whom he could confide in and have his
doubts truly soothed. She would save him – like she always did. Without her, he knew, he wouldn’t be alive. Even if he
was alive, without her – he would be dead.

And that was why he had run off without telling anyone, especially her, where he was going and what he was up to – he
couldn’t bear with the thought of putting her, of putting any of his friends and whatever remnants of family he had in
danger, in the “people to be killed” zone. He just couldn’t bear the thought.

And so without a word, he had left. He knew he would leave everyone in grief – but with a steely determination in his
heart and eyes, he knew it had to be done. For everyone’s safety, for his sanity and will to live. Unbearable guilt had
ravaged him day and night out on the battlefield – but still he fought on relentlessly. No way in hell would he give up,
would surrender to his enemy. No way in hell.

He closed his eyes now and breathed deeply. She sensed that he wanted to be alone and decided to comply with his wish,
softly saying a “good night” to him in the fire lit darkness and leaving without another word, another sound.

The words left unbidden from his mouth, before he could stop them. “Don’t leave.”

She paused for a minute, standing at the edge of the staircase, the firelight illuminating her figure. “Do you want me
to?” Her voice was cracking, on the verge of a breakdown. Despite her calm appearance, she didn’t feel as serene as she
looked to be.

His voice was hoarse. “No.”

A small smile lit up her face and she came back to the fireplace, where he was, and sat down next to him. Nothing more
was to be said – words were for later.

For now they sat in comfortable silence, feeling a strange overwhelming sense of peace come over them. She was thankful
for it – silence suited them just fine. With them, there was no need for words – a look would convey everything they
wanted to say. And she was happy with that – so was he.

He may be unpredictable, she realized, but that was a part of him. What made him Harry. And as he sent her a tentative
smile then, she was glad that he was unpredictable.

Wild and reckless made a man who he was, after all.
