Look Away

Okay, here’s what I’ve decided. I don’t really want to write the middle right now. I have too many other things I should be doing instead. So I’m posting the last part and marking this Complete, but I may come back and finish this sometime. If I don’t, thank you all so much for reading and keep looking for new stuff from me! Your replies meant a lot to me. <3333

Hermione climbed through the portrait hole and collided with an invisible figure. 

“Harry? Where are you going?” she asked suspiciously.

 “None of your business,” came his muffled voice from under the Invisibility Cloak.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and frowned.  “Why do you always have to do this?” she asked.

Harry groaned.  “You know, this is really the last thing I need right now,” he said.

“Just tell me where you’re going,” she insisted, not moving from her stand in front of the portrait hole.  She knew it wouldn’t do much good if Harry decided to go without her consent, as he was a good seven inches taller than she was with many times her strength, but she didn’t see that.  She saw her best friend being moody and stubborn, and very possibly doing something dangerous, and she wouldn’t move.

“No.” He frowned back at her, but didn’t move to push her out of his way.

Hermione pulled the cloak away from his face and let it fall to the floor.  “Harry I’m not moving until you tell me where you’re going.” She glared up at him defiantly, and he knew she meant it.

“Why do you always have to do this?” he asked, his voice slightly louder than he meant.

“Why do you always sneak off without telling me?” she returned, her voice matching his in tone and volume.  She frowned up at his dark face and looked at him hard.

“Do you have to know everything about me?”

Was it just her, or were his eyes a darker green than usual? “I’m not asking you to tell me everything, Harry.  I just want to know where you’re going,” she said, trying to keep the hysteria out of her voice.

“Why?”

“Damn him,” Hermione thought.  She was used to arguing with Ron, but Harry was so much better at it than he was it was hard to stay on top.  He made it sound so much simpler than it was; twisted things to make her seem wrong. 

“Because…because I don’t want you to do something stupid,” she practically shouted.  He could be impossible when he wanted to be.

“How do you know I’m doing something dangerous?  Maybe I’m just off to get something from the kitchens.”

“You’re not.  I know you too well and you’re a horrible liar. Legilimens!” She let out a noise of frustration when she found he had already blocked his mind against her.

Harry smirked.  “I’ll be off now,” he said in the superior tone she used to assume with Ron so often, and moved toward the hole in the stone wall. 

Hermione grabbed his arm tight and pushed him back to where he had been standing before.  He squirmed to get out of her firm grasp and tried to push her hand off his forearm.  “I’m not letting you go until you tell me where you’re going.”

“I’m going to the kitchens,” he insisted.  “I already told you.”

“You’re lying to me, Harry,” she said snapped.  “I don’t need magic to see that.”

“Why are you always so paranoid about me, Hermione?  Just let me go.”

“I’m paranoid because I have no idea what sort of mess you’ll get yourself into next,” she retorted.  “You’re far too likely to go and do something dangerous and make it out with your life and a promise you won’t be so lucky next time.”

“I’m not going looking for Voldemort, if that’s what you think,” Harry said irritably.  “And what makes you think I’m doing something I shouldn’t, anyway?”

 

“Because I found his letter to you!” Hermione cried.  She blinked away the tears forming in her eyes and pulled the parchment out of her robes.  “You left it on the table and I read it,” she said, much softer.

Harry stared at the paper in her hand, shocked.  “You looked through my stuff?” he practically yelled.

“Y-yes…I wasn’t going to, Harry! I just—you were acting so strangely and I was worried about you and…”

“You.  Were worried about me.  Since when do you care that much, Hermione?” He cursed and ran his hand through his messy hair.

Hermione recoiled, stung.  “How can you say that?” she whispered.  “What do you mean I don’t care about you?”

“Don’t pretend to be the perfect best friend now,” Harry said, his voice rising again.  “Really, Hermione, I’m fine.  Just go away and leave me alone.” He paused.  “If you really must know, I’m going to ,” he said irritably. 

“Harry!  You can’t go, it’s dangerous!  Dumbledore told you…”

“I know what he said,” Harry snapped.

“So don’t go.”  Hermione’s voice changed from incredulous to steely.  “It can’t help you; it’ll only make things worse!”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Harry retorted childishly.  “And I don’t see why you care so much anyway,” he repeated.

“I do care about you, Harry, why do you think I’m stopping you?” she asked, her own voice growing steadily louder.  “I had a feeling you were going to do something you shouldn’t and that’s why I came back early.  How do think I would feel if something happened to you and I didn’t try to stop you or at least go with you to help you?”

“I don’t know, Mione, you tell me,” Harry said furiously, running his hand through his messy hair again.  “But whatever happened to you I’m sure it would be curable.” She had moved toward him away from the portrait hole, but he was so caught up he didn’t take the opportunity to run. 

“It would not be.  You’re my best friend!  If anything happened to you it would be just as bad for me.”  She was practically shouting now, her eyes filling with tears at the same time.

“Yes, well, at least you’d have someone to commiserate with,” Harry snapped.  He saw the tears glinting in the firelight and felt bad about making her cry, but didn’t do anything to take back his words.

“Do you really think that would be something I could talk about with Ron and work it all out just like that?” she yelled, struggling to keep the tears out of her voice.

“Yes, actually,” Harry said curtly.  “It’s what you did last time something really terrible happened to me after Sirius died, isn’t it?”

Hermione shut her eyes tight and a single tear fell.  “I told you,” she said quietly.  “It was because I couldn’t reach you.  It was you I wanted, not Ron.”

“And that worked out well for you, didn’t it?  So you can just go and do that again and don’t worry about me.”  Harry’s voice was still angry, but he lowered the tone.

“It doesn’t work like that Harry.” She looked up at him with her deep chocolate eyes, as if knowing he understood and begging him to acknowledge it.  “Everything you go through I do to.”

“You have no idea what I go through,” Harry said quietly.  “No one does.”

“Yes, I do,” Hermione said softy.  “Don’t you understand?  You’re my best friend.  I don’t pretend to understand completely. But if Sirius’s death didn’t affect me as much as it did you then seeing you hurt did.  Every time something happens to you it affects the rest of us too, you must know that by now.  We do care about you Harry but if you haven’t noticed there isn’t anyone else who’s been in your position.  I see you sitting by yourself and hear you cry yourself to sleep and there’s nothing I can do about it, there’s nothing I can do to make it better and that’s frustrating for me.  For me more than the others because I love you in a way they don’t.”

“Don’t do that again,” Harry whispered fiercely, holding back his own tears.  “I can’t do it again.”

“I’m so sorry.”  She moved toward him, but he stepped back.  She stopped, the hurt evident in her eyes.

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.  I know you love Ron.” Harry paused.  His own eyes were no longer fixed on her but stared somewhere into the carpet behind her, the soft firelight flickering across his face.  “More than you love me,” he said softly, not quite to her.

She gasped softly, shocked at his words.  “Is that really what you think?”

Harry’s eyes flicked back up to meet hers.  He knew the answer, yet saying the words again just seemed to confirm it.  “It’s true, isn’t it?” he asked, avoiding the question and both anticipating and dreading her answer.

“No,” she said simply.

“Then why couldn’t you stand a pair of second years you don’t even know calling you a slut?  Why couldn’t we just agree to tell Ron about it as soon as he got back?  I’m not worth a little pain?” He pressed, knowing how this was tearing her apart and feeling quite badly about it.

“Because I was afraid,” she wailed.  “I didn’t want to ruin the trio or your friendship with Ron.  If he hated you it would be completely my fault.”

“And what about our friendship, Mione?” he asked, making it even harder on her.

“I…this is going to sound so stupid…I thought we would survive this.  You’ve always been there for me and I took advantage of that.  I took your love for granted.”  She paused to see him nodding sarcastically.  “I trust you more than I trust Ron,” she went on.  She had come this far tonight, she might as well go all the way and tell him everything.  “I thought…I thought I could wait until I was ready to face Ron and break up with him gently without him thinking it was because of you and you’d still be there just like you always were.  I know it was wrong, Harry, but you have to believe me. I love you.”  Her voice shook and the tears she’d been holding in began spilling down her cheeks.  She desperately wanted to sit down, or at least to lean against something that would support her weight, but she was paralyzed with the fear that he wouldn’t accept her, that he would leave her the way she know knew she left him.  He took a step forward, but still said nothing.  She bit her lip, holding her breath.  She reached out one hand slightly as if offering it to him and he moved slowly towards her.  He held out his own hand and took hers lightly, their palms together and their fingers interlocked. 

It was amazing how even with her eyes red and puffy from crying, and her hair falling out of its messy bun, she looked beautiful.  She’d made her apology, and he knew she meant what she had said.  There was still a part of him though, albeit a very small part, that wanted to turn around and leave her there as she had left him sitting at the table in their common room.  But he knew that would only hurt both of them even more.  He’d never had anything given to him as easily as she offered herself now, and he knew he needed her, despite what he told himself.  And he’d need her more than ever with the coming battle with Voldemort, both physically and emotionally.  Her thin fingers were lightly entwined with his and he moved even closer to her…they hadn’t been this close since Christmas.  Her face was so near his…instantly, he made his decision.  He put an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, pressing his lips urgently to hers.  He heard her moan softly beneath him before returning his kiss, sucking his lip gently, relishing the feel of his silky hair beneath her fingertips once more.  She pressed her body against his even harder, and in return felt him slide his tongue over her bottom lip. She opened her mouth gratefully and he swept his tongue over hers, feeling her shudder with pleasure at his touch.  But before he let go of his mind completely…. “Hermione?” he whispered between kisses. 

“Mmm…” she breathed, her hands moving from his hair down to his muscular shoulders, his chest, exploring his body once again.

“I love you too.” 

She broke away completely, holding him with both her hands at his waist. She looked up into his eyes and for the first time in a long, long time saw no pain there…only her own reflection.  And she knew he saw the same in hers.

THE END