Thoughts and Realizations

            The owls hooted quietly and the crickets chirped outside the upstairs window of Number Four, Privet Drive. Occasionally a car could be heard going by, but other than that, it was a quiet, peaceful night in Little Whinging. Harry turned and looked at the clock on his night stand, and noticed that it was one in the morning. He had been lying awake in his bed for over two hours and had not even felt the time pass. His eyes drifted from the glowing display of the clock to the picture that sat next to it. In it, two young people were dancing animatedly, enjoying each other’s company while snowflakes fell softly around them. They seemed like the happiest people in the world. Harry gave a weak sigh as he turned his head, looking again back up at the ceiling of his small, cluttered bedroom. He began to look around the room, deep in thought.

            All around him lay artifacts of his past 5 years at . His trunk sat closed at the foot of his small bed, his robes draped over the top of it. In the corner stood a large bird cage, which at the moment was unoccupied. Harry thought that Hedwig, his large snowy owl, must be out enjoying the cool night air. His gaze continued to wander across the room until it fell upon his books, stacked in a pile, in the corner of his room. Everything he was supposed to have learned in the last 5 years of his magical education could be found in the many pages of those books. Harry thought to himself how much more he had learned. Much more than any book could ever possibly teach him.

            His tired eyes continued to wander around the room. The moonlight came through his open window and covered everything in a silvery, almost ethereal light. It looked almost as if this could all be a part of a dream. On top of his dresser stood a couple of folded birthday cards that his friends had sent him. There was one from Hagrid, the members of the Order, Lupin, and finally, the two cards which he treasured the most, the ones from his two best friends, Ron and Hermione.

            He looked at Ron’s card for several seconds, and memories of the times he had shared with his red-headed friend came flooding back to him. He remembered meeting him on the train the first day of school. He remembered flying the Weasley’s Ford Anglia into the large and rather violent Whomping Willow on the Hogwarts Grounds. All the experiences he had shared with Ron filled his mind with thoughts of how much he longed to be back where he belonged, back with his friends where he felt like he could actually live a decent life, and be loved by someone.

            At this thought, his eyes drifted to the final card standing on the dresser. In the light, he could see the loopy handwriting filled the inside of the card with well wishes and high hopes. Of all the cards he received, this one was the one that he had wanted most. Nobody on earth had quite the same effect on him as the girl who had written this card to him. His heart wrenched at the idea that it was him that had almost gotten her killed not so long ago.

             The image of her smiling face which had made its way into Harry’s mind began to fade away slowly as he continued thinking. The reason he had lied awake in his bed for so long began to creep back into his head. The same terrible images began to return to his thoughts. He saw the deep purple streak of light flash from a wand in the darkness and strike her across the chest, as she released a weak and startled sigh and fell to the ground. She fell so slowly in his mind it was almost as if she was not falling at all. He watched as the look on her face changed from confident determination to a sort of stupor. He watched as she fell to the ground in a motionless heap. His memory blurred. He couldn’t remember what happened until he was kneeling on the floor with her in his arms. He had

turned back around to see the body of the most important woman in his life lying on the ground, motionless. Pure panic and emotion surged through his body and his mind as he fell to his knees, yelling her name. He held her in his arms and looked into the expressionless face of the only woman he had ever really loved. She was dead. It was his fault. He could never escape this final reality. A sinking feeling so heavy took hold of him that he could not think. All he could do was sit on the floor, clutching her body close to him…

            In an instant, he snapped awake as if a gunshot had gone off right outside his window. He was soaked in a dead cold sweat from head to toe. He shook his head quickly from side to side to gain his bearings, until he realized where he was. The sky had begun to turn a grayish color, and Harry turned and looked at the clock. A dream that had seemed to have taken less than thirty seconds had lasted over two hours. He could not even remember falling asleep. It seemed to him like he had drifted unknowingly from deep thought into a dream. The same dream which continued to plague him constantly. Harry’s heart continued to beat rapidly as he tried to calm himself down, sitting up in his bed. He hated this dream. He hated that it had such a profound effect on him, despite the fact that it never changed, ever. He always saw the exact same thing; a thing that he knew was not true. This, however, had never helped him overcome his nightmare. He looked over to his dresser and saw the card he had been looking at when he had dozed off and breathed a sigh of relief. He realized just how close he had come, not so long ago, to this horrible dream being fulfilled, and his heart filled with gratitude. He could not bear to continue the thought as he pulled away his covers and put his feet down on the cold floor of the room.

            Hermione was someone that had always been there for Harry. Ever since they had become friends in their first year of Hogwarts together, they had grown closer and closer through the times they had shared together. Harry could always depend on her to remind him of how many rules he was breaking. He could always depend on her to be there for him through anything. He could also depend on her to always tell him the truth, no matter the circumstances. She was his moral compass. She helped him find his way when he was lost. She cheered him up when it seemed that nobody else could. What’s more, she understood him better than anyone else on Earth. Whenever he was angry, she knew exactly what to say to him that would calm him down or bring him back to focus. She knew precisely what to say to bring him out of his shell. It was something that nobody else could ever do.

            Harry stayed sitting on the edge of his bed, staring aimlessly out his window. He noticed that Hedwig had still not returned since earlier that morning. As he looked back out the window, he continued to think.

            He thought of how much his relationship with Hermione had evolved over the last 5 years of school. He remembered with a slight chuckle that he could hardly stand her in the beginning. She would take every opportunity to remind him and Ron how many rules they had been breaking, or that they had said the wrong answer in class or gotten a miserable grade on a test because they’d refused to pay attention. At the time, Harry found this constant annoyance to be exactly that, annoyance. He realized now, however, that while Hermione had had a strange way of showing it at the time, she had good intentions.

            Since they had become friends the relationship that Harry shared with Hermione had become the strongest one in his life. Simple words could not effectively describe the bond that had formed between the two of them. They were inseparable. They could communicate without words, at times even finishing each other’s sentences. Not many people could ever say that they had had this strong of a bond with anyone in their life.

            Harry had realized something, however, about the last couple of years. He had begun to feel something different towards her, and could find no clear origin for his feelings. The tough, unbreakable vine that was their relationship had begun to sprout delicate flowers. Harry had begun to notice the young woman for what she was. For years Harry had almost regarded Hermione as just “one of the guys.” However, this changed slowly. Harry had noticed that much like himself, she was changing. She carried herself differently, and her figure had changed quite a lot in the past couple of years. Harry had begun to think of her in a different light, and, as he was somewhat embarrassed and ashamed to admit, in different ways. He felt his face flush, and he continued his train of thought.

            A loud snore coming from down the hall disturbed him from his thoughts. He sat, looking down at his feet, and thought to himself, “Is it really like that?” The voice echoed inside his head. Was it? Was Hermione Granger like Harry’s sister, or did a different love exist between them than existed between siblings? Harry searched his mind for the answers.

            He had always seen her as a sister, and even almost like a mother at some times, and he loved her as one. She was also his companion and confidant. Anywhere he went, he felt much more comfortable when she accompanied him, much like it was with Ron, although it was obviously different. Harry could be sure that wherever he went with Ron, there would be plenty of laughter and enjoyment. With Hermione, though, it was different. Not to say, of course, that one couldn’t have fun spending time with her. She had a great sense of humor, although it was much more subtle than Ron’s, he could find humor in anything. Of course, there was also the consideration of what each of them considered “fun.” For a second, Harry imagined them switching roles. He saw Ron, sitting in an armchair with an enormous book in his lap, uttering things like “Wow!” and “Fascinating!” and reminding Harry and Hermione that they ought to be doing their homework, because he wasn’t going to let them copy. Then he imagined Hermione with a broomstick in her hand, asking Harry if he wanted to go out on the pitch for a little practice. He laughed to himself at this digression, but his mind shifted tracks.

            There was no doubt that Hermione and Ron provided much different kinds of companionship. There were things that Harry would tell Hermione, but never mention in earshot of Ron, and vice-versa, of course. What Harry’s mind mulled over was an ominous question. Which did he prefer? “Rubbish…” he said to himself quietly. What a stupid thing to think about. He would never have to make that decision, although a small “I hope” flickered in his mind. That was like asking a child to choose between his parents. Something that no one should ever have to do.

            But what role did Hermione play in his life? It was a difficult question, and the answer seemed to be changing right in front of his eyes. “Do I love her?” he asked himself. “Of course I do” he thought, but you’re dodging the real question. Did he really “love” her as something different than a sibling? Ah, the question. The same damned question that had bothered him since he had arrived at .

            Harry knew the answer to that question, too. Deep inside his heart, he knew the answer. He did love her like that, he told himself. He had never felt so strong an emotion in his entire life. He needed her. He could not live without her, and he knew it. Deep inside, he knew it. It brought him some comfort to know that he needed someone that much. It also warmed his heart to know that she would always be there for him, as long as humanly possible, and that she would always look out for him and help him in any way she could. He could not say the same thing about anyone else. His other best friend, Ron, had abandoned him at a time that Harry really needed him. Even Dumbledore had made errors in judgement that, while Harry did not blame him exclusively, ultimately ended up in the death of Harry’s godfather. But Hermione had never faltered. She was always there, a constant that Harry so badly needed in his ever-changing life. She was like a beacon when he was lost at sea.

            He furrowed his brow at the newest thought to enter his mind. It was not the first time he had thought “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?” The thought of him professing his love to the young woman he had grown up with, only to be told that she did not feel the same way, horrified him. He thought that it would almost definitely ruin their friendship and most likely have an effect on Ron as well. He knew it would.

            But he couldn’t continue to keep this bottled up inside him. It had to be let out. It just had to be released. It was eating away at his heart, and occupied his mind more and more every day. He would not continue to look deep into her warm, loving eyes, and he could not continue to hear her gentle voice, and he could not continue to watch her move. He could not help but look at her when she walked across the room or down the corridors with him. It was just something about her that he could not describe in words. He had to tell her.

            He needed to. What if something happened to her and he never got the opportunity? Then it could consume him for his whole life. What if something happened to him and he was never able to let her know what he truly felt about her? He cringed at the thought, and pushed it out of his mind completely. The nightmare had begun to creep back into his mind. “Enough of that” he thought to himself.

            “That was it,” he though. He had made up his mind. He had to tell Hermione what was going through his mind. He couldn’t afford not to. He was going to tell her, and damn the consequences. He desperately hoped that she would return his sentiments. If not, he prayed that she would still understand, and that their friendship would still be salvageable. Hermione Granger was the one person that mattered the most to Harry Potter, and he was going to make sure that she knew how important she was to him.

            Harry pushed himself back onto his bed and picked his feet up. He looked at the clock and it showed . He turned over in his bed and shut his eyes, and heard Hedwig swoop back into the room through the open window, and climb into her cage. A small smile crept onto Harry’s face at the thought of realizing that Hermione felt the same way, although in the back of his mind he still worried that she did not.

            His heart felt liberated. The nightmare did not come to him, and it never would again.

            Hermione Granger sat up in her room, looking at the clock that hung from her wall. “, I should really try to get some sleep,” she said to herself quietly. She hadn’t been able to sleep. There was too much activity going on in her mind for her to even feel drowsy at such a late hour. She had had difficulty sleeping ever since returning home. Of course, she still felt slight pains in her chest when she moved around, but they were fading away with time. No physical malady could have an effect as strong as what she was going through this summer.

            Sitting at her desk in the dim light of the moon, she peered out the window. Every once in a while, a car would drive by, and she wondered where the people might be headed to. All of this was a distraction, however, from what was truly racing through her mind.

            “Does he feel the same way?” she asked herself in a low voice. Her gut instinct gave a distinctive “No.” every time she asked herself this question. She felt so uncomfortable at the thought that she could feel so strongly about another person without them reciprocating her feelings. Hermione thought to herself “Why would he? He doesn’t seem to think of me that way at all.” The thought made her stomach lurch. She felt so strongly about him, and she prayed silently that he returned her feelings, although she thought with a degree of certainty that he didn’t. He had never shown any signs of appreciating her in that manner in the five years they had spent together. A small ray of hope fluttered in her heart that maybe he was just really bad at showing them, or he was trying to hide them for a reason unbeknownst to her. She thought that this was pure nonsense, of course, but it never stopped her from hoping.

            What would she do? What could she do? Just walk up to him one day and say “Harry, I don’t know if you know this, but, I’m in love with you.”? That made absolutely no sense to her. She supposed that she would just have to keep quiet, keep those feelings bottled up, for the sake of their friendship. She knew that if she came out and said what she wanted to say, that Harry would feel so awkward that it would be difficult for them to remain friends. And think of how Ron would react.

            Hermione began to think of her two “boys.” She had been like a mother and a sister at the same time, to both of them since they became friends in their first year at Hogwarts. They were most definitely unique, although they had some similarities. She was always reminding both of them to finish their homework before it piled up and they had to stay up until all hours of the night finishing it. Of course, they barely ever listened, and the result was always the same. They would come to her begging her to let them copy, or asking them for help finishing one of their charts or essays. She liked to be tough on them, but all three of them knew that she would never let them fail, if she could help it.

            Her thoughts drifted to each of them individually. While she loved them both as brothers, her feelings about them differed. They way they acted towards her on a regular basis, and ever since they had met, had shaped these feelings. She thought of Ron.

            One of the first things Ron had ever done to her was insult her. She realized now, with the benefit of hindsight, that she probably deserved it, and laughed. She loved Ron in his own right. They constantly argued, keeping each other on their toes. Hermione usually won, and that thought brought a smile to her face. She never really liked arguing with Ron, but it had become commonplace in their friendship. Ron had never wasted an opportunity to insult her, and she took joy in shooting insults back at him at times. It had begun to wear her down, but she accepted it as a part of the bond that they shared. She knew that Ron didn’t really want to hurt her. While his motivations were sketchy at times, she knew inside that Ron was a good person. He was a bit thick when it came to some things, of course, but nobody could be expected to be perfect. She remembered her own complete surprise at learning that Ron had been made Prefect instead of Harry. She had never expected that, of course, because she had never set the bar very high for Ron. She came to accept him just as he was, and realized that he was never going to live up to her (perhaps somewhat unrealistic) standards. She loved him as a brother just the same.

            Harry, however, was a different issue entirely. Hermione had always known that Harry would make a great wizard. She knew that he had the same lackluster study habits as Ron, and that was to be expected from a pair of teenage boys. They have other things on their mind, of course. Especially Harry, although Hermione never thought that she was one of them, in the way that she wanted.

            Hermione saw Harry as her equal. While she was book smart, which he acknowledged, Harry had always been brave and loyal. He had never faltered in his loyalty to her, even when they had stopped talking for a short period of time during their third year. She may have known all the spells in the books, and known how to do them, but Harry almost always caught on quickly and was able to do them as well or even better than Hermione could. He had a natural talent for magic, and he would become a very powerful wizard if he so desired.

            Harry was also somewhat emotionally unstable at times. Hermione knew that. She also knew that he relied on her to help him through it. It warmed her heart to know that someone else relied on her for something so important, and filled a small hole in her existence. She found comfort in him, as well, in his bravery and loyalty to his friends. She knew that he would always stick up for her in difficult circumstances, and always defend her when it was needed. She had tremendous faith in him.

            Hermione also felt something different for Harry, something that had not begun to develop until less than two years prior. She had always considered him a great friend, but she could feel something growing inside her heart that was much greater than friendship. She loved him as a brother, of course. But there was something more. Through the experiences they had shared, Harry and Hermione had forged a bond that could not be broken, even by death itself. They would always cling to each other in times of need. They could always rely on each other in dire circumstances. At times Hermione even felt that they could communicate without words, as their minds were always on the same wavelength. It had always come in handy to them to be able to do this, even when the circumstances weren’t dangerous. This bond was not all that was there for her, though. There was a feeling rising up in her chest that she could hardly describe with words. She knew quite plainly, that she was falling in love with him. It was so much more powerful than that, though. Words could never convey the sheer amount of emotion that she felt. She had never felt anything close to it in her entire life, and she didn’t know if she ever could feel the same about anyone else. She imagined herself spending her entire life with Harry by her side, and thought that it would be the perfect world. However, she came back to reality very quickly.

            “He doesn’t feel the same way” she thought to herself. There was no way he could. Why would he? She wasn’t even a very good-looking girl. She didn’t spend time on her hair or much of anything else at school. She could never hope to attract his attention when she made no effort. This realization brought back a sinking feeling to Hermione’s gut, and she put her arms on her desk and rested her head on them. Tears started to form in the corner of her eyes. Hermione also realized that she might never have the opportunity to spend life with Harry. She knew that he would have to fight Voldemort eventually. She hoped with everything that she could muster that Harry would prevail, but pessimism still remained in the corner of her mind. What if he was killed? How would she feel then? She didn’t think she could survive without him. It would be impossible for her to know that she had failed in helping to protect him, and it would be impossible for her to continue without being able to gaze into his bright green eyes, or laugh at the untidiness of his hair as he attempted to push it down. The thought haunted her constantly, and because of this, at this very moment, she had made up her mind for good.

            She was going to tell him. She had to. There were no two ways about it. She could not afford to lose the opportunity to let him know just how she felt about him. She knew that he probably didn’t feel the same way, and recognized that it would probably put tremendous strain, if not break, their friendship. She didn’t care. She wasn’t going to go through life with this emotion bottled up inside her anymore. She just couldn’t do it. He had to know, he had to.

            Hermione got up from her chair and wiped the tears out of her eyes and walked slowly over to her bed. She climbed in and rolled over to look at the clock. It said . She closed her eyes, and her heart felt like it had had a great weight lifted from it. She gave a slight smile of hope, and fell asleep immediately.