Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews, guys! It's way appreciated. And since I don't have much more to say, I'll let you get to the story. Enjoy!
It was amazing, really, how silent the entire Hogwarts castle seemed to be. Professors remained secluded in their offices or private chambers (as Harry assumed) and very few students trudged along the halls, looking for something to do.
The Gryffindor common room was especially silent, as Hermione and Harry made themselves comfortable on the large red sofa that faced the roaring fire. Mugs of hot cocoa, as promised, sat on a tray, on the small round table on either side of the sofa.
Hermione took slow sips, her eyes getting lost in the flickering flames, her mind traveling to the young man that sat next to her. Harry's attention, however, was completely focused on the brunette beside him. She was troubled about something, he knew, yet she seemed to be avoiding the topic all together. Did she not trust him enough? How could he prove to her that all he wanted to do was to help? He wanted, above everything else, for her to trust and love him.
He knew she loved him as a friend. That was evident. He had realized that over the years, as their friendship developed, that he and Hermione were closer than he and Ron. It was a strange thought, considering Harry had shared a room with Ron for nearly six full years, including most summers. But still, there were certain 'things' in his friendship with Hermione that he had to take into account than that of Ron's.
He could very well have been biased in this topic, upon realising that there was no doubt that he had fallen in love with Hermione. Three years ago this matter would have been laughable, and in fact it was. Even now he couldn't help but scoff. Not because it was impossible to love the brown-eyed beauty, but because he knew, deep down that it was nearly impossible for her to love him back. Harry Potter was a danger to anyone and everyone close to him. It was no secret, and he worried constantly for Ron and Hermione's safety.
"What?" he asked aloud, suddenly realizing that Hermione had spoken. He drew his thoughts from bitter death to the topic at hand.
"I said --who do you think is going to be Head Boy and Girl next year?" Hermione repeated.
"Oh." Harry thought a moment, realizing Hermione was making a half attempt at gossip. "You are definitely making Head Girl, there's no way they'd never give that to you," Harry replied honestly. Hermione gave a modest smile, her ears going slightly pink.
"I hope you're Head Boy," she said softly, her brown eyes wide and hopeful. He gave a soft chuckle and shook his head slowly.
"Are you mad? With my record...I'm surprised I haven't been expelled," he said.
"You deserve to be Head Boy, Harry. You've been through so much."
"Only because I was stupid enough to put myself in danger Hermione...that was my own fault," he reminded her.
"You are so stubborn, Harry. You didn't ask for Voldemort to… kill your parents, and… try to murder you countless times. I-- what?" she asked, with growing impatience.
His bright emerald eyes had widened, his mouth forming a small 'O'.
"What, Harry?" she demanded.
"You said his name...Voldemort...I...I've never heard you say his name before," he said, and she realized that it wasn't that he was shocked, he was just impressed.
"What? Do you mean to say there can only be one brave enough to say his name?" she asked, quite coyly.
He grinned, and ran a hand through his hair, and she got a brief glimpse of the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.
"That's not what I meant...I'm relieved, more or less, that you don't flinch when you hear his name. It makes me edgy when people get so uptight when hearing it."
Hermione's eyes narrowed disapprovingly.
"They have a right to be afraid, Harry. Don't belittle them that fear. Just because you've survived his wrath many times, doesn't mean they are necessarily safe," she told him sternly.
"I'm no safer, Hermione," he told her calmly.
"Explain how you've dodged death since you were a year old again? You'd think by now...you'd be..." she cut off her sentence suddenly. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to feel the pain, fear and panic that came when she knew he was facing the great and powerful Dark Lord.
He shrugged and looked back into the orange, red and yellow flames that flickered restlessly.
"Luck," was his only answer, though in the back of his mind he did wonder how it happened.
Battle after battle. Was it chance? Or were his mother and father looking out for him, protecting him with every ounce of their after life? He would never know, so it seemed. After six years, he wondered if he would ever learn the truth, if there was a truth. He and Hermione weren't the only ones who questioned Harry's own mortality. Practically every student in the school looked at him curiously, when something was amiss. Nowadays, a lot of them looked to him for protection and comfort, and Hermione hated that more than anything. The way everyone gawked at him, even after all these years, it was as though everyone thought Harry belonged in a museum.
"Do you sometimes miss the Muggle world? When we're here, Harry?" Hermione asked, quickly changing the subject.
This was a topic they could both focus on, as they both grew up in the Muggle world, and both found out they were a wizard and witch at the age of 11. The only difference between the two, was that Harry's parents were both wizard and witch, while Hermione's parents were both Muggles. This was another reason that had put Hermione at risk, as Voldemort and his supporters firmly believed that only pure blood wizards and witches should exist.
"Not really. My life, as you know, wasn't exactly anything to brag about," he replied thoughtfully.
She turned her gaze to him, carefully setting down her empty mug.
"I really love you, you know," she told him, her voice thick with emotion. Indeed, her vision blurred with tears and she hastily wiped away a trickling tear.
"Oh...Hermione..." and before another word he quickly wrapped both arms around her, and she eagerly mimicked him, holding as tight as she could, letting her head rest on the comfort of his shoulder.
"I love you too…so much," he said softly, kicking himself for not insisting it was a different kind of love he was feeling.
He was content enough with this though, and found comfort in the warmth she gave off. It was a warmth that not even a bright fire could give. It filled him from every dark corner in his body, his mind and his soul. It was a warmth that would live with him forever.
"I don't want to lose you," she sobbed into his thick blue sweater, and he realized that she was crying.
"Shhh..." Harry soothed. "You'll never lose me...we're too much apart of each other," he whispered into her chestnut hair. He resumed to rocking her back and forth, eager to calm her down, though not so eager to leave the comfort of her arms.
"That's not a promise you can keep, Harry. I don't know what I'd do...if..." she had lifted her head to meet his gaze and he cut off her sentence by placing an index finger on her lips, silencing her.
"It's a promise I can keep, and I will. Nothing will happen to you, to me, or to Ron. I swear it." His eyes searched hers, desperate to make her believe in him. He needed her to trust him, to believe him. During this time, they needed to stick together.
She nodded reluctantly, slowly, trusting in him. She needed him more than she had ever needed anything in her life. And he would never know. But he seemed forceful in his promise, and she wanted to believe in his promise, and in him.
"That's my girl," he said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Suddenly the mood had passed, and an increasing discomfort filled the room.
"We are so morbid," she finally said, breaking into a fit of giggles along with Harry. It was the only thing they could do and they were eager, to yet again, change the subject.
"Schoolwork it is!" Hermione announced jovially, bounding up her dormitory steps, to retrieve books, Harry expected.
If Voldemort didn't kill him soon, he would surely die of boredom by Hermione's hand, he thought miserably. He grudgingly went up to his own room, reflecting on the love of his life, and his heart gave a nervous, excited flutter when he remembered that the next day would be Christmas Day.
He couldn't wait to see the look on Hermione's face when she opened his gift.
To Be Continued...