Unravelings

Unravelings

‘I quite agree with you,’ said the Duchess; ‘and the moral of this is - Be what you would seem to be - or if you’d like it put more simply - Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise that what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.’

‘I think I should understand that better,’ Alice said very politely, ‘if I had it written down: but I can’t quite follow it as you say it.’

Lewis Carroll’s Alice In Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass

“It’s just a dare that involves a kiss, love. It’s not like Padma dared you to snog the hell out of the Boy-Who-Shall-Forever-Remain-Clueless. It’s simple.”

It’s simple.

Hermione said nothing, biting her lip to keep from lashing out at Hannah Abbott. Right now, all she wanted to do was wipe the mirroring smirks of both her friends. They planned this, she knew. They had planned this all goddamn year, waiting for the perfect opportunity to get her alone with her best friend. She sighed, burying her head in her arms. She wanted to kill them both. Feed their bodies to the squid.

“It’s not that bad,” Hannah continued.

“So why don’t you kiss him, then?”

Hannah smirked, leaning across the table. “Because I would never see the light of day again. We all know how you feel about Harry.”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. The library was practically empty today, a soothing notion for her nerves. But it also meant that the halls were full of people and -

Grr…

“I hate the both of you,” Hermione muttered.

“What for knowing that you are head over heels in love with Boy Wonder? Or that you can never turn down a dare?”

“I hate the both of you,” Hermione muttered.

“What for knowing that you are head over heels in love with Boy Wonder? Or that you can never turn down a dare?”

“I hate the both of you,” she repeated.

Hannah shrugged. “Well, no chance to back out now. Here comes Padma and the object of your secret desire!”

Hermione fought to have the rising blush present on her cheeks and chucked her History of Magic textbook at laughing Hannah. Her eyes immediately darted down as Padma and an unsuspecting Harry joined them at the table.

“Look who I found to walk you to Advance Potions, Duchess,” Padma exaggerated with a wink.

Hermione cringed at the nickname. Padma Patil, although not even half as bad as her twin, did have a weakness for Muggle romance novels and decided that Hermione was the perfect protagonist for the novel that she, herself wanted to write. That and Hermione reminded her of a favorite character. It was ridiculous. Really.

“Duchess?” Harry questioned.

Hermione forced herself to look up, a faint blush staining her cheeks. She felt like an idiot. Hannah grinned and decided to continue the humiliation.

“Duchess is our nickname for her. It fits her, don’t you think?”

“Duchess,” he repeated.

“Duchess,” he spoke stronger this time. It was if he were trying to taste the name or rather trying to taste -

She shook her head. Now really wasn’t the time to deal with her, well…what was it exactly? It wasn’t a crush; she had grown up pass that stage of her life. It wasn’t infatuation, that in itself wouldn’t be fair to her or to Harry. Infatuation tended not to last and these feelings of hers, these feelings… They were going to last.

There was no rationality in any of this.

“Hey spacey!”

She blinked. Hannah was in her face again, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She hated the Cheshire Cat.

“Shouldn’t you be going?”

Hermione made the mistake of looking at Harry. Harry, with those brilliant green eyes and his tousled locks. Harry, whose smile could melt to her into a puddle of pumpkin goo. And Harry who had no damn idea that she had feelings for him.

Prat.

She jumped when he placed his hand on her shoulder. She fought to breathe - he was too close and all she wanted to do was go to class. Snape would cure these feelings. She could live with being pissed off at the snarky bastard. And since she would be pissed off, she wouldn’t have to think about Harry.

She blinked again. “I’m ready.”

She tried to ignore Padma’s knowing smirk and Hannah’s snickering. She tried to ignore Harry’s awkwardness around her friends and the secret that lingered in the air. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t ignore the fact that she had feelings for her best friend and he had no clue. She couldn’t ignore the fact that she had no control over the situation.

There was no logic in any of this.

“Don’t forget about your promise,” Hannah called and she cringed.

“Don’t forget what?”

“I’ve got to meet them later,” she muttered.

“Oh,” he responded. “So I feel like I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

They walked out of the library, close but not so close. She was so light-headed, she thought that maybe she’d forgotten how to breathe.

“We have Advanced Potions together every week. And you’re Head Boy. We see each other all the time.”

She shifted and wanted to curse Snape for picking the heaviest textbook he could possibly find. Without asking, Harry grabbed the book easily and gave her a smile - as if what he did was the most uncomplicated gesture in the world. She blushed because a simple gesture like that could only complicate things more.

And not to forget the dare….

“You okay?”

She shrugged. “I’m just not looking forward to three hours of my time wasted away for Snape.”

But it’s the only way I can get any peace of mind.

He chuckled. “That kind of day?”

“You have no idea,” she muttered.

They made their way down the spiral dungeon steps. At the bottom, lost in thought, she stopped. This dare, this stupid dare would only serve to complicate things even more. What was she thinking accepting this? She didn’t even think of the consequences. He would reject her and she’d ruin the best thing that ever happened to her.

“Hermione?”

She looked up. Harry’s hand was on her arm.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

It’s simple.

“Fine,” she murmured finally. “I’m perfectly fine.”

It was about making choices, she realized. This was never about a silly little dare. This was about her ability to decide. This was about her feelings.

So damn the consequences.

“You want to go to the hospital wing?”

She didn’t answer, but instead placed her hand on his arm. He looked at her in surprise and opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He looked at her in concern.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

She kissed him, her lips firmly pressed against his own. Her arms instinctively wound themselves around his neck, while she gently tried to coax a reaction from him.

Any reaction.

But none came.

She grabbed her Potions textbook out of his hands and turned to walk towards the classroom, head held high. She couldn’t stand around and wait for a reaction. She had humiliated herself and that was that.

~_~_~

It was just a kiss, she mentally reassured herself for the thousandth time. It was just a simple kiss. But then it wasn’t. It wasn’t a simple kiss. That kiss…that kiss five meters from the Potions dungeon wasn’t just any kiss. That kiss, that collusion of lips, was her entire future.

It was just a simple kiss.

Hermione sighed, sinking into the sanctuary of her bed covers and pulling them tightly against her body. She had made a narrow escape through the dungeons and away from the one person she did not want to see. She had collapsed in near tears on her bed, scaring Crookshanks and suddenly conjuring up a memory of being five years old and skinning her bloody knee.

“Hermione, open the bloody door! You changed your blasted password again, didn’t you?”

She sniffed and pulled the covers tighter. Ron.

“Hermione, don’t make me go owl my mum!”

She sighed and shifted. “Chaucer!”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes. It was times like these where she knew why she was destined not to have an older brother. Ron took care of that for her. “It’s Chaucer,” she called.

“I know.”

She jumped, Ron’s face hovering her. “Don’t do that you bloody prat! You scared the hell out of me.”

“Good. You made me sit through Ancient Runes by myself.”

Hermione sunk back into the warmth of her covers, her hair falling out of her bun and into her eyes. She closed her eyes and mumbled into the pillow, “So I suppose you know.”

What she didn’t expect was Ron to laugh, a rich rumble echoing in her room. He pulled the covers out of her tight hold, forcing her to look at him and his huge grin.

“Of course, I bloody well know,” he started. “We may get into tiffs every now and then, but I’m still better than Harry at reading you.”

She snorted. “That’s because Luna translates for you.”

He grabbed a fallen pillow of the floor, hitting her in the face. She retaliated with her own pillow, missing his head by a few inches.

“Need to work on your aim there, Granger.”

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to aim, Weasley.”

He grinned and pushed the pillow under her head again. “So you want to tell me why you kissed our best friend, shocking him to the point where he’s completely unaware of his surroundings?”

Hermione yanked the covers over her head. “No.”

“Well then, I can I tell you what the Hufflepuff and the Ravenclaw told me?”

“Most certainly not,” came her muffled reply. Those two were to blame for all of this. Padma and her stupid dare. Hannah and her stupid ability to be insightful to every relationship but her own.

The covers were yanked from her clutches once more and she was forced to meet Ron’s eyes.

“Why are you so afraid?”

She bit her lip; the tears she had been holding in since Potions started to slip. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

Ron grabbed her hand, pulling her into a hug. “Let it go,” he murmured. “Let it go and then try again.”

And so she cried. She cried the tears that she had been holding in all day. She cried because it wasn’t simple and it wasn’t going to get any simpler. She cried because she was scared and that she knew that these feelings were something more than she could ever understand. She cried because she was unraveling, thread by thread, and had no idea what to do.

“Feel better?”

She sniffed, pulling back and rubbing her eyes. “No.”

Ron chuckled. “At least you’re honest.”

“That’s what got me into trouble in the first place.”

Ron reached over and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He gave her a warm smile. “I thought I was in love once. Great gal, that one, the kind that had a smile that would just freeze you where you stand. She would give you the time of day even if you didn’t deserve it. She was one of a kind, her own star in sea of stars.”

“Ron…” she started.

He shook his head. “See this girl was different from the rest. She laughed and she joked, she fought with me constantly. And I loved her for it, but she had already found her whole world. I was angry that it wasn’t me for a while. I was angry and then I was sad because this great girl couldn’t be mine because she was someone else’s. And then I found my world, I found her and then I understood.”

“Ron,” she croaked, tears spilling over her cheeks. “When did you become philosophical?”

He smiled. “Luna. It happens when you’re in love. Perspective changes and you understand things that you never thought you’d understand. You’re supposed to go through this. But the point is these things take time. The prat’s got to realize you love him sooner or later.”

She gave him a watery smile. “Did Luna translate that for you too?”

“Wench!” He exclaimed, reaching for the pillow at his side. But she was faster and nailed him in the face.

She laughed and he laughed, they had already gotten past the past. They no longer had the unspoken words or the uneasy stares and she was glad for it. She was glad she had someone to talk to.

“So are you going to talk to Harry?”

“No,” she mumbled. “I think that I did enough.”

“Are you sure?”

She suddenly noticed the evil grin on her best friend’s face. Her eyes widened and suddenly her mind was consumed with ways to dump his body in the castle’s secret passageways.

“Take off the invisibility cloak, Harry,” she spoke quietly.

It was just a simple kiss.

~_~_~

Somewhere between plotting where she was going to bury Ron’s mangled body and the awkward silence of her room, Hermione found Harry and herself making their way down to the lake for a walk. She had donned an old sweatshirt of her dad’s and a pair of bohemian mittens that were her mum’s. The fall essentials, she thought fondly. She sighed as they came to a stop at the edge of the lake.

“I feel like I don’t know you.”

Her eyes widened and she whirled around to face him, but Harry refused to return her gaze. She swallowed angrily. “We’ve been best friends for seven years and you still don’t know me?”

“It’s not that,” he murmured. “I know you. I know the basic things about you. But I don’t know you. I don’t know you like you know me and – I feel like I should.”

She felt betrayed. It was bad enough that their friendship or whatever was between them was called. @I think you’ve got an unfinished sentence here. “…was called…” what?@ You should know me, she wanted to snap. What the hell have you been doing these past seven years if you don’t? She turned away, tears threatening to spill. It seemed all she was doing was trying not to cry.

He grabbed her arm. “I know your birthday, but I want to know your favorite color. I want to know your favorite book and the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. I want to know if you and your dad get along better than you and your mum…” He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words to describe what he wanted from her.

She forced herself to sit on the ground and prayed for the world to stop spinning. If he didn’t know anything about her, then what was between them? He sat down beside her and bowed his head.

“You’re a mystery to me, Hermione,” he finally said. There’s just so many layers to you that I want to discover and understand. I want to know you. I need to know you.”

Well what do I say to that? She let out a shaky sigh. What can I say? She closed her eyes.

“My favorite color - well, I don’t have a favorite color. I love all colors. Each one is unique in its own way.”

“Favorite book?”

A faint smile crossed her lips. “Alice in Wonderland. Dad used to read it to me when I couldn’t get to sleep. It’s in my trunk upstairs.”

“Stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

She snorted. “Not answering that one.”

He pouted. “Please?”

“No way. If I tell you, Ron will find out and he’ll never let me live this down.”

Harry grinned. “I’ll get it out of you. You’ll see.”

“Mmm-hmm, next question.”

“Your parents?”

Her smile faded. Vaguely, she recognized the direction of this conversation. It always happened between them. It was when someone was afraid.

“I’m half of my mum and half of my dad. Fight with them equally, love them just as much,” she answered absently.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

She swallowed. “Pardon?”

He cocked his head. “Why’d you kiss me? Hannah, Padma, and Ron all told me it was a dare. But why did you kiss me?”

It came to this . It was never the stupid dare. It was never the catalytic point when she kissed him. It was about what lay between them. But in order for both of them to understand, they needed to know each other’s feelings.

“It’s complicated,” she began slowly, drawing her knees to her chest. “It’s complicated, but then it’s simple and I find myself understanding but not understanding why.”

“You’re my best friend,” he started but stopped when she shook her head, startling him into silence.

She felt drained now. “Ron is my best friend,” she murmured. “I can laugh and fight with Ron and our relationship will still remain at the same level. It’s simple. But you and I, Harry, you and I are on a completely different level than everyone else. We’ve always been different.”

She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head. “I don’t think we even touched friendship. We were always on a level that completely disregarded the innocence that came with friendship. Our relationship feeds on intensity, it strives on complexity. We have a complicated relationship because it is that simple. So for you to say that you don’t know me is like lying to yourself. I know you because I’m not afraid to know you. You know me, Harry, but you’re afraid to know me.”

He shifted. “You’re in love me.”

She was quiet for a long time, her eyes seeking serenity in the calmness of the lake. Picking at the grass next to her, she shifted and sighed. Might as well…

“What if I am?”

His eyes were wide.

“What if I am?” she repeated. “I mean you want to know me…so what if I am in love with you? What would you do?”

His gaze met hers for the first time in their conversation. “I don’t know,” he answered quietly.

She bit her lip painfully and pushed herself up. She couldn’t stay here. “Then you have two problems, Harry,” she responded tiredly. “Not only do you not know me, you don’t even know yourself.”

She started to walk away, but then stopped.

“It’s nice to know that you want to know my favorite book. It’s nice to know you want to know my favorite color,” she spoke softly. “But it hurts so much more when – I – oh, never mind. Forget we even had this conversation.”

~_~_~

Five weeks.

Twenty-one days.

Five hundred and four hours.

Thirty thousand, two hundred and forty minutes.

One million, eight hundred and fourteen thousand, four hundred seconds.

She wasn’t counting.

Honest.

Okay, so maybe she was. Maybe she was counting the weeks, the days, the hours, the minutes, and even the seconds that he hadn’t spoken a word to her.

No. There were no maybes when it came to her relationship with Harry Potter. There were no ands, ifs, whys, or buts - that much she understood.

But she wondered.

She wondered if she had screwed up the best thing that could have possibly happened to her. She wondered why it had been that week, that day, that hour, that minute, that second. She wondered why she had opened her mouth and she wondered if he wondered just as much as she did. She wondered if she was wondering so much so that she was driving herself insane.

Maybe she was insane. Maybe it was the headache she’d acquired from crying too damn much…or was it from listening to Parvati sing the Weird Sisters again?

Five weeks and her damn room had become her safe haven and her sanctuary. She knew Hannah and Padma were worried about her. They apologized every time they saw her.

It was always the same too. I’m sorry. I’m sorry too. It was just a silly little dare, Duchess. It was a simple kiss. I’m sorry. I’m still sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Saying sorry that much made it seem so hollow…

Ron was worried too. He even went so far to have Mrs. Weasley send her a note of “advice”. And yet, it was still sitting on her desk amongst the cluttered books. She knew what Mrs. Weasley felt about her. In fact, she knew everything on that letter were just words.

Nobody likes their fantasy shattered, but sometimes you have to appreciate the lies.

She wished Harry would just come and lie to her. She couldn’t take back the words - because those weren’t words, they were knives.

truth

“I feel like I don’t know you.”

Is that what seven years mean to you?

“You’re a mystery to me, Hermione. There’s just so many layers to you that I want to discover and understand. I want to know you. I need to know you.”

She was just pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle - all the pieces that didn’t fit anywhere else.

People weren’t supposed to know her.

“You’re in love with me.”

Now, that’s a loaded gun. She almost smiled, picturing him as he made his realization.

Almost.

He had shifted because he was nervous. Not forwards, not backwards - he just moved. One phrase. One reaction that spoke volumes. He moved because his realization was such a bloody revelation to him.

At least he hadn’t stopped breathing. She had. But isn’t what this whole thing was really about? Breathing and not breathing, understanding and not understanding, sanity and insanity.

Why was she the one stuck with the ghosts?

Twenty-one days.

She still went to Quidditch matches. She had to sit next to him in Potions. It wasn’t like she was trying to avoid him, she did her part.

Five hundred and four hours.

So she waited because waiting was all she could do besides drowning in her misery and her loneliness.

Thirty thousand, two hundred and forty minutes.

She waited like she had been for the past couple years…or was it weeks? No, days maybe?

One million, eight hundred and fourteen thousand, four hundred seconds.

Maybe if he walked though her door, she’d tell him. She’d tell him about the Christmas when she was five and had to spend it in the hospital to get her appendix out. Or maybe she’d tell him about how her mom loved taking her to the open antique markets and about that music box that she wished she had. Maybe she would tell him about the Italian lesson she was taking in June so that she could go to Italy by herself to visit relatives she never even knew had.

And maybe she’d tell him she loved him. The actual words from her mouth, not a nervous revelation.

So she waited.

And waited.

She waited for a knock on her door.

Because six weeks was a month, and a month could turn into a year.

So she waited for the knock that never came.

~_~_~

Her answer had come.

A first edition Alice in Wonderland was sitting on her bed when she came back from Ancient Runes early Thursday morning. She could spot it clearly, atop the mussed sheets on her bed. But what was next to it made her heart pound furiously.

A letter.

She couldn’t move. In fact, she could barely breathe. Her books fell to the floor with a loud thud, causing Crookshanks to scamper out the door. She felt like crying - in happiness, in sadness…in whatever this was supposed to mean.

Hermione brushed a trembling hand over the book, afraid that this was some sort of dream. Because you had to have connections to get something of this caliber and you had to have the money. Her parents were well-off, but this…. She sighed, letting her fingers graze the letter.

An answer was an answer. She grabbed the letter and sat on her bed, curling up in her blankets and began to read.

Hermione,

This is possibly the longest thing I’ve ever written in my life, well besides last night’s Potions assignment. And I don’t know if you’ll ever read this because what’s happened between us, but I suppose if you’ve gotten this far, then it’s a good sign.

The most amazing thing happened to me the other day, Hermione. I was walking back from practice two nights ago and I saw you sitting with Hannah Abbott talking. It was nothing out of the ordinary because I have to admit, I do watch you. Anyhow, like I said, the most amazing thing happened.

Two nights ago, you smiled.

I watched you really smile.

I never knew or appreciated how rare a smile from you truly was, but at that moment I did realize. And I was frozen… well, until Ron smacked me with a broom, but you get the point.

As I walked away, there were so many things I needed to know. What did Hannah say? What was it that got you to smile like that? Why couldn’t I get you to smile like that for me?

The point is you were right when you said I was lying to myself. I do know you. I know you so well sometimes that it scares the hell out of me. And I’ve allowed myself to let that fear manipulate me and force me to question myself.

That fear has made me forget.

And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doing this to you, to us. I’m sorry for being an idiot and a coward because you deserve so much more than me….

Our relationship is unlike any other in every sense. It scares me that I can’t think about how life would be without you and this intensity. It scares me that there really cannot be a me without you.

I - Listen, it would be so much easier if I explain this to you in person. I don’t want this letter to be just words to you, I -

Tomorrow night, we have rounds and I was hoping that we could talk then. I need to see you, Hermione. Even if you’re angry, I just need to see you.

Harry

P.S.: I found Alice in my parents’ vault. Ironic, but I figured I should continue the tradition.

With gentle hands, she opened the tiny book and glanced inside.

To Maria,
To our own wonderland…
Henry

To Lily,
For many more adventures…
James

To Hermione,
For your smile
Harry

And for the first time in days, maybe even weeks, Hermione Granger smiled and it stayed.

~_~_~

She waited for him on the couch in their shared common room, clutching her gift as if it were a lifeline of sorts.

“Hey. Ready to go?”

Hermione glanced up and watched as Harry sat down on the table in front of her, still dressed in his Quidditch practice gear from earlier that evening. She shifted, tucking her legs under her and placing her book in her lap.

“Hi,” she replied softly. “Not really. How was practice?”

His eyes glittered with amusement. “It was long. You know, I’ve been looking for that sweatshirt…always wondered where it went.”

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I stole it from your room at Christmas holiday last year.”

Harry leaned forward, his fingers dancing over her hood. “Keep it. Looks better on you then it did on me anyways.”

She melted as she watched an amused grin tug at the corner of his lips. She took this time to study him silently. Everything from the contours of his face to the brilliance of his eyes and to the way he bit his lips as he played with the hood of her sweatshirt.

Falling in love, she reflected. Falling in love was scary as hell, but every minute, every moment was well-worth the time.

“What?”

She smiled and his eyes widened. “Nothing,” she murmured.

His hands withdrew from her sweatshirt and cradled her face. He brushed a thumb over her lips.

“This is the first time you’ve smiled for me,” he whispered in awe. “This is the first time you’ve smiled like that.”

Harry took one of her hands and placed it against his rapidly beating heart. “This is what you do to me, Hermione. This is what you do to me every time you smile like that.”

Hermione swung her legs off the couch and moved so that she was completely facing Harry. Her knees brushed his as she mirrored his previous actions and cradled his face. She smiled again and began to trace every inch of his face as if she were a sculptor creating a piece.

Mine, she mused unconsciously. Mine.

Her fingers stopped at his lips. She smiled again and he grabbed her hand.

“You keep doing that,” he growled.

She laughed. “I can’t help it.”

“Well then, I can’t help this.”

Harry leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. It was a gentle kiss, as all first kisses between two lovers should be. There was nothing demanding and nothing too sweet, just two pieces of a puzzle finally finding the perfect fit. It was acceptance, and closer, and most of all, it was love.

Hermione Granger and Harry Potter were in love.

And it was as simple as that.

They broke apart and Hermione flashed a brilliant smile, entwining their fingers together.

“I love you,” he whispered softly, his free hand cupping her chin. “I love you and I’m sorry for being an idiot.”

She grinned. “Forgiven.”

“Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to say that I’m not an idiot and that you love me too?”

Hermione flashed him an innocent look. “Sure. But then I’d be lying and lying is bad and you were an idiot. I’d be forcing you in a painful denial.”

He laughed, but then sobered up. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I never have -”

She shook her head. “What’s been said has been said. What’s been done has been done. You’ve had me from the beginning, Harry Potter. From every adventure to every painful moment in our lives, you’ve had me and until the very end. You’ve always had me, thread by thread.”

Harry kissed her forehead. “I love you,” he said hoarsely. “I love you.”

Her fingers brushed his lips and she smiled another smile that was just for him.

“I love you, too.”

fin

Author’s Notes:

I’ve been debating for a long time what I should post as my first Portkey story and the third season of Alias started… And well, the rest you can say is history. However corny that may sound, I am very proud of this… and I hope you enjoyed this!

Special thanks to Trisha for being my awesome beta reader and to everybody at the FAP cookie jar for being lovely, lovely souls.