Aware

Rach

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 27/10/2003
Last Updated: 27/10/2003
Status: completed

A late night visit brings awareness.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

Title: Aware

Author: Rach

E-mail: rach878@comcast.net

Rating: PG

Books: Up to GoF

Spoilers: Missing scene, following chapter 36 in GoF

Pairing: Harry/Hermione

Classification: Angst, friendship, slight romance

Feedback: Feed the muses, mebbe they'll keep working

Anti-Litigation charm: This story is based on characters and situations
created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not
limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and
Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark
infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: I swore I would never write Harry Potter fan fic. That I
had my fingers in *way* to many fandoms as it was. Shipper, you so owe me
for this one.

It was well after midnight as Hermione crept up the stairs leading to the fourth year boy’s dorm. She stood with her ear pressed to the door, listening for any sound that might indicate the occupants inside were awake. Hearing none she gently pushed the door open and slid silently inside. Casting brief glances at the four boys asleep in their beds she made her way toward Harry’s bed and stopped in front of his trunk. As she eased the lid of the trunk open her breath caught momentarily in her throat as the lid gave a soft moan. She dared not breathe or move as she waited for any one of the sleeping boys to sit up and ask what she’s doing there, but no such demand comes and she continues with her mission.

Shifting aside a sweater and spare robe her fingers find the soft material she is seeking. She has always marveled over this cloak, the soft, silver, water-like material sliding over her hands as she pulls it from its hiding place. A small smile flits across her face as she recalls the many adventures this cloak as seen the three of them through over the years. Tonight, however, it will be assisting her and her alone. Closing the trunk, Hermione swings the cloak over her shoulders and pulls the hood up before slipping back out of the dorm and down the stairs. She makes her way through the common room and out of the portrait hole. The Fat Lady protests being awoken in the middle of the night, but as she is unable to see the culprit to reprimand them she just goes back to sleep. Hermione continues to make her way down the corridor and down to the hospital wing, ever grateful that she has not run into Mrs. Norris or Filch.

After everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours she just needs to see, for herself, that Harry really is okay. She needs to see without Mrs. Weasley hovering over Harry and glaring at her because of the Skeeter article, without Sirius guarding him, without Dumbledore and McGonagall hovering and whispering. She needs to see him without the others so that maybe he won’t have to feel like he has to put on a brave front. But most of all she just needs to see him, to see that he’s still here and he hasn’t disappeared and that he really is okay. She remembers feeling her heart stop when Harry disappeared from the maze with Cedric. The momentary relief she felt at seeing him return was overshadowed by the guilt she felt when she saw Harry holding Cedric’s body, guilt because she was happy it wasn’t Harry that was dead.

Finally reaching her destination, Hermione pushed the door to the hospital wing open and walked inside. Her feet carried her down the aisle, past all of the empty beds to the last bed on the left. Screens had been set up around the bed to keep out prying eyes and to give Harry some privacy. Slipping the cloak off, Hermione slid between the screens surrounding the bed and into the makeshift room. She has yet to look at the boy in the bed. Instead she lays the cloak over the chair that had been left in the room and fidgets a moment with her uncooperative hair. Finally she turns around and takes in the sight before her. Despite the dreamless sleep potion she knows he was given she can tell his sleep as been anything but. Harry is sprawled out on his back, his blanket in a heap on the floor and his sheet tangled with his legs. His face is peaceful at the moment, his hair as messy as always, a small piece falling over his right eye.

It wasn’t fair, she thought. It wasn’t fair that at fourteen he’s had to face a crisis every year since he came to Hogwarts. It wasn’t fair that he was expected to save the world over and over again. It wasn’t fair that he was expected to face death every year and it certainly wasn’t fair that after every thing that he goes through he gets sent back to those awful people who are referred to as his family.

Stepping forward a few steps she finds herself standing near the head of his bed. She watches as he sighs in his sleep and shifts slightly toward her. Smiling softly she reaches down and brushes the errant piece of hair off his face, her fingers lingering in his hair for a moment before gently sliding down the side of his face. Her fingers have just come to rest at his jaw line when Harry’s eyes blinked open.

“’Mione?” he asks, his voice so heavy with sleep that the first part of her name is lost.

“Hi.” She responded quietly, her hand moving away from his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay” he mumbled sleepily, shifting on the bed, away from Hermione. “Sit?” he asked, patting the empty spot he had just created on the bed.

Gingerly Hermione climbed up on the bed and sat looking down at the boy in front of her, the boy she could see putting up the brave front as she looked at him.

“Not that I mind, but what are you doing here at, what time is it anyway?” he asked, his hand blindly groping for his glasses.

“A little after one” Hermione told him as she placed her hand over his, stilling its movement. “Here, let me get them before you break them.”

Harry could hear the teasing in her voice as she slid his glasses into his hand.

“Good thing I know this really smart witch who can fix them for me.” He replied cheekily, sliding his glasses into place.

“Yeah, good thing.” She replied quietly. “If you’re not careful she might start charging you for every time she has to fix them.”

Harry looked up at her following her quiet reply. Anyone else might have missed the way her voice wavered a bit when she spoke, but not him. He took in the fact that her head was hanging slightly down, her hair obscuring most of her face from his view, her hands, which were sitting in her lap, were fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

“You never answered my question, Hermione. What are you doing down here in the middle of the night?” he asked gently.

Continued silence was the reply and Harry noticed her head drop just a little bit more.

“Hermione?” he asked, sitting up in bed and sliding forward. Scooting as close to her as he could Harry reached out and slid his fingers under her chin and raised her face up so he could see her. Silent tears streaked down her cheeks and she was biting her bottom lip. “Hermione, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, suddenly alarmed and not quite sure what to do. This was Hermione; she was the smart one, the strong one, the one who was always there for him. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Hermione cry, at least not like this.

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry! I came down here because I needed to see that you were okay. And then you were sitting here joking with me like it was just a normal night and it’s not and now look at me, I’m a mess and I’m just adding to your problems instead of being there for you like I should be and I should just go.” She rambled on and attempted to get off the bed.

“No. Stay.” He said, reaching out and grabbing her hand. He wanted her here. He needed her here. “Please, Hermione.” He said quietly. “Please, don’t leave me.”

It was almost a whisper and if she hadn’t been sitting so close Hermione never would have heard it. She had stopped trying to get down off the bed the second he as asked her to stay. Looking up at Harry she was instantly struck by the amount of grief and sadness reflected in his eyes. Gently she disengaged her hand from his vice-like grip, only to reach out and slide her arms around his neck, pulling him to her in a tight embrace.

He sat, not moving, not responding for what seemed like an endless moment. He’s been hugged by Hermione before but somehow this seemed different. This time he was aware of the warmth of her skin as she pressed her face into his neck, aware of the wetness of her tears as they soaked into his pajama top. As he finally reacted and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him still, he became aware of the softness of her curves and the faint smell of lavender in her hair. He could feel her body shaking as she cried, her heart beating rapidly against his chest. Here, wrapped up in her arms, he felt safe, protected and loved.

The overall exhaustion of everything that had happened finally brought all of Harry’s defenses crashing down as he clung to Hermione. The Triwizard cup, Cedric, the graveyard full of Death Eaters, Voldemort reborn, the linking of the wands, he parents, the mad dash to escape and take Cedric’s body home, Moody really being a Death Eater in disguise and the list went on and it was all too much to take. Exhausted, Harry finally allowed himself to remember and to grieve. Here, in the only place he knew he would ever feel safe enough to be weak just for a moment, wrapped up in the arms of his best friend, of the only girl who seemed to ever understand and accept him. Burying his face in her neck and hair he sobbed, his arms tightening around her, his fingers fisting in her sweater. He was vaguely aware of the soft comforting words that Hermione was whispering to him, of one hand gently stroking his hair while the other ran smoothly up and down his back.

Neither was aware of how long they sat like that, clinging to each other and grieving not only what had happened tonight but also what they knew was to come. Harry was the first to pull back, with Hermione following suit. He sat looking at the girl in front of him, noting how she had changed since that first day on the train, and how much she had stayed the same. Slowly his hands came up and wiped away the last of the tears from her cheeks. He wasn’t sure why he was doing it, only that it felt right and so instead of pulling his hands back he used them to cup her face instead, his fingers tangling in her hair and his thumbs softly caressing her face.

A soft smile briefly crossed Hermione’s face as Harry wiped her tears away. This was Harry, always worried about everyone but himself. Slowly, Hermione reached up and slid Harry’s glasses off his face and placed them on the nightstand before her hands found his face and gently wiped the last of his tears away, repeating the gesture he had shown her. As his had, her hands stayed after they had completed their task, fingers stroking his hair and face.

Neither is sure who moved first, only that they seemed to move with the same motive in mind. Both were aware of the rapid heartbeat of the other. He was aware of the slight catch in her breath as he got closer, she aware of the slight shaking of his hands. Both stopped just a breath away from the other, eyes searching, wanting conformation that this was okay, needing to know that this was right.

“Harry” came softly, almost silently from Hermione’s lips, her warm breath caressing his face as he leaned in and closed the gap, lips meeting lightly, gently, briefly before pulling away again.

Hermione’s eyes, which had drifted shut, fluttered open at the loss of contact. Harry hadn’t pulled back very far, making his expression almost unreadable this close up. Smiling softly Hermione slid her hands from his face around to the back of his neck, her fingers playing gently with the short hairs at the nape.

“It’s okay.” She whispered, gently pulling him forward again.

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and let Hermione pull him forward, his hand drifting from her face down to her waist to pull her closer still.

The second time their lips met was still as gentle as the first but both were aware that something had changed between them, something irreversible, but neither cared. They lost themselves in this kiss, hands caressing faces, backs, arms, anywhere they could. There was nothing hurried about the kiss or the touches that accompanied it, just gentle reassurance, need, want, acceptance and somewhere, though neither would admit it, there was love as well. Love that was more than the kind you have for your best friend, love that for now would stay hidden.

Hours later dawn’s light made its way through the windows of the hospital wing, softly illuminating the sleeping couple on the only occupied bed in the wing. Harry was sprawled out on his back, with Hermione tucked in at his side. Her head was resting in the crook of his neck; his turned toward her, his lips resting on her forehead. Arms and legs were tangled together so that anyone looking at the couple would have trouble telling where one person ended and another began.

“Are you sure we must allow this course, Albus?” Minerva asked quietly, watching the couple.

“You know we must not interfere with fate. Their course is set, we cannot interfere.”

“But it’s not fair.” She whispered harshly. “Look at them Albus.” She sighed. “Must we deny him, both of them, this one bit of happiness?”

“It is not forever, my dear. They will find their way back to each other. But it will take time. We must allow fate to run its course.” He said, placing his hands on her shoulders.

With a resigned sigh, she leaned back against the man standing behind her. “The course of true love never did run smoothly.” She murmured.

“As we know all to well,” Albus replied. “Now, come. Leave them to their sleep. It will not be as bad as you think, they will still have each other. Fate has already decided when they will be ready to accept that they are in love. We must be patient and wait.” Reaching down, Albus took Minerva’s hand in his. “Now, I hear that the elves have prepared a marvelous breakfast for today.”

“Oh, not another surprise dish.” Minerva replied wrinkling her nose in disgust. The last one was barely edible.”

The remainder of the conversation was lost as the two left the hospital wing leaving the sleeping couple to the hand that fate had dealt them.

~Fin