Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter related things in this story. The song 'I'm Still Here' belongs to John Rzeznik and is from the movie 'Treasure Planet' which belongs to Disney.
I'm Still Here
Harry woke up much earlier than he had planned for it being Christmas morning. He stood up and stretched his limbs. After a few moments of staring at his tired reflection in the mirror, Harry searched for the small present he had for Hermione. He was sure she was up at this time and he was anxious to start working on their song.
As Harry made his way down the winding staircase, he heard some light music coming from the common room. His mouth curved into a smile when he saw Hermione sitting in front of the fire, strumming a guitar with her small fingers. She was still in her pajamas and her hair was thrown back in a messy ponytail with some strands framing her delicate face. After a few minutes of watching her play from the staircase, Harry made his way towards her. Hermione stopped playing and looked up, a smile upon her face.
"Happy Christmas Harry," she said kindly.
"Same to you," he replied, sitting on a couch in front of her.
"You're up early," she pointed out, standing up and sitting beside him on the couch.
"So are you," Harry shrugged, "is that a crime?"
Hermione smiled and shook her head slightly, looking down at the guitar on the floor. She picked it up and handed it to Harry.
"Happy Christmas."
"What's this?" Harry asked, taking the guitar nervously in his hands.
"Your Christmas present," Hermione answered him shortly.
Harry's jaw dropped a good few inches, not really believing what she just said. "My present?" He asked nervously. "But why?"
"Well you'll need one when you perform at the Talent Show," Hermione replied, "and you'll need it to practice on and who knows, maybe you'll make a hobby out of it."
"I can't learn to play the guitar in a week," Harry protested, handing the instrument back to her. "Here, you can play it while I just sing the song."
"Harry, do you really think I'm that stupid?" she asked stubbornly. "Of course you won't learn to play it in a week. It took me three years to master the guitar. I went to the library a few days ago and found a spell that we can use so you'll be able to play the song but nothing more, until you learn to really play it anyway."
"So this is mine, for real?"
"Yes," she answered indignantly, "now take it back and stop fussing."
Harry took the guitar in his hands and stared at it. He had never received such a present before. He then looked down at the small package beside him and sighed.
"This totally beats what I got you."
"I'm sure it doesn't," Hermione said sweetly, noting the look of disappointment on Harry's face. "Come on Harry, the guitar was nothing, really, it's not even wrapped. Now let me see what you got me, please?"
Harry sighed and handed her the small, neatly wrapped present. Hermione took it in her hands and slowly ripped back the paper. Once the paper was out of the way, Hermione gasped at the site she held in her hands.
"Harry," she muttered, staring at it in awe, "it's gorgeous."
And indeed it was. Harry had given Hermione something that once belonged to his mother: a delicate, silver bracelet with tiny charms hanging off it, sparkling in the firelight. Hermione handled it softly as she examined each particular charm. Harry smiled as he watched her expressions change every few moments.
"Harry, I, I don't know what to say," Hermione whispered softly, "where did you get this?"
"It was my mum's," Harry answered, taking the bracelet in his hands and wrapping it around Hermione's wrist, "Sirius gave it to me this summer. He said that my father gave it to my mother on the Christmas of their fifth year. And since we are in our fifth year and it is Christmas," Harry looked up into Hermione's gleaming eyes and became lost for words.
"You decided to give it to me," she finished, smiling up at him.
"Well, yeah, I mean, I'm never gonna wear it so why not," Harry muttered, suddenly getting nervous and turning away. Hermione let out a small laugh, which sounded (though Harry doubted it) like she was nervous too.
"Well, umm," she began, taking hold of the guitar again, "I think I've written the music for your song, now we'll just need the words."
"You've done that already?" Harry asked, quite impressed.
"Yes," Hermione answered, tuning the instrument, "only if you like it though. If not, I can change it."
"Well play it and let's see."
Hermione cleared her throat and began to strike a few cords. Within minutes she had played the entire song flawlessly. When she was done, she looked up at Harry who had a stunned expression on his face.
"It's not that terrible is it?"
"No! Not at all," Harry muttered, "that's awesome. I love it."
"I thought you might," Hermione smiled, "now, umm, where to begin?"
"Exactly," Harry laughed. He stood up and walked over to one of the nearby tables. Hermione followed him and sat beside him. There was already some parchment and quills in front of them; everything prepared. Hermione picked up a quill and dabbed it in an inkwell. Her hand hovered over the paper for a moment until she scribbled away. Harry watched her as she wrote the title across the top: 'Harry's Song.'
"So," she paused, looking up at Harry, "what do you want to say?"
"I, I guess I should say that," Harry thought for a few moments, "well, everyone thinks they know who I am, just because I'm famous. I don't even mean to be famous. There's nothing special about me really; I'm just like everyone else. People think they know what it's like to be me. The hell they do! They think I live some glamorous super hero life and I don't. No one knows what it's like to be me, to live as I do, to go to sleep each night with the worries and anxieties that I do. No one knows. And believe me, I wish they did, so maybe then they would understand me and I wouldn't feel so alone all the time."
Hermione gazed at him for a moment, speechless. They watched each other for a few minutes, reading each other's thoughts. Hermione's light pink lips curved into a grin.
"Tell me more," she whispered.
Harry nodded and thought for a moment. No one ever asked how he felt, ever. No one ever wanted to know. Except Hermione. She always cared and she was always there. He grinned at her and went on.
"People expect me to be a hero, to do heroic things. Sure I might from time to time but I'm only doing it because there's an evil out there that I need to face. Not Dumbledore or Sirius or anyone else; Voldemort is my problem. I have too many expectations to live up to, too many people I need to please all the time. I don't want to be pleasing; I want to be me. Plus, they don't even pay attention to what I do unless it's something spectacular. They just look past all the little things. I can't really be who I am, not around anybody. Well, maybe you," Harry added, smiling at Hermione. She smiled back at him and bit her lip, looking down at the parchment. Within a couple seconds she was writing away, bobbing her head to the beat she created in her mind.
"I think we've hit the jackpot," she muttered after half an hour of writing, rewriting, thinking, and conversing with Harry. Plenty of other students had already gotten out of bed and were talking amongst themselves in the common room, but leaving Harry and Hermione alone.
"You're done already?" Harry asked, very shocked.
"I think so," Hermione muttered, rereading her sloppy copy. "What do you think?" She handed Harry the paper and he began to read out loud.
"I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard, or a moment that's held in your arms. And what do you think you'd ever say? I won't listen anyway. You don't know me and I'll never be what you want me to be. Hermione, this is awesome," Harry said, completely amazed at her wording.
"Just keep reading it," Hermione urged, biting her lip.
"And what do you think you'd understand? I'm a boy, no, I'm a man. You can't take me and throw me away. . ." Harry kept reading the song in awe. When he finally finished he was lost for words.
"Do you like it?" Hermione asked eagerly. "Because I can always change it if there's something wrong."
"No, no," Harry answered, "it's perfect."
Hermione let out a small sigh and smiled.
"I think it should be called 'I'm Still Here' because I kind of repeated that a lot," she went on, "but of course if you want to change it then go ahead. This is your song Harry. It's all what you're feeling, I just put it all onto paper."
"It's perfect Hermione, stop worrying," Harry assured her, "now let's go get some breakfast and you can teach me how to rock and roll." He stood up jubilantly and started for the portrait hole. He turned around and saw that Hermione was still sitting at the table, gaping at him. "What?"
"You are such a git."
"You know Hermione," Harry said, pretending to be serious, "that hurts. That hurts right here." He pointed at his heart.
Hermione started to laugh as she stood up and walked towards him.
"Like I said," she continued as they started towards the Great Hall, "you're a git."
"Well, I do try," Harry replied proudly. The two friends laughed and joked around the rest of the morning.