Authors Note: Well finally. I'm done. Finished and betaed. I way excited about this chapter. First more than one-shot fic I've ever finished. I can see me getting some hate mail about the ending but it's the only way I can see this ending without being hopelessly sappy and unrealistic. The lyrics in italics are from "Hate" by Grinspoon (best Aussie pub-band ever) of their `New Detention' album which came out in 2002. Look out for their new album (and first international release) "Trills, Kills and Sunday Pills", in Easter next year. As always big massive thanks to my Jamie, my beta, who is seriously the best person and beta in the world. Finally, enjoy.
Woke up to find you weary,
Left hand was in the red room,
My, my our thoughts were black then.
So does it make a difference you,
Always by my side, always by my side.
And I'll, hate you everyday, hate you everyday.
Cause your, never going to change,
Always be the same.
I couldn't be around them. So cheerful, so upbeat. Their world was completely functional. I tried to smile, giggle, to be a girl with them. It was forced. It set me apart from them all.
I didn't understand their crazy obsession with boys. They didn't understand the mess between me and Harry.
Not that I was very forthcoming about that.
I had to get away from them. Not that they would notice. I was just background to them anyway.
I had taken my chance as soon as it presented itself. Slipping out unnoticed, following my feet to the Astronomy Tower. Needing the height to clear my head.
I had Harry to thank for that.
I wrenched one of the windows open. Climbing out to sit on the sill, my legs dangling outside against the wall.
Reaching into my pyjama pocket I finally pulled out the small square box. Fishing inside I pulled out a cigarette and lighter, setting the pack down next to me once I had lit up.
I sucked desperately on the tan tip allowing the nicotine to flow steadily through my system. I exhaled feeling the tension from my shoulders start to slowly dissipate.
I don't know how long I sat there. Watching the stars turn into a milky haze as their backdrop darkened. My mind turned over the past few weeks, not really paying that much attention.
I was surprised by the footsteps behind me. Filch usually left this part of the castle well alone at this time of night trusting the couples to have moved on by now. The footsteps stopped in the centre of the room. I waited for them to speak, or quite possibly leave.
It appeared they were waiting for me to make the first move.
I wasn't going to give them that satisfaction, staring out into the night with my back to them not giving the slightest hint I knew I was being watched.
We both waited. Neither eager to break the silence.
I was strangely comfortable with it, allowing the weird feeling of knowing companionship to wash over me.
Finally the silence became too much for them. A staged cough, followed shortly by an abrupt sigh.
"Can I bum a cigarette?"
The words rang in my ears. I didn't understand. I knew the meaning of each phrase but together with the sound it became word salad.
I would have known that voice anywhere I just didn't think I was ever going to hear it again. I scrambled around, not caring that my lighter was now on the long journey to the ground.
Green eyes locked with brown. I was frozen. Paralysed with disbelief. My curled up on the windowsill, my torso twisted so I could get a better view.
"Oh my god," I breathed, incredulity tarnishing the words.
I couldn't take my eyes off him. Some deep part of my mind had resigned itself to never seeing him again. It was taking a long time to convince it otherwise.
Hands deep in his pockets, he rocked slightly on his heals, a sheepish grin crossing his features, his hair still stuck in its eternal mess. His shoulders sat with a relaxed air I had never seen him wear before.
His eyes told a completely different story. Flickering with vacillation and self-doubt.
"It's over."
The words flow off his tongue with vague unfamiliarity. He doesn't seem to believe them himself.
I don't say anything, finally moving off the window sill completely. I catch myself against the wall as my knees give way slightly.
My head spinning rapidly.
We continue to stare at each other from across the room, Harry waiting patiently as I fumble for something to say.
"Do you -" I start.
"Not yet," Harry cuts across me.
I nod slowly, understanding. It was too soon. Words were not going to come.
"I just needed to see you," he states calmly. Harry stares out the window behind me, suddenly afraid to make eye contact.
"I thought maybe then I would believe it," his voice barely makes a whisper, the words floating to me afraid they would break.
"Do you?"
He chuckles sarcastically. "Not really… No."
I nod again. There was nothing to say which wasn't completely redundant. The silence starting to ring in my ears, so loud it hurt, begging for just a whisper to cut through.
I stare off to the left of Harry's shoulder, thoughts reeling through my mind. I couldn't look at him. He was alive, and a part of me didn't want to believe that. The dream would hurt too much when I awoke.
I didn't know where to start. `How you doing,' was inconceivably superfluous.
Harry is having the same problem as me. I can feel his eyes searching the room, raking its contents for something to focus on. We couldn't look at each other. Not without -
"Why is this so hard?" Harry questions, intercepting my thoughts.
I chuckle wearily, sliding down to the floor in defeat. As I cross my legs and lean back against the wall I finally look up at Harry again.
"I don't know," I sigh.
Harry watches me silently, a wary glint in his eyes. I think he expects me to rant, to rave, to ramble a mile a minute. I can't. I don't have the energy. The past few weeks had been such a struggle, now I didn't have the strength for anything more than apathy.
Harry stares at me. His eyes boring into mine.
"I'm so -"
"Could we… not now, Harry," I cut across exhausted. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths as I feel tears sting the back of my eyes.
My eyes snap open again as I feel Harry take a seat next to me settling, his back against the wall. I roll my head around to look at him. His arm reaches up above him searching for the pack of cigarettes I'd left on the sill.
Opening the pack he gently perches one between his lips, his hand digging in his pocket for a lighter. He finally produces a silver Zippo, the flame dancing across his face as he brings it up to light. Wordlessly he hands me the lit cigarette before taking his own from the packet to light.
Silence washes over us again, the sheer discomfort we shared previously diminishing to be replaced with a sense of companionable familiarity.
I don't know where to start.
Sighing I stare down at the floor between us, the mere five centimetre gap seeming to forge further distance between us than being on opposite sides of the room. I shift uncomfortably on the spot suddenly feeling the need to speak. Words evade me. Slowly I take one last, long, desperate drag hoping to pull every last drop of nicotine into my body. Praying frantically for it to give me some sense of knowing.
I was so lost.
I stare at Harry's profile, still not quite able to believe what I was looking at. His eyes closed, lashes sweeping gently across his cheeks, glasses sliding down his nose, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if uncertain what to do. Finally he flicks his cigarette butt to the floor before grinding it out with his heel.
Taking a deep breath he turns, opening his eyes to look at me. Green eyes blaze into mine. I don't blink, determined not to be intimidated by the fire behind them. I know then, there are no words. Nothing either of us can say is going to make any of this easier.
His presence invades my senses, bombarding them with the familiar bittersweet sensations shooting tingles throughout my entire body.
I don't know who moved. Maybe we both did. His lips so soft against mine. His tongue tracing my mouth so gently, craving entrance. A moan parted my lips, his tongue succinctly sweeping my mouth, his tang bombarding my tastebuds.
Harry's hand delves into my hair pulling me closer. On reflex I grab at his shoulder feeling his muscle taught beneath the fabric of his shirt. I press myself against his chest revelling its familiar planes.
Needing to have him nearer I swing my leg around, settling down to straddle his lap. Gently I roll my hips against Harry, a moan grinding through his throat. I gasp slightly as a cool hand crawls beneath my shirt tracing light patterns against my stomach before gently caressing my breast. His palm kneading as his fingers deftly squeeze the nipple through the flimsy fabric of my bra.
As quickly as we started Harry tears his lips from mine pulling back to look up at me. Eyes startled wide. I watch him quietly as our breathing slows from its quick pants tyring to ignore his fingers twisting absently around the hem of my shirt.
"We need to talk," he breaths as he pushes me back away from him. I shift back slightly leaving a hand on his chest.
"I don't care," I whisper, leaning down to brush his lips with mine. "I just want to…" I cut off my own sentence, crushing Harry's lips beneath mine. I feel the reluctance along his lips, my tongue slowly savouring their taste as it begs for entrance.
Harry pulls back sharply, breaking the kiss. He sits back, his head against the wall, eyes averted.
"But I can't…"
I bite my bottom lip trying to disguise the sob I was about to let out. It didn't work.
Harry waits a beat before letting his eyes flick to me warily.
"Just because its over doesn't mean we automatically get the fairytale."
I hate that he's right. I hate the tears that spring to my eyes. I hate that I know how hard this will be. This is the one part of my life I've completely screwed up and can't blame anyone else for. This is the one part I want the most.
"Can't we just pretend?"
Harry doesn't answer as he stares at his hand against my mid-drift. I see his Adam's Apple bob as he swallows severely.
"I don't think I can," he whispers.
Shocked, I sit back slightly, moving to stand to give us the space we both so desperately need. His hands lock around my wrists like vices keeping me settled in his lap.
I feel all my frustrations boil around me as he sits in silence, refusing to look at me, his hands not allowing me to move.
"I've never felt so pathetic," I whisper, obvious he wasn't going to start. "A three-line note and a quick bang in the shower."
Harry finally looks up at me, apology written in his eyes, mouth open to voice the words. I shake my head slightly and hold my hand up as his grip loosens on me. I didn't want to hear it.
I needed to say this now or I never would.
"I couldn't come after you. Dumbledore's very good with promises." I chuckle slightly, devoid of any humour. "I moped, I worried, I practically mourned your fucking death…"
I take a breath losing my track of thought.
"Now you're back, none of that really matters I'd happily fall back into our `shag-now-talk-never' holding pattern. Then I would at least know you were here and some part of me, even the most insignificant, was wanted. I would know that you needed something from me. I look at that…" I swallow determined not to let the tears spill.
"I never felt so pathetic."
A dark look crosses Harry's features before he slowly turns his head away from me, staring blankly into the dark of the room. Fixated to the spot I stare in silence, waiting, begging for a reply. I don't know what I want him to say. A syllable would be enough. I needed some kind of validation.
"Harry," I question softly trying to bring him out of his self-imposed daze.
His Adam's apple bobs before his head shakes slightly. So small it may have barely been classed as a shake.
One small inclination. Left and then right. He could have shook like a dog emerging from the ocean. Whatever. It still would have had the same effect.
Wordlessly I stand, turning my back to him. It was over.
Not just Voldemort, but whatever sham we had charading as a relationship. Everything between us was severed.
As far as he was concerned we had turned a new leaf. Blank page, start from scratch, none which comes before. All that crap. As far as he was concerned we had nothing.
Taking all the strength I could from one breath I spoke. Two words and they were possibly the hardest I have ever uttered in my life.
"Goodbye Harry."
Ignoring the tears prickling my eyelids I force my legs to move concentrating solely on the sound of my shoes as they clicked across the stone floor.
I jumped back. Two centimetres from my nose the door had swung closed the bang reverberating though out the room.
I stare at the door, eyes wide barely registering the cool mahogany through my shock.
I stand silent, staring at the hard wood in front of me. I could feel my vision blur with tears of frustration. He was so hot and cold.
Always indecisive.
"I can't let you leave." His words so soft I almost miss them, his voice strangely determined.
I wait patiently as he finds his words. I don't turn around. That would be too easy. I don't get how I can be standing here, worried about getting hurt. Frustrated with his emotional retardedness. I shouldn't be. Not when he just saved the world from an evil dictator less than twenty-four hours ago.
Yet somehow, making this right between us seemed to be the only thing on his mind as well.
"Harry," I state simply, hoping to prod him into saying something. I'm tired of waiting. Tired of waiting for him to speak. Tired of waiting for him to come back. Tired of waiting for him to make up his mind about what he wanted in life, about what he wanted from me.
"I slept with Hannah."
The words almost burst from him. Like he didn't really want to say them but he knew he had to. Maybe he thought hearing the news quickly would make it hurt less.
Shocked I turn; hoping, praying, begging that I hadn't heard correctly. That it was all one giant misunderstanding.
It wasn't.
I swallow back my tears, stubbornly refusing to let him see me cry over this.
"Why are you telling me this?"
My voice sounded so small, so scared. I'm falling apart. I don't know which way is up. Like my arm has just been torn from me.
"It was about a week after we, um," he pauses searching for the word. "Broke up."
He sounds so calm, so in control. His voice is tinged with apology and pity.
I don't want it.
"I was up in the Astronomy Tower. Hannah came because she had forgotten one of her books, and -"
"Jesus Harry! Just stop!"
Yelling. Good, that made me feel more normal. I didn't care about crying now. He knew what he had done. I let my tears flow freely.
"It doesn't matter. I don't need a blow by blow description."
Frustrated I pull on the end of my ponytail, twisting the ends around my fingers as I begin to pace, the constant motion settling me, allowing my brain to function on a level above hysterical. I still felt like I'd been punched in the gut.
Although I knew we were never really together, that it had happened when we were no longer fuck buddies I still felt horribly betrayed.
"Hermione." Desperation tinges his voice.
"Don't talk to me. Don't even try to justify this."
Harry steps back slightly. He doesn't look contrite, he doesn't look ashamed, instead he looks bizarrely accepting. Like he knows how badly he screwed up. He was just waiting for his punishment, waiting for me to rant, scream and quite possibly throw things. Somehow his calm compliance settles me. Allowing me to think enough, to know that I would listen to his answer rationally, not make this a bigger deal than it already was.
"Why?" I question simply, quietly.
"Because I knew." Harry cocks his head to the side, looking at me gently as he chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. "That distance you put between us hurt me more than I had never imagined. And I knew. When we really got together; properly together; that would be it. No turning back. For the rest of my life it would be just you."
He pauses slightly mulling over his next words. "Forever is a scary thing when your seventeen."
I stare blankly at him, my mouth hanging open at a rather unattractive angle. I was completely speechless. Nothing could have ever prepared me for this conversation.
"Hermione?" his voice soft, tentative and questioning.
"I don't know…" I feel my bottom lip start to tremble. I didn't want to cry again. I was not going to cry. "What do you want me to say?"
"Anything," Harry pleads desperately. "Smack me upside the head. Anything. I just can't handle silence from you."
Sighing I can't help wishing to be eleven again. Things were so simple back then.
"We've made complete bollocks of this, haven't we?"
Harry snorts. "To put it mildly."
We allow the silence to wash over us, each comfortable with our own thoughts, relaxed by the brief moment of levity.
For once in my life I'm completely lost. I have no idea what to think, no idea what to say. I felt like I was on a gigantic emotional roller coaster.
"Harry," I state carefully, my voice sounding foreign. "I want this. I want you. It just seems that whenever we get close another brick wall comes slamming between us."
I stare at Harry, waiting for him to speak, answer me, offer some relict of comfort. To tell me no matter what it will work. He doesn't, instead stares over my shoulder, a blank mask covering his face.
"You're never going to tell me are you?" I whisper feeling the lump start to choke the back of my throat again.
Harry finally looks up at me. His eyes burning with intensity. He doesn't have to say anything. That moment, I just know.
Not yet. He would, but not yet.
His lips still couldn't wrap themselves around those three tiny words, eight simple letters. He had everything but voiced them. I'd have to be daft not to know how he felt. Nevertheless, the small, largely, naggingly insecure part of me I was constantly trying to suppress needed that sentence. Needed the words from his lips, like they would make the already obvious fact somehow more real. I told him what seemed a lifetime ago that he didn't have to say anything, now I'm desperate for those words to caress his tongue.
I sigh. It wasn't going to do well to dwell on this. I knew his emotional baggage. Constantly keeping a calculated distance from friends, never getting overly close, in case they suddenly ended up dead.
Too bad for me and Ron… we had already crossed that line before things got really messy.
Harry opens his mouth to speak before I cut him off. I don't want to hear the apology. That would be like twisting the knife further into the wound.
"Its okay, Harry. I know."
Sighing Harry pulls himself onto the window sill, watching me as I stare blankly back at him. We almost dare each other to make the first move, to speak first. A tired look of frustration crosses Harry's face as he runs a weary hand through his hair.
I can't imagine he had much of a chance to sleep, it can't have been that long since the event. He must have just been dying to crawl into bed and sleep for the next week.
Sighing, simply because there was nothing more I wanted to say, I cross the room in quick strides before pulling myself up onto the sill next to him. Barely lifting his head Harry glances at me through the corners of his eyes.
"It's over," I state simply, taking his hand in mine.
From that moment all the screaming, yelling, crying, using, hurt, everything, it was all over. Everything we had done to each other, had done to ourselves was over. I can't say it never happened because we would never be here if it didn't. I just wasn't going to dwell on it anymore.
Harry smiled slightly as he laced his fingers more securely in mine, giving my hand a quick squeeze.
"It's over," he echoes. This time I think he really does believe.
It's so good to be in love again.
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