You Need to Know

Title – You Need to Know

Summary - I wanted nothing more that to be there for him like always. A short scene between Neville and Hermione while Hermione is in the hospital recovering from her injuries in the Department of Mysteries. Harry/Hermione.

Disclaimer – I may be intelligent but I’m not a genius.

I flipped uneasily through my book as I sat propped up on my pillows in the hospital ward. The past week had been extremely boring to say the least.

Being forced to read twenty-four seven, I once thought may have been paradise, but now when I knew there were far more important things I needed to be doing, being unable to leave my bed had its disadvantages.

Reading wasn’t exactly that easy either. If I read for too long, pain from holding up my book would slowly creep up my arms and into my chest causing me to dwell on the things I could have been doing.

Number one on my long list was of course Harry. He had been to visit me but with each visit he seemed more and more defeated. The pain of his loss almost consuming him. I wanted nothing more that to be there for him like I always had, but if I even attempted to leave my bed for the bathroom Madame Pomfrey would swoop down on me immediately. The frustration was endless.

Flipping the page of my book rather viciously I was startled to hear a cough at the end of my bed. Even more startled to look up and find Neville standing there. He was shifting nervously between his feet staring absently out the window as if he didn’t exactly know what he was doing here.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to…” Neville started to apologise before I cut him off.

“Don’t. I’m about to go insane with boredom so stay as long as you like.” I smiled kindly up at him shifting my legs a little and gesturing to the now empty peace of bed meaning for him to sit.

Still looking out of place Neville shook his head and moved to stare straight out the window.

I let the silence drag out a little longer, curious as to what would bring Neville here yet not wanting to startle him into leaving.

“What’s up?” I ask eventually when it’s clear he doesn’t want to make the first move.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Neville answered in a serious tone, which caused me to straighten up. I winced slightly at the stabbing pain in my chest caused by the sudden movement.

Neville caught my look. “This probably isn’t the best time. I’ll wait until you’re better.” He made to leave.

“No.” I told him firmly and he stopped mid-stride. “It’s obviously important.”

Neville nodded, his jaw tightening slightly as he turned back to look out the window. “Is Ron asleep?”

“Neville, what’s going on?” I asked startled by his sudden question.

I was starting to worry. Neville and I had never been that close of friends and his sudden need to talk to me privately was disconcerting at the least.

“Is he asleep?”

I peered over at Ron who gave off a light snore. It was clear I was not going to get a straight answer out of him without confirmation of Ron’s consciousness.

“Yeah, he is.”

“Good,” Neville answered swiftly before turning from the window and pulling up an empty chair.

“Now will you tell me what’s going on?” I asked him starting to become impatient.

Neville’s fingers started to drum nervously on the arm of his chair; he was avoiding eye contact with me I realised as he continued to stare at his knee.

“It’s about Harry.”

My heart suddenly leapt into my throat and I felt a strange stabbing in the pit of my stomach, which had nothing to do with my injuries.

“He’s fine.” Neville immediately stated. Obviously I hadn’t been too good at hiding my thoughts. “Well, in the circumstances he’s fine.”

I nodded, I knew what Neville meant. No one could be expected to be fine after witnessing the death of someone as close as Sirius had been to Harry.

“It’s about something that happened in the Department of Mysteries.”

My back instinctively straightened further. I was sure that between Harry and Ginny I knew exactly what had happened at every stage of the attack. Now Neville was telling me there was something they had both left out.

Neville looked up at me with an odd expression on his face. One that made me realise how much we had all grown up since we first stepped foot behind the castle walls.

“I don’t know how to say this,” an apologetic smile graced his features, “but you need to know. For both your sakes.”

Neville took a deep breath before plunging in. “It’s about when what happened after you were hurt. When you fell unconscious Harry changed.” Neville paused looking for the right words. I stared at him dumb founded. “He went to pieces. He went straight into instinct mode. He couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t even stand. I was the one who had to check for your pulse, he couldn’t even remember first aid. It wasn’t Harry and it scared me.” Neville was looking at me curiously as he spoke as if trying to gauge a reaction. “The look on his face, Hermione, it was spooky. He was devastated. Then when I told him I found a pulse, the relief, it was tangible.”

I looked at Neville, shocked as to why he was telling me all this. “Neville, Harry and I have been through a lot together. We’re very close friends it’s natural he would be worried about me.”

“No, Hermione.” Neville asserted forcefully. “I know all that. I’ve been sharing a dorm with Harry for the past five years remember. This was more than worry about a friend. He couldn’t function.” Neville slammed his fist on the arm of his chair as if to emphasise his point. “He witnessed Cedric’s death and was still able to get out of that grave yard relatively unscathed. Yet the mere possibility of your death scared him witless. Can you honestly tell me one other instance that Harry has ever panicked to the point of complete loss?”

Neville’s question shook me more than I would have liked it to and I stared at him, my eyes wide with shock.

Neville stood slowly and made his way out the door. He paused near the exit speaking with his back turned to me. “Think about it Hermione. Take your time. Just know that one day you may have to step back from a fight for Harry’s sake as well as your own.”

I didn’t even hear the door close or Madame Pomfrey come breezing through the beds making her rounds. Suddenly feeling cold I pulled the blankets closer around me and stared blindly at the foot of my bed my mind running over all that Neville had just told me.

Author's Note: I just keep bloody doing this. This was so meant to be a standalone but then someone suggested that I keep going and said that I had so many possibilities, which got me thinking and thinking lead to a non-ignorable plot bunny. Despite meaning to spend the time writing the next chapter of Fear or Screaming on the Inside (which I swear are coming) but this happened. Which I'm so excited about. Kay enough excited author rambling. Thanks to Jamie my beautiful beta who gives me massive ego boosts. It's not mine, its J K Rowling's, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Enjoy!

I hadn't moved. Time seemed to have no meaning for me now. I stared blankly at the wall, the covers pulled up to my chin, the comfort I usually found from them dissipated.

Neville's words were mocking me as they swirled around my head. As much as I tried I couldn't forget them. I couldn't deride them. I couldn't shove them aside as unimportant.

Ever since he had come to visit me I had started asking myself questions that I'd always laughed off whenever someone else had even suggested them to me.

“Knut?” Ron's voice shook me out of my stupor.

I turned to him dazedly. He was watching me carefully, concern etching his features.

“Huh?” I ask blankly.

“Knut for you thoughts?”

“Oh,” I answer slowly, not sure whether I want to voice what I'm thinking. Especially not to Ron.

“It's Harry isn't it?”

My eyes widen in shock. I didn't think I was that obvious. I never do.

“I wasn't asleep when Neville was here.”

“Oh,” I answer even more slowly. I turn slightly in my bed ignoring the pain shooting through my chest as I did so.

“That saves a lot of explaining and quite possibly some embellishment of the truth.” I try for some light heartedness, missing dismally.

Ron pulls himself up in his bed. He has his serious face on, scaring me. Maybe I didn't want to hear what was coming.

“Can I tell you something?”

I feel my eyes widen again.

“Do I have a choice?” My voice squeaks slightly and my stomach sinks. I have a definite feeling I didn't want to hear this.

“Not really,” he shrugs before grinning at me slightly maniacal. “At a time like this you need brutal honesty.”

I nod slowly at Ron. This couldn't be of the good. Not with how jealous and protective Ron got.

“I had a thing for you.”

I splutter in shock. I hadn't expected him to be that honest. Or that blunt. Ron holds up his hand indicating that he doesn't want to be interrupted.

“I'm not sure when it started, maybe third year, maybe fourth year. Whatever, there was a definite thing involved.”

I cock my head to the side scrutinising him.

“You're not talking in past tense just to make me feel better?”

He was the one who started the honesty stick. The question had to be asked.

“No. That's the point. Or isn't the point. I don't know.” Ron pauses for a second, cocking his head to the side giving me a strange look. “How is it that you always have words to say stuff?”

I chuckle. “You're changing the subject.”

Ron nods, a look of determination crossing his features. “Right. My thing. Well, the thing is -“

“Are you sure this isn't a penis metaphor?”

Annoyance flares up behind Ron's eyes. He was just too easy sometimes.

“No! Bloody hell Hermione! I'm trying to be serious here.”

Something in his tone actually made me feel guilty about baiting him. “Sorry,” I mumble, looking down and picking at my blanket.

“Do you remember the day Harry first kissed Cho? You tried to explain why she was crying to him and then you quite rightly told me I had the emotional range of, what was it, oh yeah, a teaspoon.”

“Of course,” I answer cautiously unsure where he was going with this.

“That's the day I knew. For certain, one hundred percent sure. I knew.”

I look at him. Ron wasn't one to ramble like this. He preferred the pointy end of the stick as opposed to the cryptic.

“Whatever I felt was going on between you and me - it wasn't going to last.”

“Ron,” I immediately tried to soothe.

“No Hermione,” Ron cuts in harshly. “This isn't about me and my pity parade.”

I stare at him completely confused. This is an entire side to Ron that I rarely see. The one he likes to hide behind his snappy one-liners and practical jokes.

“You and Harry, you share this bond. It's been there since about second year, I just never wanted to admit it. Turned a blind eye. That night I couldn't deny it. You always seem to know what the other is thinking. One glance and you speak volumes. Heck, I should know. I'm the one who is left behind trying to fit the pieces together.”

I snorted. I couldn't help it. “Ron,” I chuckle. “I do not know what Harry is thinking ever. He's just as much of a mystery to me as he is to you.”

“Bullshit.”

Ron was certain.

He wasn't done either.

“Do I need to spell out the evidence for you? Just look at the way Harry reacted after the vision of my dad. He was so shut off. Even Sirius couldn't get through to him. You walk through the door and within ten minutes he's talking. He respects you and your opinion more than anything.”

I stare at Ron utterly bewildered. He spoke with such conviction, such compassion. It was almost like he was desperate.

“Why are you telling me this?” I whisper. He'd shaken me. He'd shaken me a lot more than I would have like to admit.

“You have to know,” he stated simply. “You have to know how important you are. Harry needs you. Especially after Sirius… The hell he's going through is far worse than he is letting on.”

My cheeks start to warm as tears track slowly down them. I look up at Ron blinking. I don't know what to do.

“You know Harry, he's going to push us all away. Including you. Especially after seeing Dolohov… He's not going to get through this alone.” Ron looks down at his bed sheets. I almost miss his next words. His voice cracks. “I just want to make sure I still have a best friend.”

Tears are flowing freely now. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. How does one person repair years of loveless existence? There were wounds there I didn't even know could have existed until I had met Harry. I knew without a doubt there were more.

“I didn't ask for this,” I whisper. “I never wanted any of it.”

Ron nods sadly. “I know. But if you could, would you change it?”

“No.” I don't even think about it.

Ron smiles sadly. “Neither would I.”

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Authors Notes: This chapter still hasn't been beta (Jamie the darling girl is busy with HSC (High School Certificate) stuff) and I don't want to bug the darling girl. I've read through this again without being drunk, I will update it again when Jamie has betaed it.

“Hermione, honey?”

My head snapped up from my plate immediately. Mum was using her serious tone. Not her `I'm-so-angry-young-lady' serious tone. I could have dealt with that.

This was far more scary.

This was the `I'm-concerned-because-your-acting-so-strange' serious tone.

There are some things a mother is just not supposed to know.

I struggle to keep my face neutral. Trying desperately not to give anything away. She had been shooting me the same concerned look since I'd gotten off the train. I was surprised it had taken her this long to call me on it.

“Yeah.” I let the word slowly roll of my tongue with a purposeful wariness. She had to know I was onto her.

Maybe then she would stop.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

I blink up at her, hoping to look innocent.

“I'm fine, mum.” She shots me a sceptical look. “Honestly.”

Not waiting for a reply I turn back to my plate, absently pushing a piece of carrot from one side to the other.

Mum sighs.

“Are you sure? If there is any…” she pauses slightly looking for her words. “You can tell me anything… I won't be angry.”

My fork stills and I look up at mum again. Concern fills her eyes, hopelessness written on her face.

“I know,” I tell her gently.

I turn my head back from my plate. I place my knife and fork across the plate before pushing it away. Steak and three veg suddenly didn't seem so appetising.

“You need to eat, Bub.”

She hadn't called me Bub since I'd first gone to school.

“I'm not hungry.”

I hated the insolence which had crept into my voice. I'd never been one to partake in teenage secrecy.

Mum sighs again, running her hands tiredly over her face. After a day of telling screaming kids on holidays to brush their teeth and cut back on sweets this was the last thing she needed.

“This is about Harry isn't it?”

Her words hung in the air between us. I didn't look up, my eyes still focused on my hands. She'd whispered each syllable. So tentatively she was afraid they would break.

I had no idea what to say. It was the last thing I expected her to say.

“I'm not blind honey.”

I look away from her. An inexplicable dose of shame running through my veins. I can't face her right now.

I swallow, the lump in my throat starting to grow.

“Can you just tell me what happened?”

There was something about the way she said that. Each inflection driving her point home. I had to tell her. I had to tell someone.

I don't look at her, preferring to stare at the fridge door.

“Harry's godfather…Sirius. His name was Sirius.” I pause slightly. “His name was Sirius.” I pause again. She had to know he wasn't just Harry's godfather. She had to know he was important to me too. “There was an accident…” I swallow. It was hard to tell her. I had to be so evasive. If she knew the truth I would never go back to Hogwarts again. “Harry was there…” I feel my first real tears for Sirius warm my face. “Sirius didn't make it.”

I feel the shock coming off mum in waves as she sits there staring at me. It's a few seconds before she comes out of her revere, rushing around the back of my chair to hug me, mumbling soothing words in my ear.

“I miss him so much,” I whisper, reaching up to grab mum's arm, still draped around me in a hug. Her chin resting on my shoulder as her other hand strokes my hair soothingly we both stare straight ahead, fixated on the same nothing.

“I don't know what Harry is going to do,” I confide before I realise what that I'm speaking aloud. “He loved Sirius, he was like his father, brother and favourite uncle all rolled into one. He was so lost at school. It was like he was dying on the inside.”

“It'll be okay, `Mione,” I hear my mum soothe. “Maybe not at first but it will be okay. Eventually.”

“No mum, you don't get it. Things are about to get a whole lot worse.”

That's when it came out. Everything I had been keeping from them, knowing that if they knew I would never see Harry or Ron or anyone from Hogwarts ever again. Everything from the Mountain Troll to the Department of Mysteries came pouring out burning fear in my mother's eyes.

Explaining my chest injury, not the simple result of a misfired curing during a classroom experiment but something far more sinister. Sinister enough to land me in the hospital wing for a series of days as opposed to hours.

I watched the shock appear on her face as I told her how Harry had saved our world, barely more than a year old. How he had the knack of doing it repeatedly. How everyone, including himself, expected him to continue doing so.

I watched the shock mingle to horror as I told her that through all this Harry manage to still be the best friend would ever hope to meet. Always there for me, no matter what I needed he would try. How life at Hogwarts without him, without Ron, would be exceedingly dull. How no matter what danger Harry might find himself in I would be there, simply because I know he would do the same for me.

Finally I run out of words, sitting back to stare up at mum, I wait for her to speak, to say something. I wait for the information to sink in. For her to forbid me from going back to school. To pick up the phone and enrol me in Kent College as she always planned.

She doesn't. Instead she just stares at me, obviously not knowing what to say. At a loss of what else to do she reaches out, pulling me into a crushing hug. I let her hold me, offering what little comfort I could.

She finally pulls back and I'm shocked to find tears glistening in her eyes.

“I don't know what to say,” she tells me slowly. “You can't tell dad about this.”

The sentence doesn't shock me, the fact that mum actually voiced it did. I always knew that dad would be the more active of the pair when it came to keeping me from Hogwarts. I had never expected mum to keep something this huge form him. Those two never had secrets.

I finally nod slowly, watching mum's expression carefull.

“So, what do you think?” I ask her after a long pause.

“I think this Harry-fellow is blind not to see what a beautiful girl is sitting right in front of him.”

I can't help but roll my eyes, as mum smooths back my hair a wistful expression crossing her features.

“Mum,” I tell her. “I'm not in love with him. It's just Harry.”

Mum smirks slightly. “Oh, `Mione, if you just heard yourself talk about him. You became alive.”

I let that sentiment roll in my mind considering it for just couple of seconds.

“I need him, mum,” desperation cracking my voice. “I don't know. I just need him.”

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Authors Note: Well, wow, thanks for all your great reviews. I'm completely and utterly stunned. This chapter is still unbeated (my beta is still busy with school). This chapter went in a completely different directed from where it started and I'm not sure if it's a good thing. I hope you enjoy.

I looked up at Harry, his expression reflecting exactly what I was thinking. Confusion, worry, shock, deathly tired but burning bright and clear through all that grief had smeared itself, eating slowly away at his basic functions. Lacking words of any kind, even the ones as meagre as `hello', I did the only thing I thought possible, the only thing I found logical.

Reaching out I pulled Harry into a hug, crushing my body against his, offering any shred of comfort I could spare. I feel Harry's arms automatically snake around me, pulling me closer into the hug, closer than I thought possible. I feel him cling to me with a desperation I had never seen him possess, like he was craving human contact.

Maybe he was. I had never seen him straight out of the Dursley's before. Someone had always seen him first. Offered that binding hand of friendship.

Slowly I pull away form the hug staring up at Harry, biting nervously on my bottom lip. I look down at our fingers still laced together. I hadn't even noticed. We both seemed unable and unwilling to break the contact. We stand in silence, not looking at each other, allowing the unspoken companionship to wash over us.

It was Harry who spoke first.

“Why are you here?”

I gaze around the park, the swings creaking slightly in the breeze, every possible lie entering my head. Without consenting me my mouth discarded them all and settled for the truth.

“I couldn't stand it, Harry,” my voice cracking, sounding so small. “One more letter from you lying about being fine and… I don't know. I just couldn't stand it.”

He doesn't even look at me. Instead staring blankly over my shoulder and into the distance. Unblinking, his eyes masked cold.

“How do you know I'm not fine?” I've never heard him so frigid, so clipped. It was like he was purposely ignoring who exactly he was talking to.

“Because I'm not.” The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them. I feel like just from speaking them a giant weight had been lifted from me. “Because I'm probably feeling not even half of what you are and I'm not okay.”

I pause, waiting for a reaction. Some sign that he had even heard me. There's nothing.

“Because I miss him too.”

Harry's eyes widen as he lowers them to stare at me. Blank shock covering his face. It was almost as if it hadn't occurred to him that anyone else might care about Sirius. That he wasn't the only one who felt like the world was completely unbalanced without him.

“I didn't think…” Harry starts quietly, bewilderment permeating from him.

“I know,” I sigh. “Although I can't say I really blame you.”

We fall into an awkward silence, both putting off the conversation we knew had to follow. It was too weird, too painful yet somehow we both desperately needed to talk about it.

Taking the opportunity I gaze around the park, letting the simple surroundings invade my mind.

Two small children, playing on the see-saw carefully watched by their mother; off to the side with what seemed to be a younger sibling. Bikes left abandoned as some boys raced to climb the highest tree.

A group of teens, wandered into the park, pushing and cajoling each other as they settled under the shade of a tree, passing what appeared to be an innocent bottle of coke. I state at them a moment. Strange, they were approximately our age but they seemed so much younger, so much more carefree.

“Seems so far away doesn't it?”

I look up to find Harry following my gaze. I nod slightly, unable to vocalise my own feelings. It was like we had suddenly skipped all those years of being stupid. In our world being stupid could make you dead.

“Let's just walk,” I tell him flatly. I don't want to talk about it. I don't even want to think about it. I don't want to know what I've lost.

Starting out at a slow pointless stroll I feel Harry's eyes constantly flicking toward me as he walked, hands deep in his pockets.

“What?”

“Sorry,” he answers immediately sheepish. “It's just… you're here, in Little Winging. Its like two worlds colliding and… I'm not sure if that's a good thing.”

I stare at Harry for a minute before answering him carefully, unsure whether to be offended or not. “Mum was in the area.” I shrug, not mentioning exactly how far mum had to drive to be in the area. “I was driving her insane and… well, after last year… I just had to see you.”

“Hermione,” Harry starts and I can see him about to launch into a lecture about how I shouldn't worry about him, that he was fine.

“I'm a worrier,” I cut him off. “I worry. It's in my nature. And I think I know you well enough by now to tell when you're lying, which I know you are, and the lying makes the worrying worse and then, well, things just get kablooey.”

“Sorry,” Harry answers. Sheepish seems to be the order of the day for him.

“So, how you been?” I ask lightly struggling to keep some levity in my voice as I round the swing set and take a seat before looking up at Harry expectantly. Hands in pockets, as he rocks on his heals. Gently he bites his lip as he closes his eyes, a deep breath rattling through him.

Neither of us speak for a second, a slight tension cracking the air as we both hesitate, not wanting to start what could potentially be the most difficult conversation either of us has ever had.

Slowly Harry's eyes open, for the first time in years they burn completely unmasked. Green blazing with hurt, loss, fear and a tired look of knowing too much far too early. But beneath the many layers of confused emotion I was struck by one I had never thought I would see Harry wear.

He had accepted it. He had accepted that he would most likely die much earlier than anyone was every supposed too. He had accepted that he would never have the chance to have a house and 2.5 kids.

“What do you want me to say?” he finally asks slowly, almost mechanically as he tried to suppress his turmoil.

“The truth. The unabridged, we've got all the time in the world, no one can use this against you version.”

“If I told you I couldn't do that what would you say?”

“I would accept it, even if I knew you were lying. Not only to me but yourself.”

Harry stops, ruffling a hand thought his short locks. I can see him closing up right before me. I've gone one step too far. I'd be lucky to get more than a monosyllabic answer from him.

“I miss him too,” I tell him gently, hoping to spark any conversation from him.

Harry stares down at me, wide-eyed incredulity crossing his features.

“This isn't about just missing him,” he snaps frustrated.

“I know, but it's a start.”

“No,” Harry snaps forcefully. “You don't know. For once in her life Hermione Granger has no fucking idea and you can't handle that.”

I feel my jaw drop in shock, staring at him, not believing the words had really come from his mouth. They seemed so out of character, so… hurtful. His jaw tightens as he glares at me unmoving. Like he was tying desperately not to say or don anything that may contradict his last sentence.

I feel tears prick my eyes as his slide past, seemingly unable to look at my face.

“You're going to right way to having no friends.”

“Maybe I'm better off on my own.”

I stare at him as the words come crashing down around me.

“You don't believe that,” I whisper. “No way. Not for one second. You don't believe it.”

I can hear the desperation in my own voice. I hate it. I was supposed to be the calm on, the rational one, always the voice of reason. It seemed that part of me had gone on vacation.

I knew he could do it. Alienate himself from the group, force a wedge between us. At times I already felt I was talking to someone I barely knew instead of Harry with whom I'd been practically inseparable for the past five years.

The main problem I was finding with Harry's self-imposed exile was the simple fact that I don't know if I could do it. I don't know if I could sail through Hogwarts without him to fall back on. Without him to throw my life into such drastic perspective.

“Who are you trying to convince? Yourself of me?” I hear Harry ask suddenly.

“I don't know,” I hear myself whisper before I even chanced at lying. I stare at the ground beneath my feet, trailing one foot, idly making patters in the dirt.

He was always doing this. Play the hero, push away anyone who tried to help, deluded with the fact that helping him had a high casualty rate. Granted, he did have a point, but he didn't realise he wouldn't have been here today if it weren't for me and Ron.

He didn't get that every time we went off on one of our adventures I had the same sickening worry settling at the bottom of my stomach that he did. He didn't get that part of me would die if anything ever happened to him.

So what if he didn't exactly choose to have a murderous villain chasing after him. Well, I didn't choose to be his friend. You can't do that. Even before the troll incident we were always gravitating towards each other.

“You really are a selfish bastard.”

“What?!” Harry asks in shock. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I hadn't even realised I was speaking aloud.

I look up, the incredulous confusion in Harry sparking my anger.

“Fucking hell Harry.” The surprised look remains fixated on Harry's features. I don't think he's heard me swear so much in five years let alone five minutes. “You think you have to push me away to stop me from getting hurt. Bullshit.” I pause for a second, my eyes boring into his. “You're probably hurting me more.”

I don't think Harry realised I was no longer talking in the plural. To me, I never had been.

His eyes flash intense green, I can see his anger bubbling beneath the surface. Not the same anger he had harboured throughout fifth year. There was something different about this. It was quieter, more focused.

“Well, its better than being dead.”

“No, its not,” I feel tears sting my eyes as I stand shouting at him. “I'd rather be dead than spend five minutes pretending I'd never met you. Not after what we've been through.”

My mouth snaps closed surprised by my own proclamation. I hadn't expected to say that. I had come here with the vague hope that maybe I could see what was going on in Harry's head. Instead I end up two steps shy of screaming at him that I loved him. That I loved to an extent I wasn't all that sure about.

It was something I had never really contemplated but looking back on it, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

“Don't. Just don't okay. You don't understand.”

“You keep saying that but you never explain it.”

“I can't.” Harry sighs running a hand through his hair, a desperate pleading edging through his voice.

“Can't or you don't want me to know?” I wince at the snappishness settling in my voice. I hated being so standoffish with him. Apart from the fact it had never got anything from him, it was the same tone I usually reserved for Ron.

“I can't,” Harry states almost calmly, not taking the bait, quietly continuing the conversation, ignoring the fact that I seemed ready to bite his head off. “If I did you would look at me like they do. Like I'm totally infallible. Like I'm some kind of hero.”

I gape at him. Of all the responses in the world that was the last one I had ever expected. I thought I already looked at him like that. Not because he had stopped the most powerful dark wizard in the world before he could even hold a wand or the fact that somehow every year since I'd known him he'd managed to save the lives of countless people including me. But because he talked to me when no one else had. Because he remembered me during the troll. Because he was the first one who noticed what I was doing to myself in third year and tried to talk me out of it even though we were supposedly fighting. Because in fourth year when Rita was printing that shit in the Daily Prophet he didn't ignore more, or got to great lengths not to be seen with me. Because in fifth year when Hagrid too us to see Grawp as soon as I had started to feel even a little jittery he had taken that small comforting step closer to me and stayed there.

Maybe that was why he was so scared to tell me. I adored him for the things he had done for me, others adored him for stories laden with hyperbole. I knew then that it had to be huge. I don't know what to tell him. I can't promise I won't look at him differently. I might be impossible not to.

“You don't have to. I get it. We all need secrets. Just don't push me away. Not completely.”

I sigh, sitting back down, pushing slightly on the ground letting the swing, swing back and forth lightly, staring blindly at the lawn, the creaking of the chains as it moved the only sound.

Author's Note 2: For those wondering, the last chapter of Fear is still with my beta, she said she may be couple of weeks yet but I refuse to post it beforehand. And I'm really sorry to say that I still have writer's block as far as Screaming on the Inside is concerned. It so sucks.

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Author's Note: This chapter is unforgivably short and I'll admit… not exactly my best work. Its not betaed yet because… well its late and I just wanted this posted. And after that stunning introduction… Enjoy.

“Hermione?”

“Hmm?” I answer Ginny, staring blankly through the dark as we lay in the twin beds. Both wide awake sleep not coming easily for either of us.

“What's up with you and Harry?” Something in her tone made me forego my standard denial. Gone was any trace of teasing, lost that irritating glint of knowing. She was genuinely curious.

“I don't know,” I sigh. “Why do you ask?”

I wait for the exclamation, to be told it was so obvious. Clearly to me it wasn't. It doesn't come.

“You just seem… I don't know… different,” she answers thoughtfully. “Closer somehow.” She pauses for a second. “You were always close but now… you seem kind of untouchable.”

“I saw Harry a couple of weeks ago.” I find myself suddenly blurting, like it was some dirty secret which had been weighing on me for days.

Next to me I hear Ginny's bed creak as she sits up to peer at me through the dark.

For a few minutes neither of us say anything. Ginny starting at me, trying to figure me out.

“Why?” she whispers slowly and finally. Of all the questions Ginny could have asked that was the last one I expected. She knew I was worried about him, but that was no different from any other year. After what had happened the Order had been keeping a very close eye on him, so I knew he was safe.

She knew it was more than just worry. Maybe she just wanted me to admit it out loud.

“Neville came to visit me in the hospital wing.”

Ginny raises her hand and brushes her hair away from her face. “Don't change the subject,” she huffs.

“I'm not. It just seems like the best place to start.” I pause, slowly trying to put my thoughts in order. “He said something and it got me thinking. He said… that in the Department of Mysteries she I got,” I gulp, “hit. Harry… apparently he lost it. Basic thought patterns, everything was instinct. Neville said… he said that Harry couldn't even remember the most basic first aid. And then when Neville found a pulse, Harry was okay again. And then Neville… he said something which,” I pause feeling tears well in my eyes. “He said that I may have to sit back and watch everything happen because Harry won't be able to fight him if anything happens to me.”

“Hermione,” Ginny starts but I cut her off.

“No Gin. I've got to tell you and if I stop I don't think I'll be able to start again.” I pause slightly, taking a deep breath before launching straight into my story… not thinking about it, just letting the words come to me. “What Neville said got me thinking. What if I can't? What if I can't let him go off and face this on his own?” I pause again, a shaking breath rattling through my chest. “And then I imagine trying to live with myself if Harry died trying to protect me. Or if Harry didn't because I didn't follow. Or if -“

“Don't.” Ginny cuts across me, ignoring any protests I put forth. “Don't do this to yourself. It's all what if.”

“I can't help it. I've got all these thoughts in my head and I just don't want them to be there.” I could feel the desperation in my voice and I hated it.

I look up at Ginny, my eyes finally adjusted properly to the dark. The moonlight glistens off her pale face, her eyes wide with concern as she sits on her bed studying me calmly as she waits for me to continue.

“Then Ron, he heard the conversation with Neville… and, Merlin he was just trying to help… he told me how much Harry needed me. I didn't want to believe him but suddenly it was staring me blank in the face.” I pause again to stare at Ginny, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I've never been so scared in my life. I'm not even sixteen and what do I know about anything. And if it is true… if he does need me that badly… I… I don't think I'm ready for that.”

Ginny tilts her head down, staring at the mattress in front of her, biting on her bottom lip as she raises both hands to tuck her hair behind her ears.

“None of that matters,” she suddenly announces. “All of the questions you've asked yourself. They don't matter. Not yet. You still haven't asked yourself the most important question… until then… it doesn't matter.” She pauses, raising her head slowly, moonlight catching her baby-blues shining with intensity; her words whispered, I don't have to strain to here them. I almost expected them.

“Do you love Harry?”

The words still somehow managed to shock me. Maybe because they made everything so simple. Like one answer could solve all my problems. That if I did love him it would be enough.

“I…” I start, chocking on my words. “I… I don't know.”

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A/N - Well this took longer than I expected. This chapter was surprisingly hard to write. I knew what I wanted to do but the characters just didn't want to do it. Well anyway… that's all from me. Chapter is still not betaed - but I hope you enjoy.

It had been three days since my conversation with Ginny. Three horribly long and awkward days. It was a relief to finally be allowed out of Grimmauld Place. I think we had all been living on the vague hope that once we were at school things would be better. It was naive but it was all we had.

So now I stood nervously biting my nails, trying desperately to listen to what my dad was saying y eyes consciously tracking Harry's movement across the platforms. My mum had insisted that they meet us at Kings Cross before we left. I think knowing exactly what had happened since I was at school had gotten her more worried that she had let on.

“It's going to be okay,” I hear her whisper in my ear as she bends down to give me yet another hug. Over her shoulder I see dad shoot her a very confused look. He'd known mum a long time and he wasn't stupid, he knew she was acting funny. She was never this clingy.

I shake my head, refusing to be comforted by her. “No, its not. Things are about to get a whole lot worse. Its no use pretending they aren't.”

“Hermione?”

I release mum and turn around to find Harry a few feet away, glancing nervously at the station clock. Slowly his eyes fall down as he goes to say something. For a second I completely forget where I am, who's around me. There was just the two of us and there was so much we needed to say.

It was Harry who remembered himself first. Or maybe he just hadn't felt it. May it was all my imagination.

“We've gotta go. The train leaves in five minutes and Mrs Weasley's freaking out.” There was something behind his words, something I couldn't put a finger on.

Actually that was a lie. I knew what it was, I just didn't want to admit it to myself. Ever since the Department of Mysteries Harry's voice had taken on an edge. The edge of someone so desperate, someone drowning in grief. It was like every breath sent a shock of pain through him.

Silently I turn back to my parents.

“Mum, dad, I've got to…”

“Go.” Mum finishes heavily. “We know, honey. Just be good, work hard and be careful.” I look down with her last words, desperate not be meet her hard and pointed gaze.

“Don't study too hard,” dad adds, earning a small snort of amusement from Harry.

Dad looks at Harry, a smile playing on his lips. “Make sure she actually has some fun. All that time with her nose in a book and she's going to miss out on being a teenager.”

I feel Harry's eyes bore into my back and I turn my head to catch his gaze.

“I'll try,” he barely whispers. I know he's not talking about stopping me reading. I know he blames himself. It never occurred to him that Voldemort was the sole reason for such an abhorrent loss of innocence.

“Harry! Hermione!” We both look up to find Tonks impatiently tapping her wrist, a smile plastered on her face.

“Sorry,” Harry winces to no one in particular. “'Mione, we're really gotta go.”

I can feel my parents exchange an amused glance behind me. Ever since I was little I'd never let anyone call me that, if they tried, well, lets just say it wasn't pretty.

Quickly I hug my parents, not wanting the goodbye to last any longer than necessary.

“Bye Mrs Granger, Mr Granger,” Harry tosses as I let both of them go and move to follow the others onto the platform.

Together Harry and I slide through the platform barrier, racing to where the Weasley's had gathered.

“There you are!” That was Mrs Weasley. I grin as Harry's pulled into a crushing hug. “Now you all be careful, no running around after dark or stumbling into the forrest.” I quickly turn my gaze to the ground, afraid to look at any of the Order members who had accompanied as in the eye fearing I would burst out laughing. It was near impossible for any of us to spend a whole year at Hogwarts and not end up in the castle. No whatever anyone told Mrs Weasley she still tried to lay down the law.

“Now, on the train - all of you”. Finished with her lecture she begins herding us all towards the Express. Spotting me just before I step on the train Mrs Weasley grabs my arm, leaning down to whisper in my ear.

“Look after him. Just look after him.” With that she gives me a quick hug before shoving my onto the train, tears evidently about to spill over.

Ron, Ginny and I quickly help Harry haul the luggage into a separate compartment before rushing off toward the prefect carriage almost flattening Neville and Luna in our haste to make the meeting on time.

Sliding into a seat between Ginny and Ron just as the meeting started I finally allow myself to drop the guard I was unaware I had even erected over the past few days. The guard which was constantly aware of Harry's present and constantly careful not to allude to any subjects that I had deemed untouchable. It had been more than exhausting.

I barely noted what was going on around me, relying on Ginny to fill me in later. From the little I had seemingly absorbed via osmosis it was pretty much the same as last year. All too soon I find myself being jerked out of my catatonia as those around me begin to stand and move toward the exit.

“Hermione,” I look up in a dazed state at the sound of my name behind me. “Hey Hermione!”

Ron, Ginny and I stop suddenly on our way to the exit, turning to search the crowd for the source of the voice. I can't say shocked is an adequate description as to what I felt when I spotted Cho waving grimly at me.

Pushing past Ernie, I find Cho standing in font of me, “Can I have a word?” she asks, almost shyly, thrown an uncomfortable look at Ginny and Ron.

“Yeah, sure,” I answer curiously, desperately trying to keep my voice light. “I'll meet you two back at the carriage.” Ron shoots me a concerned look, but makes to leave on a quick shake of my head. Ginny, however, is not so easily convinced.

“But…”

“Its okay Gin. I know you wanted to go see Dean.” I ignore the dirty look Ginny shoots me as they leave. I couldn't blame her, a comment like that was bound to have her brother questioning her furiously for the next half an hour at the very least.

Regarding each other with unashamed curiosity Cho and I wait silently for the room to empty. Soon we find ourselves the only two people in the room yet Cho still seems unable to broach whatever she wanted to say to me. I would be lying if I didn't already have a pretty good idea of what that would be.

“What's up?” I prompt, with what has to be the lamest phrase in human vocabulary.

“Your friends,” she starts with distinct discomfort, “they really care about you.”

I smile slightly, recognising her stall. “Yeah. A bit over protective at times but that's them.”

“Especially Harry.”

My stomach turns to ice. I knew this was coming. I don't know why its such a shock, but Harry's name falling from Cho's lips and I felt a jolt through my entire body.

One solid fact that I never like to enter my thoughts suddenly was driven home with such brutal clarity. No matter what anyone said or did, nothing could take away the fact that Cho was Harry's first kiss.

It wasn't jealousy. I was pretty sure of that. There were no violent rages inside.

It was more a feeling of disappointment for Harry. Harry's life was complicated and messy as it was. His first kiss should have been full of sweetness and light. One bright spot of innocence. Something he could look back and cherish. Instead it was bombarded with awkwardness, grief, angst and an unhealthy dose of fighting.

Unconsciously I cross my arms over my chest as I star up at Cho, waiting quietly for her to continue. Her voice takes on a slightly rushed squeak as she senses my demeanour.

“I heard about what happened at the Department of Mysteries,” she pauses, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Well, actually, not really. I read the Prophet and when we tried to ask Luna about it, well… she got right pissed off about it.”

Slowly I feel my eyebrows rise. Luna may be many things and as completely unaffected as she is I seriously doubt she would ever go as far as becoming pissed off. Certainly not at a group of gossiping teenage girls. Tetchy or slightly annoyed I could imagine but pissed off seemed such a foreign emotion to associate with Luna.

“We were pretty surprised too,” Cho comments off my look. “I've never seen her so up - well, I've never seen Luna upset. She practically screamed at us.” Cho pauses, adopting the air of what I assume to be a pissed off Luna. “'Someone died, its not something to gossip about'.”

That was when the cogs clicked. This wasn't about Harry at all. This was about squeezing what little information she could before running back to her friends with it, creating the most outrageous story they possibly could. Every single part of me, from outer epidermis to marrow, seethed.

“Well, she was right wasn't she?”

Cho's eyes snap wide as she brings her head up to look curiously at me.

“Yeah, she was,” she answers quietly, her mouth quirking around the edges like she was trying to suppress an ironic smile.

Confusion floods me. If Cho wanted to talk about Harry, why bring up the Department of Mysteries? Not only that, why then state outright that she didn't want to know what happened there?

“The guy who died,” Cho states carefully, testing for a reaction. “Harry knew him?” Uncertainty fills Cho's face as she watches me with trepidation and I try to keep my face neutral.

It was such an obvious conclusion to come to. She knew someone had died and anyone with eyes knew that Harry was just not himself at the end of last year.

Cho nods as she shifts uncomfortably under my gaze. “Is he okay?” she suddenly blurts, the words coming out as one.

I stare blankly at her unsure if I had heard correctly. All of this time and she just wanted to know if Harry was okay.

“I know its weird, especially after how Harry and I left things, and you're probably the last person who would tell me anything, especially after what I said, but I figured you know Harry best and are far less aggressive than Ron. And even though I know Harry and I had no chance from the start, I, well, I still care about him.” She pauses from her ramble for just a second. Watching my face as I try to take in what she has just said. “You'd know how hard it is not to.”

Cho suddenly stops, a stunned look on her face as if she hadn't really intended to say half as much as she had.

“Sorry, she stumbles. “I didn't mean, I, um…”

“It's okay,” I find myself soothing. Something in Cho's voice was so genuine there was no way I couldn't trust her. More so than I ever had anyone except Harry and Ron.

“Harry,” I start, choosing my words carefully. “He's okay. Not tip-toe thorough the tulips, hills are alive okay, but he's dealing.”

Cho gazes at me for a second as if trying to weigh up her next words, choosing them with the utmost care.

“It's going to take awhile isn't it?”

I sigh nodding. “Harry and -“ I cut myself off before I can say his name “-this person, they were very close. He was Harry's father figure of sorts. Actually more like a father, brother and favourite uncle mixed into one. I think its going to take more than awhile.

To my surprise Cho shakes her head. “That's not what I meant, but you just proved my point to perfection.”

I take a step back in slight shock at the hard edge her voice has taken on.

“You're never going to trust me are you?”

My jaw drops in shock. “Cho, this is my second conversation with y-“

Cho holds up her hand cutting me off. “No that's not what I meant. I'm not sure what I meant but it wasn't that.” Cho sighs, impatiently brushing her hair behind her ears. To my surprise Cho begins to pace, biting her bottom lip as if she is arguing something with herself. Suddenly she stops and turns to face me.

“I'm jealous,” she states simply, looking as if a large weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

I stare at her in total disbelief, my jaw hanging open at an utterly unattractive angle.

“And obviously Harry didn't tell you about our last fight otherwise I wouldn't be getting that look.”

“He mentioned it but at that stage we had a few more things to worry about and then he seemed to think it unimportant.” I wince at the look Cho's face takes on. “Sorry, I shouldn't have said that.”

She shakes her head. “The fight was about you.” I don't really know what to say to that, I suppose I should have known. Cho hadn't really thought that much of me after her and Harry's disaster date. “It started off about Marita but the important part, well that was about you.” Cho suddenly stops, gazing at the expression on my face. “My God, you really have no idea do you?”

“I, ah.” I've got no idea how to answer that, but somehow it seemed important that I say something.

“You're the most important person to Harry. Everyone sees it. Its not something anyone can deny. You to have your secrets, we all know that, but when Harry and I were together I suddenly became aware how many you had and how closely Harry guarded those secrets. When we started fighting about Marietta, I knew I was being stupid trying to defend her but she's my best friend, she deserved my loyalty. So I turned it around on you. I don't know what I wanted more, for him to admit or deny it. He defended you and it was clear that if it ever came down to it, he would have chosen you over me. He just confirmed what everyone already knew.”

Cho pauses, as if waiting for me to say something. To reply. I don't know what to say. What she wants me to say.

“Cho, those secrets Harry and I have, they're not all that simple. We've been friends since we were eleven and you know how dangerous Harry's life is. Most of those secrets if they get out could end up having someone killed. It doesn't mean he didn't trust you.”

Cho looks at me with wide eyes. “That's the thing Hermione, I don't know how dangerous Harry's life is.”

“Maybe its time you learnt.”

“No.” Cho states quite simply. “That wasn't me begging for information. To be let in the loop. You don't have to.”

“I know. I trust you. You don't want the information but I think you need to understand.”

I had meant to only tell her the abridged version of events. To leave out anything that might incriminate the Order or anyone in it. But as I watched Cho's eyes widen as I began tales of our first and second years I found myself trusting her more and more and slowly every single detail slipped from my mouth, explaining why Harry was so hard to get to know. Why he always seemed so closed off. Why we had such huge secrets.

“Wow,” Cho stumbles as I finish. “I knew you guys were close, that you had been through a lot but… wow.”

“I know,” I tell her as I laugh humourlessly. “Sometimes it just seems like one giant nightmare.” I pause staring at Cho. “Sometimes I wish it was,” I whisper.

We both sit in silence, lost in our own thoughts trying to make sense of everything I just said.

“Hermione?” Cho questions slowly, her voice quiet yet strong. “Just promise me one thing. You and Harry - don't run from it because you're scared. It's not going to end the world. If anything, it's probably going to save it.”

And then, as if she hadn't just made such an important proclamation, Cho turns on her heal, the door swinging closed behind her leaving me to my own thoughts.

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AN - Well, it's here. Finally. The last chapter. I'm so sorry I haven't updated this in awhile but I've been sidetracked with uni and an obsession with Las Vegas (Josh Duhamel is so hot). I'm seriously hoping that you like it. I'm a little nervous about posting this. It's unbetaed because I just want to get it out as soon as possible. I personally love the ending. It gives me a huge smile so I hope it does the same to you. Read, review and relish.

A week had passed since my inevitable conversation with Cho and I found myself avoiding Harry. Within the confines of Hogwarts that was a task a lot easier said than done. I wasn't exactly sure why I was avoiding him, I just knew that if I had to talk to him alone I couldn't do it. I would have no idea what to say, how to react to him. Cho had made him a stranger in my mind.

Everyone was telling me how I should feel about Harry, how they thought Harry felt but everyone was ignoring the two most important people in this equation - me and Harry.

That's how I ended up here, in my secluded corner of the library gazing blankly at my almost finished Potions assignment which wasn't due for at least another month.

“You've been avoiding me.”

I jump as Harry's voice cuts through my revere. I turn to find him standing behind me, sleeves rolled up and tie loose around his neck, giving the illusion of someone completely relaxed.

“No I haven't,” I lie a little too quickly. “I've been busy.”

Harry leans on the back of my chair as he bends over to look at my work.

“Hermione, that assignment's not due for another month. Even you aren't that prepared.”

Busted.

“I, um, I…”

Harry simply shakes his head, grinning as I fumble for an excuse.

I cross my arms determinedly across my chest twisting around to stare up in defiance. “So what if I have?”

His grin widens slightly as he moves around to sit on my desk, shifting a few books I had been using to the floor. When he's settled he stares down at me, green eyes flashing with amusement.

“What's up?” he asks slowly, as if he's testing my boundaries.

“Harry, you know that's the lamest phrase in the human vernacular right?”

“I know, but it's economical and don't change the subject.”

“I don't want to talk about it,” I tell him flatly suddenly very interested in spinning my quill on the desktop.

“Okay,” he answers, but I can tell he's not going to give it up. “Can we at least talk about something else? I haven't seen you all week.”

I glare up at him, making it clear that I knew he was only stalling for time until he got what he wanted from me.

“Hagrid said Grawp's doing well. Keeps asking after `Hermy'. Quite sweet really. Meets you twice and you're on his mind for months afterwards.”

I backhand Harry in the leg as I glare up at him, trying to keep the smile off my face.

“What do you want, Harry?” I ask tiredly, not really in the mood for games and maybe it was time that I talked to him.

“What did Cho say to you?”

My mouth drops open as I stare at him. I hadn't expected him to cut to the chase like that.

“How did you kn-“

“I'm not stupid, `Mione. Ron and Ginny came back from the prefect's meeting saying Cho wanted to speak to you and when you got back you're all distant and avoid me like the plague. So, what did Cho say to you?” The last sentence comes out low and flat, more of a demand than a request really. His tone clearly suggesting that if she hurt me in anyway someone was going to pay.

“She didn't say anything,” I tell him, staring at my hands, knowing he won't buy that.

“You could at least look at me when you lie.”

I look up to find Harry smirking down at me, thoroughly enjoying my discomfort.

“Why didn't you tell me about your last fight with Cho?”

I didn't ask because I was curious, to be honest I didn't really want to know. I asked because I knew it was the only change in topic that he would pay attention to.

Harry's smirk dropped from his face and he immediately set aside the quill he had been playing with. His gaze lost the spark it held two seconds ago when he had been teasing me and became flatter, colder and far more intense.

“Why?” he asks cautiously, watching me carefully taking in each gesture like it spoke three thousand words.

“Cho mentioned it,” I answer forcing nonchalance into my voice. “Almost died in shock when she realised that I knew nothing about it.”

“So, you're pissed off because I didn't tell you every single detail of my life?”

I can hear the anger creeping into Harry's voice. The hard-done-by-misunderstood-teenage rant was about to follow. Not that I blame him. I'd just done a pretty rotten job of making myself clear.

“No,” I answer with a sigh. I would have to tell him now. Any other excuse for that comment he would know I was lying. “For the past few weeks everybody has been talking at me but no one seems to be listening to what I have to say or what I want.”

“So, you're not pissed off at me then?”

I smile, shaking my head slightly. “I'm pissed off at the world. You're in the world so technically, yes.”

“Cute,” Harry tells me grinning. “But this thing with Cho…” he trails off leaving me fill in the blanks.

“One of the instances of being talked at, but overall, actually quite a pleasant conversation which I'll never tell you about.”

Harry nods, focusing on a spot just over my left shoulder. He's silent for a moment and I'm about to return to my Potions work when he speaks.

“I will listen,” he says flatly, distance creeping into his voice, like he was trying to ignore what those words were saying, what those words meant to me.

“Thanks,” I whisper, resisting the urge to hug him.

We sit for a moment in an awkward silence, Harry picking up my ink bottle, twirling it around in his hands as he avoided my gaze. His leg started to jiggle in the desk and I knew he was feeling what I was. There was so much to say but we were both too scared to say it, too inept with words to express it.

“You seem chipper today,' I comment slyly. Although it was true I knew immediately that Harry did not want to talk about our conversation a few weeks ago. During our time at the Burrow he hadn't mentioned it once and Ginny still remained the only one of our friends who knew of my presence at Privet Drive. Tonks, however, had pulled me asked and thanked me for coming. She had been on duty for the Order that day and apparently Harry's moping had been enough to have her seriously considering repetitively banging her head up against a brick wall. Aside from that it was Harry and my little secret.

Harry shrug, “I've got Quidditch practice later. It'll be good to fly again.”

I knew he was only half-lying. I'd seen first hand what flying could do for him, the exhilaration it caused, but there was something else, a spark in his eyes I hadn't seen in a long while.

As if reading my train of thought Harry speaks again. “It still hurts.”

I look up at him, my eyes locking with his. “I know.”

Suddenly he tears his eyes away, staring at his hands. His expression was one I'd seen him wear countless times. He was retreating into himself. Something had flicked in his head and lost was all the playfulness of two seconds ago. “There's something I have to tell you,” he finally whispers. “I just don't know how.”

His eyes flick back to mine, begging me to tell him how, to make this easier on him and on me.

“I knew I would have to tell you, ever since Dumbledore told me, I knew you would be the first person I told. I've just never had the words. I still don't.” Harry had never exactly been a wordy person, so the fact that he used so many words to tell me exactly nothing was unbalancing. I also knew that whatever this was it was huge, end of the world huge, only Harry hadn't quite accepted it as fact yet.

“It's okay. You don't have to tell me now.”

“I have to,” he answers forcefully. “If I don't tell you now we might not have time to do anything about it.”

“Harry,” I whisper, my voice cracking, almost unrecognisable to even myself. “You're scaring me.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair like he always does when he is stressed. “Possibly a feeling you should get used to,” he mumbles, not expecting me to hear. I remain silent, too afraid that if I speak he would chicken out completely.

He takes a deep breath, steely determination set on his features, “The prophecy, it wasn't lost.”

I never thought five words could cause such blind, paralysing fear.

“Don't be stupid. It broke, no one heard it. Neville told me.”

Oh good. Denial. That's comforting.

“This was a bad idea,” Harry mumbles as he begins to stand.

“Wait!” I exclaim as I grab his arm, pulling him back down. “Tell me. I'm not going to freak out or anything.”

Harry throws me a strange look before taking a deep breath staring at the wall as he begins to speak. “The first half, the half Voldemort already knows, was prophesising the birth of a child which had the power to defeat him. There were two children who fitted the description of the prophecy and so in his infinite wisdom Voldemort decided to try and kill them before they could even hold a wand, let alone use it. Fortunately for us he failed.”

“Harry, I'm not sure I'm -“

Cutting off my sentence Harry casually brushes aside his fringe pointing to his scar.

“Oh,” I mumble in comprehension. “Oh! But that doesn't mean that it's you, it could be this other child. We're probably getting worried over nothing.”

Even as I spoke I knew my words were a dull hope. It didn't make sense for it to be anything but Harry, not after everything he had been through since he returned to the wizarding world. It couldn't just be coincidence.

“It's me. That's where the part Voldemort doesn't know comes in. Voldemort didn't know that it was the child that he marked that would become the one with the power, the power that he knows not. Ironically, he chose the half-blood over the pure-blood. Melodrama aside, the prophecy just tells us it's going to come down to kill or be killed kind of deal. But here's where the kicker comes in - me, potential hero to the entire wizarding world - me, well I don't know if I can do it. When the time comes, I'll be able to kick his arse for sure, but to pull the proverbial trigger, well that's another thing.”

I feel my mouth working overtime, opening and closing as my brain struggles to find words. I guess subconsciously I always knew that it would come down to this. After all that had gone down between Harry and Voldemort I would have to be extremely naive not to. But hearing it in Harry's bitter, sarcastic and cynical tone had brought the reality crashing far too close to home.

Hearing his doubts about his ability to kill Voldemort had suddenly clicked everything into place for me. It had given me a glimpse into the man which I had first seen in all his glory in third year when he stopped Sirius and Remus killing Wormtail. Everything Neville, Ron, Ginny, Cho and even my mum had been trying to tell me in the past few weeks suddenly made sense to me.

“I love you,” I find myself saying before my brain had given my mouth permission.

From the look on Harry's face I knew that was a reaction he definitely hadn't pictured when he was stressing over telling me. Harry opens his mouth to speak but I hold my hand up stopping him.

“No, let me explain. That's what everyone had been talking at me about. They'd been telling me to make up my mind; to take the shot or leave it forever but not to leave you in any doubt. I guess the prophecy just made everything make sense and I - mmph.”

My ramble is cut short in the most pleasant of ways. Obviously unable to wait until I had stopped talking, Harry's lips crashed down on mine, silencing me for a good five minutes.

“You're amazing,” Harry breaths, as he pulls back, both of us gasping for air. “You confuse the hell out of me but amazing nevertheless.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning his forehead up against mine when we had gained our breath again. “Thank you, I- I, um -“

“It's okay,” I soothe slightly. “I know.”

And I did. I knew what he was trying to say. I just knew he couldn't say it right now. It was too soon. He had always had so many problems connecting to people and now after Sirius he definitely wasn't going to verbalise such a deep connection. But it's okay. It would come.

I'm not going anywhere.

-- Fin --

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