Realization

Disclaimer: As much as I wish I was her, I am not. So I don’t own anything from the Harry Potter series, only the damn plot ( if there is one).

Realization
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The sky was breaking away. Tiny droplets of water cascading nicely over the vast earth. Dropping slowly and gently, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere of just him and the drizzling rain. There weren’t any harsh winds, as would be expected to all those that lived upon Scottish lands when rain came along.

Perhaps the sky took pity on him and decided to leave a few breezes and nothing more.

Maybe the weather understood that he wanted to be masked. So it let him wallow in his dreams, thoughts, and all between.

Letting the rain to shield him from all others, so no obstacles would come to disturb him.

Because he craved for a second of quietness, of nothingness. Nothing to worry about, and no more news of casualties. Nothing at all.

All he just wanted was a moment in peace. And here it was, finally presented to him.

No one was here. No interferences. Or anything of that gratitude.

But if he was suppose to be free of thought. If everything was suppose to be over...

Why wasn’t he fitting into that portrayal of a surviving hero? Why did he not have that reassuring smile? Or why wasn’t it at least genuine?

“I knew you would be here,” a low voice suddenly told him and caused him to stop his pitiful thoughts. “It seems like an ideal place to escape to, doesn’t it?”

Despite not looking over to see who it was, he knew it is her.

Her with those pink, parted lips and mousy colored hair that frizzed at the ends. Her with the rosy cheeks and the long, dainty-looking fingers.

He knew it was her because after all only she would discover his hiding place. Only she would have the courage of meeting his wrath.

“I told you not to come.” He tried to use that indifferent voice of his, but it was a fruitless attempt. He never could hide his weariness to her.

He could feel her coming closer, even when he told her to go along her way. But she was as stubborn as he, since she continued along her merry way towards him. Her splattering noises against the mud close to him was evidence of that.

“Since when do I listen to those commands,” her voice sounded amused.

His face let a shy smile break out. He knew she would come; regardless of what he said to her before. Somehow, deep in his gut, he was pleased that she did.

She let out a small sigh.

“I didn’t expect you to be one of those people.” Her body gracefully plopped down next to him.

He simply lifted his head, trying to see her through the rain. Her gaze seemed to be focused on the bank opposite of the lake. Tightly she grasped a Muggle cloak she brought along.

“One of those people?” He questionably asked her.

“Oh, you know those high and mighty martyrs that need a good kicking in the arse.”

“You would like to kick my arse?”

Her pert mouth then turned lop sided. He heard her distinct chuckles. They sounded like a tingling melody to him. Oh, she sounded wonderful.

“Your arse is too cute to kick.”

He was thankful that the rain was proving to be a good mask of his blush. He felt the water trickling down his body. Though he didn’t mind much, his attention was all on her.

“Since when have you been checking it out?” He retorted at her, “I never knew you were like that Hermione.”

A small smile was still present upon her face. She then lifted her head upward as she observed the dismal sky. The rain was getting tangled in her hair. And yet she remained looking like a beauty.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Harry Potter.”

She let go of her cloak. It seemed she realized how fruitless it was to try to avoid the rain. He noticed that she was in her nightgown, a soft lilac that almost looked white in the darkness of the night.

She smiled at him once again and tossed her cloak on the ground. Then she turned and let her boot covered foot dangle in the lake.

“Aren’t you going to come?”

The question resounded in his head. He only gaped at her as she sunk deeper and deeper in the depths of the lake.

“What are you doing?” He couldn’t help but ask that. This wasn’t like the Hermione he knew. The bookish Hermione he had become so accustomed with, would never come out here in the dead of the night. She would never swim in the lake with her long night gown, while it was raining.

“It’s funny that you never realize what you do. You just do it.”

She was avoiding his question. Her voice was sounding much more distant. With out thinking twice, he tossed his robes to reveal plaid pajama bottoms and a plain white shirt. He walked carefully towards her, only looking at her and nowhere else.

“You don’t really notice that turn point in time --” she continued her odd comments “-- you don’t really care how your decision affects your life... at least not in the heat of the moment.”

The water was bitterly cold. His clothes clung to him like a second skin and his bare feet kept on stepping between some unknown substances.

Though he didn’t care. His gaze was only on her. Just on her.

“But if you are paranoid you keep on replaying these moments. Thinking on how you could have changed them.”

He reminisced on those times, on what happened. He felt his throat getting choked up.

Her hand painfully grasped his arm. She stared at him intensely.

“But then,” her voice grew soft ,“ you realize that you can’t change the past no matter how hard you try.”

“And that is what hurts,” he concluded.

“And yet,” she persisted as her hand tightened around his wrist, “ you continue on and live your life trying to make it better.”

“You can’t make it better,” he spit the words out, “ you can’t forget--”

“--So don’t forget about it,” she interrupted with urgency, “live with it! Breathe in the pain! Make yourself stronger! But let yourself recognize that you are human.”

A silence passed over and both just stared at one another. Her chest heaved in and out as the cold brushed against her skin. He only looked down as he spoke with despair:

“If I don’t want to be human?”

Her hands then cupped his face. She looked concerned as she practically always was for him.

“But you are, you are no matter how hard and how bad you crave not to be. Because you can feel misery and because you learn that it will never go away. Soon you will learn to tolerate this agony and let them be memories. Bitter memories, but memories all the same.”

His hands overlapped her own. With not much of a pretense, he bent his head so that he looked at her eye-to-eye.

“It’s a morbid cycle isn’t it? The realization that I am not invincible and that the world isn’t how I first thought it out to be as a child. This realization thing... it keeps getting worse and worse.”

Her skin was dotted with goose bumps and he saw her plush lips turning blue, but she didn’t complain.

“It isn’t always bad. Realization.”

Her lips were coming closer and closer. Her breath came out in wisps and combined with his. The rain still beat down on them.

He opened his mouth to reply but a finger of her’s pressed against his lips. She smirked at him and he was transfixed.

One of her hands pushed down on his neck, allowing himself to lower to her stance. With out a single word she lifted herself on her tip toes and closed the remaining space left between them.

He knew of nothing else then, except her and the pounding rain.


A/N: If you have the odd feeling you might have read this before, you are not going crazy, you might have. I posted this a long time ago and deleted it, for some reason. This was my second story and the nostalgic in me wants to post it again, with some added bits and a few corrections. This was written right after OOTP, so that might explain what they[Harry and Hermione] can be talking about, but it can very well take place after the war. Your choice.

To all the Wonks, even the ancient ones. ;)