Abundant Skies
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, just the plot.
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Well.. This chapter is for my parents. I'm sorry if I'm going to let you down tomorrow.
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Chapter Fifteen: Awake
Hermione stirred, as she shifted on the bed. She opened her eyes, slowly, and was confused at where she was. She quickly sat up, but regretted that, as her back felt stiff and ached. The room seemed to swirl and spin, as she put a hand on her forehead. There was a pounding, throbbing ache in her head, as she blinked furiously, trying to get used to the dark. The moon shone outside, and the moonlight spilled across her legs, giving her some light to see exactly where she was. She looked around; windows, beds.. She was in the Hospital Wing. She swallowed hard, as she felt her throat was dry and dehydrated. Her eyes roamed across the big room, until they settled on something, or someone by her bedside. She squinted hard, and then the sleeping person shifted, and she felt her heart stop at who it was.
It was Harry.
Even in the dark she could recognize his raven, untamed hair. She heard a sigh escape his lips, and she watched him, intently. He seemed so peaceful, so quiet in his sleep. She could feel a faint smile spread across her face, just watching him, his head on his arms. She couldn't believe that he had stayed.. With her. In the Hospital Wing. Just then he shifted again, and she felt something warm rest atop of her hand, and hold tight. She looked down, and saw that it was his hand, his fingers entwined around hers. Her hand and fingers tingled pleasantly, like a frosty warmth that spread through her skin. She stared at their hands.. His hand holding hers.. She couldn't help but feel something fill her; like a glowing white light that scarred her pleasingly. She felt a tugging rip of regret pull at the end of her heart, as she noticed how perfect their hands seemed to fit.. How right it seemed to feel. She looked away, guilt running through her veins for feeling this way.. For letting her gaze linger for far too long. He knew. She had told him.
She couldn't face him. But here he was, holding her hand, spending the night at the Hospital Wing.. For her. To be there when she wakes up. And she didn't even think she could bear to say utter any words to him, let alone say thank you. She didn't know if she could look into his eyes, and see that he had the knowledge of her feelings for him.. She didn't want to know his reaction. She didn't want to break down and cry in front him again.. It was too much. She couldn't handle it. She was weak. But she didn't care.
She sighed, as she leaned back down on her back, the cold cotton sheets chilling her skin. She stared up at the ceiling, her hand still in Harry's. She could hear his soft, shallow breaths, and all she could wish for was that she could face him tomorrow.. Or in a few hours. At least she had told him that she had loved him, but that brought little reassurance to her whatsoever. She closed her eyes, as the blackest darkness invaded her. Her heartbeats began to slow into a steady beat, as she felt weariness cover her.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered what it would feel like to feel his lips against hers again.. If he would taste just as sweet, or even better. She wondered how it would feel to always be in his arms, to always feel his fingers entwine with hers. She wondered how it would feel to hear him tell her that he loved her..
She wondered how different things would be if she knew that he loved her as much as she loved him.
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Harry shifted, before opening his eyes. He looked up, as he yawned, at Hermione. He was quite disappointed to see that she hadn't awoken yet. But then, he looked down, and noticed that her fingers were wrapped around his, and he could feel his heart's stable beat slowly become faster. He let go of her hand, as he rubbed his eyes, and stood up. He headed to the bathroom to freshen up.
He came back, feeling less sleepy, as he held her hand again. He watched her, intently, as she breathed softly and shallowly, her eyes remaining closed. His gaze traveled to the window, and saw that the sky was as blue as ever, clear and bright. He stared, letting the blueness and peacefulness seep into him.
He found himself asking what he would say to her once she was awake. `Good morning,' maybe? But how would he bring up the fact that she loved him? How could he make her listen?
`If she really does love you as much as she says she does, then she'll listen to you,' his heart told him. He agreed, but his mind was still filled with worry. What if she didn't listen? What would he do then?
Suddenly he felt her hand move inside his. He snapped out of his daze and watched her, as she stirred and the cotton sheets rustled. He let go of her hand, slowly, as her eyes fluttered open. She rubbed both her eyes, before yawning; he wasn't sure if she had seen him yet.
Suddenly, she sat up, and looked straight at him. He was surprised to see that there wasn't even a hint of surprise in her eyes, but slight sadness, and regret. He smiled at her warmly.
"Good morning," he said to her. He watched her as she reached over and grabbed the water filled glass that Madame Pomphrey had set down on the tableside. She raised it to her lips, and drank, until she set it back down on the table, and looked at him. Her eyes were dark, and he was saddened that he couldn't read them as easily as before. It was as if she had set up some shield, or barricade that prevented him from seeing her feelings.
"Good morning," she said softly. She didn't smile at him, but her gaze remained unwavering. "What happened?" She asked, obviously confused as to why she had woken up in the Hospital Wing.
"You.. You fell down the stairs, when you were carrying your books," he said. "I found you, last night during dinner, and you were unconscious.. So I brought you here."
Hermione stayed quiet, before she looked away. "Oh," she said quietly, finally finding out why her body and head ached so much. Harry watched her, his green gaze still and calm.
"You scared me to death," he whispered. "I found myself worrying, and panicking terribly.. Both Ron and me. We weren't sure if you were going to be okay." Finally, she looked at him, her brown eyes sad and pleading.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For bringing me up here.. For worrying like you did. I'm sorry I scared you."
He smiled at her. "I would never forgive myself if I let something happen to you.. You know that." Hermione looked down again.
"I'm so glad you're okay," Harry chuckled lightly, but Hermione avoided his gaze. She felt uneasy, him bringing up such sensitive topics that she wouldn't have a say in. That she didn't want to have a say in. There was a momentary silence as Harry sighed, and he ran a hand through his hair.
"I know what you're thinking," he said to her. "I know that you don't like that I'm here, and that you don't like the fact that.. I'm here talking to you. I know you don't want to talk to me, or listen, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I hurt you, these past days, to make you avoid me, or make you sad when you think of me."
He looked at her, his eyes pleading. "But you can't blame me for wanting to talk to you, for wanting to know. And I'm not sorry for that. I'm not sorry for wanting to know how you feel. I'm not sorry at all." Hermione lay silent, her gaze still on the snow white sheets. She felt her eyes brim with tears, but struggled to keep them inside. She could feel her lungs burning as if they were going to burst, her heart breaking inside. Her heart told her to look up, to say something. But she couldn't bring herself to. She swallowed hard, her hands clenched into fists, a handful of the cotton fabric.
"Hermione," he whispered. "Please say something. Anything." Suddenly she looked up, and met his hopeful, sad, earnest emerald gaze. She felt as if the awfully tight bind wrapped around her chest was going to snap any minute now, her hands trembling, shaking.
"Harry," she whispered. "I-" Just then the doors opened, and Hermione froze. Harry heard a familiar voice, and footsteps, as he looked at her sadly. Ron appeared at the foot of her bed, with a plate of food. He smiled widely as soon as he saw that she was awake, and set the plate down on her side table.
"Welcome back, Hermione," he grinned at her. She tried to smile back at him, and did, but it was a strained, and fake sort of smile. Ron turned back to Harry, as she looked down, disappointedly and solemnly. She could still feel Harry's eyes on her, but she felt no need to meet his gaze again.
"You're sure you're not hungry?" Ron asked Harry, sitting down beside him. Harry sighed, finally letting his eyes wander to Ron.
"I'm sure." He turned to Hermione. "Hermione, are you hungry?"
"No," she said quietly, still looking down. Harry felt something build up inside him; disappointment, frustration, sadness.. What was going to happen when he's finally had enough? What would he say?
"Hermione, you should really be careful next time you go down the stairs," Ron said. "You knocked yourself out. We were scared that you were dead." Hermione said nothing as she just reached for the glass again and drank from it. Ron cast a puzzled look at Hermione, then Harry.
"What happened?" Ron asked. He looked at Harry. "Did I interrupt something?"
"Yes," Harry said, at the same time as Hermione said `no.' Ron looked at both of them, confused. Ron stood up, as Hermione pleaded at him, mentally.
"Well, then.. It seems something of a serious matter," Ron said. "So I'll be going. I'll see you two later," he said. "And Hermione, please do be careful on those stairs." And with that, he left, ignoring Hermione's calls for him to come back. Harry stared at her, slightly annoyed.
"Why did you tell him to leave?" Hermione asked Harry, also irritated by their best friend's departure.
"I told him the truth," Harry said.
"You didn't have to make him leave."
"I didn't make him leave, he chose to leave." Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Hermione, he asked if he had interrupted something, I told him `yes, he had.' Because he had interrupted something."
Hermione had a faint scowl on her face, as she looked away.
"He didn't interrupt anything," she said.
"Hermione, don't do this," he said to her.
She looked up at him, slightly glaring. "Don't do what, Harry?"
"This," he said, frustrated. "Pretending that you don't know what I'm talking about, denying what happened, lying to me. Lying to yourself. Don't do that. I just want you to listen to me, to try and understand. And to tell me the truth." She stared at him, silent.
"I'm trying. I try to, Harry, believe me.. But, it's just.. I can't," she said, her voice almost breaking.
"Why?" He asked her. She turned away, not answering, her eyes closed. He sighed.
"I just.. I just want to know the truth." He leaned in closer, and caught her hand. Her eyes opened, and fell immediately into his gaze. Her heart pounded in her chest, the butterflies returning and bouncing off her insides.
"Did you mean it?" He asked her, his eyes pleading. "Do you really love me?"
Hermione's eyes brimmed with tears. "Yes," she said, her voice breaking. She inhaled sharply, as she looked down, a tear sliding down her cheek. Harry felt a smile spread across his face, as he stood up and walked closer to her. Hermione's eyes followed him, as he smiled at her, his eyes sparkling. Harry raised his hands, and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze, framing her face. Hermione felt her heart beating faster and faster, as if it were to jump out to meet him. His warm, gentle hands caressed her face, as his eyes bore into her. Her skin seemed to be burning, invisibly marring from his touch. He kneeled down, so that their gazes were level, his emerald eyes twinkling happily. Hermione felt confusion erupt inside her, as did fear. His face was so close, his breath feeling warm but frosty against her skin. His thumb swiped across her cheek slowly, wiping away her tears.
"I meant it, Hermione," he whispered to her. His eyes were honest, warm, happy. "I meant that kiss more than anything in the world, except-" he paused, as he grinned at her.
"-except that I love you too." And his lips crashed into hers, as Hermione felt her heart stop. His mouth molded against hers, as she felt explosions and bursts inside of her. Embers, flashes, and crackles of intense electricity buzzed through her veins, her blood roaring in her ears. She felt her hands rise up and wrap around his neck, before traveling up and entangling themselves in his messy hair. She parted her lips, as his tongue entered and danced with hers, her kissing him back fervently. He tasted sweet, unlike anything she had ever tasted, as she felt her world fade.. And soon she had forgotten they were in the Hospital Wing, much less anywhere else.
So this was what it felt like.
This was what it felt like to kiss someone you loved so much, too much.
And knowing he loved you too, just the same.