Chapter 11: The Reason (Day 3)
By; The Dark Aeon, Chronos the Fallen.
Author's Note: As I was writing this last part of this chapter, I was listening to The Reason by Hoobastank. This happens to be one of my favorite songs. I even did a songfic for it, but that's not the point. The point is that when I listened to the lyrics, I saw something there and needed to be said by someone. This chapter has a lot of who I am in it, along with what is happening with my life. Tennessee Williams once said that a true writer could never fully remove themselves from their works. And I saw a lot of myself in this. So what I'm asking for is no criticism on how some of the structure of this chapter is. It's chaotic, and out there at times, but I felt that it needed to be said, even if I never say it directly to the girl who it is meant for.
Now onto other business, this is the third day of Harry's stay, so Wednesday I believe. I didn't count the first day he got to the Grangers. If that's not consistent, just roll with it. The day doesn't matter so much as what happens on certain day.
Crimson: there, you happy. I wasn't planning on this but I felt that you were right. They needed to get together. Now, how I did this will add some tension but… I think it'll work.
draregerreip: You asked for some information about this world. As much as I would love to help there, sadly, the story relies on too much of that and I can't give it away without ruining some part of the story. The way I write is that everything ends with a simple point where everything falls together. Sorta like Signs.
* * * * * *
Some time in the middle of the night, Harry was awake by someone talking. "Let's go Harry, your training awaits you." Harry mumbled for a moment before trying to go back to sleep. "You have until the count of three Harry, and then you are going down stairs, head first if you get my meaning." Harry groaned, but got up. "Good, now get dressed, we have work to do." The voice walked away, and Harry got up slowly, he reached for his glasses. He got dressed in the dark, listen to Ron snoring loudly. Moving as quietly as possible, Harry walked out the door and closed it behind him. Standing in the moon light was Roland.
"Come," he said, "there is much to do with little time." There were no sounds from him; it was as if Roland didn't exist. Harry couldn't even hear the man breathe in the dead of the night. Harry tried to follow in suit, but the floor creaked and his breathing was as loud the Hogwarts Express. Roland said nothing through and that disturbed him. After a few moments, Harry was in the kitchen with Roland. He was standing against the basement door, smiling.
"No," Harry quickly said. He didn't want to go into basement, where Roland was capable of anything. "No." he repeated, just for Roland.
"You need a promise or something?" Roland asked. Harry stood his ground though. "There is a rule amongst my people, Harry. A law really. Your word, your bond." The man took a step forward toward Harry. "Sorta like a Wizard's Oath." He held out his hand. "I promise you, by the soul that I live by, that I will do nothing like the other day nor will I hurt you immensely." The man smiled, as if he knew something.
Harry stared at the hand for a while, unsure of what to do. "What do you have to lose?" Roland asked.
"My life," Harry replied. The man laughed at him.
"That would fall under the category of `hurting you immensely,' Harry." Roland remained there, waiting for a response. "You won't die Harry, not for a long time." The certainty of his words made Harry pause. Slowly, he moved his hand out and shook Roland's. The man's hand glowed purple if only for a brief second.
"Good," Roland said, "Come on, then, much work needs to be done." He walked towards the basement door, and didn't even bother opening. Instead, he walked straight through the shadowed door, and into the basement. Harry prayed as he followed, hoping nothing would happen.
Harry opened the door, and found that it looked like a basic basement stairway. There was nothing out of the ordinary, and Harry could sense that there was no magic being used. It was a simple basement, nothing more. The rocks told him that. The stones of the room spoke to him some how. He didn't quite understand how it was possible, but Harry could have sworn he heard the walls whispering in some old forgotten language. "Did you hear that?" he asked, taking the steps down into the basement.
"I heard the shadows, but that's it," Roland said. He was clearing an area in the middle of the basement. "No, what you're hearing is the language of the Earth. It has to do with your element, but most earths can't hear it at all." Two staffs were in his hands, and Roland was leaning on them for support. "Eventually, you'll tune them out. Its only when you need to listen will you hear them." Harry nodded, placing a hand on the stonewall. The words were louder and were still gibberish. He focused and the world got quiet again. "You're good, Harry, a quick learner."
"I listen and watch," he said, still looking at the wall. Harry removed his hand. "Do mutant powers have to be physical? They could just be like increase perception, right?"
"Correct," Roland replied. The man hadn't moved from his original position, staffs to his sides, holding him up. "I know a man whose instinctual senses are ten times that of a normal man."
"Something like that," Harry said, "I'm talking about seeing what other don't see. You told me that yesterday, and everything's been clicking since. For example, how Hermione seems to want to cry every time she's with Ron alone and their just talking." Harry paused. "She sat in my lap yesterday while we were talking. Do you think-"
"I try not to," Roland smirked, and Harry turned around to see that man. "Go on."
"That she could ever like me?" Harry looked back at the wall, tracing something upon it. It was a rune of some type, imbedded in his mind. He had no idea, but knew that it would be important.
"Tell you the truth, I was surprised she went out with Ronald," Roland replied. "And you're not the only one who sees it. The moment I met him, I didn't like him. There was too much pride, too much envy, too much…"
"Hate?" Harry asked, though he knew the answer. He had just begun to see it, and looking back the past few days, it was obvious to him too. The littlest of things told him so much. "I don't know what to do, she seems so happy sometimes, and others…"
"It breaks your heart." Roland looked down at the ground. He had seen it all along, apparently. Both had seen the pain in the young woman and wished to help. "You could help, you know that?"
"How," Harry replied.
"Just tell her how you feel," Roland smiled. "Hermione a smart girl, not as wise as you can be, but smart nonetheless. I've seen the way she acts towards you. Just watch and you'll see it too." He shrugged. Harry was unsure of the idea. Hermione won't return his feelings. She only saw him as a friend. "Enough of personal things; let's train." Roland threw one of the staffs at Harry. "Step into this circle," he made a motion, showing the boundaries that he had created. "And we can begin."
Harry walked forward, ready for anything. After his first training secession with Roland, he knew better than to be hasty. The room flashed for a moment, as he passed into the circle. Outside the boundaries, everything was darker, duller. As if it wasn't real to them. "This is a Chronoshpere, Harry. A place where time is completely up to the caster. Right now, we've speed up to the point where time is almost not moving outside this realm. When it reaches six in the morning outside…" Roland shrugged. "Truth be told I don't know, I haven't experienced being outside one of these."
Harry just stared at Roland. "So this is meant for me to get in as much training as possible, right," Harry asked. The man nodded. "Okay, teach then." He readied his staff, pointed the head of it at the ground.
"Oh, I don't teach Harry," Roland swung his staff over his head, spinning with it. "You learn." And so it began. For a while, all Harry was doing was being defensive, protecting himself from Roland's onslaught. His body burned, he could've sworn that he was using muscles that he didn't even know existed. But he did watch, and he did learn.
Harry learned the three different styles Roland favored. It wasn't constant, but most of the time, Roland fought in one of three ways. Harry wasn't surprised to see that each of them methods complimented each other, giving Roland the edge he needed in a fight. And Harry learned each weakness as he fought. He was a stone, never moving, and always there, defending the ground he stood. The Stone wouldn't move no matter how hard the enemy struck at him.
But finally the onslaught stopped. Roland was standing before Harry, breathing hard and sweat-soaked hair sat upon his shoulders. Harry too, was tired, feeling that his shirt was now soaked through. He could barely hold the staff within his own hands. "Did good, Harry," Roland said, "You learn quick."
"I try," Harry took deep breathes. Not once though, did Roland's glasses fall down. "You're fast." Harry had never seen a man move as quickly as Roland did. It was impossible; he was as fast as a Firebolt. Harry had more bruises than he every had in his life.
"Harry," Roland smiled, "I was barely moving."
* * * * * *
A few more hours passed, and when it seemed like Harry had a fighting chance, Roland took it up a notch. Harry stopped seeing the staff move anymore. His eyes were too slow to catch where the staff was, but each blow was almost earth shattering. Harry's arms were filled with pain, but finally, Roland's methods were failing. Harry watched and learned enough that there was a pattern to the chaos. In the end, it was a single blow that defeated the speeding goliath.
Harry ducked before driving his staff forward. All his weight and strength went into the blow, and even though Roland tried to move with it, a loud crack echoed through the sphere. Harry backed off a step, and saw his staff sticking out of Roland's chest. He could have sworn that it was at least two feet in. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, trying to get words out. Roland coughed and wheezed. The staff must have pierced a lung.
The world shattered around him, the darkness that once hung outside the Chronosphere broke like glass, falling to the ground. Roland fell to his knees, just staring forward. His empty breathes echoed in the basement. For a while, they said nothing, just looking at each other. The silence was broken by Roland. "That fuckin' hurt," he said as he pulled the staff out of his chest. Roland fell back, he looked haggard and tired. Harry's shirt was dripping form the sweat and he was leaning on the wall. "I'm so sorry," he repeated. "I swear I didn't-"
"Just be quiet for a moment," Roland replied. He didn't move; his chest didn't even rise up.
"Harry?" Hermione yelled from upstairs, breaking the silence. Neither man moved; Harry was too tired to respond and Roland looked like he was dead. Someone came running down the stairs. "Oh my god, what happened down here?"
"Harry learned to fight," Roland said, sitting up. "I've yet to me a person who beaten me yet," He smirked. "I wasn't even warmed up." He stood up slowly, holding his ribs. "I'll teach you how to use swords later, and you won't get so lucky." Harry watched as Roland limped up the stares. It was impossible; no one could have survived that. He looked over where Roland was laying and saw no blood on the ground.
"That's-that's," He stuttered. It just wasn't possible. Harry drove that staff all the way through his body, and he was walking. He continued to stutter for a while before a giggling girl interrupted him. "huh?'
"You're very cute when you stutter," Hermione said. Something happened last night that changed their relationship, for the better in Harry's eyes. They were closer, and deep down, Harry hoped she would return his feelings.
"Hermione?" Harry asked. He had to know. After his little talk with Roland prior to the training, Harry wanted to know, but he couldn't risk that friendship he come to love and cherish. Love of a friend is one thing, but love between a man and a woman is another. So again, his fear of `what could happen' held him back from his wishes. "Never mind," he said instead. Bracing the wall for support, Harry tried to stand up, only to fall right back down. He was more tired than he thought.
"here, let me help you," Hermione pulled on one of his arms, while Harry grabbed the wall with the other. Slowly, he got up. Hermione held his arm as he got his balance. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"
Harry shook his head. "Something I decided I needed to figure out for myself." He smiled at her, but was downhearted when she wasn't looking at him. Usually when ever they talk, either she would be looking at him while he talk or vice versa. But she wasn't looking at him at all. Instead, there was this sad look in her eyes. "everything okay, Hermione?"
"I thinking about breaking it off with Ron." As much joy as that brought Harry's heart, he kept quiet and didn't say anything. "All he does is yell anymore, he never says anything nice about me, and…" there was more, but Harry wasn't going to push for it. "I don't feel anything anymore. It was nice, you know, getting those comments on how I looked. Now I think they're all for show. At least when he does compliment me." Harry watched as a tear fell from her face, and before it landed on the ground, he had her in his arms, holding her tightly. She sobbed softly on his shoulder, releasing all her confusion and her emptiness. Harry tried to comfort her, his hands making circles on her back.
"Never doubt that you aren't beautiful, Hermione," Harry said softly, "and never doubt that you aren't perfect. Ron just can't see it." Hermione pulled away slightly, staying his arms. Her sweet cinnamon eyes glistened with tears which had stopped falling. They were searching for something. "I've always seen it." He added softly. Hermione blushed bright red, and looked down. She pulled him closer.
"There was another reason, Harry," she continued.
"Hmm?" he replied. They just stood there, holding each other.
"Aren't you wondering what it is?" Harry smiled. The childish banter was always fun, especially with Hermione.
"Sure, why not?" Harry replied, earning a smile from her. She never looked more beautiful in his eyes. She was perfect.
Hermione leaned in close, standing on her toes to get her mouth right next to his ear. "It was you, Harry." Pushing herself away from Harry, Hermione darted up the stairs and a few seconds later Harry heard a door slamming.
Harry didn't move. In fact, he thought that he had stopped breathing all together. Those simple words touched Harry's heart deeper than he could ever dream. It wasn't possible; Hermione could like him like that. That would mean Harry was capable of achieving happiness. Was it actually probable for him to even think such a thing could happen? In all of Harry's dreams, he never thought of it happening this way. He was a coward, unable to tell her how he felt. Some Gryffindor he was. But Hermione, he smiled, she held more courage than he would in a thousand lifetimes.
Now all that was left was for him to tell her that he returned her feelings. At least that was what Harry hoped she meant by her statement. Fear drove into his heart faster than the joy that came moments before. What if she didn't like him at all, only as a friend? He couldn't move at that thought, instead he prayed that she would at least like him as he like her. Harry was still uncomfortable at saying he was in love as he knew nothing of it. But he couldn't allow her to get hurt. No, the only thing he could think of was to push her away. It sent a pain to his heart, but Harry knew it was the right thing to do. Hermione would be better off with Ron.
"You know, breathing would be useful, Harry," Roland said.
Harry released a breath. He took a few deep breathes before looking at the stair case. Roland was sitting on the bottom step, drinking from a paper bag. Harry could smile the fire whiskey from where he was standing. "Drinking again," he asked.
"That hurts, Harry," Roland said, "I'm always drinking." He was probably smirking, but didn't look at Harry. He placed the bag within his coat, but kept his eyes forward.
"Most people would consider that a problem," Harry continued. Roland turned around and looked at him. "But then again, you clearly aren't most people."
"For the past three months, I've been trying to get as hammered as possible, Harry. My life was in shambles. She had a hard time sleeping and being with other people." The room grew darker as he talked. Harry took a step toward Roland, toward the stairway. "It was then; I knew what I had to do. I haven't seen her in three months." He shrugged and stood up. "Sometimes, we have to hurt ourselves to save the ones we love the most Harry. But never should we hurt the ones we love to save them. Never." He glared at Harry with his hollow eyes.
He knew, was all Harry could think. Roland knew everything that Harry was thinking. He probably even knew the prophecy. "What are you talking about?"
"I said this to Ron, Harry, but I doubted I would ever have to say it to you. Guess I was wrong," Roland held a vice grip on the railing. "Don't you ever, and I mean ever, hurt her, I will hunt you down and make you suffer. And that is a promise." The railing broke under Roland's grip; splintering and falling to the ground. "It has taken much courage, Harry, to get this far. She can't do the rest by herself. A coward runs from his feelings. Don't ruin this for the both of you." Both of them didn't move, staring at each other. Harry had no idea how he knew, but somehow Roland knew.
Finally, Harry broke the silence. His glare didn't lesson though. "How did you find out, Dumbledore told you?" he asked anger evident in his voice. He was hunched over a bit, and his fists were shaking.
"I'm sure Dumbledore knew, but he also knew better that to get involved," Roland said. "Besides, why would he care about your love life?" Harry stood up straight.
"What are you talking about?" Harry replied. "I want to know how you know about the Prophecy?"
"Which one, Harry, and about who?" Roland stared at him. "You have to understand there are more people out there than you. The world doesn't revolve around The Boy-Who-Lived despite what ever may have been driven into your mind. No, it revolves around balance. And your Prophecy is simply a way to bring that balance back." He walked away. "No, the world revolves around Love for that is the ultimate balance. Find it and cherish it. But never let go and never push it away." His words echoed in the now empty basement. Harry couldn't, wouldn't put Hermione at risk for liking him. She would eventually understand; Harry knew she would. Even Roland's story made sense; after all, he hurt someone to help them. The man was being hypocritical.
Harry slumped down against the wall, thinking of what Roland had said. He talked of his girlfriend. There had to be something that had happened that caused him to leave and take up drinking. Harry figured it was a death or something. But his reference about his past hit closer to home than Harry would have thought. But never should we hurt the ones we love to save them. Roland went into some speech about how he should never hurt Hermione. Why would he do that? Harry cared for Hermione with all his soul and heart. Finally, Roland's words sunk in. She can't do the rest by herself... Don't ruin this for the both of you. Harry knew how much Hermione cared for him, but this was the first time he had ever heard that it was something more.
He decided that he needed to get moving for the day. Harry hoped that his thoughts of Hermione would go away after a while, or better yet, bring some clarity. Neither happened.
* * * * * *
The sun had set about three hours ago. And Harry was no closer to sleep than before. Some time during the day, when the Grangers and Roland were out, Ron brought out a book of his. As surprised as Harry was to see Ron reading, the topic wasn't. It was another book about Quidditch, something even Harry could understand was important. He didn't ask how or why Ron had the book, thinking that it was better to not know and potentially get his friend in trouble.
But Harry felt that something was wrong as Ron opened the book. A simple shift in something, but it was there nonetheless. The house seemed less safe some how, and even though Harry couldn't put his finger on it, he knew that something big was going to happen.
But now was not the time for that. No, Harry's mind was too preoccupied by thoughts of Hermione. Beautiful Hermione, Smart Hermione, Perfect Hermione. They had yet to talk to each other about what happened in the morning, and Harry had lost resolve to push Hermione away. He thought all day of what his life could have been if she wasn't' in it. Some of the past and futures were unpleasant to think about. She had been there all along, by his side through thick and thin. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her and she for him.
That night at the ministry was horrible for Harry for two reasons. He lost Sirius and nearly lost Hermione. His grief hadn't healed yet from Sirius' death, but Harry knew that in his heart of hearts that someday it would. If he lost Hermione, there was nothing worth living for. So there he sat, thinking of what path he was going take. His road had been rough and bumpy, with many losses and dreadful ends. But all along Hermione was there, and that was the reason Harry was still alive. He couldn't live with her, Voldemort would hurt her and he couldn't have that. But Harry couldn't like without her either. The world was darker, nothing tasted right, and smells were less vibrant, everything was duller without her.
A grandfather clock rang eleven, but Harry hadn't moved for over an hour. He had been lost in thought, his mind constantly on Hermione. He stared at the moon in the cloudy sky, and hoped to hear the sounds of the animals. They were beginning to comfort him. And it was then, he knew what he must do. But that didn't stop him from jumping when a soft hand touched his shoulder. Harry knew who it was right away. "hey," he said, staring forward out into the field.
"Hey," she replied. "Are you-" she wanted to say something but was clearly upset by the thought of it.
"No, I'm not," Harry said. "You've done nothing wrong." He patted the brick porch next to him. She sat down close to him, but didn't touch him. Harry finally pulled his eyes away from the field and looked at his best friend. Her feet were pulled up underneath her nightgown. She stared forward like he was, refusing to make eye contact.
"Have you thought about what I said?" she asked, so unsure of what could come. Her voice shook a bit, but courage was holding her body steady. "Cause if you don't-" Harry placed his hand over her mouth, and smiled at her.
"Hermione, I've been thinking lately," Harry started. He hoped that she understood that he wanted to talk.
"I hope you didn't hurt yourself," she quickly said with a smile. Harry laughed a bit, his smile growing bigger. An evening wind blew across the yard, and Hermione shivered.
"Thanks," he scooted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Hermione immediately rested her head upon his shoulder. "No, I didn't hurt myself. As I was saying, I've been thinking lately, about us and my life. When we went to the Ministry…" Thoughts of Sirius entered his head as he talked and how foolish he was when he didn't listen to her in the first place.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione quickly wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. Her head was buried in his chest. She clearly figured out what he was thinking of what happened. "It's not your fault."
He couldn't help but to chuckle when she said that. But he made no move to remove himself from her arms. "Another talk another time. No, I thought of you." She looked up at him. "I thought of how you got hit by that curse and I thought of how much it hurt me. And I thought of how you alone affected that fight. If Neville didn't tell me that you were alive…" he trailed off trying to find his words. "I doubt that there would have been much of a Ministry to rebuild. I know that I would have at least killed Voldemort for causing your death and then torture Dolohov for daring to do that to you. That is if I didn't die of grief." Harry just stared forward, though he pulled Hermione closer, holding her tight. "You mean so much to me, Hermione and I just can't see my life without you." He knew that sounded like a proposal, but hoped Hermione took it the right why.
"I've never been good with my feelings, what with living with the Dursleys. And I certainly can't say what love is. I never knew my parents, and my relationship with girls hasn't been the greatest, what with the Human water Fountain." Hermione laughed at his small joke, she knew how hard his date with Cho was for him. "But I do know that seeing you happy makes me happy. And seeing you brighten my day. You mean so much to me, and I can't stand to lose you."
"So, do you like me?" Hermione asked, meek and small. She looked up with lost eyes, searching for his answer. And the smile on his face told it all.
"I'm not a perfect person, Hermione," Harry continued. "And I know I'll never be. I may have said or done some things that may have hurt you. But I continue learning," Hermione wanted to speak, but held her tongue. She seemed to know that Harry needed to say what he was saying. And that she needed to hear it. Harry stared forward, looking at the rising moon, praying that he made the right choice. "And I'm sorry that I hurt you. It's something I must live with every day. And all the pain I put you through, I wish I could take it all away. And be the one who catches all your tears. That why I need to hear." He began to cry at some point, but that didn't stop him from doing what his heart told him to do. "I love you, Hermione." He reached down and gently touched her lips with his. They were as soft as he dreamed they were. He prayed that she wouldn't pull away, but in his heart of hearts, he knew, like her, that they were meant for each other. And whether or not they knew, it was deep within their souls, glowing around them with each word, each touch, each love.
Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, begging for more. Harry gave it to her readily. He loved her, and he knew that she loved him. She leaned into him, and Harry held her tighter, kissing her with every ounce of his being, showing her his love. It was a few minutes before they released each other, gasping for air. Harry smiled, and knew that everything, in the end, would be alright as long as his love was there for him.
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