Voice of the Heart
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Notes: Thank you to all of you who read and reviewed the first chapter. I hope you enjoy this one as much. This chapter is for all my friends on LiveJournal (who know who they are) for their encouragement. *glomps*
Part 2: You Shall Know the Truth
It was an odd moment to realize you were in love with someone. Certainly not the way he would have predicted it or planned it if he had ever thought about it before. But then he supposed the big dramatic moments of revelation only happened in movies or books, not in real life.
It was a perfectly ordinary day, a perfectly ordinary afternoon, and all Ron had done was ask Hermione, "Are you coming to the Quidditch match today?"
Perfectly ordinary question, and one that Ron tended to ask Hermione before just about every Quidditch game. Hermione's lack of interest in Quidditch was rather famous, after all, and she had just been saying something about wanting to look up something in the library for a Transfiguration essay due the next day.
Hermione glanced first at Harry and then at Ron, looking at Ron as if he'd just asked what his own name was or some other question with an equally obvious answer. "Yes," she answered simply, as if there should have been no question about it.
And Harry suddenly knew. He knew why he'd been so relieved to hear that Hermione had turned down Clark Randall, knew that he'd been happy to hear her say that she was in love with him, subconsciously admittedly, but happy nonetheless. He knew. He loved Hermione too.
Harry blinked as if to clear his head as he studied Hermione as if he'd never seen her before. Or, more accurately, as if he was suddenly seeing her through new eyes, which, he supposed, he was, the new eyes of the Harry who loved her and knew it… The curve of her cheek that just seemed to be asking for his hand to touch its smoothness… Her lips, pink with a hint of peach- how had he never noticed how soft and eminently kissable they were? The warmth of her brown eyes, with their flecks of gold…
He loved her for her loyalty, her friendship, her kindness, her cleverness… For the way she came to every single Quidditch match, for his sake, even though he knew perfectly well that she didn't really enjoy the game for its own sake. He loved her for her determination to make sure he survived…
He couldn't remember when it had begun or how; there hadn't been any real thunderbolt from the sky. Maybe it had started from the first moment he saw her, an 11-year old girl with bushy hair looking for a toad lost by a boy she'd just met that day- only someone as selflessly and unself-consciously kind as Hermione would have gone to such trouble. Maybe it had started from the moment she had lied to the teachers to keep him and Ron from trouble, when already he knew that lying to teachers was tantamount to a crime in her eyes. Whenever it had started, every moment he had spent with her, all those times, the experiences and the adventures and the quiet minutes when no conversation had been necessary, it had grown. Until this moment, this day, when he knew.
He loved her. He watched as she waved hello to Ginny and Luna and then turned back to Ron when he asked her a question about Charms. He loved her…
Ron looked curiously at Harry, before waving his hand in front of his face, making Harry start backwards and blink. "Earth to Harry. What's bothering you, mate?" Ron asked casually enough although he was concerned given Harry's odd preoccupation yesterday and this morning.
Harry shook his head, managing a grin. "It's nothing serious, honestly." Assuming by serious, he meant Voldemort-related, which he knew that was what Ron would take it to mean, that was true, at least…
He forcibly stopped thinking of Hermione, pushing his thoughts aside, grateful that he had the Quidditch game to concentrate on instead. He would think of her later, when he was alone again and could think without distraction…
Harry escaped the Common Room and the celebration of the Gryffindor Quidditch victory early, citing being tired from not having gotten much sleep the night before, which was true, but not his real reason for leaving. He threw himself onto his bed, closing the curtains, and stared up at the Hogwarts seal that he could just barely see on the canopy above him.
He could see Hermione in his mind, whenever he closed his eyes. See her smiling, frowning in concentration and in anger at some injustice… He loved her and wondered how he'd never realized it sooner. It seemed so obvious… What other girl could understand him so well? What other person did he trust so completely? What girl could possibly even try to replace Hermione in importance in his life, when Hermione had been his best friend for so long?
It was obvious now… He loved her… but even as he thought the words for what seemed the millionth time, he knew that he couldn't tell her. He had no right to love anyone right now… he had no right to tell her, to begin a relationship with her right now. He was a marked man, a target, and he couldn't do that to Hermione. He couldn't tell her he loved her and then go and fight Voldemort, not knowing if he was going to live or die. It wasn't fair to her. He just couldn't do it. He knew it would make it that much harder for Hermione to see him leave to fight Voldemort if she knew he loved her too. He knew how much she worried about him as it was; it was clear in her eyes when she looked at him, every time she gave him another book on DADA or told him of another spell she'd found that could help him…
It would be so much harder on her if they were dating or in a relationship. And it would be harder on him, knowing how much harder it would be for her…
Also, it would make her a target too. He knew Voldemort would leap at the idea of Hermione's importance to him. He thought of Sirius, of what had happened to Sirius because Voldemort knew how much he cared about him… No, he couldn't do that to Hermione, couldn't put her in greater danger than she was already in, just from being Muggle-born and his friend to boot. If it was known that he loved her… He shuddered at the very idea; Hermione would become Voldemort's first target.
It couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it happen. He couldn't tell her, or anyone, that he loved her.
He sighed involuntarily. He'd never resented his fate as much as he did at that moment. Any other boy could just tell the girl he loved that he loved her, only afraid of her feelings for him. He didn't have that fear but he couldn't tell his girl of his feelings. Not now, not yet. Maybe not ever…
He tried to dismiss that morbid thought but it persisted. Maybe not ever… He didn't know if he would survive his next encounter with Voldemort. He was almost half-certain, indeed, that he wouldn't survive. And he hadn't minded, or at least had minded as little as possible when his own life was at stake, because he'd always thought that his purpose in life would be fulfilled if he just managed to rid the world of Voldemort forever, even if he died in the process. And after all, with his purpose, mission, destiny, whatever it was, fulfilled, what other reason was there to live?
Until now. Until Hermione. Now he knew he wanted to live. He wanted to live for her, so he could tell her he loved her, so he could kiss her the way he wanted to… He wanted to live…
And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives… He shuddered inwardly as the words that haunted him echoed through his mind again, only now with an added threat. His destiny, perhaps; his curse, definitely… And, oh, but he hated it. He hated this, knowing he'd have to keep this a secret from Hermione. He hated the thought that she'd go through the next few months in uncertainty of his own feelings for her when he knew he could bring a smile to her face (a beautiful smile, he thought) by telling her.
Again, Harry stayed awake, staring at the bed hangings for most of the night. But in the morning he was calm. He knew what he had to do, was resigned to it. And after all, he knew Voldemort would come for him soon. It wouldn't be long now… For the first time, his apprehension about the duel between them was overshadowed by something else, something stronger: his love for Hermione and his will to tell her so…
The moment had come.
The moment she'd been dreading for 2 years now had come, the moment when Harry had to go, had to confront Voldemort. She couldn't let him go like this, without telling him how she felt. She just couldn't. She didn't even stop to fear his reaction, didn't stop to wonder if he'd reject her. All her fears and all her worry was focused on what Harry would have to face, what might happen to him, leaving no room for any concern for herself…
She grabbed his arm. "Harry, wait."
He turned to look at her, the strained expression on his face, the grim set of his mouth softening as he did so.
"Harry, I- I…"
He cut her off before she could finish. "No! Don't say it, Hermione, I don't want to hear it."
She flinched. She hadn't thought she could feel anything else besides her consuming fear for Harry but found she could still feel hurt, could still feel heartbreak…
Harry winced at the hurt on her face, hating himself for hurting her. His tone gentled, as he added, "Not now, not here… Tell me when I come back." And for the first time, Harry's voice was certain, confident, when he mentioned coming back. He would come back; he had to. He had so much more to live for, to fight for, now. He would come back for her sake; he would come back so he could tell her he loved her, could hear her say that she loved him… He would come back for her…
A force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death… He heard Headmaster Dumbledore's voice, explaining the power of love, the force that had saved him… And he understood. He was going to survive this because of love, his love for Hermione and her love for him. He was going to survive so he could tell her… Because he knew he couldn't leave this world with her not knowing… He was leaving this most important task undone, strangely certain that he could not die without having told her, finally, that she was the most important person in his life, the reason he fought.
He managed a smile for her and kissed her, just a quick brush of his lips against her cheek, before meeting her eyes. "I will come back," he said in an intense whisper, the strength of his promise in his eyes.
And then he was gone.
Oh the days and nights that followed… Hermione existed through them, in a constant cloud of dread and worry. Hogwarts basically closed down as they waited; no one even made a pretense of normality, just waited. Waited for some news, some indication that the hell Voldemort's increasing power in the Wizarding world had created was either ended permanently or strengthened immeasurably. Waited…
She relived again and again the moment before he left, the odd certainty of his promise, amounting to a vow, that he would come back… The kiss on her cheek, an uncharacteristic gesture on his part, as Harry almost never initiated physical contact with anyone, although he had gotten much more used to it over the years. But even so, the few physical gestures of friendship between them had been of her initiative. She had always been the one to touch him, to hug him, to kiss his cheek. That one brush of his lips against her cheek was a change and she spent hours wondering what it indicated. She wanted to believe that it meant that he loved her but a part of her reasoned that in that last moment before he left, normal rules of behavior were bound to be broken without any reason other than the tension of the moment. But then she would remember the look in his eyes, the truth in them as he promised to return, return to her, and she hoped. Hoped and waited…