Just as Hermione turned off the light, she heard a knock at her door. She jumped at the noise and quickly turned the like back on. Who the hell would be knocking on her door at 2:30 in the morning? Without removing her eyes from the door, she felt around for her wand. She held it firmly in her right hand and slowly made her way to the door. She couldn't tell if the person on the other side of the door knocked again or not, because her heart was beating so loudly she could hardly hear anything. She unlocked the door, turned the knob, and slowly opened it, her eyes closed, waiting for whomever it was to barge in and attack her (okay, so she was more than a little paranoid about the whole being-best-friends-with-Harry-so-someone-might-try-to-kidnap-you thing). She stuck her head through the opening and opened her eyes after she realized no one was attacking her. She was shocked by what she found.
"Harry?" she asked as she straightened up (for some reason she thought that crouching down would protect her from a wand-wielding murder) and opened the door all the way.
"Heya, Hermione," Harry replied as if it was completely normal for him to be standing at her door at 2:30 AM wearing nothing but a white t-shirt and blue-striped pajama pants (not that she objected to this outfit. She could make out every muscle in his torso through the semi-tight shirt, and she hated Harry for it). She moved aside so he could come in.
"What are you doing here?" she asked as she closed the door behind him and waited for her heart to stop pounding from the unnecessary fear of her imminent death.
"I just came to return this book I borrowed," Harry said, holding up her copy of Defensive Magical Theory that she hadn't noticed him holding before.
"Harry, you borrowed that from me, like, a year ago," Hermione responded, confused as to why he decided that now was a good time to return it.
"I know," he replied. "And I'm sorry it took so long to get it back to you."
"Is there a reason why you decided that now, of all times, was the perfect time to return it?" she asked incredulously. "Because, in case you haven't noticed, it's half past two in the morning."
"Right," he answered as if just realizing the time. "Well, I'm sorry about that, but I was just going through my things, and I found it. I decided to return it now, because I didn't know if I would ever…you know, have the opportunity…to return it to you, and I figured you would want it back," he finished uncomfortably. Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach. So he wasn't as confident as he'd acted.
"Oh, Harry," she cooed, her voice softening considerably as she grabbed the book out of his hand, tossed it aside, and went to hug him.
"No, Hermione. Please," he said somewhat desperately and gently pushed her away. "I'm fine. I really am," he said extremely unconvincingly.
"No. You're not," she informed him. "C'mon," she said motioning to her couch, "Come sit down." Harry looked at her reluctantly, but he didn't resist. Hermione sat down and pulled Harry down next to her. She pulled her legs up in front of her, Indian-style, and waited for Harry to speak. They sat in silence for a while, but eventually he did.
"I just don't know what happened," he said, not looking at Hermione. "I was so fearless and confident. And now…" Hermione wanted nothing more than to just hold him and allow him to let it all out. But he was finally opening up to her, and she didn't want to stop him. "I just…I'm not anymore." He finally turned and looked Hermione in the eye. There was so much fear and pain in his eyes that Hermione wanted to cry herself, but she knew she couldn't do that to him. Not now. "I…" He seemed to need to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. He looked at Hermione, but seemed to become intimidated and looked away. But then he seemed to muster some courage and looked back at her again. He swallowed hard and said, "I'm scared, Mione."
Hermione's heart shattered. She could see he was trying so hard to be brave and to not let anyone see his fear, but she saw it. She'd seen it all along. A rebel tear escaped from Harry's eye, but he quickly brushed it away.
"C'mere," Hermione said soothingly with a sad smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and pulled him to her. He didn't refuse her this time. He wrapped his arms around her waist and started to cry. Hermione couldn't remember the last time Harry had shown this much emotion. Ever since Sirius's death, Harry had pretty much cut his emotions off from the world.
They were so close now. It was driving Hermione crazy. She didn't know if she could control herself. She rubbed his back, and before she knew it, she ran one of her hands through that dark, messy hair that she loved so much. After she did it, she silently scolded herself, but Harry hadn't seemed to notice anything suspicious.
After a long while, Harry pulled back, turned away, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. He turned to her again.
"I'm sorry about this, Mione," he apologized, laughing resentfully at himself. "I should get going."
"Don't be silly. You're not going back to that lonely flat of yours. You're going to stay here with me." What? Where did that come from? It didn't matter now, it was too late to take it back, and it's not like she would object to the man of her dreams sleeping in her own humble abode.
"Thanks, but I couldn't impose on you like that. It's bad enough I got you up in the middle of the night. I'll be fine."
"Do you really think I'm ever going to buy that `I'm fine' crap you keep giving me?" she playfully scolded him, hoping to lighten the mood. "You're staying here, and that's final. You can sleep in my spare bedroom if that's what you're worried about. You don't have to be anywhere near me." But I really hope you'd want to be, she added silently.
"All right, if you insist," Harry said reluctantly, still feeling he was imposing on his best friend.
"Good. Follow me, and I'll show you to your room." But, hey, you can always stay in my room, she continued, of course, to herself. Merlin, was she a mess. She grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs to his room at the end of the hall. Harry had stayed over before, but Ron and Ginny had been there too, and they all had slept in the living room. This was the first time Harry was staying with Hermione alone, and she could sense his apprehension. She wasn't quite sure if it was a good thing or not. It could mean that he liked her, and was nervous about being with her alone like this (which Hermione desperately hoped for), or it could mean that he felt uncomfortable, because he didn't feel that way about her. She didn't have much time to dwell on it before they'd reached the room.
"Here it is," she said, opening the door and showing Harry in. He looked around in awe.
"You actually furnish your spare rooms?" he asked amazement, referring to the bed, couch, bureau, and curtains that adorned the little-used room.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Hermione laughed. "Unlike you and Ron, I prefer to have a clean and organized home so visitors won't be disgusted when they enter." Harry and Ron seldom found it necessary, if ever, to clean up after themselves. That's why, whenever they decided to get together, they would either do it at Ginny's or Hermione's, where you could actually walk five feet and not end up kicking a pile of dirty laundry. Not that Hermione got visitors very often, but she liked to keep a clean house. Other than their little sleepovers in the living room, the only other people who have ever stayed overnight with Hermione were her parents, so this was saying something for Harry. "I'll go grab you some towels," she finished and left him to settle in. She came back a little later and gave him the towels and said, "All set?"
"I think so," Harry replied, glancing around the room. "Thanks so much for doing this for me, Mione," he said appreciatively.
"It's my pleasure," she smiled. "Well, if you don't need anything else, I guess I'll turn in for the night..." she finished, secretly praying that he wanted something, anything, else.
"Sounds good." Damn. That's too bad. They stood in silence for a moment, not knowing what to say next. How many times was this going to happen to them?
"Well…good night, Harry," Hermione said and leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.
"Night, Mione," he answered. Hermione detected a hint of sadness in his voice, but before she could say anything, he turned away and started turning down his bed. Hermione decided to just let him be. She walked into the hall, turned, and with a singsong voice said, "'Night."
Harry turned. "'Night," he smiled and climbed into bed. Hermione closed the door behind her and walked to her own room at the other end of the hall. Why had she decided to give him the farthest room from her own? She amazed herself sometimes with her own stupidity. Oh well. She climbed into her bed, pulled up the covers, and began staring at the ceiling for a long, sleepless night. No way was she ever going to be able to sleep knowing that the love of her life was just a few doors down and was leaving in the morning, most likely for good.
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