Swan Songs

HarrynHermione4eva

Rating: NC17
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 02/09/2004
Last Updated: 26/05/2006
Status: completed

Every swan has a mournful song, and those songs are the most beautiful of them all. Something happens to Hermione's parents, and she doesn't know if she can go on, but Harry and Ron show her she can, especially Harry...And then Voldemort comes along and tries to take Harry from her too...

Chapters

1. Devastating News

2. Haunting Songs

3. A Mother's Song

4. Aniron lyrics

1. Devastating News

A Swan Song

"A swan's song is the most beautiful music out there,but with that beauty comes sorrow."

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The sun radiated a weak glow into the transfiguration room, which barely let the pupils residing in the room read the text they had been assigned, properly. The air hung low and heavy and smelled strongly of a musky sweat from the layers the students were forced to wear, even at such extreme temperatures at the end of the school year as summer made her presence known. An eerie glom fell over the classroom as Harry realized for the second time that day that Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He knew this for a fact since they always sat together in their NEWT potions class--the only class Ron did not share with Harry, and the one that he wished they had together. NEWT Potions was so boring that even Hermione could not keep him awake with the constant pokings in the side as a warning that he should pay attention. She constantly reminded him that even though he despised Snape, he still needed to pay attention so he could pass his NEWTS to become an Auror. He had almost fallen asleep without her this morning.

After a late breakfast and just making the owl post, Hermione left to go back to her room to retrieve an extra roll of parchment for that day's potions lecture. Just then, an unknown owl came up behind her and deposited into her hand a roll of parchment with the ministry's seal on it. Harry and Ron had urged her to open it, but she just shrugged it off, telling them it was probably a letter of gratitude from the Minister, thanking her for her interest in the Ministry foundings in which she had interveiewed the Minister for her paper in History of Magic. Cornelius Fudge had been considerably nicer to Harry and his friends ever since the Minister of Magic himself had seen the face of Voldemort. Fudge had been much more careful these days after the outrage of angry wizarding families for the Ministry's witholding the news of Voldemort's return from the public. Fudge had no wishes to be overthrown from his position, so he gladly agreed to an interview, hoping the public eye would catch his outreaching to the students.

Despite her promptness to class, and always letting the class know her presence by asking and answering all the questions, Hermione was no where to be seen.

"Where the bloody hell is Hermione?" Ron asked Harry just when he thought he was the only one who noticed her absence.

"I dunno. Do you reckon we should--"

"Mr. Potter," a stern voice appeared behind him. he turned around and was met by Mc Gonagall's irritated stare. "Do you or Mr. Weasley have something you would like to share with the class, or would you rather discuss it over detention?"

"S-sorry Professor," they both stammered. Ron gave Harry a glance, as Mc Gonagal returned to her lesson, that they would search for Hermione after Transfiguration. For now, Harry would have to force his eyes to stay open as he endured the rest of Mc Gonagal's absolutely FASCINATING lecture on turning a stick into a sword.

***

"Where do you reckon Hermione went?" Ron asked as he and Harry walked out of Transfiguration.

"I duno," Harry replied, trying to think that maybe Hermione had gone to the library, but he couldn't find any reason why she would need to, especially during class. "She wasn't in potions either."

Ron stopped walking as they rounded the corner. Harry looked at him and he could see Ron was thinking harder than he had all day in classes. "You mean, ever since breakfast, Hermione's been missing?"

"Seems so," Harry looked down the deserted hallway toward the infirmary. "You don't suppose she's sick?"

"I don't think so...at least, she didn't look like it, did she?" Harry shook his head and peered down the hallway and toward the stairs. "Do you think something in that letter was upsetting and she could be in the Gryffindor common room crying her eyes out. Girls seem to do that a lot." Harry nodded his head, remembering how much Cho cried...

"Or maybe," Ron continued as they headed quickly for the stairs, "Fudge hated her and sent her a nasty letter telling her how much he despised her interview. It doesn't take a howler to make Hermione cry, unless it's that rediculous rubbish that Skeeter woman wrote a few years back." Ron and Harry continued walking up the stairs until they got to the portrait of the deaf-toned fat lady who seemed to be too busy talking with her friend, Violet, an ugly old witch that knew too many useless rumors about the students in the school.

"Excaliber," Ron said quickly and the fat lady huffed and muttered something they couldn't quite hear about 7th years thinking they ran the school, and how the Head boy should really do something to quiet down his red-haired friend. The boys didn't even bother thanking her, but instead ran right into the Gryffindor common room, only to find it deserted, and clean, something Hermione wouldn't be so happy about, despite her perfectionism. Hermione was the founder of S.P.E.W., or the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, and she knew the House elves cleaned the common room without wage. Every moment she didn't study, or...study, or hang out with Harry or Ron, she spent knitting scarves and hats for the house elves to find, so they could be freed.

Harry smiled as he remembered the many times Hermione had yelled at Ron for making a mess and ranting on about how the House Elves would have to clean it up before cleaning up whatever mess Ron had made, herself.

"She's not here, Harry," Ron said as he returned from checking a closet that Harry knew Hermione would never fir in, no matter how skinny she was. "Maybe you should check your room, since I can't go up there you know," Ron said glumly, and Harry knew it was hard for Ron since he was separated from his two best friends and left out of something. Harry had been surprised when he found out he would be Head Boy instead of Ron, and he knew Ron felt left out.

"Right, she could be up there," Harry said as he headed for the crimson Gryffindor poster that bore the signature lion on it and hung on the wall. He carefully moved the silky banner to the side and came across a wall. Three knocks on the wood and a picture appeared before his eyes. The portrait housed a short and very agressive knight who scared too many of the first years in the castle with his threats to fight them, so Hermione suggested to Dumbledore that Sir Cadogan could guard the Head boy and girl entrance. "What an important secret I am bestowing! Nay shall anyone get past whilst I guard this door without the password or a duel," Sir Cadogan had shouted mirthfully, bearing his teeth that sparkled brighter than the clunky armor he was donned in for eternity. The only bad thing about having Sir Cadogan as the protector for the Head Boy and Girl room is he wouldn't let anyone in (after being yelled at by Mc Gonagall for letting Sirius Black in Gryffindor Tower their 3rd year) besides the Head Boy and Girl, the professors, or the Headmaster. That meant Ron wasn't allowed in.

"Well hello there young knave," the short man called from his horse that was too small even for him. "How is thy lady?"

"I don't know. I have to get in though," Harry said hastily. "Snuffles"

"Of course, Sir Potter! Carry on!" he said as the portrait swung open and Harry flew up the spiraled staircase. As soon as he came upon a wooden door, Harry threw it open and ran into the Head Boy and Girl's common room.

"Hermione!" He yelled, but his shouts were met with a silence that frightened him.

"Hermione," Harry shouted again as he peered into her room, but that shout too was unanswered. Her room lay unoccupied and just as it looked this morning...but something wasn't right about it...

Harry walked over to her bed and found the lilac sheets were tucked tightly into the matress, making it look as though it belonged in some sort of muggle showcase. Nothing was wrong with her windowsill. All her books remained tucked neatly away on the wood, obstructing the sun's ability to reach into her room only slightly. Yep, all her books were there. All seven were...wait...there should be eight, Harry thought as he sifted through each one to see which one was missing and unsurprisingly, it was her potions book that wasn't there...meaning Hermione hasn't been up here between Potions and Transfiguration.

Harry looked across the room to see if she had picked up her parcment and his eyes were met with the most peculiar thing. Her roll of parchment had been replacd with the letter the ministry had delivered late this morning. Harry strode across the rooma nd picked the parchment up and glanced once again around the room to make sure Hermione wasn't gong to walk out from her bathroom starkers and yell at him for being in her room without her permission, reading her private letters.

Harry adjusted his eyes back to the letter and focused on the heavy scrawl that was no doubt that of the Minister. As Harry read the letter, the look of worry on his face soon turned to that of horror as he quickly pocketed the parchment and flew back down the stairs, almost running into a frazzled and nervous Ron.

"We have to find Hermione, now!" Harry shouted as he pulled the parchment out of his robe and thrust it into his best friend's hand. Harry tapped his foot impatiently as Ron finished the letter with an unsettling gaze etched onto his face.

"We'd better split up, Harry," Ron said as the both of them fled out of the portrait hole in search of their grief-stricken friend.

***

It had been almost two hours since Harry and Ron had begun searching for Hermione, and Harry was beginning to panic. Harry knew from the letter that Hermione would not be in her right mind when they found her--if they found her. For all they knew, Hermione may have run deep into the Forbidden forest and with all the centaurs and spiders, and with the threat of Voldemort hanging in a dark cloud about their heads, the owl may have not been from the Ministry at all. Voldemort may have lured Hermione to him and Harry may not find out until it's too late and Voldemort has killed the one person who means most to him; even more than Ron.

Harry wasn't sure when these feelings crept up inside of him. Perhaps they began around the time Ron and Hermione started dating a year ago. That relationship didn't last much longer than his relationship with Cho, and things had seemed to go back to normal between the trio...at least to the passerbyer. Harry suspected Ron may have a small clue that Harry has feeling for Hermione that go beyond platonic friendship, but if he noticed, he didn't say anything. Ron was still dealing with his breakup and trying not to act too awkward around her. It wasn't a secret that Ron never knew the right thing to say at the right time, which was why Harry wanted to find Hermione before Ron. He kenw it was selfish, but he wanted to be the one to comfort her in her time of turmoil. After all, he knew exactly what she was going through from a different level.

Just as Harry finished skimming the restricted section of the library (which he wasnow allowed to enter without permission, being Headboy and all), Harry was about to give up when his intuition sent a vision through his mind. It had only been a quick picture of a certain area of the castle, but the location was unmistakable to Harry after having spent so much time there just thinking about nothing and everything...and her.

So many nights he had found her up here after their rounds as the head of the prefects. SHe alays stood there, gazing into the endless expanse of sky. The perfectly irrdescent moon did wonders to hilight her creamy complexion. So many times he had wanted to stretch his hand out and run it along her smooth skin, or pull one of her silky tendrils of hair between his fingers and let it bounce back in place like a spring. Harry longed for the time when he could feel her body against his and take in the scent of her, and let it engulf his body and erase his mind of everything that was going on and focus on one thing: her.

Harry could almost picture her standing there, overlooking the lucious land that stretched on for miles as he took the stairs to the astronomy tower two by two; his heart feeling as though it would beat out of his chest. His brain willed his heart to slow, but his legs still carried him faster and he was sure he had forgotten how to breathe as he threw the doors to the tower open, and was met by a startled gasp.

"Oh, Merlin, Hermione," Harry choked as he wasted no time crossing the damp room and buried her into his chest, soaking her messy hair with tears and sobbs that racked his body from worry and relief all at the same time. "I'm so sorry, Hermione." Harry cried into her hair, not really knowing why he was crying. She was the one who lost her parents, afterall, but Harry felt a tinge of guilt, since it had been Voldemort who had killed the innocent muggles. It was all his fault. If Harry had never gotten so close to Hermione, her parents would be here to see their brilliant daughter walking proudly through the Gr eat Hall to make her valedictorean speech, and recieve the diploma she deserved most out of anyone at Hogwarts. He could almost see the happiness radiating off her face as her parents hugged her afterwards, bringing a fresh wave of tears to his eyes.

Because of him, this would never be.

Hermione didn't respond. She only cried harder into his white shirt that had to be salty fromall of her tears. Harry could feel a tug at the collar of his shirt and knew that she was forcing him to look at her, so he did. He wasn't ready for what his eyes met.

Hermione's eyes were red and puffy, probably from crying all day. Oddly enough, though, they didn't remind him of Cho's eyes when she cried. Harry knew he shouldn't compare them, but Cho's eyes had pleaded Harry for sympathy, but Hermione...Hermione's eyes held sincere pain; a pain he often felt pricking his own eyes at night as he heard his mother's final pleads for mercy echo through his mind. She died because of him. She was a sacrafice, and so was Hermione's parents, and it was all his fault.

"Please, Harry," Hermione pleaded, her voice smaller than he had ever heard it. "I don't want you to be sorry. Stop blaming yourself for something that has never been your fault."

"But if we were never friends, Voldemort would have never killed them..."

"And I would be miserable for not having friends like you and Ron, and it would make my parents miserable knowing how unhappy I would be. They love me, and I love them so much..." HErmione choked on the last few words and Harry held onto her, like a drowning man, as he let her let out the rest of her thought. "Oh, God, Harry! I miss them so much!"

Another sob left Harry's throat as Hermione buried her head into his neck and cried like a child who fell off the swing at the playground and was looking for solace in his comforting arms. Harry only hugged her closer to him and rocked her as she cried. Harry's shirt was so damp with tears one would look at him and wonder if he hadn't fancied a swim with the Giant Squid. Harry didn't care, though.

Suddenly, harry felt another presence enter the room and before he could look up, Ron had crossed the room and held Hermione in his arms from the other side, whispering words of sympathy to her, showing Hermione that his emotion range went way beyond a teaspoon by joining in with tears of his own. At this moment, the trio had never been closer than this. Their cries of anguish and dessolation for Hermione's parents were silent enough that no one came up to question the noise of three people crying as if they were three bear cubs who had lost their mother.

The wind rolled through the astronomy tower window and carried with it the faint cries as it transported their swan song through the rustling trees and off to a familiar cave where a man with eyes like the devil smirked maliciously as his lips curled even tighter, realizing phase one had been completed

Potter will die.

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Okay, that's not the end, so just wait for the update. I'll try update asap and since I have ch 2 & 3 written allready, it shouldn't take too long. I have 3 AP classes my first semester so it's tough to find time to write, but I'll try my hardest. Thanks soooo much for reading and don't forget to review.

<3 Harrynhermione4eva

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2. Haunting Songs

A Swan Song

By Harrynhermione4eva

A/N: Wow, when I started writing this story, I never imagined I'd generate as many readers and reviewers as I have. Thank you so much to anyone who has reviewed my story. I'm glad you like it. I hope you like chapter 2 just as much.

Disclaimer: I think I forgot this on chapter one, but let this disclaimer cover Ch 1 and 2: I don't own Harry Potter. JKR is the creator, and I just like using her characters.

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To most people, Hermione Granger only seemed like she was studying hard for her NEWTS. She would lock herself up in her room, or confine any free time she had in the library. What the others didn't see were the stray tears that fell down her cheek every once in a while. She had become rather good at hiding her face so no one could see the proof of her distress. Once when they were studying together, Ron put Hermione's book down from her face to uncover her red-puffy eyes that were streaming tears. When he inquired about the tears, she just brushed it off and said she had allergies. Ron went back to his book with an unconvincing look on his face, and Harry knew they both knew her better.

He had seen her face at the funeral: and event that made the last month finally seem real. It broke his heart to see her standing next to her mother's casket like a little girl after waking up from a nightmare, running to her sleeping mother and figuring how to wake her so her mother could comfort her and tell her the nightmare wasn't real so she could go back to sleep. Hermione stood at her father's casket and held his hand as if any moment his lips would curl into a smile and he would wake up and pull her into his arms; kiss her forehead and again say, “I'm so proud of you dear.”

Harry had similar dreams of his parents in the past and he wondered if they had ever been true. Sometimes Harry would see his mother smile as she cleaned the dishes. She would sing to herself, not thinking anyone would hear her. Harry would crawl in and sit in the middle of the floor, watching her as she danced around herself. He loved the sound of her voice. She had the most elegant voice in the world that would make any veela turn read with jealousy.. It floated through the house like fresh honey in the spring that would be made from only the best flowers in their prime. She would see Harry crawling on the floor and laugh as she picked him up and spoke to him with a loving voice only a mother could for her child.

“Were you listening to my singing again, Harry?” she laughed as she tickled his tummy, making him giggle like any other happy baby would. Her eyes were alit with so much love every time he saw his father apparate from wherever he'd been. After giving his wife a kiss, James would pick Harry up and spin him around until little Harry was laughing so hard he began to hiccup.

“There's the little devil and future Marauder of Hogwarts,” Sirius said as he walked through the doorway with a mischievous smile on his face. He gave Lily a friendly kiss on the cheek and James a friendly slap on the back and turned himself into the shaggy black dog they all knew too well.

“Snuffles!” Harry beamed as he reached for the dog on the ground, making his father laugh with a hearty richness that always made Harry smile in his sleep.

“Will you listen to that, Sirius?” James chuckled, “He's made the toughest man to graduate Hogwarts sound like a fluffy teddy bear.” Lily put Harry down on the ground and the dog moved over to him, nuzzling his hand affectionately. His father's laughter echoed in his mind when Harry awoke with a startle, breathing heavily as one final sound entered his brain before he awoke.

His mother's plea for mercy.

Her anguished cries would never be something he could get used to, just like watching Cedric or Sirius die and he didn't want to go back to sleep, knowing what was coming next. If he fell asleep, he would hear his father's rich laughter turn into frantic yelling for Lily to take Harry to safety and his mother's melodious voice would forever echo in his mind as desperate cries to spare his life.

Harry ran blindly out of his room and headed to the bathroom he shared with Hermione, for a comforting glass of water that might wash away the aftertaste of the cries and screaming of the dream.

The water on his face did little to ease his aching heart, but did comfort the pounding headache that seemed to originate in his scar. Harry filled a glass with water and desperately gulped it down in an attempt to rinse away the taste of bile that had crept up his throat. He reached for a towel and dried his face, looking at himself in the mirror.

He sighed

Despite the fact that he was only 17 years old, he felt as though he were forty. All the pain and responsibilities, even at such a young age, made Harry look older than he really was. His eyes carried the wisdom of a man who lived a thousand years and Harry was surprised his hair hadn't turned grey already.

As Harry turned off the sink and spun around to leave the bathroom, another voice popped up in his head.

“It's not your fault, Harry.”

Harry still didn't know how Hermione could say that. He was the reason she almost got killed their fifth year in the department of mysteries when he took Voldemort's bloody bait and went off to “save the day”. He was the reason her parents were dead.

“Oh!” a soft voice came from behind him as Hermione realised he could see her crying. Her form was sort of fuzzy since he didn't have his glasses on, but it was unmistakably Hermione. Who else could it be?

From what he could make out, she was sitting on the couch in their common room, eyes all puffy from crying which wasn't an uncommon thing these days. She was in a modest night-gown that covered her knees and looked like a little girl getting ready to go to bed. Next to her state of dress, Harry felt almost naked. All he had on, due to the sweltering heat, was an old pair of boxer shorts that had once been Dudley's. Of course, Harry wasn't as skinny as he used to be, and he had more of a muscular build now, but somehow the boxers were still a little big for him.

“What are you doing up?” He asked her.

“I couldn't sleep.”

“Are you all right?” He moved to sit next to her on the couch. She sighed and sunk deeper into the velvet cushions. He knew she wasn't really all right, and knew exactly what had been haunting her dreams for the past month. A foreign thought sprung up in his head; despite her grief, she still looked beautiful.

She sighed again. “Harry, what do you think about life?”

Now he was confused. “What do you mean?” For a third time, Hermione sighed.

“Do you ever wonder why you didn't die instead of living all those times you've met Voldemort, or what your parents would be like if you had been born a year later and the prophecy didn't pertain to you? Do you ever wonder what they may be thinking now if they were alive?” Harry couldn't really see without his glasses, but he was almost certain he saw a glint from her cheek; the light from the fire momentarily catching that tear in a spectacular prism before it rolled out of sight.

He didn't really know what to say. “I suppose so...I mean...I think about my parents all the time. I wonder what my mum would look like now, or how she might have comforted me when I was little after scraping my knee or banging my head or something. I'm sure I did that a lot.” Hermione laughed a little and Harry smiled as memories that could only be dreams flew through his mind.

“I wonder if my dad would have taught me how to play quidditch before I came to Hogwarts, or if he would tell me stories of his Marauder days at Hogwarts.” Harry could feel tears begin to sting his eyes as a fresh pain stabbed at his heart. “I wonder if my mum used to kiss my dad everytime he came home, or if she would sing as she did the dishes.” It was hard for him to continue with these thoughts and memories so fresh in his mind, and his mother's screams still ringing in his head.

“Sometimes I get so tired of it all—Voldemort, the prophecy, death—that I wonder: maybe the world would be better off without me, but then...” Harry was choking on sobs now, “...but then, I remember all those who died, or almost died trying to keep me alive, a-and I know I c-can't let them down. They d-died trying to save me a-and I can't just throw that away. I c-could never look at t-their faces when I meet t-them in death. I would be throwing away t-the only thing I have to l-live for: a-avenging their deaths and seeing V-Voldemort fall and suffer...s-suffer for all the horrible t-things he has done to me and so many p-people. I...I stay alive to try protect the p-people I love that are s-still here: Ron, the Weasleys, the Order....y-you...”

Harry fell forward and buried his face in the crook of Hermione's neck and just wept. “I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, Hermione,” he whispered and Hermione hugged him close, joining in with his tears and they cried like two people who had lost everything in the world.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione cried, “I-I can't do it anymore, not without my parents.”

Harry was confused. “What do you mean?” He asked her sharply, his tears stopping suddenly in fear of what her words were implying. He could see it was hard for Hermione to admit what she wanted to say because she kept taking deep breaths as if she was going to say it, but then some rational thought would cut her off from saying it.

“I...I don't know...If I can...well, deal with everything anymore...without my parents there for me.” Even though Harry knew what she was saying, the vague look on his face (partially from shock that Hermione would even fathom the thoughts) told her that she needed to be a little more specific. “I mean, I can never go home to them to tell them about a good test, or to tell them about how you and Ron won the Quidditch Cup, or tell them how excited I am to graduate...They won't be there to see me graduate, or walk me down the aisle when I get married, or...or h-hold my first child when they become grandparents...I just...I just...can't live anymore knowing my future is so different without them.”

Harry looked deeply into Hermione's eyes and they were no longer teary. Her eyes had changed from their usual sparkling chestnut colour, to an empty greyish-brown that almost scared him. He had never seen someone with a more pained look in their eyes than he saw in Hermione's, and her words finally sank in...

“No!” he yelled gruffly at her, grabbing her shoulders and making her look him directly in the eye. “You have no clue what a waste it would be if you even tried, Hermione, so don't you dare.”

“But I...”

“No, don't even say that,” he interrupted. “You have so many people who love you—I love you, damnit!” he growled in such a low voice it made her tremble, before he pressed his lips to hers roughly.

Harry was afraid Hermione might slap him any moment and then run to her room in tears, but she didn't. The shock quickly passed through her system and she slid her delicate hands around his neck, pulling him closer to her. She kissed him back with an urgency neither of them knew she possessed and slowly she let him deepen the kiss. The first contact of his tongue against hers sent shivers racing through his entire body, mixing with the wonderful tender touches he was receiving.

Hermione moved so that she sat comfortably in his lap, and he held her in place by resting his hands on her hips, occasionally rubbing her back with small ministrations that elicited delicious moans from her.

“I could never live without you...” he whispered as he kissed and suckled along her milky throat, “or Ron. I would die before I let anything happen to either of you.”

“Harry, please,” she pleaded as she brought his lips to meet hers again, “Don't say that.”

He kissed her face again and again and whispered three words that he had uttered millions of times, but seemed more platonic then. Hermione knew for sure this time the words went way beyond any platonic friendship, and she was happy for that.

“Harry,” he kissed her nose and looked at her , suddenly making her feel nervous as If she were the one only wearing boxers. She had a sudden impulse to feel his bare skin against her own. “I love you too.”

Hermione stood up and reached for his hands, pulling Harry to his feet and leading him toward his bedroom with a sultry smile playing on her lips. That look erased any signs of earlier pains. Harry finally caught on to what she was implying and almost died of fear. He knew she was a virgin, and so was he—Ron hadn't been so innocent—and he was suddenly afraid of what this might do to their friendship.

As if sensing his fear, Hermione silenced his unasked question with a kiss. “I know what you're thinking and I thought about that too, but I love you too much to say no.” She kissed him again. “Please, Harry, I need you. I need you, because I love you.”

No more words were said as Harry helped Hermione pull her night-gown over her head as he pulled her bare chest against his own and buried his lips in her neck, letting the scent of her hair surround him as a reminder that he had everything to live for. Hermione tugged at his hair and he kissed her deeply, letting every thought and feeling for her pour into her mouth. She pulled him backwards so they fell onto the bed and her velvety hair tumbled around them, framing their faces together.

He kissed her neck as she fumbled to pull his boxers down so he could kick them off before he pulled her knickers off, leaving them both naked and glowing with a passion that was so far beyond desire.

They explored new territories that had been until now uncharted, and when they were both ready, he slid into her, and it was almost perfect. A few tears fell from Hermione's eyes as he broke through her wall, but the pain was soon erased by a much stronger feeling: pleasure.

“Oh, god, I love you so much,” Harry groaned into her ear as he waited for her to adjust to him. When she kissed his parted lips tenderly, he took it as a sign that she was all right and he began a slow rocking pace, dragging out slowly and then pushing back in, impossibly deep as he let his lips roam along her soft throat. No coherent words could be formed in Hermione's brain (a definite first) as she let emotions she never knew existed, fill her body and leave her with one word to describe it: completely blissful pleasure. Okay, so maybe three words.

Harry could feel a sensation growing rapidly now in the pit of his stomach as his thrusts became more frantic, producing throaty moans from Hermione. Harry looked up to meet her eyes, and that was his undoing as the world came crashing down around him. Before he could lose all muscle control, Hermione pulled his lips to hers and forced him to kiss her as he came. Halfway through, he felt her fall too and she pulled away from the kiss, letting her back arch off the bed as her head rolled back and a pleasurable sound escaped her lips. Now it was perfect.

Afterwards they climbed under the covers and Hermione rolled o top of him, sending little shockwaves through his already tingling body.

“I love you so much, Harry,” she whispered from the crook of his neck and moved to brush aside his bangs, uncovering the scar he liked to keep hidden from the world. Harry brushed his bangs back to cover it.

“Please, don't remind me,” he said (sadly), beginning to see Sirius as he stopped falling for that instant, but was then sucked into the veil.

Hermione brushed them back to the side and kissed his forehead like a mother would. “You don't need to keep secrets from me, Harry. You know you can be yourself around me and not have to worry how I care. You can tell me anything,” she said with a yawn that brought out the little girl he saw in her earlier that night.

“I know,” he said, kissing her forehead as she drifted peacefully off to sleep. “I know,” he almost whispered to no one, but he couldn't ignore the dull ache he felt in his forehead that was Solway getting worse. He put the pain aside and fell asleep to match Hermione's rhythmic pattern of breathing, with no clue of what fate had in store for him.

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Okay. This chapter was more to show Harry's feelings about his parents and his deep feelings for Hermione, plus it sets up chapter three perfectly. I'm almost done writing chapter three, but bear with me. I have 3/4 AP classes this semester, and my fourth class (since we go on a block schedule) is honour band/choir so I'm going to be really busy this year. Don't worry, though. It'll come.:D Thanks for reading and please drop a review. Your reviews for my first chapter were AWESOME!:D Thanks.

Harrynhermione4eva

PS The line where Hermione said: I need you. I need you, because I love you, is not mine. That comes from some French guy that I can't remember.

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3. A Mother's Song

Sorry I've been MIA…I couldn't find the last chapter of this story. I found it. :)

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“I say, no one gets in here without the password.”

It was hardly morning, but a muffled and obviously nettled voice had woken Harry up, in addition to the blinding throb in his scar. Suddenly he heard laughter.

“You think that twig will save you against my sword? Well then, put up they weapon thou doltish knave.” Sir Cadogan laughed jovially at what Harry suspected to be Ron. Harry would have laughed if it weren't for the blinding pain in his forehead that would not let up. The laughter was cut off abruptly as Harry could hear an explosion of plaster and wood. Hermione shot up from where she had rested against Harry's chest and hopped swiftly out of bed.

“Something isn't right, I can feel it, something isn't…Harry, are you all right?” Hermione cried as she moved back toward him. Harry shot out of the bed quicker, moving like a wounded deer as he clutched his forehead and groped around for his clothes.

“We have to get out of here, Hermione, now!”

“What do youï‚¾” but Harry was all ready throwing her knickers and nightgown at her and tossing a shirt on as he desperately pulled his boxers up.

“Harry, what's going on?” Hermione asked in a fearful tone. Harry ignored her and continued looking around his room for some means of escape…and then it came to him, like a bludger to the head.

Harry ran across the room and pulled his Firebolt from the closet and raced toward the window. Hermione looked as though she'd rather jump from the window than fly out it.

“Come on, Hermione, I promise it's safe,” Harry assured her, climbing onto his broom. “We have to get out of here now!” Another sharp pain shot through his forehead like the time he hit his head on the windowsill at his aunt and uncle's house. Hermione, sensing his urgency, ran toward the window and climbed onto the broom. She wrapped her hands tightly around his waist and he took off. Hermione`s eyes were closed so tightly she couldn't see if the enraged cry had come from Harry's room or somewhere else. She was more focused on her own problem, overcoming her acrophobia.

“I don't like flying,” Hermione said in a small voice, mostly drowned out by the rush of air. “I don't like this at all.”

“Open your eyes, Hermione,” Harry said soothingly. “It's all right. We just have to go somewhere that's not Hogwarts. Help me find somewhere.”

Hermione relentlessly opened her right eye and when she started to become accustomed to the fact that she wasn't riding on the back of a wild animal (her fear of heights was only worsened by the adventures with Buckbeak and the thestral) and that Harry was an excellent flyer, Hermione opened her other eye. For the first time in her life, she was left without words as the sun rose with an almost elegant grace, giving birth to a new day.

“Where can we go?” Harry asked again and Hermione stopped focusing on the sun and turned to the more important task: finding refuge somewhere no one knew about, somewhere dark where no one could easily find them, except Ron…somewhere…

“The cave,” Hermione said suddenly, “Sirius' cave. It's perfect.”

Even though she couldn't see his face, she could feel Harry smile. “Hermione, you're brilliant.”

She could feel her cheeks flush as Harry changed his direction a bit more south. They flew not even a minute longer before Hermione found her trembling legs back on the earth.

“This is ridiculous,” she said as she attempted to walk, finding her legs unable to move. “I'm an eighteen-year-old witch, not a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time.” Harry put her arm around his shoulder and helped toward the cave, the only place Harry knew they would be safe until Dumbledore found them. After all, Sirius had lived here a whole year and was never caught.

The mere thought of Sirius was pushed from his mind as another blinding pain shot through Harry's forehead. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground, dragging a very concerned Hermione with him.

“Harry, what's wrong,” he only groaned. “Try telling me what it is.” It was impossible for Harry to speak. All his body functions shut down and were focusing only on the blinding pain sending throbbing warning signals through his body, making him want to vomit.

“Hermione…I,” he strained, but was cut off by a horrible sound: a malicious laughter sounding no better that feedback from a muggle radio. Harry's brow furrowed as he struggled to stand up from his knees, somehow pushing the pain in his scar aside. Hermione gasped.

“Hello Tom.”

“Potter,” Voldemort said, his voice colder than the worst winter that had ever seen at Hogwarts. Voldemort looked at Hermione and smiled sinisterly as Harry stepped in front of her, blocking his view.

“Well, well, Potter, seems as though you snagged a girl…”

“Don't you dare even look at her, or lay a hand on her.” If Harry had been capable of wandless magic, with the overbearing emotions running through him at that moment, Voldemort would have blown up into such tiny pieces, no one would ever know what happened to Tom Riddle.

Voldemort laughed as if Harry had told him some sort of joke. “You're just as brave as your father was, do you know that?”

“You don't have the right to speak of my father,” Harry screamed through clenched teeth. “You murdered him!”

Voldemort's lips curled into a disgusting grin. “Yes, I suppose the Gryffindor bravery does run in the family, with Godric Gryffindor as your ancestor.” Harry knew exactly what he was talking about. Just last year Harry found out he was the great-great-great-grandsonï‚¾or something of sortsï‚¾of Godric Gryffindor. The news came as a shock to him, but at the same time, it was no surprise, finally answering why he was able to pull Godric Gryffindor's sword out of the sorting hat. “It's rather ironic that a war against two menï‚¾Slytherin and Gryffindorï‚¾could carry on to today, isn't it?” Tom Riddle smiled again, and it made Harry feel cold, as though a thousand dementor were surrounding them. When Voldemort spoke again, his voice held a premature glory. “That war will end here, today.”

Harry wrenched himself out of Hermione's frightened grasp and moved forward to stand face-to-face with the one man he hated most in the world.

“That's right,” Harry said with a look of absolute determination in his eyes. “Slytherin's family ends here.” He whipped out his wand at the same time Tom Riddle withdrew his own. Their wands crossed as a sick grin spread across Tom Riddle's ghastly lips.

“Something we always end up like this, Potter,” said Voldemort as if it were a game. “How is it that we always end up like this, hmm?”

“You know perfectly well, you sick bastard.” Harry clenched his wand tighter. “You know the prophecy says…”

“I only know half of the bloody prophecy, Potter,!“ Harry grinned. He knew with pleasure that only knowing half of the prophecy vexed Tom Riddle more than anything else, and Harry used this to his advantage as much as possible…even with Voldemort's red, savage eyes shooting him daggers.

“Then let's put it to rest,” Harry siad as he backed up to get a clear shot at Voldemort. “Valere” The spell threw Tom Riddle back a bit, but he wasn't too affected by it.

Voldemort laughed. “I must say, you did better in your fourth year.” He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry. “Avadaï‚¾”

“Mobilrubes” Harry shouted as Voldemort finished off reciting his curse and a large rock came hurtling in front of Harry, absorbing the effects of the killing curse.

Harry chuckled coldly at Voldemort's incredulous gaze. “I've learned more than you think, Tom, Adorini,” Harry shouted as the boulder that had absorbed the curse flung itself at Riddle and barely missed him as he ducked out of the way.

“So you have, Potter, but you've got no chance against me alone.”

Harry laughed again. “Funny, because I think I remember fighting you off several times on my own, one being before I could even talk.” If Tom Riddle's fiery eyes could turn more red with anger, they did at that very moment. Voldemort threw a curse Harry's way, but Harry ducked out just in time.

“You may have been able to fight me off, but you'll never kill me.” Voldemort jabbed his wand in Harry's direction and screamed: “Confodere.” A spark erupted from his wand and shot a silver and red light at Harry, piercing his abdomen cleanly like a bullet wound. The pain was so gruesome that Harry's entire body shut down all feeling, turning numb as he saw a trickle of blood escape the cut. He touched the wound to see if it was real, and he could feel his own hear beat in time with the warm thick blood that was pumping out of his body.

“No!” Hermione screamed and tried to run to Harry with tears littering her eyes, but an invisible force pulled her back and slammed her against the rock wall. She could hardly see behind the tears and rage that was flooding her, but she could make out the sight of Voldemort pointing his wand at her. Somewhere to the side, Harry seemed to have fallen to the ground. Hermione screamed as she tried to reach for her own wand, only to find her arms pinned to her side.

“Quiet! You silly girl,” Voldemort ordered as he stared her straight in the eye with a victorious glare. His defiant stare soon turned to a sick grin again as he stood, poised with his fingers holding his wand loosely.

“Ahh, yes. This is all too familiar to me. It seems just like yesterday,” he simpered wickedly, moving closer to Hermione and reaching one of his skeletal fingers out to stroke her cheek almost fondly. His hand was deathly cold and Hermione shook out of disgust. “Yes, it's very similar to a situation seventeen years ago, except the girl this time has brown curls instead of fiery red hair…and this time,” Voldemort paused, his grin growing wider as Harry fumbled around on the ground, reaching out for a stick that had fallen from a nearby tree and muttering something. “This time, Harry Potter is going to suffer through his long slow death as I torture you, my dear, to a similar fate.” Hermione's eyes widened as Tom Riddle raised his wand to her forehead.

This was it.

“I told you not to touch her,” a gruff voice came from the ground. Voldemort turned around in shock and as he did, a sword pierced his side, sending him into confusion…and pain. A deafening scream came from Tom Riddle as he clutched the sword that had just pierced him and wrenched it out of his body, watching it turn back into a stick. He dropped it on the ground dumbfounded.

The binds that were holding Hermione disappeared, and she ran straight to Harry who was laying on the ground, witnessing life leave his own body.

“Don't worry, Harry, we're going to get you back to Hogwarts,” Hermione tried to help him sit up, but the loss of blood left him too weak to even lift his own head. Instead he used all the energy he had to lift his hand to her cheek. He could vaguely feel her clutch his hand as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

“I-I love you, Hermione,” Harry stroked her cheek with his thumb, erasing the tears that were falling quickly. “Don't forget how much I love youï‚¾”

“Don't say that!” she shouted deftly brushing his hair aside and kissing him urgently. “You're not going to die, Harry James Potter!”

Harry was scared. He didn't want to go on without Hermione, he couldn't.

“Please, don't make this hard,” Harry choked.

“Harry I love you, but I'm not going to let you die, you can't die!” Hermione shouted through the wracking in her chest.

Suddenly a heavenly voice pierced through the cloud of death and Harry was almost sure he saw a bright light coming from the wand laying next to him. From the faint feel of wood in his hand, he was almost positive that the light was coming from Voldemort's wand, until he saw Hermione staring wide-eyed at his own wand that detached itself from his hand and floated up to meet its brother in a cloud of white. Smoke escaped the tips of the two wands and swirled together as a womanly form seemed to be born from the smoke. She was singing a melodious song, accompanied by a phoenix as she stepped closer to Harry, looking fondly at her son.

“Mum?” Harry whispered wordless and she nodded slowly. She smiled as she knelt down, gently laying her son's head in her lap. Even though she seemed as solid as the last time he saw her like this, he didn't expect her to be able to touch him as though she were real. Harry saw Hermione jump back a bit when his father appeared from the cloud and moved in next to her.

Lily continued singing gloriously as she kissed Harry gently on the forehead, putting him into a peaceful slumber. Tears rolled down Lily's cheek and landed on Harry's forehead as she closed his eyes that had been open. Hermione cried softly when Lily took Harry's hand (that Hermione had been clutching dearly) and swiped her own hand across theirs, making the blood that stained their hands disappear. Then she reached to where Voldemort's curse had pierced him and slid her hand across the wound, sealing it up. James put a hand on Hermione's shoulder and said: “Please, Hermione, take care of him for us, now that he's safe.” He looked at Voldemort who was groaning in pain and looking inches from death. “He needs you, now more than ever.”

“But isn't he…”

“No, he's alive,” said Lily, suddenly stopping her melodious song. “He needs you more than anyone. We know how much he loves you.”

“And how happy you make him,” James added, making Hermione smile.

“I love him so much,” she said as a few tears slid down her cheek. Lily and James smiled at each other and then back at Hermione.

“Then give him a kiss,” Lily suggested with a knowing glint in her eye. Hermione smiled and bent down, hovering inches from Harry's face. He looked so peaceful. Love flooded her entire body as her lips descended onto his, kissing him more amorously than she had kissed anyone in her entire life. Suddenly she felt his eyelashes flutter softly against her cheek and then his warm lips pushed against her own as he kissed her back. A small sob escaped her lips as Harry reached a hand up to pull her head closer to his as they continued kissing ardently. When the need of oxygen broke them apart, Hermione smiled vivaciously when she saw Harry grinning at her. He sat up and pulled Hermione into a tight grip, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“I love you,” he whispered. Hermione only cried and gripped him painfully. Lily and James smiled at the scene that lay before them. Harry turned to them, his parents, and stood up, helping Hermione up with him and enveloped his father in a manly hug. Their embrace lasted a few moments but then he turned to his mum and did the same, but this time crying on her shoulder.

Lily hugged her son tighter as James came around and patted him on the back.

“We're so proud of you, son,” he said as Harry pulled back, red-eyed from Lily's shoulder.

“We love you so much, Harry.”

“I love you guys too.” They nodded and looked to the horizon at the newly risen sun.

“We don't have much time left, but we'll leave you with Hermione,” said James. “We know you will be happy with her.” Hermione walked over to Harry and he wrapped her in his arms as a soft breeze blew through the field and caressed his cheeks, carrying his parents away from him.

“Congratulations, Harry,” James said as his voice was blowing further from him. “You've done it.”

“We love you,” His mother's voice echoed even though they could no longer see his parents once the smoke form of their bodies mixed with the leaves that were carried in the wind.

Harry clutched Hermione tighter to him as the breeze turned around and a powerful force knocked into Tom Riddle, pulling the wind from his lungs and carrying it along with the breeze. Voldemort never breathed again.

Harry kissed Hermione on the forehead and then trailed his lips down to her own and smiled as he rested his forehead against hers. “It's over,” he said in a tired voice. “I can't believe it's over.” Hermione smiled and bent down to pick up his wand which had fallen alongside Voldemort's and handed it to Harry.

“Let's go home,” she suggested, wrapping her arm around his waist as they both turned back to Harry's firebolt that had been dropped somewhere along the battle scene. They mounted the broom, Hermione holding onto Harry, and flew off to tell the good news to the people just awakening, not realizing that this morning was different, and they had awoken to a safer world.

So that is the story of how Harry Potter had come to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort. Some say he lived on to forget this day, while others believe it to be the happiest day of his life. The truth lives on and tells the secrets of his story every time the wind rolls smoothly along the lake just outside Hogwarts, every time the sun rises to begin a new day.

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A/N: So, what do you think? Sorry for waiting so long, but senior year was hectic, and I only found this now while cleaning out my room in preparation for next year. I hope you liked it.:) Let me know.

Oh, and if anyone wants to know what inspired the scene with Lily singing, listen to the “Themesong of Arwyn”…it's track 10 on the Lord of the Rings soundtrack…it's sung by Enya and it's a BEAUTIFUL song.

I should be posting more of “Fighting For You” in the next few days…once I've come around to accepting what I've written of chapter 2…anyone want to beta for me?

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think. :)

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4. Aniron lyrics

Hey all! I just thought I'd post the lyrics to the song in chapter three, just in case you wanted to look at the correlations between the lyrics and text. :)

Peace!

Harrynhermione4eva

"Enya Aniron (theme For Aragorn And Arwen) lyrics"

Sindarin
Aníron
O môr henion i dhû:
Ely siriar, êl síla
Ai! Aníron Undomiel

Tiro! Êl eria e môr
I 'lir en êl luitha 'uren.
Ai! Aníron...

Translation
I desire
From darkness I understand the night
dreams flow, a star shines
Ah! desire Evenstar

Look! A star rises out of the darkness
The song of the star enchants my heart
Ah! I desire...

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