Maybe
by auscricketjunkie

Rating: PG
Ship: Harry & Hermione
Canon: Books 1 - 5
Genre: Angst, Romance
Status: In progress
Length: 4,881 words in 3 chapters
Published: 10 Sep 2004
Last updated: 27 Jan 2005

Hermione reflects. When did she fall in love with him? How? What is going to happen now he's going away? Set in 7th
year, Hermione must deal with her emotions before Harry leaves for the war. Only two chapters long for now...

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/2948/

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1. Chapter One

Incredibly short chapter to begin with, before I think of how to continue into the next chapter… this story will only be
short, I guarantee you.

I think that maybe I always knew. Maybe I always knew that it would all come down to this. To a situation I feel bound
to, to something that I can't ignore… to something that's been haunting the back of my mind for months. Perhaps even
years. Perhaps from the very first time I walked on to the Hogwarts express 6 years ago…

I guess it all started when I saw him for the first time. I know we weren't friends to start with, but now I think that
maybe that didn't adversely affect the development in our relationship at all. Maybe it strengthened it. Maybe it made
us realise that time is truly well spent when it's spent together. Maybe this, maybe that… It all started when I saw
him. When I opened that door and laid eyes upon those two, scrawny boys sitting across from each other as the
countryside rolled past behind them through the window, I knew at once. Or, at least, the thought entered my mind. It
probably shrunk itself back to the depths of my mind, where I wasn't to find it until it had grown so much, like a
cancer, that the tumour of that thought was too hard to ignore.

That thought… the one that has been plaguing me ever since Professor Dumbledore announced the Deatheater attacks and the
need for retaliation. Ever since before then, when I was told about the prophecy.

To kill or to be killed…

What was I mean to think about that? The boy, no, man, who has been a part of my life for almost half of it, has to be
murdered, or to become a murderer. He must slaughter, or be slaughtered. Commit a crime… or be on the receiving end of
one.

However it goes… Harry Potter will always be a victim. A victim of pain, suffering, loss, change, evil… he will always
be a victim of his own demise. I just wish… that it couldn't happen. Why, you ask? Not only is this man my best friend -
over Ron, over anyone else, over the books I immerse myself in, in the hope of finding some better, more true, place -
but he is the man I love.

The man I've loved since I was eleven years old.

I couldn't help it. The moment I saw him, I knew there was something about him. Since that moment, we've spent almost
seven years living in close quarters, laughing, joking and playing with each other, forming relationships, being
educated, helping and supporting each other, being there for one another. I can't imagine a time when I've not been
there for Harry; a time when my heart isn't praying that he is safe. I can't imagine not being at his side, not being
able to lean in to his warm embrace, physically or emotionally, or not being able to see those eyes change with his
amazing tirade of emotions.

I think that Harry's eyes were my undoing. I know, now, that I've had these feelings for him for years, but last year
they came to the surface, wrapped around me and stung me like the Portuguese Man O'war did when I was on holiday in
Australia when I was ten. I was sitting in the common room; it was just me and him, sitting quietly. He was staring
absent-mindedly in to the fire and I was curled up on a plump armchair, losing myself to the world Jane Austen had
presented to me. I'm not all non-fiction, you know. He looked over at me and smiled - a half smile, a smile that said
“I'll have to enjoy this while I can”. I knew he was thinking about the challenge that would soon confront him, about
Sirius, about what Dumbledore had said, about losing the people he loved.

So I replaced my bookmark in my book, lifted myself off my chair and almost crept to his side on the settee. I laid my
hand over his and he turned to look at me, and at that time - it hit me. The mix of emerald, forest hue, grass, and
burning copper sulphate - it all swirled in his eyes, betraying his hidden feelings, and my own heart. It hit me so hard
that I couldn't move. For fear, for change, for desperation. I almost cried - not because the idea of loving Harry
repulsed me, but because I hadn't realised it sooner.

Harry saw the tears in my eyes. “Hermione” he had whispered, ever so softly, lifting a thumb to brush a stray tear from
my cheek.

And all I could do was stare at him. Why? Why do I love him? I can't give one concise reason… he means everything to me.
At that moment, I felt vulnerable. Vulnerable to myself, more than to him. But when his tears started to form, I
realised they weren't for me. They never would be. They were for his mother, his father, for Sirius and for Remus, for
Dumbledore and for Hogwarts, for the weight of the entire world burdened on his shoulders, for him to carry by himself.
He couldn't lose any more of those close to him, that would cause him to self-destruct. The boy who lived had become the
boy who pretended to live. This wasn't living, this was… existing. I knew that Harry wouldn't ever be happy until the
evil had gone. Until he had changed… something.

And, now, a year after my realisation, Harry still doesn't know how I feel. In two days time he is going to meet
Voldemort, to defeat him - and I say defeat instead of try to defeat, because I have enough faith in Harry that he will
leave someone dear to him victorious - and he doesn't know how I feel. I need to let him know… but what if he doesn't
reciprocate my feelings? That would cause more heartache to me than having him not know. So, on the eve of the day
before, I am at a loss. Tomorrow Harry doesn't have to do anything… Dumbledore has been talking to him, training him -
whatever they do while locked in that office of his all day - for the past two weeks, but tomorrow he is free. Possibly
for one last day… but I don't want to think about that. I don't know what to think. What if he doesn't come back?

I think he needs to know how I feel about him. About our friendship. Because it's stretched beyond a friendship now… I'm
emotionally dependent on him being safe, on him being happy.

I'm in love with Harry Potter.

Tomorrow, he'll know.

To be continued…. Soon? Tell me.

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2. Author's note

The next and final chapter of this story is coming soon! I promise!! I know I said that I'd have it out ages ago, but
I've been really slack, and then I had exams and prefect things to do and yeah… not a lot of valid excuses.

I'm writing it as we speak, I'm just a bit stuck on the middle of the chapter. I've the ending (or pre-ending…) and the
beginning, but not the middle.

So yep. It should be out relatively soon. Sorry!

Rosie xxxx

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3. Chapter Two

Hello. This chapter got me stuck a bit, I must admit. I wrote the beginning, and then the end, completely strapped for
an “in-between”. I have one now, but all it's just a few filler paragraphs. I kind of rushed through the day a bit, that
was the part I was stuck on. I had a grander plan for this chapter, but alas, it did not turn out. Tell me what you
think, if you like. I don't know whether I'll continue or not. Oh, and before anything else - this chapter is dedicated
to Cate. As much as I don't believe in God, I hope he's treating you all right up there.

~*~

Tomorrow came, and it's today. Today feels… dark, sad. I woke up feeling as though I was on autopilot, almost as though
it was just me, with nothing inside. I could see my feet moving as I walked down the stairs to the common room, I
watched my arms move in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, but I couldn't feel anything.

All I can feel is my heart turning over in my chest, my stomach clenching. My organs somehow know that today is the day
I put myself on the line. They seem to know that today is the day that I reveal all I've been hiding for the past year,
and they seem to realise how scared I am.

Why am I scared? I know the reason. But I shouldn't be scared, isn't love meant to be happy? Isn't a declaration of love
meant to lead to flowers and smiles and flitty little birds and fireworks and kisses and everything else? I should be
looking forward to that. But it won't be like that. I'm putting my heart on the line here, to be rejected in one of two
ways, one of which is almost certain - Harry to brush me off, not believe me, dismiss my feelings, sigh and say “oh”,
and the other one being inevitable - for him to leave. He has to leave, I know, and I know it's for a perfectly valid
reason… and I feel a bit bad about being so selfish, but I don't want him to leave. I don't want him to put himself in
danger.

Breakfast was a morose affair. Even Ron knew the seriousness of the situation - that this could very well be the last
breakfast we have with Harry, and that it will certainly be the last breakfast we have with him the way he is. The way
we are. Harry was munching quietly on his toast, slathered with so much marmalade it was going soggy, and every now and
then he'd look up and smile at someone. Everyone around us was chatting - Dumbledore had made sure that no one outside
Harry's closest friends knew here he was going. But everyone knew that the headmaster couldn't keep a secret, and so
tonight, when he makes a speech about Harry, I shall not be surprised.

All I could do was stare listlessly in to my porridge, which was going cold, making the honey separate. I spooned it
around the bowl, preferring to look at the lumps of oats instead of having to look at Harry. I knew what he was doing,
with his small smiles and sad looks; he was saying goodbye. And I didn't think it was fair that he had to.

The whole day was the same. He was quietly and silently bidding fair well to all he knew, and none of them knew why. It
felt strange, walking around the school when everyone else was so happy, so blissful in their ignorance, and I, or we,
couldn't drag our thoughts from the task ahead to even give a weak smile at a joke.

At seven o'clock, Harry left Gryffindor tower. Ron and I went with him. He gave the common room a long, meaningful
stare, as though wishing it goodbye as well. He was hoping, praying, that he would return, but knowing that it was
possible that he would never again see the room or it's occupants ever again.

The three of us went out onto the grounds, walking silently, the grass wet with evening dew sticking to our shoes. We
walked down a hill, to rest at the bottom of it where we were half hidden from everyone in the castle.

“Ron, Hermione” Harry said, addressing us both, tears already starting to fill his eyes. It was a surprise, but at the
same time not, to see Harry cry. “You two…” he covered his face with his hands. He straightened himself up, and
continued. “You two take care of yourselves”.

It was the last thing I think that both Ron and I were expecting to hear, and we shared a glance.

I touched Ron's arm. “I'll leave you to it, first”. Ron gave me a smile, a sad one, a grateful one, and I stood and
walked a little way away, where I couldn't hear what they were saying to each other. I didn't want to watch Ron and
Harry talk, to see them say goodbye, and all the things they needed to say. I knew that the two shared a bond, of
friendship, of brotherhood, of mateship - I knew how much they meant to each other, even if they were sometimes too
manly to admit it to themselves.

After ten minutes, both men stood and brushed themselves. I saw them get up and stood up myself, taking two steps
towards them before we met in the middle. Nothing was said, until I couldn't bear it any longer, and put one arm around
the neck of each of my best friends and pulled them closer to me. They had to bend to embrace me, but we managed it
together, our arms wrapped around each other.

“I love you, both of you,” I told them, our heads so close together.

I felt Harry grip my waist and Ron's hand stroke my hair. Both of them nodded in agreement.

“I want to say, to both of you”, Harry said, “that without you two as my best, best friends, there wouldn't be a me”.

Ron shifted. “And without a you, where would the wizarding world be?”

I shoved him, but smiled none the less. He had a rather endearing way of ruining moments. He smiled at me, at both of
us, and pulled out of our six-armed hug.

Harry hadn't said a word; I didn't know how he felt. I put my finger gently to his chin and lifted his face, to see a
small smile and a tear. He gave me a look, and then pulled me in to his arms, fully this time, holding me in place. I
looked over his shoulder at Ron, who gave me a pointed look. It was my turn to say goodbye now.

I held on to Harry's arms. I couldn't bear it, the look on his face. It was as though something was ripping him up
inside, and then only to tear those pieces in to smaller pieces and then smaller pieces again until there was almost
nothing left. I looked at Ron who's face looked as anguished as mine. I was sure that he was trying hard to be strong
for Harry, like we had silently agreed, but he couldn't do it, the tears were threatening to fall. I knew that I
wouldn't be able to be strong, either.

Ron slowly smiled at us, sadly, and then left, walking halfway up the hill to a large tree, only to sit underneath it
and bury his face in his hands.

I turned back to Harry, whose arms I was still holding at the wrists. He looked so despondent, so… alone. The tears in
eyes could be seen behind his glasses and his stance alone displayed his emotions.

“Oh, Harry…” I said quietly, enveloping him in my arms. I was reminded of that night long ago as Harry's arms came
around my waist to hold me and his head went to my shoulder. I couldn't stand, I couldn't breathe, all I could do was
weep. I needed him so much… we all did. He was facing the toughest task of all - leaving all he knows, all those who
have loved him, to save the world once again.

I could hear Harry's quiet and painful tears on my shoulder, and the love, the care, the everything I felt for this man
filled me. I couldn't stand it!! Why? Why was the world so cruel? He had to do this. But why? He deserved so much more
than a childhood ruined by evil, interrupted by events that shook him to his very core. He deserved happiness; not
death, love; not destruction.

All I could do was hold him until my own emotions overwhelmed me and I couldn't hold him any longer. I was fighting so
hard to be strong for Harry - I had already failed by the tears that were running down my cheeks, but the least I could
do now was support him.

I pulled away from his embrace so that my hands were at his elbows, and his hands still on my waist.

“I just want you to know, Harry”, I began, a choke forming in the back of my throat, “that I will always be here for
you, no matter what. In my heart, there is a place reserved for you. I want you to know that everyone loves you so much
- don't ever, ever doubt that, no matter how bad things get out there. Don't ever doubt the multitude of other people's
emotions”. I paused to wipe my eyes. “We're all so proud of the person you are, Harry. Of the person you've always been.
Remember that, please, as you leave us today, and remember that whatever happens, we're all here thinking of you”.

“I know Hermione…” he said, looking straight in to my eyes, his green eyes swirling with sadness and reflecting some
greater task. “And I just want you to know that knowing you… is something I'd never wish to replace. I have to tell you
that before it's too late, you need to know that it's so hard for me. It's so hard for me to let everyone to go, to
leave tonight”. His breath shuddered. “But I have to, I know that”, he continued, angrily brushing his eyes, “I have to
end this. One way or another”.

“One way or another”, I repeated in a whisper.

Harry's eyes rested on mine, and his gaze was so intense that it was almost as though he was sending telepathic
messages. I choked suddenly and lifted my hands to my face, crying so hard. Harry leaned forward and took my hands away
from my cheeks, holding them in his own.

“Hermione…”

“I need you Harry,” I told him. He started to talk, but I cut him off. “You're leaving tomorrow, for how long I don't
know. And I don't want you to. Maybe I'm just being selfish, but I want you here, safe, with me, to keep me functioning
properly”. The look in his eyes was one of slight surprise and confusion. “Everyone thinks that Hermione Granger is a
strong, independent person who can do everything for herself and organise other people while she's at it. But the truth
is, I'm not. People never see the vulnerable side of me. You did, even if you didn't know it. And you took care of me…
I've realised that I'm nothing without you. Without you, Harry, I'm not… me”.

“And without you, Hermione”, Harry started, his teary eyes piercing my own, “I don't know where I'd be. You and Ron have
been the best friends I've ever had, the only friends I've ever had, the only people who've ever truly cared about me
since my parents died. But you, Hermione, you've been a stable part of my life since I met you. You've been the
keystone, the piece of me that keeps everything together”.

I sobbed.

“Which is why”, Harry continued, his cheeks wet, “you have to be strong. You have to stay here and be strong. You have
to look after everyone here and be the best you've ever been”.

“I will”, I nodded, “I promise I will”. I put my arms around his shoulders once again, and rested my face on his
shoulder. Over it I could see Ron still sitting under the tree. I shut my eyes tight, willing no more tears to escape.

Harry gently pressed his hands into my waist, silently asking me to look at him again. I pulled away slightly, but we
were still so close to each other. Harry rested his forehead on mine.

“Whatever happens”, he whispered, his breath on my face, “promise me you'll wait for me. Promise me you'll be here when
I get back”.

I shut my eyes slowly and exhaled a small puff of breath. “I will always be here for you, Harry”, I whispered.

“Thank you” he whispered.

We stared at each other for a minute longer. Then Harry abruptly pulled away, turning around and kicking at the grass. I
stood in shock, watching as Harry cried angry tears and flung his arms around.

He turned and saw me looking at him. He wrung his hands; his face in a silent scream, then fell to the ground, his hands
covering his face and his whole body wracking with his emotions. I'd never seen Harry break down like this before. I
rushed to his side, dropping to my knees myself and gently prying his hands away from his wet cheeks.

“Why, Hermione?” He cried. “Why does it have to be me? Why do I have to be the one to save everyone all the fucking
time?!” I was too sad and angry myself to be shocked at his tone. “All I ever wanted was to be normal, and I know I'll
never be, but couldn't I at least try?” I rubbed his hands between my own. “I don't want to leave everyone I love, and I
don't want to put them in any danger. If I don't win this, then I would have died in vain. Everyone I loved will be
hurt, or dead, and everything we've gone through, every little bit of shit we've gone through, will have all been for
nothing”.

“You will win, Harry” I told him, grabbing his wrists.

“How do you know that, Hermione? How can you say that when you don't know?”

“Because I know you, Harry” I said, firmly. “I know you can do this. I know you will, because I love you too much not
to”.

“Why do you put such faith in me?” Harry whispered, so quietly that I almost didn't hear him through his tears. He
looked down at the ground, and his knees that were getting soaked from the wet grass.

The moment of truth has come, I thought.

“Because I love you,” I said quietly. Please don't look up, please don't look up.

“I know you do, Hermione” Harry replied, still looking at the ground.

“No, Harry”, I continued. If I was going to say it I was going to say it now. “You don't know”. And that's when he
looked up. His eyes were red, wet, his face was torn, and his expression was… for once, unreadable. “I love you. I'm in
love with you. I have been for… goodness knows how long. I didn't want to tell you, but today… today I can't hold it in
any longer. You need to know before something happens to you, to the world”.

Harry looked shocked. He rubbed his eyes, then looked up at me once again.

“I'm sorry if I've offended you” I said quickly, tears starting to form again in my eyes. I brushed them away before
Harry noticed them. “I know you don't feel the same way, I just… had to tell you”.

I slowly stood up, brushed my knees, and then took a step back from Harry who was still kneeling on the ground. Say
something, I begged silently. Say anything.

“You didn't offend me”, I heard him say. I turned my head to look at him; he had his hands in his lap and his eyes on
the ground. Suddenly, his eyes lifted to mine, and for the very first time I had no idea what was going on behind them.

“I'm sorry,” I murmured. “I didn't mean to burden you with this before you have to go, I don't want to put any pressure
on you, I just”-

“There's no need for you to be sorry” he cut me off.

I looked at him. He was slowly standing up, and with a shaking hand he reached out to touch my arm. I flinched, and the
expression on his face made my heart break over again.

“Hermione…”

He raised his thumb to my cheek, just like all those months ago, and gently brushed away my tears. He let his hand
linger on my cheek, running a shaking finger ever so softly down my cheek and across my chin. I stared at him,
wide-eyed, but he would not make eye contact with me - he was looking all over my face, my cheeks, my nose, my chin, my
forehead - I don't know why. I whispered his name, I'd say that the sound barely passed my lips but he seemed to hear
it, somehow.

It was then that he looked at me. The hurt, the pain, the innocence in his eyes made me close my own and sob. But then,
as my eyes closed and a slow breath left me, I felt his lips against my own. My eyebrows arched high as he pressed his
mouth against mine, leaving the gentlest of impressions before pulling away. He leant his forehead against mine.

“I need you to be strong for me, Hermione” he said.

I leant forward, my nose bumping his softly and my lips just grazing his. “I know” I replied against his mouth.

He kissed me again, harder. I felt nothing but sadness, my love for this man overshadowed for a few moments by the grief
we were both experiencing. He wanted to forget that he was leaving; and I let him. He pressed his mouth, his body, up
against me, one arm around my waist and the other holding my face to stop me from moving while he kissed me, over and
over again.

I was burning up inside, our lips moulded, he swept his tongue across my lips and as he moaned and pushed himself inside
my mouth, I felt his tears mingling with mine. Our kisses were fierce, but laced with such passionate sadness that I was
sure I would be bruised - and not just physically. We were clinging to each other, I didn't want to let him go, and by
the feel of his hands running frantically up and down my back, gripping my shoulders and pulling me closer, ever closer
to him, he didn't want to let me go either.

I pulled away, my chest heaving with the deep breaths I was being forced to take.

“I can't, I can't do this… I, Harry, I…” I couldn't even get the words out from behind my tears.

“I know, ssh, I know,” he whispered, drawing me in to his embrace, holding me tight. We cried in to each other's
shoulders for minutes, it seemed like hours but it was only minutes.

A light shone from the castle, the bright glow bringing us back to what was happening around us. I looked up the hill
towards the castle and saw Ron standing outside the doors to the main entrance, Professor Dumbledore standing to his
right. They both smiled sadly at us, and the headmaster motioned (with merely his eyes) for us to return to the castle.

“Harry” I said quietly in his ear, pulling my hands from around his shoulders. “It's time”.

Harry, his head still buried in my shoulder, squeezed me to him for one last moment, before shuddering slightly and
pulling away. He looked at me, his face streaked with his tears, and he brushed the hair that was stuck to my face with
our tears away.

“I love you, Hermione”.

He leant forward, kissed my forehead, then turned and walked towards Dumbledore. I felt cold, colder than I ever had, as
he pulled himself away from me.

I buried my face in my hands, I couldn't watch as Harry hugged Ron once more and then turned to Dumbledore who said
something to him and held his shoulder. I couldn't watch as Kingsley and Professor Moody appeared from behind
Dumbledore, and I certainly couldn't watch as Moody pulled an empty Panadol box (how ironic) from his pocket, and as the
three of them disappeared in to the darkness.

But I did, I did watch it. It tore me apart.

Ron walked down to me. He took my hand, and I turned to him, to say something, but I found I couldn't. I couldn't say
what I felt, because it was too hard for me to feel. Ron gave my hand a soft squeeze, and said the words that would keep
me going until Harry returned.

“I know, Hermione,” he whispered. “But, he'll come back, I can promise you that”.

I wrapped my arms around Ron then, and we held each other as we cried silently for our best friend. Ron had faith that
he would return, and I knew that I had to share in that faith, for Harry's sake. I held Ron close to me, as I would for
the next three weeks; we needed to be strong for him.

Maybe, just maybe.