My Skin

All righty... Here’s a little one shot that I wrote while extremely blocked on ‘Sweet Child of Mine’. Kinda fluffy... Kinda angsty.... You decide. The song is ‘My Skin’ by Natalie Merchant. If you haven’t heard this song, then go listen to it because it rocks. (And so does Kate J from harryloveshermione.com. I first heard the song there and I love it! So, swing by the website and take a look at her awesomeness videos.)

I own nothing. Not the song... Nothing.

My Skin

HavaBisqitPotter

Take a look at my body

Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and stared up at the night sky. The night air was chilly, but he didn’t feel it. Rain stung his cheeks but he didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel anything anymore. His body was numb... A cold piece of metal, like a weapon... And a weapon it was... A defense tool used only for one reason; annihilating Voldemort.

Look at my hands

He rubbed his eyes. He was tired... So tired of being used for everyone else’s needs. Wasn’t he allowed to live? Wasn’t he allowed to grieve for his parents? For Sirius? For himself? No... he decided.

He rubbed his hands together and stared at them. What did he see? Fingernails that were chewed down to the nub... Blisters from Quidditch practice... Stains from the brown ink that reminded him of Hermione’s eyes... Hermione...

There's so much here that I don't understand

It had taken him seven years to realize what he was feeling for Hermione. Seven wasted years that could never be recovered. He wanted to tell her what he was feeling... But she would laugh at him and their friendship would be over... Or worse, she would feel the same way and he would have to see her hurt. No more, he promised himself, would be hurt because of him. Especially not Hermione.

Your face say these promises

Whispered like prayers

I don't need them

“Hermione...” he whispered into to night. “I love you... I would die for you. If anything ever happened to you... I... I don’t know what I’d do... I’m mad about you. Protect me... Please, protect me...” It was like he was praying to her. Given, she was his savior. She had the uncanny knack of making him tell her everything no matter what the consequences and he loved her for it.

Because I've been treated so wrong

She hadn’t cared that he had been rubbish to the Dursleys. She hadn’t cared when he was a skinny boy of eleven with broken glasses... She hadn’t cared about the scar... Well, scars... Emotional and physical. She’d helped him heal them. All the love in the world couldn’t compare to Hermione’s... They’d grown together...

She’d loved him for who he was and embraced him for it. All that mattered to her was that he was Harry... Just Harry... Harry who had secretly been in love with her since that day on the train...

I've been treated so long

And it took a long time to heal eleven years’ worth of scars, he scoffed. But she’d never deserted him... She’d always stuck up for him... Always taken his side... Well, except for the incident with the Firebolt in their third year... But her intentions were good and her heart was always in the right place.

She was all he’d had in fourth year when Ron was angry with him. She’d been right there. Harry liked to think that because of this, he was closer to her than Ron was.

As if I'm becoming untouchable

Then in fifth year when everything went wrong... He’d secluded into himself and had so much built up anger... He remembered feeling like no one cared and so he’d drawn up more and became numb. He’d taught himself to not feel. Taught himself to show no emotion. He could not care for anyone. They would get hurt.

Well, contempt loves the silence, it thrives in the dark

And so in his quiet prison, his hate for Voldemort had festered... And his love for Hermione had grown. He had tried numerous times to stem it. He’d told himself everything he could think of to get over her... But he kept coming to the same conclusion... He was in love with Hermione.

His hate for Voldemort grew even stronger.

With fine winding tendrils that strangle the heart

It had almost engulfed him... Made him mad... But then, on perhaps the best birthday of his life, Remus had rescued him from the Dursleys and taken him to the Burrow with Ron... And wonderful, sweet Hermione... Who had in turn rescued him... from himself.

She was his savior.

They say that promises sweeten the blow

But I don't need them, no I don't need them

They made many promises to each other that summer. Harry knew few of them would be kept. He knew that she was just doing it to make him feel better. He had finally broken down and told her everything about Sirius... Wept in her arms... And he felt like the biggest fool alive for it.

She’d promised that she would never tell anyone... But Harry knew that promises meant nothing. He’d seen many promises broken... Yet somehow... He wanted to believe her... He felt that she wouldn’t betray him... And he wanted to believe that she hadn’t.

I've been treated so wrong

I've been treated so long

As if I'm becoming untouchable

I'm the slow dying flower in the frost killing hour

Sweet turning sour and untouchable

He was dying. He was sure of it. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand this ‘not-revealing-the-truth-to-Hermione’ bit. He loved her... Couldn’t she see that? If he didn’t tell her soon, he felt sure that he would go find Voldemort, stand right in front of him, and ask for Avada Kedavra to be yelled at him. He’d been so nice... So innocent when he’d come to Hogwarts... Now he was bitter and cold.

Oh, I need the darkness

The sweetness

The sadness

The weakness

Oh, I need this

He began rocking back and forth, still not feeling anything... Until...

“Harry?”

Harry smiled but didn’t turn around. “She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel!”

Hermione sat beside him and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. “Trust you to be sitting out here in the pouring rain when it’s freezing out.”

“You didn’t have to come find me... I’m a big boy... I think I can find my way back into the castle.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know... I enjoy a bit of stargazing myself... Although, tonight it looks more like cloud gazing...”

“I needed to come out here, you know. Needed—”

She nodded. “I know.”

I need a lullaby

A kiss good night

Angel, sweet love of my life

Oh, I need this

“Hermione...” he said after a few minutes.

She turned her face toward him. “Hmm?”

“I’ve been thinking... What if... Well... What if... Someone was to kiss you?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean if someone were to kiss me?”

“Well...” He shrugged. “I just meant... What would you do? You know, to this person that kissed you?”

“I don’t know...” she sighed. “I supposed I would have to consider who it was.”

“Oh.”

I'm the slow dying flower

In the frost killing hour

Sweet turning sour and untouchable

“Hermione...” he started again.

“What?”

“Look, I have to tell you something.” This is it, he decided. He had to tell her sooner or later... Might as well be now... While he had her here... In a relatively good mood.

“I’ve... Well... I’ve been meaning to tell you...” he stammered.

She put a hand on his face and smiled. “Harry, you can tell me anything. Your secrets are safe with me, remember?”

He nodded and kept on. “Well... I... I love you.”

Do you remember the way that you touched me before

All the trembling sweetness I loved and adored

Your face saying promises whispered like prayers

I don't need them

“What?” she breathed.

Harry sighed. “Oh, look... ‘Mione... I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have ever told you...”

She shook her head. “No. Harry, sit down!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the ground beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know... I suppose that I didn’t want to ruin our friendship because we have a great relationship, ‘Mione... I didn’t want to lose you as my best friend.”

Hermione leaned into him and kissed him. “You never will.”

Well is it dark enough

Can you see me

Do you want me

Can you reach me

Oh, I'm leaving

You better shut your mouth

And hold your breath

And kiss me now

And catch your death

Oh, I mean this

Oh, I mean this

Harry couldn’t believe it. Hermione Granger was kissing him. He was kissing Hermione Granger... and Merlin, it was a good kiss. Much better than his first.

He pulled away from her. “How is it that you’re the only one who can see me when I hide away?”

She stared into his eyes, taking in every pigment of green. “How is it that you’re the only one that can pull me from my shell? Of course, I suppose I could ask Ron the same question. Though your response would probably be a little more—”

“Hermione...”

“What?”

“You need to shut up so I can kiss you some more.”

She smiled at him. “You need to shut up so you can kiss me more...”

He gathered her into his arms and was shocked at the goose bumps on her arms. “Hermione, are you cold?”

“Well, it is raining... And it is quite cold tonight...”

“You’ll catch pneumonia out here... Come, love... Let’s go inside.”

“Mmm...” she sighed as he pulled her to her feet.

“What?”

“I like it when you call me that...” She kissed him. “Let’s go inside.”

As Harry watched her walk back into the tower, he looked up and shivered as, for the first time in two years, he felt the icy wind on his skin.