AN: Thanks for all your reviews on my last chapter. I got some really good ones from you. I love making angst for the couple. It just makes me appreciate the ending even more.
A special thanks to my friend Sarah who beta read this for me and pointed out where I slipped up so many times! Hugs!
Chapter 2: Once It's There, It Can Never Leave
Harry managed to open his eyes to find the blinding Saturday morning light streaming down onto his face.
He rolled onto his back and stretched his arms up over his head, working out the sleep drenched kinks from his elbows and joints.
Sitting up slowly in his bed, he ran a hand through his unruly bed hair and tossed the covers to the end of the bed.
Kicking off with a start, Harry jumped out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom; washed and showered.
After getting dressed in his blue jeans and a dark green shirt, his first instinct was to go and get Hermione for breakfast.
Cursing himself for thinking about her now, he stopped himself from reaching his door handle.
Instead, he brushed a hand through his wet hair, making it stick up slightly, like normal.
Harry retreated from the doorway to find a quill, his inkpot and his application form.
Rummaging in his drawers, he found the red and blue form.
He filled it out, including his N.E.W.T.S. and O.W.L. results. Finishing the form with his signature in the bottom corner.
Feeling satisfied Harry grabbed his robe from his bedpost hook and put the form into an empty envelope, applying the owling address to the front before running out of his dorm room door.
*~*
Hermione lay awake in her four-poster bed, staring up at the canopy ceiling of the bed.
All through the night she'd been thinking about Harry, about what Harry had said.
When Ron had come to see her, and she told him about the argument, she had tried to avoid the statement Harry made.
She did feel something for Harry; her love for him had been unrequited in her years before. It was in her sixth year that she felt it was time to move on, and there was Ron.
She'd given up on Harry, pining for his affection for years on end just wasn't good enough for her. So afraid to make a move herself, she turned to Ron for not only comfort, but also for the love she craved from Harry.
He had given it to her, more than she'd expected to receive and it had overwhelmed her. She had already given her heart to Harry even though he hadn't noticed.
When Harry had proclaimed his love for her, her world took a flying leap into the abyss of nowhere. It took every amount of restraint she had not to throw her arms around him, to hold him close to her and tell him…tell him the hell she'd been through, loving him and not feeling anything back.
But it was Ron's name that ran through her head the whole time, even when she'd relaxed into Harry's comforting arms, rested against his chest and letting the world fall from beneath her.
Had she told Harry she loved Ron to hurt him? To make him jealous even? Or did she really feel something for Ron?
"Argh!" She cried out, hitting the bed beneath her fists. "This is stupid!"
She rolled onto her side, letting her eyes fall on the photograph she kept by her bed. A photograph of Harry, herself and Ron near the Lake in their last year. The Lake was frozen over and snow littered the ground around them.
She smiled remembering the winter they'd had. They were all friends then with not a care in the world. They were all covered up from head to toe in winter robes and scarves. Mrs Weasley had sent them all gold and scarlet ones for the Christmas Holiday. The picture moved about, waving and blowing kisses to Hermione.
She frowned as she looked at the Harry in the photo. Something was there she'd never noticed before. As the picture moved, the photo of herself grasped Harry's hand and laced their fingers together, brushing her thumb over his hand.
What was weird was that she couldn't remember doing that.
She smiled at the happy looks on their faces though as Ron got hit in the head with a snowball.
She sighed again and rolled back onto her back.
As if waking her up, a light knock rapped on her bedroom door.
"Who is it?" She groaned out, twisting in the bed.
"It's Harry," came the muffled reply.
"What do you want, Harry?" She asked frustrated.
"Just to talk," he replied.
"What about?" She kicked back the comforter and slipped out of the bed to put on her slippers.
Her bed attire was suitable enough for Harry to see her in. Plaid shorts and a white tank top. He'd seen her in them before anyway.
"Last night," She heard him slump against the door. "Can I come in?"
She sighed loudly, and walked to the door leaning against it slightly, as if feeling him on the other side.
She closed her eyes for a moment and savoured the comforting silence form the oak door. She could feel him on the other side; she could hear him breathing. It was a sort of bliss just listening to him.
"Promise you won't try anything?" She asked, placing one hand on the door handle.
He let out a small, muffled laugh. "I promise."
She turned the handle and opened the door. She was greeted with a refreshed and wet haired Harry staring back at her.
She felt her knees go a little weak seeing him with his original, unique and one of a kind smile.
"Come in," She gestured.
He grinned wider and stepped inside, sweeping past her.
His black robe blew against her naked legs. It was cold and it made her shiver.
She closed the door behind him and walked to her bed, sitting on it cross-legged. Harry remained standing near her bedroom window, looking out over Hogwarts summer ground.
"Hermione, I…" He turned to look at her, feeling his insides beat down onto his stomach. Her deep cinnamon eyes staring up at him with anger surely but a flicker of hope underneath her curled eyelashes.
"You what?" She folded her arms across her chest, as if protecting herself, from him.
"I…" He stammered again, watching how her hair bounced so gently off her shoulders, leaving the waves curling out onto her bare skin.
"Just spit it out, Harry!" She was getting mad now. He was stood inside her bedroom; staring at her and stammering like an idiot.
He clenched his fist tightly, digging his short fingernails into his palm. Why should he apologise to her? He hadn't done anything wrong! Except tell her his deepest emotion…towards her. She could at least show him some emotion, some compassion.
"I want to know why," He brushed his unclenched hand through his hair and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.
"Why what?" She asked, confused.
"Why is it so wrong for me to be in love with you?"
She stopped looking confused. The confusion turned to anger or annoyance. "I'm not going through it again, Harry."
"You didn't give me an explanation last night," he stated calmly, looking up at her. "Don't you think I deserve one?"
She bowed her head to look at her feet. "What do you want me to explain? That I love another man or that I love your best friend?"
"I want you to explain why it was him over me," Harry straightened up, replacing his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling guilty.
Hermione crinkled her brow in confusion again. "What do you mean?"
"Why Ron? Why couldn't it have been me?" His voice was coming out angrily and almost desperate for an answer.
"Because!" Hermione flung her arms up in the air and stood up, walking to her desk and leaning against it, directly opposite him.
"'Because' doesn't qualify as an answer, Hermione," Harry raised an eyebrow to her. "Why Ron?"
"He was there Harry!" She raised her hands to her head, clutching it as if in pain.
Harry felt the familiar knot in his stomach. "He was there?"
"He was there! He loved me Harry! When you didn't!" She clutched at her chest, feeling tears in her eyes.
He gulped down his fear, his adrenaline, everything that had sustained him from breaking down in front of her.
"There has not been a single time I can remember when I didn't love you, Hermione. Not one." He pointed down at the floor as he said it.
"Then why didn't you tell me?" She buried her face in her hands.
As if recomposing herself, she looked up to the ceiling and sniffed away the tears.
"I really don't want this conversation now," She closed her eyes. "Please go."
Harry edged close to her and raised a hand to touch her shoulder.
"Hermione, I…"
She looked at him, into his deep emerald eyes questioning his very soul.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked quietly. "Why didn't you?"
Harry reached out and stroked her bare shoulder. "I…I was afraid."
"Afraid of what?" She asked calmly again. "Harry, I loved you. I loved you with everything I had."
"Then why didn't you tell me?" He asked, smoothly, caressing his thumb over her skin.
She sighed. "I watched you, go out with Blaise, Lavender…every girl that took the Harry Potter fancy. Even Ginny," She gave a small laugh and rested her chin on her fist. "And I was jealous of every single one."
Harry watched her eyes sparkling, glistening as moisture covered them.
"I guess I never really tried to get you, Harry," Hermione let her arms fall to her sides. "I gave up eventually…eventually being last year."
Harry tried to speak. "Herm…"
She raised a hand up, stopping him. "Let me finish."
"You even confided in me about them, how well it was going, and as a good friend," She gave a small laugh again. "As a good friend, I played along."
She stood up straight, coming toe to toe with Harry but still having to raise her head a little to look up at him. Her 5'5 frame compared to his 6.
"And you have the nerve to tell me that my love for you is platonic and nothing else," She shook her head and laughed dramatically.
"You put me through near hell loving you, harry. And you want me to throw away what I have with Ron for you? Seriously Harry, what are you thinking?"
Harry closed his eyes a little, wishing that the dull thudding in his chest would fade. The tension growing between them was almost agonising.
"I'm asking you to forgive me," He asked, looking back down at her. Into her eyes, he fell deeper into the brown soft eyes. "I was…am an idiot."
"Why are you apologising?" She asked, snapping at him. "It wasn't your fault it turned out this
way. You didn't know." The sarcasm rang out like Quasimodo's bell.
Harry felt his chest tighten around his lungs. He breathed out calmly.
"All I asked for was a simple explanation," Harry breathed again. "And I got one."
He turned from her, looking in her eyes one last time.
"So there's no point in me staying, is there?" he walked to the door reaching out for the door handle.
A hand came down on his shoulder.
"Don't do this," Hermione's voice pleaded.
Harry turned to face her, his face hovering centimetres away from hers.
"Don't do what?" He asked softly.
"Don't let it end like this," She replied, just as softly as his question, if not more so.
"It's not the end," He smiled gently. "Remember?"
She breathed out, her breath becoming ragged with his lips only mere inches from her own.
"I can't seem to remember anything right now," She confessed, looking up into his green eyes, feeling lost within them.
"We're only eighteen," He took one of her hands in his, smoothing the back of her hand with his thumb. "It isn't the end, it's only the beginning."
"This isn't a fairy tale, Harry," She replied, lacing his fingers with her own.
He stepped as close as he could to her.
"But there's magic," he smiled again. "We'll see each other again, Hermione."
"Can you promise me that?" She asked, squeezing his hand tighter.
"I can promise you that I'll love you forever, no matter who you're with," He kissed her forehead lovingly.
She closed her eyes in the small amount of tectonic bliss she experienced.
He pulled back and looked at their clasped hands.
"I can promise you that I will always be here, by your side, when you need me," He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.
"And I can promise you that I will always be your friend," He let go of her hand and stepping back.
She immediately missed his warmth.
"Will things ever be the same between us?" She asked, closing her arms around her waist, hugging herself.
He chuckled a little. "I don't know. It depends on whether we want to end up the same way or not."
"Do you want to? End up the same way I mean."
He scratched the back of his neck. "In the years to come, if we still love each other, then I guess nothing can
stop us really."
"What's stopping us now?" She asked the question that was both of their minds.
"Everything I guess," he looked to the window. "And everyone. I think we need some thinking space first."
She followed his gaze, to see Ron and Lavender with Seamus and Dean walking back towards the castle, laughing and joking on the green grass in the summer's day.
His smile brightened. "They look happy."
"Happier than I am," Hermione replied, looking back at Harry's smiling face, watching the sunlight from the window dance across his face, lightly touching his features.
The scar just above his jaw line from a fall down the stairs; a scar that slit through his eyebrow from a vicious attack from Voldemort then finally, his lightening bolt on his forehead.
All of them, memories of his past. All a unique experience that defined him into the man that stood before her. The man that truly held her heart in his own.
"Look!"
Harry pointed out of the window to the flock of owls carrying the morning post to the castle. A hundred owls or so flying in perfect formation.
He turned back to her. "This is where we say goodb…"
She shook her head and moved in towards him again, pressing a finger to his lips.
"Shh," she smiled, tearfully. "This is where we say see you later."
He grinned back in understanding. "Okay."
He leaned forward and captured her lips with his for a moment, pouring his heart and soul into one earth-shattering kiss.
"See you later, Hermione," He whispered, pulling away slowly, savouring the contact.
She looked into his deep hue green eyes, watching the flame dance in them. The flame being a loving ember, a compassionate sign of undying love forever kept inside.
She gasped when she saw it. It flickered there for just a moment, but it showed her everything.
It was at that moment, she realised forever was in his eyes.
"See you later, Harry," she brushed away a loose lock of black hair, falling across his scar.
He smiled his undeniable smile once more before walking backwards, towards the door, not turning to open it, but standing to the side a little.
He took one last look at her, basking in the moment they'd just had.
Then he turned and walked out of the door, closing it shut behind him.
Instead of walking down the stairs, he leaned his back against the closed oak door and remembered.
Committing every detail to memory. He wanted to remember the moment the world stood still for them.
*~*