Chapter Seven -
Winter Time Warmth
Hermione stood before the solid wood of her front door.
Her body was completely numb, with cold shivers racing up and down her limbs and spine. It had been snowing heavily for the last hour, with the wind whipping a freezing spray across the ground. Her clothes were soaked through, clinging to her skin. She was sure her lips were purple as they quivered against her rattling teeth.
She had been standing before the door for a good fifteen minutes, not having enough courage to open it and face him again. But she was sure if she stayed out in the freezing cold any longer, she would get hyperthermia or her fingers would fall off from frostbite.
Her heart was thumping quickly beneath her chest, struggling to pump her cold blood through her body. Soon, she started to shake uncontrollably and she decided it would be a little better inside; at least she would be warm. She nervously reached out a hand, knowing the steel of the doorknob would be incredibly cold. But before she could even touch the metal, the door opened from the inside. A warm gust of air billowed out and Hermione sighed in content. Harry stared at her in shock.
"Hermione! Look at you - quick, come inside!" he said hurriedly, pulling her inside and wrapping an arm under her armpits. She didn't have enough energy to push him away; instead, she enjoyed the warmth of his body against hers as he directed her into the Living Room. The fire was roaring in the grate, the flames licking the back of the chimney and dancing out from the bricks. Hermione collapsed onto the couch, too cold and stiff to move. She was only aware of Harry kneeling in front of her, trying to untie the icy laces of her shoes.
Once he had both her shoes off, he pulled the dripping socks from her feet, her toes tinged blue. He stood briskly and struggled to pull the sweater over her head. She didn't move which didn't help things, her body shaking so much it was almost impossible to keep her hands grasped at her waist. The sweater was off and Harry was staring at her awkwardly.
"Hermione, you need to take off your shirt and pants, they'll only make you colder." His words echoed through her head and she was vaguely aware of nodding, her hands trying to grab the end of her shirt. "Here." Harry said walking forward and taking her wet shirt out of her hands. "I won't look." Once her shirt was off, she shivered even more before Harry draped a blanket over her shaking shoulders, his face a delicate shade of red as he tried to avert his gaze from her almost naked chest.
"P-pants..." she stammered, reaching down to unbutton her jeans. But her fingers were so numb they slipped right off the small buttons. Harry placed another blanket over her lap and legs, while his hands fiddled with the top of her jeans, trying to tug them down over her hips. She lifted slightly off the couch, giving him enough room to pull the pants down. She didn't have enough sense to feel embarrassed that Harry was touching her thighs as he struggled to yank the tight, wet jeans from her legs. She was blissfully numb.
Finally, when her legs were free from their frozen enclosure, she sat shivering while Harry disappeared for a minute. When he returned he was carrying an arm full of clothes and blankets. It took a few awkward minutes to push the clean, warm and dry track-pants onto her lower body, with Hermione trying to help as much as she could. It didn't help that Harry couldn't see what he was doing, as the blanket still covered her.
Hermione removed the blanket briefly as Harry pulled a shirt over her head, followed by a thick, black sweater. She drew her knees up to her chest, still shivering madly. Harry placed two blankets over her before sitting next to her on the couch, pulling her to him. With the heat wavering from his body and the blankets wrapped tightly over her cold body, Hermione sighed shakily.
"You'll be OK." Harry murmured, placing an arm over her shoulders and drawing her closer. She snuggled into his side, her head burrowing into his chest. She was so exhausted that she didn't have enough energy to keep her eyelids opened. They closed painfully, causing her eyes to sting with the sudden warmth. The steady beat of Harry's heart was mesmerizing, and she found herself listening to it, her head growing heavy.
It was so warm and comforting, being this close to Harry. It made her remember old times, in Hogwarts, curled up in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. Those days had been the happiest of her life. It had been just him and her, together. And now, it was one of those times. Before she knew it, she was asleep, still listening to the heartbeat of her hero.
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She was asleep in his arms, her head resting softly on his chest. He could see the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the blankets, and the color had - thankfully - returned to her cheeks.
It had only been two days since his return, and he was already feeling the same feelings he had felt three years ago. Seeing Hermione again made him want to cry with joy. He had forgotten how beautiful she was. And how smart she was. And just how Hermione she was. It all brought a feeling of warmth to his heart, that spread out through his entire body.
For the last three years, he had been searching was something that he had been with all alone. This was his home. This was where he belonged. Not in some other country, with some other people. He should have stayed after Hogwarts. He should have stayed with the people he loved.
He should have stayed with Hermione.
The smell of her hair drifted up to his nose, and he breathed it in with a shudder. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla. He couldn't believe he had left her. She had been everything to him. His confidant, his teacher, and his friend. She had always been there for him, even when Ron wasn't. He could always rely on her, for whatever the reason. He had always loved her.
And he still left.
It had broken his heart to see her so hurt, and for him to be the cause of that pain made his entire being scream with guilt and unfathomable loss. When she had broken down the night before, Harry had been in so much pain. But it was nothing to what she had gone through. For three years she had been alone, left with her darkest memories, while Harry went off exploring the world. He had been so selfish in leaving, just because he was a little confused as to what his life would be like after Voldemort, he had turned a blind eye as to what his leaving would do to others.
He had been completely and utterly blind to Hermione's pain.
And for that, he should have died with Voldemort.
Hermione murmured something in her sleep, burrowing closer into Harry's side, her hands clenching at his jacket. Her face screwed up in confusion, to be placed by fear.
"No, Harry - watch out!" her cries gutted him, and he pulled her as close as he could, resting his head against the top of hers.
"Shhh, it's OK. I'm here now and I won't let anything hurt you." He whispered into her ear, stroking her damp hair softly. She relaxed into his arms, her fists unclenching. A smile formed on her lips, which were no longer blue. Harry sighed and looked to her peaceful, sleeping face. "I won't leave you again, Hermione. I promise."
He laid a single kiss to her forehead, letting a salty tear fall.
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Hermione was back on the battlefield, watching from afar as a green light left Lord Voldemort's wand.
"No, Harry - watch out!" she screamed desperately as the Killing Curse sped closer and closer to the dark haired boy. The spell was going to hit him and there was nothing she could do. It traveled closer, until it was mere inches away. She let a scream come to her lips but it drifted away before it could be released as a voice spoke all around her.
"Shhh, it's OK. I'm here now and I won't let anything hurt you."
The voice was so familiar. She looked over to see Harry standing alone, staring at her with a smile on his lips. Hermione let herself smile lovingly. He was all right. He was alive.
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Hermione found herself incredibly warm. Her head was sitting on something comfortable, but it seemed to thump with a steady, slow rhythm. She wondered what it was. Her body was curled alongside a hot wall, her arms wrapped around it tightly, afraid if she let go the warmth would leave her. Something heavy was draped across her back and shoulder, but it was a comfortable weight, keeping her safe. She shifted her legs, feeling them cramp up as they sat tucked beneath her body. She stretched them out, yawning, and sighed as her knees cracked satisfyingly.
The hot wall was making a strange noise, a slightly wheezing one that steadily got louder as her ears become more aware. She really didn't want to open her eyes and spoil the nice darkness, but her curiosity got the better of her.
Luckily, the room was still quite dark, with the glowing embers in the fire spitting occasionally. She waited for her eyes to adjust before looking straight into a blue wall. She frowned, wondering what it was. It seemed to be moving up and down in exact accordance with the strange wheezes. She pushed up with her hands, the wall soft beneath her palms. Her eyes traveled up the moving `pillow' as she decided to call it. They came to a face framed by a halo of black hair, scattered about his forehead. She looked at him curiously, watching as his eyelids flickered and lines on his brow creased. His lips were parted slightly, his breathing deep with slumber.
Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat.
Harry...
The events of the previous day surfaced before her vision and she immediately felt ill. She had let Harry strip the wet clothes from her body, to replace them with warm, dry ones. Then she had sunk down by his side and proceeded to fall asleep on his chest. Things couldn't get any worse.
But, was this really a bad thing?
YES! Her mind screamed. She had allowed Harry to see her almost naked apart from her undergarments, and hadn't even flinched when his smooth hands ran along her bare skin. No matter how many nights she had dreamt of him to touch her, that had not been the right time. But when was the right time? She had loved him for as long as she could remember, and even admitted it to him more than once in their seventh year. And he had even said those three words on more than one occasion, and he had truly meant them.
They had even fallen asleep together many times in front of the fire in the Common Room, different people having woken them on consecutive mornings. Then what was so different about this?
Because I haven't seen him for three years.
Yes, that was the reason. It felt strange yet familiar to be in his arms, beside his body, listening to his heart beat. She had been so long without his warm embrace that she had forgotten what it felt like to be held that securely. And it felt ... good.
Even if she was still angry with him and would be for a while, she had to admit that it was good to have him back. It made everything seem better. Made her life seem more than a boring monotone. It made it seem livable and exciting. Back in Hogwarts, having Harry around had always livened a situation up, always put interest and detail into a normally boring scene. Even if he had been in a foul mood, not talking to anyone other than the demons in his head, his presence made things colorful and adventurous. He had been the best part of every day.
Suddenly, Harry's arms tightened around her shoulders, pulling her closer to his body. Hermione gasped as he continued pulling tighter, low moans escaping his lips.
"Harry, it's only a dream. Please, it's me. It's Hermione." She soothed, breaking one of her arms out of his tight grip and reaching up to his face. She brushed away his sweaty fringe, running her palm along his forehead and cheeks. He immediately relaxed, his mind being released of whatever terror had hold of it. She smiled, still trailing her fingers along his smooth skin, smoothing out the premature lines of worry and stress spoiling his handsome face.
She sat staring at the back of his eyelids, her hand resting against his chin. She placed her head on his chest, closing her eyes to listen to his heart beat. It let her know that he was truly there, that Harry was actually back.
Something started tickling her ear; she screwed her eyes together, wishing it would stop. It didn't, so she opened her eyes. Harry was looking at her, with his bright emerald eyes dancing in joy. She smiled.
"Hi." She murmured, sitting up as she felt her face flush. He smiled broadly, taking his hand away from her face to sit it awkwardly on his vacated lap.
"Hi, how are you this morning? You don't have a cold?" he asked worriedly, feeling her forehead with the back of his hand. She giggled.
"I'm fine, thanks to you." She said carefully, remember what Harry had to do to keep her from getting sick. The same thought seemed to cross through his mind as well, as his cheeks burned red.
"It was - ahh - nothing, really." He stammered, scratching his head with a nervous laugh.
"Well, thank you anyway." Hermione became aware how close their bodies were and reluctantly shifted slightly over. Harry's eyes betrayed how he felt abut her movement, as he looked down sadly.
"Do you want some breakfast?" he asked, lifting the blanket off his legs and standing with a yawn.
"S-sure," she stammered making ready to move.
"No, stay there and I'll bring some in for you. What do you want?" Harry said, pushing her softly back into the couch and tucking the blanket around her. Hermione sat speechless, touched by his thoughtfulness.
"Err...anything." she said after a while, still startled at the change in her best friend. Harry smiled and disappeared into the kitchen, humming a strange tune.
"Bacon, eggs and toast okay?" he called out from the other room.
"Sure!" she said back, snuggling back down under the blankets. Crookshanks sprang from one of the other armchairs and pounced up into Hermione's lap. She cuddled him close to her chest, unable to stop the smile from spreading across her lips. Harry brought her in a cup of tea just how she liked it with one spoonful of honey. She murmured her thanks and watched him retreat to the kitchen, shaking her head with a chuckle. The Harry she used to know was a kind boy, but she would never have thought it possible for him to be so much like a gentlemen.
She was lost in her thoughts when Harry brought in a steaming plate of delicious smelling food, placing it in her hands. "Mmm, when did you learn to cook so well?" she said.
"Well, I had fourteen years practice with the Dursley's before they decided not to trust me touching their food." Harry answered lightly, as Hermione's face grew appalled.
"Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry!" she said as Harry shushed her.
"There's nothing to apologize for. Now, eat up before it gets cold." He said, turning to his own plate of food sitting on his lap. Hermione nodded, still feeling bad for bringing up Harry's deceased relatives. They ate in silence, while Crookshanks purred loudly from Hermione's side, looking at them both with his lamp-like eyes.
Once breakfast was finished and Harry had cleaned the dishes with a flick of his wand, Hermione decided to go take a shower and get dressed, as she was feeling quite dirty.
The water running down her body felt wonderful, and she stood beneath the hot, steaming water for a long time. When she got out once washing her hair, she felt incredibly revitalized as she dressed into a clean pair of jeans and a turtleneck sweater. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun, deciding to let it dry naturally, as whenever she dried it with her wand, it went fizzy.
She inspected her face with the mirror in the bathroom, startled at what she saw. Over the years, her face had become thin and tired, bags and lines always running beneath her eyes and around her mouth. She looked much older than she truly was, as many people told her. But now, the lines disappeared. And her face looked healthier and younger. Her eyes sparkled with youth and joy, the brown brighter than it had been for years.
It was Harry. He always brought out the best in her. And now, with him back, she was finally retaining some of her health and natural beauty. With these thoughts in mind, Hermione almost skipped from the room, humming the same tune Harry had been earlier. She realized that it was `Weasley is Our King', the song created in their fifth year for Ron...
Her thoughts stopped as she entered the Living Room.
Harry was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at a rectangular object in his hands. Hermione walked slowly forward, drawing Harry's attention.
"Harry?" she said curiously, her heart thumping beneath her ribs. He didn't smile, but wore a strange look on his face and in his eyes. He looked back down at the object and shifted it so Hermione could see the top of it. Her face fell.
It was `Behind the Eyes of the Hero', her book.
"Hermione, we need to talk."
Oh, dear.
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Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter and never will.
Hey.
This chapter was out sooner, though I'm not sure if I like it. It was meant to be longer, to contain the part about Behind the Eyes of the Hero but I decided to keep that for the next chapter.
There will be only another one or two chapters before the end. Then I will start immediately on the sequel, which I don't know what I will call. Suggestions are appreciated.
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, it means so much. Your words are what keep me writing so quickly, because I know there are so many waiting for more. I can't believe how many reviews this has gotten. It's so exciting.
Please review and suggest a title for the sequel, which will have Harry's reunion with the Weasleys.
Later Days... probably next Friday.
DW
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