Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fanfiction is not written to make money. No profit is being generated and no copyright infringement is intended. All events in this story are based on the Harry Potter series.
Chapter Nine
"What is it, Harry?"
"Madam Rosmerta," said Harry, "Hermione had - er, well - she'd fallen asleep. I have to go somewhere, so would you please keep an eye on her?"
"Of course," Madam Rosmerta agreed, though she looked puzzled.
"I won't be long," said Harry. "Please see to it that she will not be disturbed, and let no one see her."
"No problem," said Madam Rosmerta, nodding.
"Thanks," said Harry, shaking her hand. "I owe you one."
Harry made his way back towards the Closed Doors pub. As he reached for the doorknob, however, the door opened, and out came Charles Davies and Cho Chang, holding hands, and chatting animatedly.
"Hi there, lovebirds," Harry said coldly.
Charles and Cho both stopped dead in their tracks; Cho looking merely surprised, Charles looking as though he were seeing a ghost.
"Harry! What are you doing here?" Cho asked. "Who're you with?"
Harry ignored her, his eyes still fixed on Charles, whose face was now as pale as Nearly Headless Nick's.
"Come with me, both of you," said Harry quietly, turning his back on them, and led the way to a deserted side street. Charles and Cho looked at each other, then followed.
Harry stopped in the middle of the side street, which was completely deserted, and which was quite dark and gloomy because of big trees in one side and a large house with a relatively high wall in the other. A few moments later, Charles and Cho caught up with him, no longer holding hands.
Without preamble or any form of warning, Harry drew back his right fist and sank it as hard as he could into Charles' stomach.
"Charles!" Cho screamed, as her boyfriend recoiled at the impact of Harry's punch. "What did you do that for?" she asked Harry, her expression a mixture of surprise and anger.
"Stay out of this, Cho," said Harry firmly, and landed another punch in to Charles' solar plexus. Cho screamed again as Charles doubled over and groaned in pain. Harry grabbed Charles's collar, pulled him upright, and ignoring Cho's pleadings, landed a right hook across Charles's face, followed by a left straight, then a right uppercut, which sent Charles to the ground, his nose bleeding.
Cho was crying now, pleading with Harry to leave Charles alone, but again Harry told her sharply to keep out of the way. He grabbed Charles by the collar, pulled him upright, and slammed him to the wall.
"HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO HERMIONE!" Harry shouted, pushing Charles up the wall, so that the latter's feet were dangling in midair. "How dare you hurt her! Cheating on her like she were nothing but a useless whore, you jackass!" With that, Harry let go of Charles's collar; Charles slid down the wall, but before his feet even made contact with the ground, Harry punched him again in the stomach, a little to the side, and Charles doubled over in midair, and collapsed to the ground. Harry pulled him upright again and pinned him against the wall. Harry was breathing hard; hot, fiery anger licking his insides.
"H - Harry," Charles panted, blood still streaming from his nose, "Ha - Harry, I - I'm s - sorry -"
"SORRY?" Harry yelled, "Yes, you'd better be sorry! What's she done to you? What's she done to merit this treatment from you? ANSWER ME, PRICK!"
"N - nothing," Charles said thickly. "Nothing -"
"Then why did you do this?" Harry shouted, pinning him harder against the wall so that Charles was in danger of suffocation. "Why did you hurt her? Who gave you the right to play with her feelings? To treat her like she was your personal plaything? HA?" Harry gave him yet another punch in the gut. Charles crumpled to the ground on Harry's feet, moaning and whimpering. Harry wanted to kick him, but restrained himself. He really wanted to kill Charles in anger, but his Hermione - voiced reason reminded him to keep his composure. Harry took a couple of deep breaths; he was still shaking with fury, but his rational mind has now taken control of his emotions.
He again took hold of Charles's collar, and pulled his face closer to Harry's.
"Now, you listen here, Davies," Harry said in a low, clear voice, venomous enough to make Voldemort pee in his robes. His bright green eyes were burning with suppressed anger and hate. Harry was pleased to note that Charles's dark green - wait, green? - eyes were full of terror. "I want you to talk to Hermione the first opportunity you got, tell her everything, and apologize for what you'd done. I think you'll be lucky enough to leave her presence in one piece after she finds out you'd cheated on her," he added, and Charles looked more terrified than ever.
"After that, I want you to stay out of her life forever, you hear? You will not see her again, and you will not let her see you. I'll be watching you, Davies, and if you even dare look at her, you'll regret it. Do you understand me?"
Charles nodded almost mechanically, his eyes wide, his body shaking with fright.
"Good - because I won't tolerate people hurting the one person who's always been there for me, who cared for me more than anyone else did. And just so you know," Harry added, letting go of Charles, who propped himself up with one hand, the other clutching his abdomen, "you're such a fool to give her up for someone else. She is a wonderful woman, and you're so lucky to have her, even if you didn't deserve her. But you chose to abandon her for a lesser woman."
Harry snorted, and straightened up.
"I don't think much of your taste, Davies," he finished derisively, completely unmindful of the sobbing Cho Chang, whose feelings Harry might've hurt by what he'd just said.
With a last look of disgust at the pitiful figure of Hermione's ex-boyfriend, Harry turned his back on the two of them, leaving Cho to tend to Charles, and Charles to explain everything to his girlfriend.
Harry walked back to the Three Broomsticks, now quite calm and composed. He felt a kind of fierce satisfaction for what he'd done to Charles. Serves him right, he thought savagely, the stupid git!
Harry couldn't think how Charles could hurt a woman as wonderful as Hermione. Can Charles not see how thoughtful and loving she is? Can't he see how beautiful Hermione is, no matter what her clothes are? Or how her smile seems to wipe all problems and worries in the world?
At this point Harry stopped dead in his tracks; his chest had just tightened with emotion - his ever-present-but-newly-realized love for Hermione. Again he asked himself why he'd never realized it before. It's always been there - dormant, but strong and powerful. He just hadn't understood it back then, but now that he'd come to think of it, his love for Hermione had been instrumental in his defeat of Voldemort.
He can still vividly recall that night: All of Voldemort's Death Eaters were either dead or captured; all of Harry's friends were seriously injured, some of them dead (Hagrid, Bill, Tonks, Seamus Finnigan, Terry Boot, and the Creevey brothers), along with many members of the Order of the Phoenix and Aurors, not to mention numerous witches and wizards who had volunteered to join the war, and those who fell victims to Voldemort and his minions.
Harry and Dumbledore were the only ones left standing, Voldemort and Dumbledore having ended their duel in a stalemate. Try as he might, Voldemort couldn't kill Dumbledore, what with Fawkes saving the latter's life many times, and the inclusion of Harry in the battle against the Dark Lord. Dumbledore, powerful a wizard as he is, couldn't subdue Voldemort, and he decided, upon Harry's insistence, to leave Harry and Voldemort to face each other one-on-one, so either of them could fulfill the prophecy. So as Dumbledore went off to save and revive the others, Harry came face-to-face with Voldemort, all on his own. They fought long and hard, all the time creating the Priori Incantatem effect whenever their spells hit each other.
Harry remembered how he'd begun to feel fatigue and weakness, and he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse. He'd almost given up, but then, out of nowhere, the faces of his friends and loved ones (both alive and dead) flashed one by one before his eyes: the D.A. members; Dean, Seamus, Neville, Lavender, and Parvati; Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Ginny; Tonks, Kingsley, and Moody; Hagrid, Lupin, Arthur and Molly Weasley; Dumbledore, Sirius, and Lily and James Potter; and Ron and Hermione, in that order. All of their faces smiled encouragingly at him, giving him hope, but Hermione's spoke to him, "You can do it, Harry - just believe in yourself…. You can beat him - trust me…" she smiled, and - instinctively and automatically it seemed - Harry stood up, and concentrating on all of them but mostly on Hermione, he leveled his wand on Voldemort.
Harry felt a surge of power build up slowly inside him, and as Voldemort yelled, "Avada Kedavra!", it burst forth from his chest, through his outstretched arm and eventually out of his wand, swallowed Voldemort's Killing Curse, and engulfed the Dark Lord in a blindingly white light.
Voldemort screamed, and Harry screwed up his eyes as his scar hurt so badly. After a few moments of agony, his scar throbbed almost unbearably painfully that Harry clapped his hands to it, yelling, and fell to the ground. Then, in an instant, Voldemort's yells stopped, and the pain in Harry's scar was gone. Harry opened his eyes, and he saw that all that was left of Voldemort was a bundle of black robes lying exactly on the spot where the Dark Lord had been standing moments before. Even Voldemort's wand was gone, and a single phoenix tail feather floated gently through the air before landing on the bundle of robes.
Yes, Hermione had been instrumental - that was what Harry thought back then, but now he understood: His love for her (and for all his friends and loved ones) destroyed Lord Voldemort. The "power the Dark Lord knows not" was love, fueled by the love of his friends, and triggered by his love for them, and it was his love for Hermione that'd given the final, necessary boost to eradicate the most evil wizard who had ever existed.
Harry blinked back the tears that'd threatened to fall. He was so overcome with emotion that he felt like running all the way back to the Three Broomsticks and confess to Hermione, to hug her, kiss her, and show her just how much he loves her. But then he kept himself in check when he remembered that Hermione had just suffered an emotional devastation, and it would be imprudent to talk to her about his feelings for her. No, he thought, not now. But eventually, I will tell her.
What about Margaret? a small voice in his head, not unlike Hermione's, asked.
Harry's heart sank. He'd completely forgotten his girlfriend for the past one-and-a-half days. Harry doesn't really love her like the way he loves Hermione, but he likes her all the same. Margaret is by far the best girlfriend he's ever had. She's beautiful, with her wavy brown hair, light brown eyes, and heart-shaped face, not to mention her perfectly proportioned body. She's also smart, and like Hermione, she'd been Head Girl at Hogwarts (Margaret was five years younger than Harry and Hermione). She's also a Muggle-born witch, and her attitude is very much like Hermione's. Add to that the fact that Margaret is also a proponent of the rights of magical creatures, but of trolls in her case.
And now that Harry had come to think of it, nearly all of his previous girlfriends were somewhat like Hermione. They had brown hair, brown eyes, and were smart and powerful witches. Most of them were Muggle-borns, too. In fact, Harry became known as the "Muggle-born Magnet." Ron had even joked once that the only Muggle-borns Harry had never dated were Hermione and Harry's own mother, Lily.
Harry shook his head. I can't believe I'd been that stupid. He was constantly searching for, dating, and replacing girls nearly all his adult life, only to note every time that they were never good enough. He didn't realize until now that he had been subconsciously searching for a woman who is exactly like Hermione, but he was disappointed every time, because none of them had come up to her level. She was simply extraordinary - simple in her ways, but so uniquely Hermione. To Harry she's the only one, and no woman is her equal.
Well, Margaret is somewhat close, but she's not Hermione. Harry really likes Margaret, but it's not her who'd been with him through everything: friendship, victory, happiness, adventures, dangers, sacrifices, losses, failures, war, and near-death. It was Hermione. And now, Harry has reached a decision: Much as he likes Margaret, and much as he hates to hurt her like Charles had hurt Hermione, it's only fair that he'd end his relationship with her, and he will not be unfair to her by continuing the relationship when he doesn't love her.
Harry knew what he had to do. He will break up with Margaret, making sure he will not hurt her that much (though it will be inevitable), and then, once Hermione has recovered from her heartache over Charles, he'll tell her.
Then, Harry, who had resumed walking without his realizing it, stopped cold in his tracks yet again. He hadn't considered the consequences that are bound to come with his confession. He wasn't sure whether Hermione would love him back, or whether she even thinks about him that way. For all he knows, Hermione had always been a close, intimate friend to him, but she's never showed any indication that she liked him more than as a friend. They'd slept together, sure, and even kissed by accident once, but they'd never crossed the line. Even Ron didn't confess about his feelings for her back in sixth year because he was afraid to ruin their friendship.
That's exactly what's scaring Harry right now. He was afraid that their friendship might be jeopardized, and with it their partnership as the best Aurors of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, should he confess his love for her, and she didn't love him back. Many people - like Ron, for instance, Lupin, and all the Weasleys - had told him that Hermione loves him like he loves her, but he'd always laughed about it. Is it possible? he asked himself now. Could she possibly love me? No, he answered himself. No, she couldn't. She loves me as a friend, but never more than that.
But what if she does? said that little voice.
Harry paused again to think. What if she does, indeed? No, Harry contradicted himself again. She was so hurt by what Charles did to her, and that must mean she really loves him. At this thought, the anger he felt for Charles flared up again inside him and Harry actually made to return to the side street and give Charles yet another beating, but he also remembered that Charles and Cho must've left by now.
And then, as Harry continued to walk back towards the Three Broomsticks, he made his decision: Even if Hermione doesn't love him, he'll tell her about his feelings for her. Surely, she would never abandon him just for that? If he was lucky, she might even love him back.
Harry entered the Three Broomsticks moments later. He found Madam Rosmerta, who told him Hermione was okay, and that she was still sleeping. Harry thanked her for looking after Hermione, and he went to the private parlor. Sure enough, Hermione was still lying on the bench, unconscious. Harry felt a twinge of guilt for bewitching her, but he knew full well that if he hadn't bewitched her, she would never allow him to go and punish Charles.
Harry sighed, went to kneel beside her, and muttered the counterspell.
Hermione stirred, and slowly opened her eyes.
"Harry? Harry, where -?"
"Shh… Hermione, calm down," he said quickly, as Hermione bolted upright, frantically looking for him. Harry went to sit beside her. "I'm here."
"Oh Harry!" she said, throwing her arms around him. "What happened? What did you do? Why -?"
"Shh - it's okay, let me explain."
Hermione released him, and Harry took her hands in his.
"Look, I'm sorry but I had to bewitch you," he said apologetically.
"What? You made me fall asleep?"
"Lose consciousness, actually," he said, nodding. "But look, I had to do it, because otherwise you'd have stopped me."
Comprehension dawned on Hermione's face, and she went pale.
"What did you do? Did you tell Charles?"
"That you know? No, I didn't."
Hermione relaxed.
"But I made him realize how stupid he is to give you up for Cho Chang."
"You used to fancy Cho Chang," Hermione pointed out.
"I did, but that was a long time ago. I couldn't even understand why I was so stupid back then," said Harry. "Not to notice that what I really needed was right beside me all the time," he didn't add.
"So what did you do to him? Oh Harry, please tell me you didn't -"
"Oh, it's not much, though he'd deserve more. Just a broken nose, a sore abdomen and maybe a couple of broken ribs - oh, and broken ego, I might add, considering I beat him up right in front of Cho Chang."
Hermione look horrified, but Harry was sure she almost smiled at what he said last.
"Oh Harry, you could get into trouble for that! What if he files a case against you at the Wizengamot? You could lose your job!"
"Not if I can help it. Anyway, I think poor Charles is far too scared to do anything. Don't worry, Hermione, I kept myself under control. Though if I'd had my way I would have hexed him into the next century. And he's lucky I wasn't the one who saw them in the Closed Doors! Otherwise, I could've killed him on the spot. How dare he hurt you like this, the stupid, great prat!"
Hermione chuckled, and Harry stared at her.
"What?" she said, still chuckling.
"Aren't - aren't you worried about him?"
"No," Hermione said. "Actually, I was more worried about you, because you could've killed him. And after what he did to me, I wouldn't care if he stepped right into hell. I just don't want you to get into trouble just because of me." Hermione smiled. "Anyway, thank you for defending my honor and avenging me, Harry. You're really the best!" and with that, she flung herself onto him. Harry hugged her back, emotion filling him up again.
"Hang on," Harry said, prizing her off him, "I don't understand you. Just about half an hour ago you were crying your eyes out because Charles cheated on you; but now, you're saying that he can go to hell and you don't care?"
"Yes, because to tell you the truth, I never really loved him anyway. I liked him, yes - because he was rather attractive, but I never really loved him like I loved y - I mean, never loved him that much," she finished, though Harry was sure that was not what she intended to say. "I guess I liked more the idea of him than I actually liked him. So it's not a matter of broken heart, Harry. More of a broken ego," she added with a rather nervous chuckle (or did he just imagine it?).
"Talk about sour grapes," Harry said, earning himself a punch in the arm from her. "Ouch! I was just kidding, all right?" he said, laughing at her furious expression.
Hermione also laughed as Harry pinched her nose playfully.
"So, are you all right now?" asked Harry after a while.
"Yes, thanks to you, Harry. I don't know what I would do if you're not with me. You're a great friend," she said, her eyes misting over.
"Don't let Ron hear you say that," Harry said.
Hermione laughed, wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, and hugged him. Harry hugged her back, assuring her that he couldn't bear living without her, either, and not until a voice spoke from behind them did they pull apart.
"Would you like me to ask Madam Rosmerta to get a room for you, Harry, Hermione?"
A/N: There. It's up finally, and I'm sorry for the delay, but I hope you'll like this chapter, `cause I really enjoyed writing this one. By the way, can you guess who the speaker in the end is? Two Galleons for those who guess right! Keep the reviews coming!
-->