Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Please continue to do so. As this story approaches the home stretch (there are 24 chapters total), I have started work on my next story. Reviews only serve to encourage the author. :)
See Chapter 1 for Disclaimer.
Ron walked her out of the hospital wing. She paused at the bottom of the steps to Gryffindor Tower. "You go ahead, Ron. I have something I need to do."
He smiled slightly, and knowingly nodded. He turned and ascended the stairs, leaving Hermione alone at the foot of the staircase. She took a deep breath and began the slow walk to the Great Hall. She steeled herself for what, or who, she might find there. She knew that she wouldn't find Harry there. If he was as depressed as Ron thought he was, he wouldn't be eating. She understood his depression. It took all she had to walk to the Hall. She didn't want to have to look upon the Hall, at one of its formerly peak capacity times. She didn't want to see the empty spaces, the benches that should hold people. People who should still be alive. She paused at the doors to the Great Hall. The doors were heavy oak. She bowed her head, and opened them.
She was met with emptiness. The hall really wasn't empty, there were students in it, yet there was an echo of hollowness and loss. The students weren't laughing. They smiled, but mirth was not at the top of everyone's lists. Tears welled in Hermione's eyes as she saw the decorations.
The House flags and draperies were taken down. They were replaced with gold and silver drapes, each of which was covered with countless names. Names of victims. Around each table were small black bows. One for each person who had perished from that House. Even the staff table, Hermione noted painfully, had the ribbons. The solemn Hall caused her pain. Her heart was filled with heavy grief, the grief that she knew wasn't hers, but in a way, it was. She felt trapped by the emotion. For the first time, she felt claustrophobic in the huge hall. She knew, then, where to find Harry.
She ventured out of the doors of the Great Hall, into the open field. As soon as she left the oppressive room, she felt slightly better. However, she could still feel the pain, the weight, the burden that she hadn't been forced to feel before. The Hall had revived memories of that day which she was trying so desperately to push from her mind. Memories and images that she had suppressed for the last week. They were slowly beginning to weaken the resolve of the brick wall she had built in her soul. She forced the images back and blinked back the tears that threatened her again. "I'm coming here to help Harry, crying won't help," she thought to herself. She walked slowly through the empty field, every step reminding her of another time. Arriving at Hogwarts for the first time. Ron belching slugs. Racing against time with Buckbeak. Trying to grasp that Voldemort was back once more. Trying to comfort Harry after his godfather's death. Trying to make sense of the fact that Harry's life might have to be traded for Voldemort's, and that her own would have to be traded for Harry's. She looked down at the ground below her feet. The grass was standing proud and green. She almost hated it for its ability to be tall and happy. The weather seemed to laugh in her face. It was sunny and beautiful. The breeze played at Hermione's hair, and tried unsuccessfully to lift her mood. It was too pretty outside. It would be more fitting, she thought scornfully, to rain. Cold, bone-chilling rain. She headed toward where she knew Harry would be, thinking all the time about how she understood what Ron had told her about Harry's depression.
She walked across the open field toward the more secluded forest. She did not linger, yet her stride lacked its normal briskness. It wasn't that she didn't feel an urgency. To the contrary, she knew that she needed to get where she was going quickly. But she couldn't. She didn't want to have to deal with any of it. Discussing it might make it real. For one of the first times in her life, she really didn't want to see Harry, because frankly, she had no clue what to say. She wasn't invincible anymore. She was on the verge of breaking, and she knew he was even closer than she. They were both fragile, and though they both needed each other to patch the broken parts, she feared that nearing him would shatter them both.
'Shut up, Hermione,' she told herself silently. 'You're going to talk to your best friend, and it will help both of you. Stop overanalyzing the situation!' Taking a deep breath, she was able to calm herself. She wasn't sure what she was afraid of. She entered the quiet forest gently, and made her way through the woods. She came to a small, secluded clearing. It was silent, and time seemed to stand still. Somehow, this area was calming. She gazed over to where she knew he would be.
He was. He sat on a small stone cliff, inches above the still waters of the lake. Cross-legged, he hunched over, elbows on his knees, and hands clasped under his chin. He gazed out over the lake, in his own world. His expression was unreadable, even to Hermione's best-friend perception. He wasn't crying, or showing any emotion at all. He looked, in that moment, so young. It seemed ironic to Hermione, how young and innocent he looked, while he had seen so much, things that no one ever should have to see.
"I knew I'd find you here," she murmured. He jumped slightly, but relaxed again with the recognition of her voice.
"Hi," came his quiet, unfeeling answer. He knew who it was, but he didn't turn to look at her. She walked, slowly, to the ledge where he sat. She took a seat next to him and turned to look at him. Still, he didn't meet her gaze. They sat in silence for several minutes.
"I see that you're out of the hospital wing," said Harry, in voice that he didn't even recognize as his own. It was too distant to be his.
"Yeah," she responded. "This morning. I'm so glad to be out of there. I think that just being in the hospital wing makes you think that you're not well. Psychosomatic, maybe. Madame Pomfrey released me- she told me how much of a miracle it was that I lived. Then I talked to Ron. He... we... we're worried about you. He told me how you've been..." He voice trailed off, hoping that he would pick up the conversation.
"I'll be fine," he said in that distant, detached voice. He continued to stare out over the lake.
"No, I'm worried that you won't," she began, quietly. "You aren't acting like yourself. I know that everything must be impossible to take alone, but you don't have to. You know that everyone's here for you, and you can't just draw yourself into a corner. You're not an orphan living in a cupboard anymore. You're--"
"I'm the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. The Boy-Who-Lived, while he watched the others die. The Boy-Who-Lived and caused the family that he did have to get blown up. The bloody Boy-Who-Lived-To-Cause-Destruction-And-Death. The--"
"Don't curse, Harry. And you're the Boy-Who-Saved-The-Wizarding-World."
"Merlin! I didn't save the wizarding world. I destroyed half of it. I contributed to the deaths of too many people to be a hero. A hero doesn't kill the good guys." His voice was cold, and he spoke quickly, like the words were poison to him. He still stared off into the distance.
"You didn't kill the good guys. You can't take responsibility for all of the deaths, because they weren't your fault. You know what is your credit, though? You don't want to think in wide terms? Fine. You saved my life. You can't deny that."
He laughed, a distant and impersonal laugh. Not Harry's laugh. "I saved your life. Right. I saved your life? All I did was hope that you wouldn't die. All I did was care about you." He laughed bitterly again. "In fact, I don't even think I can be called the Boy-Who-Lived. How about the Boy-Who-Would-Have-Died-If-His-Friend-Hadn't-Tried-To-Die-For-Him. You were the one that saved my life. You went into it knowing you were going to die, for me."
"I went into it willing, yes. But you didn't let it happen. I didn't die."
"But you were willing to," he continued in his monotone. "You were going to save my life by replacing it with your own. You were giving up everything, for what? For me? Why? Why would it be worth losing everything? It would have been better if I'd never come into the wizarding world. If I'd never been told that I was the Boy-Who-Lived. If I'd never met all of the people who I hurt." His voice was strained and tense, but not emotional. He was looking out, over the lake. He had still not averted his gaze, nor changed his tone.
"Don't even go there, Harry. Yes, I was willing to give up my life. Not 'everything'. My livelihood is not 'everything'. I did that to give you a fighting chance. You were the only thing between Voldemort and world domination. You know you were the only one who could have stopped him. And I'm a Gryffindor, too. I couldn't have just stood by and watched. You never hurt anyone, at least no one that you cared about. Voldemort hurt them. Dark witches and wizards hurt them. You didn't. You saved so many of them. Including me." She paused for a second. "But you're hurting me now. You know that I've always been by your side. Against Fluffy or Voldemort, it doesn't matter. I was there. I've been there through everything. You're hurting me by shutting me out. I was there, too, when you defeated him. I know how you feel. You can't block me out now." She quieted slightly. "And I came with you because I care. I'm here because I care. I didn't just do what I did to protect the wizarding world. I did it to protect you. I care about you--"
"Stop. Don't say it." His voice finally faltered. There was a tone of hurt in it, tinging the monotone that wasn't Harry. "Don't. You can't. Because I do, too. And I can't. Everyone I've cared about has been hurt, and I can't let it happen again. I can't let you get hurt more because of me. I've done enough to hurt you."
"You haven't hurt me! Why do you think I came? Do you think I'd be here trying to talk sense into someone who had hurt me? I'm here to talk to you."
"No. You shouldn't. You have too much potential."
"Harry! What are you saying? I have too much potential to be friends with you? I could make it far, and so I have to forget your friendship, because you're only going to ruin my life? Honestly, Harry. Think about what you're saying."
"I am thinking. And I'm telling you to get out while you can."
"Get out while I can?!" Her voice quavered slightly in disbelief. "You can't get rid of me now. I know what's best for me, and what's best for me is being right here. Don't try to push me away." She looked at him with her old know-it-all stare.
It didn't faze him. "Hermione, everyone close to me has been hurt. I hurt you, too. Why are you fighting it, when it's the best thing--"
"Harry James Potter!!!" she scolded. She grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look at her. "Me leaving would be the worst thing. You know I wouldn't leave you like this. You are my friend, and you can't push me away. I won't let you." Her voice softened a bit, but she didn't let go. "You're stuck with me. You've been stuck with me since the troll back in first year. Or maybe since I first fixed your glasses on the train. You're stuck, and I'm not leaving you now."
Finally, sensing defeat, he looked at her. He was ready to explain to her that he was sorry, that of course they were stuck together, because of some ancient protection spell. He was about to tell her that he was sorry that she would be stuck with him for eternity. He was about to let her know that he really was sorry for her that she was his intended, and he was ready to apologize to her for the fact that a book had told them that they were destined to be married. He was going to tell her that he never would have lived through it all without her, and he was eternally grateful, but he knew the best thing for her was for her to leave. He was prepared for her to finally give up, and walk off and leave him there, heartbroken, but with some sick kind of happiness that knew that she would be safe and happy. His depressed and closed mind wanted it, but his heart begged for her not to. But he looked at her, and his strategies all escaped his head.
Her eyes showed worry, and concern, and care. There was something else there, too.
All of the sudden, he realized it. It had taken him a lifetime, but he had finally realized it. An ancient knowledge that most people have at birth.
Harry Potter knew what love was.