Someone to Watch Over Me

Disclaimer: All JKR’s and not mine.

Someone to Watch Over Me

~*~*~*~

“Where is he?” was Hermione’s greeting to Ron and Ginny when Remus let her in to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Sulking,” Ron said shortly and uninformatively.

“Ron!” Ginny chided her brother before addressing Hermione. “Hey, Hermione. He’s upstairs in the room he used last year.”

Now Hermione smiled by way of a quick greeting at Ginny and Ron before making her way quickly up the stairs. She ignored the evidence of Ron’s apparent disgruntlement with Harry’s voluntary isolation. She wasn’t surprised. Since Remus had explained to her how Harry had been acting in the past week since he’d arrived in Grimmauld Place, she’d almost been expecting it. So she knew without asking that Harry must have snapped out something incredibly cold and frankly insulting—when it was addressed to your best friend of 5 years—and Ron’s ever-ready temper had ignited.

She stifled a sigh and mentally braced herself as she knocked softly on the door.

Harry’s response was expected, harsh and utterly implacable. “Go away.”

Instead Hermione opened the door and stepped inside, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness before shutting the door. She kept her voice soft and calm as she said, “Hello Harry.”

He’d visibly stiffened when the door opened but he hadn’t turned around. He still didn’t as he said tersely, “Leave me alone, Hermione.”

“Why should I?”

He turned to look—or more accurately glare—at her before turning his gaze away and saying in a flat unemotional tone, “Because I’m a murderer.”

Only 4 words but they made her suck in her breath first with shock then with a sudden flare of anger.

Her response was as terse as his had been if not nearly as unemotional. “Don’t be an idiot, Harry.”

She crossed the room to sit beside him on the bed. “You are not a murderer. What happened to Sirius wasn’t your fault!! He was a grown man and he chose to leave Grimmauld Place, chose to protect you. You can’t—”

His voice when he interrupted her was low and trembling with the force of his contained emotions. “It’s not because of Sirius.”

Surprise silenced her for a moment and Harry used it to turn away from her, huddling into the corner of the bed furthest from her. She could sense his retreat, the walls he put up around himself, his emotions and his fears. He was always so good at that, putting up walls and not letting people in. But there was something about his position now that struck at her heart for the very vulnerability and loneliness it projected. And for all his wanting to be alone and rejecting the advances of all the Weasleys as well as Remus and Tonks in the Order, she somehow knew that he wanted someone to break through his self-imposed isolation. He needed someone to turn to… He needed her.

She grasped his shoulders and forcibly turned him around to face her but when she spoke, her voice was soft, gentle. “Harry, you’re the kindest person I know. It’s not in you to willfully hurt another person, to callously take a life. You’re not capable of the kind of cruelty that commits murder. I know you, know the kindness and gentleness and friendship in you.”

Her very gentleness broke through the walls of his restraint when her previous vehemence couldn’t and he erupted, the words spilling out of him, starting softly with muted violence but crescendoing to a near-shout at the end. “You don’t know! I’m the same as Voldemort; it’s why he can get into my head and I can get into his! Why do you think we have the connection that we do? It’s because he and I are connected; we’re the same! I’ve seen him, Hermione! Seen him torture, seen him kill and knew it was me doing it. The Howards- I was there, in his mind, as he tortured and then killed them, and I felt the same malevolence he did. I felt it!” His voice cracked and he stopped, his chest heaving with emotion as he finally released everything that had been haunting him for the past two months since he’d left Hogwarts. He didn’t- he couldn’t- look at Hermione, to see the horror and the fear he knew he would see in her eyes. Seeing it would kill something inside him, the one part of him that still felt human, the part of him that had him hiding here in his room so he couldn’t somehow hurt the Weasleys or the other members of the Order, the part of him that wanted to believe Hermione’s affectionate words… When he spoke again, there was resignation, defeat, in his tone, his earlier anger gone. “I felt it all, felt the power at speaking the Unforgivables. And I- I enjoyed the feeling of power. I am Voldemort’s equal; he knows it too and that’s why he wants me gone.”

Hermione stared at Harry, her mind grasping the depth of the horror which Harry had been subjected to, since Voldemort had discovered his power over Harry. Now Voldemort was deliberately inviting Harry into his mind when he was at his most cruel, so Harry would experience it too. Experience it in such a way as to feel guilty over it, in the mind and body of the true killer… It was brilliant in its sadism and its effect on Harry’s mind… And she knew that nothing she really said would change Harry’s thinking; he had had two long months to think of nothing else, to set his fears and beliefs in stone…

“Stay away from me, Hermione. I’m a danger to you and to everyone. I--”

She cut his words off with her lips.

She kissed him with all the love, all the loyalty, all the sympathy and all the understanding she felt, instinct making up for her lack of experience as she angled her head. She felt him stiffen first with shock and then with resistance but she persisted, her hands tangling in his hair… Until she felt his mouth soften and then part in hesitant response…

It wasn’t a perfect kiss; there was too much raw emotion behind it, too much inexperience on both their parts and initial resistance on his. But it was an honest one, one that stripped away Harry’s defenses, leaving only himself and his fears and his loneliness…

How long it lasted neither of them knew for sure.

Harry was the first to pull back, breathing fast, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He suddenly realized that this was the only thing that would have broken through his defenses so completely and so quickly, the kind of physical contact he’d been avoiding for weeks and yet, conversely, that he’d craved to make him feel human still. He stared at her, feeling as if something inside him had shattered. “Why- why did you do that?”

Hermione was flushed, partly from emotion and partly from embarrassment at her own boldness. Her voice was soft, slightly hesitant, as she tried to put into words what had been more an instinctive reaction than a conscious decision. “To make you understand that you’re not the same as Voldemort. You’re human and you’re a good person. I- I couldn’t think of any other way to show you how sure I am that you’re not evil, not Voldemort and not a murderer. And that, no matter what you do or where you try to escape, I’ll always be here for you.”

She continued on, gaining confidence now that she knew he would really listen to her words, holding his gaze with her own, knowing he’d see the sincerity, the faith, the unconditional love, in her eyes. “You’re not guilty for what happened to the Howards any more than you’re guilty for what happened to Sirius. You weren’t the one controlling Voldemort to kill them; it wasn’t you that said the words. He’s trying to weaken you, Harry, because he’s afraid of you, afraid of the goodness and the love in you because he knows that that’s what will defeat him in the end.”

“I- I want to believe you but I don’t know if I can,” Harry said in a strangled whisper. He looked at her, naked vulnerability in his expression that she knew he showed to no one else.

“Trust me,” she responded softly.

And she knew she’d said the right words, that just those two words were enough, at least for now, to get through to him. She could feel the tension leave him, the first glimmer of light in his eyes that had, until now, been so bleak.

Harry sighed, letting his shoulders slump and his fingers entwine with hers. Trust me… And he did. For right now, even if he didn’t feel the truth of her words, still felt the lingering darkness inside him, he did trust her. Believed her and allowed himself to hope… Because this was Hermione—and the person whose opinion he respected and trusted the most. More, at this moment, than he trusted himself.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, letting his kiss tell her what he didn’t know how to express in words, a kiss of gratitude, of relief, of renewed hope, of nameless fears relieved… A kiss of trust, deep and profound, stronger than fear, stronger than doubt, stronger than friendship, even…

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Harry said softly, breaking the comfortable silence that fell after that kiss.

She smiled and tightened her grip on his hands. “You’ll never need to find out.”

There was another beat of silence before she said, with an encouraging smile, “I think Mrs. Weasley has dinner ready.”

Harry visibly hesitated but then made his decision and stood up, still holding her hand.

He paused before she opened the door which he hadn’t left except to go to the loo for days now. “I don’t know how to face them after how I’ve treated them all.”

She smiled, understanding in her eyes. “They’ll understand and they’ll forgive you.” She paused for a moment before she stepped through the door into the hallway and turned to face him. “It’s what families do,” she added quietly.

Family… He tightened his grip on her hand and stepped outside the room of his self-imposed isolation.

He saw Ron and Ginny look up as he came down the stairs and smile, as naturally as if they’d last seen him at lunch and this wasn’t the first time he’d come downstairs for a meal since he’d arrived at Grimmauld Place. He heard Mrs. Weasley’s voice scolding Fred and George for something and the vague buzz of what he recognized as Mr. Weasley’s and Remus’s voices as they talked to each other. And felt a warmth in his heart he hadn’t known for what felt like years. For the first time in months, he felt fully human, connected, a part of something, a part of a family…

And he had Hermione. He glanced at her, leading the way down the stairs, still holding his hand in a reassuring grip. And smiled his first real smile for months as he greeted Mr. Weasley and Remus.

Hermione quietly slipped her hand out of his as they entered the dining room as she went to help Mrs. Weasley, but with a last squeeze and a last backward glance that said, Don’t worry, and prevented his instinctive trepidation and wish to hold on to her.

He turned to Remus and responded to his quiet question and searching gaze with only the slightest hesitation.

He faced Ron fully for the first time since entering the dining room, remembering how coldly he’d rebuffed Ron’s last attempt before lunch today to get through to him. He wanted to say something: I’m sorry… But hesitated and then his eyes met Ron’s and he read the forgiveness and more, the understanding, in them, before Ron spoke, casually, on the subject of the last Quidditch match. And he allowed himself to relax a little. It really was okay…

Hermione had been right. As usual, he thought, glancing at her as she looked up and met his eyes for a moment, giving him a brief smile, before returning her attention to her task of cutting the bread.

It’s what families do…

And he did have a family, that most human of institutions… A family… And Hermione, more precious than any friend and more necessary than any other person on earth…

There was still some lingering doubt, could remember all too clearly, if he let himself, the terror in the Howards’ eyes as they looked at hi- no, as they looked at Voldemort…

But now, in the warm dining room, surrounded by the people he cared about most, still hearing Hermione’s voice in his mind, Trust me and It’s what families do, he felt his mood lighten.

Trust me…

I do…