You Were Mine

Summary: “Each night, dreams of you would fill my restless mind. I never dreamt without you, be it happy or sad, calm or frightening. In every dream, you belonged to me and I to you. In every dream, you were mine. Until dawn, you were mine.”

Author's Note: I really must thank the lovely Bentheslayer for beta-ing for me. He's a wonderful beta, writer, and friend. Thanks again, love. :)

Also, this is a rather short fic, only two chapters. It's angsty, I suppose, but not nearly as angsty as my other stories. And the romance is very subtle. But it was a true joy to write and I hope everyone enjoys reading it as I did writing it.

Oh, and if anyone has read What If?, the final chapter should be up soon. We haven't given up on it.

Enjoy. And if you like/hate anything, feel free to press the review button and tell me what you think. I do heart reviews very much, whether they're good or bad.

You Were Mine

The hot summer air is thick with music and laughter, as about a hundred people gather to celebrate and lift up their cares. We have so much to be thankful for. The world is finally at peace again, and we owe it all to you, Harry Potter.

Two weeks have passed since you defeated Lord Voldemort, and the wizarding world has not yet ceased the celebrations in your honour. The Burrow's back garden, in fact, is now packed with people celebrating, praising you, whose haunted eyes crinkled as you force a smile for your fans. As I think about those eyes which were once so full of life, I wonder if the sparkle will ever return to them.

But looking at you from across the enormous table, I notice a new light; a distractedly adventurous light has appeared in your eyes. I am both thrilled and heartbroken by it.

The sparkle of your green eyes is not directed at me. It isn't directed at anyone, really. No one seems to have put it there. It just is.

It is a daring sparkle; one I have not seen in years, and you aren't sharing it with me. You aren't sharing it with Ron. You aren't sharing it with anyone. This is yours and only yours, and, as an empty feeling I've been ignoring for the past fortnight fills me completely, I realise something… My work is done.

But, Harry, I don't feel as if I've accomplished anything. I have helped you for seven years now. I have fought by your side, I have lost by your side, and I have won by your side. I was standing beside you when you defeated the Dark Lord and saved the world. I have stood by you through thick and through thin. I have seen your ups and your downs, your highs and your lows.

I'm not finished with you yet. I can't be.

We've been through too much, Harry. I can't stop now. I once vowed to stand beside you forever, nagging and advising you, loving and comforting you. You can't stop me. You can't throw that away. You can't leave me alone.

A tear comes to my eye as I realise that you can and probably will. I reach for my wineglass, hoping to distract myself, hoping to fill this aching emptiness, when Ron stands, pulling Luna up with him. A sad smile curls my lips downward as I watch the beaming couple, wishing we could have what they have…

I join the crowd of Weasleys and you to give our best friends hugs once they announce their engagement. I barely hear the cheers from our friends around us, too overcome with emotion to notice. I cried as I hugged Ron. While I was unbelievably happy for him and Luna, his engagement was another reminder of everything that has changed. We're no longer the Trio. My boys are moving on, and I am alone, dreaming about days past, wishing we could be as we always have been…

I suppose it started at the end of fifth year. You began distancing yourself from Ron and me. I can hardly blame you, to be honest. You had just lost the only true father figure you had ever known, and you were convinced it was your fault. I tried so hard to tell you it wasn't. Every owl I sent you that summer said you were wrong, that it was not your fault, but Voldemort's. That is, of course, until you told me to stop talking about Sirius and the battle at the Ministry of Magic. Still, I wrote you every day, even if you rarely responded. You were my life, Harry. Writing to you was all I could do to stay sane. And each letter you wrote to me filled me with bittersweet happiness.

Eventually, we met again at Grimmauld Place, which was still used as Headquarters. Despite Kreacher's death and the more agreeable décor, the place was as gloomy as ever, and I could both see and feel you sinking deeper into your depression. The light in your eyes was gone. You rarely spoke, you never smiled.

I pleaded with Professor Dumbledore many times, asking if I could take you to my house for the rest of summer vacation. Staying in Sirius's old house was clearly not helping you. But the Headmaster refused. It wasn't safe. I suggested the Burrow. Still, not safe enough.

Never had I been more thankful for September first, than when it arrived that year. Surely schoolwork would distract you as seemingly nothing else could. And I was right. My relief was not entirely pleasant, however. While you and I spent much more time together in the library and in the common room every night, studying late into the wee hours of the morning, we didn't talk as we had before. You didn't confide in me anymore. I merely checked your homework and studied with you.

And so the year progressed. I prayed every night for the real you to return, only to wake up and find the shadow of you at breakfast each morning.

You didn't confide in me until the beginning of seventh year. I remember it as if it was yesterday. We were on the Hogwarts Express, in a compartment of our own. As Head Girl, I only had to meet with the Prefects at the beginning and end of the journey, and to make sure everyone was dressed properly in their school robes as we neared Hogsmeade. Ron, Luna, and Ginny were patrolling the compartments, or rather, Ginny was patrolling and Ron and Luna, without a doubt, were trying to find an empty compartment to snog in.

We were sitting silently. I was so happy it was just the two of us, after a long summer cooped up in Grimmauld yet again, with the Order, the Weasleys, Luna, and Neville. Despite the silence, I was comfortable, but I knew something was on your mind, something that had been plaguing you for a very long time.

You looked up at me with your haunted eyes and you told me the truth about the Prophecy. It was then I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. You would have to kill… or be killed.

I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to do. I vaguely remember crying and pulling you into my arms and telling you I would be there for you, through it all. That night, as I climbed into bed in my new Head Girl chamber, I decided to hide my despair. I vowed to stay beside you, to help you no matter what. I would not let you push me away again.

I made sure you knew, much to your irritation, that I was and would always be by your side. I nagged even more, made small talk every chance I got, went to every Quidditch practice and game. You were exasperated, but you knew.

The year went by much like the previous one, only with more attacks outside the school. I could feel you blaming yourself. I could feel you growing more and more restless with each passing day, each new attack. I was terrified to go to sleep at night, terrified that when I woke, you would be gone, on your way to meet your fate.

I never showed you my fear or my sorrow, but I cried myself to sleep every night, praying you wouldn't be reckless, praying you would win… The prospect of life without you was and is to this very day unbearable. For seven long and tortuous years, Harry, my life has revolved around you. If you lost, I would lose you. But you won… you defeated him… and I'm still losing you.

The party continues. I finish my wine and consider leaving. I want to go home and do what I do every night, mourn the old you and our old friendship. Now that you're leaving, I have something new to mourn. The old and the new you…your constant, though often silent, presence in my life.

But maybe I'm wrong? Maybe I'm being ridiculous and the light in your eyes is just the glow from the bonfire. Or perhaps that light really is for me, for everyone. Perhaps that light is present to let everyone know that the old you has returned… for good.

Even as I think it, I know it's impossible. After all you've been through, you can't go back to the person you used to be. You can't go back to the way things were. None of us can.

Neville approaches me with a smile that I return. Sitting beside me, he refills me glass and I thank him quietly. We make small talk as we watch our surroundings. I don't look at you. I don't want Neville to follow my gaze and figure it out, but as I look up at him, I realise he isn't paying me any attention. His melancholy eyes are fixed on Ginny, whose arm is entwined with Draco Malfoy's, whose sneer is still present, even if he is a bit more mature now.

I watched Neville for several moments. Scars from the final battle lingered on his face. The corners of his sad eyes were marked by premature lines. His shoulders were slumped, as if defeated. I felt the urge to offer support, but no words met my lips. I don't remember ever being lost for words.

I looked away from him and allowed my gaze to return to you, with your shining eyes and haunting smile. And as I stare, you pause in your conversation with Mr Weasley. Your eyes meet mine and you smile softly, so softly. Merlin, Harry, why does it feel like goodbye? Why do I have to lose you now, when you are all I have left?

But… how can I really lose you, when I never really had you? I only had you when dreaming…

Each night, dreams of you would fill my restless mind. I never dreamt without you, be it happy or sad, calm or frightening. In every dream, you belonged to me and I to you. In every dream, you were mine. Until dawn, you were mine.

Distance won't change my dreams, Harry. You will always be mine until morning.

You're still looking at me, but my eyes begin to sting with tears and I look away. I can't say goodbye to you, Harry, silently or otherwise.

I turn to Neville and hug him, hoping to give him some comfort. After a long moment, I pull away and tell him I am taking my leave. A headache is my excuse. No one needs know that it's heartache I'm suffering from.

I kiss his cheek and give him a smile. He smiles back, sadly, somehow knowing I'm feeling as defeated as he. I am careful to avoid looking at you as I wave at Ron, but I can feel your eyes on me as I make my way to the house.

I don't look back as I reach it and walk through to gather my things. It's hard to walk away from you, but it would be even harder to say goodbye.

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You Were Mine

Part Two

It has been a year now since the party at the Burrow and I have not seen you since. I was right in believing that you were leaving. Just a week later, you had left to travel the world, instead of entering Auror training with me, as we had planned. It didn't really surprise me, as you had never been out of Britain before and now that you were no longer under the Dursleys' rule and you no longer had to look over your shoulder, worrying about psychotic dark lords, the world welcomed you and you welcomed the world. You welcomed new adventures, adventures you had only dreamed about whilst at Hogwarts. I was happy you were given the chance to explore the world freely, but I wanted so badly to share that experience with you.

Still, soon after you left, I moved on. That August, I entered training, which served as a welcome distraction from the memory of you. In a matter of months, I was numb to the thought of you. I poured all I had into training, and, six months later, I entered the Ministry with honours. As an Auror, I traveled far and wide. My travels, I'm certain, were just as exciting as yours, though in a very different way. I was capturing the last of the Death Eaters, and various other black magic patrons. It was exhausting work, and fulfilling to a degree, but I could never feel fully accomplished… not with you gone.

It was odd, going off and having my own adventures. Without my boys, they weren't the same. They didn't often feel like adventures, though the rush of fear-induced adrenaline was still there. Still, it wasn't the same. I was - and still am - plagued by nostalgia. It will never be the same without you. I need to accept it, I know, but part of me refuses to. That part of me is convinced that you'll be with me one day, insisting that that in an unnatural state must eventually return to its natural state. It's not natural, fighting dark witches and wizards without you by my side.

I know I must be mad to think you will give up your obviously happy life to be with me and return to the way things used to be. We're not at Hogwarts anymore. Voldemort is dead. The only adventure you want now is freedom… life. I know that. Accepting it, however, is another story.

The last time I saw the Daily Prophet, you were in India. There was a nice picture of you, touring the Taj Mahal. You were with the Indian Minister of Magic's daughter, Ananda. I remember being struck by envy. I envied you for being able to take your time when you traveled. When I was in India a couple of months ago, I was only there for three days and did not have the chance to stop and explore the country on my own. I envied Ananda for being able to experience that with you. I should have been at your side, not her.

But that was two weeks ago and you could be anywhere now. I'm currently in Brussels, Belgium, wasting time until my Portkey is ready to return me to London. I was working in Elsenborn, trying to find and capture Rodolphus Lestrange, the last of the Death Eaters. I was there for a week before Tonks and I found him in one of his ancestral homes, driven mad by the deaths of his master, his wife, and his brother.

Tonks escorted him to the Ministry of Magic in London this morning. I would have accompanied her, but I overslept and missed the Portkey. I'm going to be reprimanded when I arrive later today. Kingsley, who is now Head Auror, will not be pleased at all for my irresponsibility. I will, without a doubt, be placed at a desk for a month or so to do paperwork as punishment, but it will actually be a relief. For six months I've been on the go, determined not to rest until every Death Eater was captured. Now, I've done my job, and for the first time in years, I can breathe properly.

I sigh, presently, as I stare into my coffee cup, oblivious to the people who pass the coffee shop I'm sitting outside of. It's foggy and cold, and for the first time in ages, I'm terribly bored. Checking my watch, I realise I still have a couple of hours left. On a whim, I decide to go into the Wizarding part of town, Hekserij Vierkant, and find a Daily Prophet. I finish my coffee, stand, adjust my long black coat, and take my leave.

It's weird, really, not keeping up with the Prophet, but my job rarely permits me to. I often have much more urgent things on my mind. But I like to find it whenever I can. It keeps me updated on you and Ron, who has yet to set a date for his wedding. I still write to him when I have the chance, and he's very happy to be Keeper for the Chudley Cannons, as I'm sure you know. I have written to you several times… but I cannot bring myself to send those letters. They never seem right.

I am risking being noticed, entering Hekserij Vierkant, but I can't help myself. I want to know where you are and how Ron's team is doing in the league. I may also find the Quibbler, as Luna is now the editor. Anything to feel more connected with everyone I love and miss.

Hoping I won't be spotted by photographers, who have hounded me ever since the final battle, I duck inside the Blauwe Maan. Normally, I disguise myself when I go out, but today, it wasn't really necessary. I'm not working and I really hadn't planned on going out into Wizarding public. Trying to keep a low profile, I make my way through the dimly lit pub, to the back door. I enter the alley and begin searching for a newsstand as I walk through the crowded street.

I tried to hurry; it would not be wise to remain here if I didn't want my picture showing up in the tabloids. I can see it now, “Heroine of the Second War, Hermione Granger - Continuing Her Search for the Elusive Harry Potter in Wizarding Belgium.” That's almost exactly what Witch Weekly's cover proclaimed six months ago, on my first assignment in France. Ron got a good kick out of it, though he threatened to Floo the journalist, Parvati Patil, and tell her to get it right. I'm working and searching for you.

I scoff loudly, making passersby stare, as I make my way to the newsstand in the heart of the square by the enormous Unicorn fountain. I may keep an eye out for you, but that doesn't mean I'm searching for you. I, much like you, have more important things to do.

Picking up the Prophet and the Quibbler, I am struck by a peculiar feeling. Instinctively, as I pay the clerk and take my purchases, I reach for my wand in my coat's inner pocket. I act as casual as possible, smiling and thanking the clerk, turning and walking away.

It isn't exactly a bad feeling, but an uncomfortable one. Figuring it's just a photographer, I do not look for the eyes that are following me. I keep my hand clenched on my wand, ready to strike if necessary, and I dodge people on my way back to the pub.

The feeling isn't waning and the familiar thrill of an anticipated dramatic encounter fills my stomach with something rather similar to butterflies. It grows even more intense as I pick up my pace… this isn't a photographer… the feeling is too familiar… I can't place it… I don't really want to place it… but then…

“Hermione.”

I turn abruptly, pulling my wand out, only to find your harmless face staring back.

I drop my hand, as well as my jaw. I move my lips, but no sound comes out. The strange feeling in my stomach intensifies even more as the reality of what I'm seeing sinks in. Your eyes hold just as much intensity, and as I gaze into those emerald orbs, a light switches on inside them. They're sparkling as they gaze into mine, and I'm struck with a sense of familiarity. I have seen that twinkle before…

And as another hundred butterflies start flying about in my stomach, I realise when I have seen those eyes twinkle like that: At the end of fourth year, when I kissed your cheek… when I made the Galleons for Dumbledore's Army… over Christmas break in fifth year, when I found you in Buckbeak's room… when you told me I wasn't ugly after your disaster of a date with Cho Chang… when you met Rita Skeeter, Luna, and me at the Three Broomsticks for the interview… when I agreed to go with you to Umbridge's office to find out if Sirius had left Headquarters… when I woke up in the Hospital Wing after the battle at the Ministry… when we first saw each other that summer…during those long nights in the library in sixth and seventh years… during the final battle, just before we faced Voldemort…

What could it mean? Why didn't I notice it before? Do you mean to look at me that way?

How long have we been standing here? It seems like an eternity, and at the same time, just a moment. I'm drowning in your shining eyes, Harry, and I know I'm looking at you the same way. Do you see it? Do you feel it?

I open my mouth to speak, but what do I say? Then you raise your hand to cup my cheek and smile that nervous smile of yours, and I realise that it doesn't really matter. Words don't matter. My heart melts, the numbness disappears. You were mine, not just in dreams. You are mine. You always have been.

A smile curves my lips as you pull me closer, despite the distant sound of a camera clicking away madly. I can see it now… “Hero and Heroine, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger - Reunited at Last.”

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