A/N: Thanks for all the continued support on this fic. I wish I had time to reply to every single review, but, even though I don't, they are all appreciated. Thanks to Kristin and James for being fantastic beta readers. *glomps them*
In the end, he followed her back inside.
It's your birthday, Harry. You must thank everyone that came to see you. It's only proper.
They walked down the stairs together, holding hands and listening to the sounds of people laughing and talking below. It was a rare moment for them, they had spent the last couple of weeks sneaking around, pretending all was normal. Ron and Hermione had seemed to reach an unspoken agreement where they simply did not discuss Ron's confession. In all, the trio was surviving-it was hanging on by lies, by affectations, by a petty show, but it was surviving.
They'd reached the second floor and let their hands drop. Hermione turned to him, chewing her upper lip rather nervously. "Harry…" she said hesitantly. "Now… I know it might not seem obvious to you, but we look rather like we were… well, you know…"
Harry took the opportunity to really study Hermione. He realized with a sharp flash that she did look like they were just off in a broom closet having a good snog. Her hair was tangled, her cheeks flushed, her lips were rosy and her shirt was crooked and wrinkled. Harry could only imagine that he looked no better.
He reached for her hand again and pulled her up against him. "Yeah…" he said. "You look rather, err… kissable, actually…"
"Stop it," she hissed warningly. "You know we can't-"
"Ahh, Harry! Hermione! Excellent!"
The two teenagers spun away from each other, completely horrified.
"Mr. Weasley!" Hermione stuttered in surprise. "What's… what are you… how much did you see?"
To Harry's complete astonishment, Mr. Weasley let out a low chuckle and tottered back and forth dangerously on his feet. "My dear girl," he said. "I have seen plenty! Comes from working at the Ministry, you know."
Hermione stared.
"He's drunk," Harry said quietly. Hermione's eyes alighted in comprehension and she sagged a little in relief.
"I assure you!" Mr. Weasley said, puffing out his chest. "That I am no such thing. Bad, bad example to be setting for you young'uns…"
Mr. Weasley's eyes slid unfocusedly past them, and focused on a point over their heads.
"Well… I'll, uh… just go and use the lavatories, see if I can make myself less… incriminating," Hermione said to Harry, glancing at Mr. Weasley suspiciously. "It's probably best if we don't go downstairs together."
"Err-right," Harry said, as Mr. Weasley stumbled past him, apparently engaged in a loud conversation with the wall.
Harry started when Hermione left, not finding the prospect of facing everyone at his birthday party particularly appealing. Slowly he descended the stairs, the loud ruckus of the party noise coming up to meet his eardrums.
I hate crowds, he thought to himself, stopping himself on the landing. His pulse quickened at the thought of going back in there, surrounded by so many people…
Get over it, Potter. If you can't even talk to a bunch of people for five minutes, how the fuck are you planning on vanquishing Voldemort?
"Ah, good, Harry… just the person I wanted to see…"
Harry felt weak with relief, eagerly welcoming the presence of Albus Dumbledore. His feelings towards the Headmaster were less than flattering at best, but at the moment Harry welcomed anything that would prolong his having to re-join the birthday party.
"I was rather hoping that we'd have an opportunity to talk," Dumbledore said conversationally, nodding his head back towards the upstairs where Harry had just come from.
Harry nodded and followed the Headmaster upstairs. "What's… uh, is everything alright?"
Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. "Of course," he said easily. "Is there, perhaps, some place where we won't be overheard?"
"Yeah," Harry said, leading him towards the room that he shared with Ron. Once there, he shut the door behind Dumbledore, feeling awkward. He glanced around the room, feeling a touch of embarrassment. He and Ron hadn't been doing a lot of cleaning recently and, as a result, clothing and other scraps lay strewn about.
Dumbledore didn't make any comments about the mess, just settled himself down on the edge of Harry's bed as if he belonged there. Harry, after thinking it over for a moment, went over and sat on Ron's bed before looking at Dumbledore expectantly.
"Well-first," Dumbledore said, smiling serenely. "I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Harry."
"Thanks," Harry said, wishing that Dumbledore would get to his point without wasting time on formalities.
"Very many people showed up to celebrate with you," Dumbledore continued. "It's good to see-I can't imagine anyone else who is more deserving of the concern."
"Yeah," Harry said, shifting his gaze to the floor. He would much rather have preferred a quiet birthday. Ron, Hermione, maybe Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys. This was too much and only served to remind him of who wasn't there…
"Sirius would have been proud of you, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, as if sensing his thoughts. "I'm sure he'd tell you as much if he could be here."
"Yeah, well, he's not," Harry said, looking Dumbledore in the eye. He felt the familiar anger at him burning in his veins.
Dumbledore heaved a great sigh. "I'm very sorry, Harry."
Harry couldn't quite contain his small snort. "That's hardly-"
"Good enough," Dumbledore finished tiredly. "It's difficult for me, you see. I've found that it's rather troubling for me to… see you in pain."
Harry's anger surged. "Really?" he said bitterly. "That's odd… I would've thought… me being vanquisher of Voldemort and all... that'd be the only thing you'd care about."
Dumbledore didn't seem at all affected by Harry's words. "Believe what you will, Harry," he said calmly. "However-"
"NO!" Harry shouted, standing up. He was so tired of people having control over his life, of others hoarding their power over him. This was his prophecy, his destiny and he was not going to let Dumbledore manipulate him. "That's all I am, isn't it? Just the `vanquisher of Voldemort' the `grand savior of the wizarding world.' Well, you know what? You don't get to tell me your sorry! You don't get to tell me how you care for me! You lied to me! You lied to me for 15 years!"
Harry stopped and glared at Dumbledore, waiting for the Headmaster to make the next move.
Dumbledore steepled his fingers together, his face completely impassive. "Sit down, Harry."
"No."
"Sit down."
"No."
For the first time, a hint of frustration appeared on Dumbledore's face and Harry felt a small thrill of victory. "Regardless of your… feelings towards me, there is a matter we must discuss."
Harry crossed his arms over his chest, still standing. "What?"
"Your relationship with Miss Granger."
Harry froze, the colour draining from his face. "How do you… how do you know about that?"
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "There are ways in which information can be passed on. Even secret information."
Harry bristled, feeling intense resentment that Dumbledore felt he had the right to intrude on his relationship with Hermione.
This was supposed to be ours.
Another, more disturbing thought, swept over him. If Dumbledore knew, then who else? Could Voldemort know? Suddenly chilled, Harry rubbed his arms and forced himself to meet Dumbledore's gaze.
"What about our relationship?" he said challengingly.
Dumbledore leaned back, knowing that he had Harry's full attention. "First-I daresay a congratulations is in order. Miss Granger is a fine girl."
"Yeah, she is," Harry bit out. "But that's not what's at issue here."
"No, it's not," Dumbledore conceded impassively. "I must admit, however, I was rather taken by the idea that you would-"
"Just cut to the point!" Harry interrupted angrily. "What does it matter what our relationship is?"
Dumbledore watched him for a very long time. "I should think that would be obvious, Harry," he finally said.
Harry clenched his fists, growing angrier by the moment. "Yeah, and that is?"
Dumbledore bowed his head, appearing lost in thought. "Harry," he finally said calmly. "I'm sure you understand that your delicate… situation… requires much thought. Your relationship with Miss Granger could very well affect the decisions you make in the coming years. Are you prepared to deal with that?"
Never before had Harry ever been so frustrated with Dumbledore's inability to simply say what he meant. "Prepared to deal with what? My decisions… Hermione has nothing to do with-"
"I think you will find, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted calmly. "That she has everything to do with your future. Let me ask you something, if it was ever a question between your life or her life, what would you chose?"
Harry stared. "Excuse me?" he demanded. "That's… I can't answer-"
"Who would you chose?" Dumbledore cut in sharply.
Harry swallowed heavily, heart pounding.
What does it matter?
What's he really saying?
"I would…" Harry trailed off, before meeting Dumbledore's gaze. "Hermione. I would choose Hermione."
Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, looking as though he had expected the answer. "Even at the world's expense?" he said lightly.
"At the world's…" Harry trailed off, feeling a sick feeling settle in his stomach. "What's… I don't understand-"
"Your life, Harry," Dumbledore said simply. "Is worth a great deal more to the world than that of Miss Granger's."
Harry felt his knees weaken. He sat down heavily on Ron's bed, the full impact of Dumbledore's words hitting him.
If Hermione were to ever…
The prophecy has my name on it…
I won't…can't loser her…
Her life's worth more to me than my own…
"Take your time, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "I am sure I have given you much to think on." The Headmaster released a long sigh. "My apologies-I seem to have remarkably bad timing. This is hardly the way in which I wanted you to spend your birthday."
"I don't care about the world," Harry said, his hands trembling slightly. "I don't care."
Dumbledore smiled serenely. "For the greater good, sometimes one must sacrifice his own happiness. That is all too often the way of the world, I'm afraid. But, perhaps, the most beneficial thing to do in this case would be to talk to Miss Granger."
Dumbledore left, leaving Harry in the room, caught in a whirlwind of tumultuous emotion.
I should end things between us now…
What more do I possibly have to give up?
I don't care about the world…
Does Voldemort know?
How did Dumbledore find out?
//Your life is worth a great deal more than that of Miss Granger's//
For the world, Harry.
One must make personal sacrifices.
For the greater-fucking-good.
There was a knock at the door.
"Go away," Harry said, staring transfixed off into space.
The door opened. It was Hermione. She shut it behind her and turned to look at him, worry causing her eyebrows to furrow.
"Harry?" she questioned softly, approaching him. "I was wondering… you never showed up downstairs. Dumbledore said you were in here. Is everything…" Hermione trailed off and her face alighted in concern. "What did he say to you?"
Harry glanced up at her. "He… he said-"
"Oh!" she cut in furiously, without hearing what Harry had to say. "On your birthday! Hasn't he done enough? How much more responsibility can he possibly put on your shoulders? Harry, you listen to me, no matter what he said to you-"
"He knows about us," Harry interrupted flatly. "He knows… he knows everything, Hermione."
Hermione's mouth opened and closed. "Oh," she said faintly.
"Yeah," Harry said heavily. "You better… I think you had better sit down."
Hermione sat down and Harry rested his forearms on his knees, staring speculatively out in front of him.
"What would you do for me?" he asked, finally.
"What would I…" she repeated in confusion. "Harry, what's… you're not making any sense."
"For me, Hermione," he said insistently. "Would you do anything? Would you give up your own life? Would you…" Harry stopped and clenched his jaw before continuing. "Would you give up the lives of others?"
Hermione sucked in a harsh breath. "I don't… why are you asking me this?"
Harry turned towards her, feeling the desperation clawing up inside him. He had to know. He had to know that he wasn't alone. She stared at him breathlessly, embarrassment and worry colouring her cheeks. Her hands were fisted together on her lap.
"Tell me," Harry said sharply. "Tell me what you would do for me."
"I-" Hermione took a deep breath and shifted her gaze to the twisting hands in her lap. "Anything," she finally said quietly. "I would do anything. Yes, I would give up my own life. Yes, I would give up the lives of others… I would do anything."
Harry swallowed, reaching out to take her hands in his. "Me, too," he whispered.
Hermione finally seemed to understand. "Dumbledore talked to you-about us… he must've… the prophecy… and you would, for me…. Oh, Harry!"
She threw her arms around his neck, gripping him tightly. "You mustn't let him separate us," she babbled senselessly. "I know it's selfish of me, Harry. But I don't care-I don't care. You've lost so much already…"
"So none of the rest of it matters?" Harry said. "Not the prophecy or Voldemort or… or any of it?"
"Of course it matters," Hermione said, pulling away so she could see his face. She gripped his hands with a force that was almost painful, as if unwilling to let him go. "But… not… not as much as…"
"I know," Harry said softly. "I know and it's selfish of me because Dumbledore's right. Because I would so anything to keep you safe and maybe that's wrong, but I don't care. I can't lose you, Hermione. Do you understand me? I can't lose you."
Hermione bit her bottom lip so hard she drew blood. "Harry…" she whispered sadly. "That's not… he is right… don't you see? You are first. You do come before me. The world… you're so much more needed than I am."
"What about what I need?" Harry said hoarsely. "Doesn't any of that matter?"
Hermione's eyes flickered shut for a moment. "Of course it matters, but that's not-"
"It's everything," Harry said flatly. "Everything."
Hermione stared at him for a long time, breathing hard. "Alright," she finally said weakly. "Alright…"
"Tell me you'll never leave me," Harry said quietly.
Hermione blinked up at him, looking caught. "Oh, Harry, you know I can't… there's no way to-"
"Please, Hermione," he cut in. "Just… tell me."
Hermione swallowed. "I'll never leave you," she whispered.
"Promise me."
"I promise," Hermione said. "I promise. I'll never leave you, Harry."
"Even if that means that the world comes second," Harry continued desperately. "Even if that means we're putting ourselves before the greater good?"
"You're first," Hermione said. "It's already happened. There's nothing-I can't change it now. You're first."
***
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