Author's Note: None of the characters belong to me, though I do own a really cool cell phone.
I know, I owe you all another chapter to Four's a Crowd. Unfortunately, this plot bunny grew some pretty mean-looking claws and fangs and started scratching me. I really had no choice.
This story is loosely based on a challenge I saw on the forums; I won't say which challenge just yet, since it'll give away a plot point. I say loosely based since, though I take the main plot, I've decided to ignore all the other parts of the challenge.
It's also a story with a bit of angst. There might be some humor, simply because Harry's a funny guy, but humor is not my intent.
Chapter One
To be perfectly honest, I can't remember the exact time when I fell in love with Hermione. Maybe it was third year, when we spent all those hours together saving Sirius. Twice. Or maybe it was in fourth year when she gave me a peck on the cheek at the train station. Or hell, maybe it was way back in first year when she gave me the first hug I ever remember. I'll probably never really know, because I had too much emotional baggage from the Dursleys and Voldemort to see what was right in front of me.
I do remember, however, when I realized that I was in love with her. It was during the summer after fifth year. I had needed some time to deal with Sirius' death and the prophecy of doom - if people thought I was a wee bitter after fourth year, I was positively acidic after fifth year. I probably would have dissolved into a puddle of angry, persecuted rage if not for Hermione's letters. Even though I rarely responded, she kept sending me letters. Letters that conveyed her concern without being pushy about it (a rather impressive feat for Hermione), they spoke of regular things and not of the life-and-death events that seem to plague my life. Her letters got me through that difficult time, and that's when I realized that I loved her.
Of course, I couldn't just simply tell her. Not right away, at least. Ignoring the whole fear-of-rejection thing, it was just that I couldn't tell her with the prophecy hanging like a guillotine over my head. If Voldemort ends up being the last one standing, I wanted Hermione to mourn me as a friend, not as something more. At least that's what I told myself all through sixth year and most of seventh whenever I was overcome with the urge to kiss her; to be honest, I think I was just afraid of rejection.
Then Voldemort launched his `final attack' near the beginning of seventh year. Though I had been training with as much enthusiasm and frequency as Snape taking away points from Gryffindors, I was more than just a little scared facing down the man-snake-thingie that had killed my parents. As it turned out, a year-and-a-half of training wasn't much against a lifetime immersed in the Dark Arts, and despite my best efforts, I lay wounded and exhausted before the Dark Lord's feet.
It was then, right as I was anticipating an Avada Kedavra in the skull, that a strange thought entered my mind: I would never be able to kiss Hermione. And frankly, that pissed me off! Here I was, about to die at the ripe old age of seventeen, and the only kiss I would ever receive was to be that tears-and-mucus kiss with Cho?!
Hell no!
With a surge of adrenaline, I rolled to the side just in time as the beam of green light torched the ground behind me. I leapt to my feet, and with every ounce of my being, I blasted Voldemort into a smoldering pile of bones and robes. It took everything I had, but before I passed out, I couldn't help wonder, if it was that easy to kill Voldemort, why hadn't I tried that years ago?
********
I knew where I was even before I opened up my eyes. The hospital wing had become such a familiar place by now, what with Quidditch accidents and attempts on my life, that I was on a first-name basis with Madam Pomfrey. I opened my eyes to see the blurry faces of almost everyone I cared about peering down at me. The news was good: no fatalities on our side, most of the Death Eaters captured, and Voldemort was confirmed to be dead and gone forever. Life was good.
And then, sensing that we probably needed some alone time, the adults left Ron, Hermione, and me alone. We all shared goofy grins before getting into a massive group hug that lasted for what seemed like a full minute. We talked and laughed for a bit, and then Ron excused himself to check up on his wounded brothers and sister, leaving Hermione and me alone for the moment.
Looking into her shining face, I knew this was it. Finally, my opportunity to tell her how I feel about her had come. Voldemort was gone, and I flying so high on happiness and relief that the fear of rejection was pushed off to the side.
"Hermione?" I asked once Ron had closed the curtain behind him. "There's something I want to tell you."
"What's that Harry?"
"I love you."
Her eyes softened and she smiled. "Aww. I love you too Harry."
I shook my head. "No. I mean, I love you. I'm in love with you." Her expression changed and her smile faltered, but I was still too happy to notice. "I've been in love with you for years now, but I was too afraid, with Voldemort out there, to tell you before. But now that he's gone, I thought maybe we could give us a chance."
"Er…what about Ron?" she asked.
I waved my hand dismissively. "Ron knows. I told him last year; or rather he figured it out somehow." That was a conversation I had been dreading for sometime, but fortunately Luna Lovegood saved me.
She looked troubled. "Er, right then…listen Harry-"
"No, it's okay," I said, thinking she was still worried about Ron. "Ever since he started dating Luna, he's been over his crush on you. In fact, he's been encouraging me to tell you sooner. Getting downright pushy, he was."
"Listen…Harry," she repeated gently. "I think you're delirious."
I paused, confused. "No, I think I feel fine," I said slowly.
"No Harry," she said, a little more firmly. "You've just gone through a stressful experience, and you're emotions are all over the place; you'll feel differently in the morning."
I shook my head. "No, that's not it. I love you Her-"
"No, you don't," she interrupted. "Trust me, once you've calmed down, you'll see that I'm right."
I opened my mouth to protest, when it suddenly occurred to me what was going on, what I was seeing in her eyes. It wasn't happiness that I was in love with her. It wasn't even doubt-mixed-with-hope that I was in love with her. No, the expression in her eyes, written all over her face, was pity. Hermione pitied me. She wasn't in love with me at all, and this was her way of giving me an out, a way to save my dignity. I lowered my head and closed my eyes for a second, internalizing everything as I had done while living with the Dursleys. Then I looked back up at her.
"You're right, of course," I said, my voice flat and mechanical.
"Yes, you'll see. It'll all be all right at the end," she replied, trying to give me a reassuring smile while at the same time holding back tears. We then looked anywhere else but at each other, each trying to figure out something to say to break the awkward silence that had fallen over us. Fortunately, after only a minute or two of torture, Ron came back.
"Hey guys, miss me?" he asked happily as he opened the curtain. He smile immediately dropped once he saw our half-hearted attempts to smile back and the tears forming in Hermione's eyes. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Hermione said quickly. "Nothing at all. I should go check up on Ginny." And with that, she left without waiting for a response. Ron watched her leave and then turned back to me.
"What happened Harry?"
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. I knew I could make something up, but Ron would eventually find out anyways. "I told her how I feel about her."
"Oh!" Ron said, his eyes lighting up. Then he remembered how we both looked when he walked in - not exactly the scene of two people in love. "Oh," he repeated. "Harry…"
"I think I need some time alone. Is that okay?"
"Uh, yeah sure," he said. "I'll…uh…I'll just come back when it's time for dinner, okay?"
"Thanks," I said.
Ron gave me a supportive punch in the arm before closing the curtains around me as he left. For some odd reason, though I was still in a hospital bed at Hogwarts, I suddenly felt like I was back in the cupboard beneath the stairs.
*****
A/N: Isn't that last line cool? Sounds all deep and meaningful.
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