Author's Note: Everyone read HBP? If you have, then allow me to channel Dave Chappelle for a minute:
Who's portrayal of Hermione is OOC now, <bleep>?
Looks like I'm much more insightful then I ever imagined, and that the Hermione in this story is more in-character then you ever imagined, eh?
Yeah, it breaks my heart too.
Ahead is a short (1,700ish) chapter, with only one more likely to go. Sorry if this sounds rushed, but I want to finish my WIPs and get cracking on the post-HBP world.
Chapter Seven
I wasn't sure what I expected on that first day that Hermione helped me with the Firebolt - whether this was a one-time effort, the proverbial extending of the olive branch, or whether she would offer to help once or twice more.
I never imagined that, two weeks later, she would have sat patiently by my side every day, working on the broom, the majority of it spent in silence.
The first day after she offered to help, I returned to my place under the tree without even sparing her a second thought. Well, not entirely true. I couldn't stop thinking about her and wondering if she would appear to help, but at the same time I was still angry with her. I was a veritable potpourri of conflicting emotions - hoping she would help and wanting her to leave me alone.
A few minutes after I had sat down, right after I arranged everything on the ground, she appeared. We locked eyes for a second before she sat across from me and wordlessly picked up pieces of the broom. I watched her for a second before grabbing my own pieces. Again, like the first time, we didn't speak much, but if I have to be honest, I was pleased that she showed up. Though I hid it well.
On the third day, we had a pretty big exam to study for. I took a break to work on the broom, and wondered idly whether or not Hermione would show again. The exam was a wildcard - she could be spending her night in the library to study, or at the same time she could have studied for the exam for the past week and have time to spare. But, just like before, she suddenly appeared just as I had taken everything out of my bag. And, just like before, we worked on the broom in virtual silence.
By the start of the second week, I actually found myself nodding at her before leaving the Common Room, my bag slung over my shoulder. She nodded back and began packing her things away, and we walked to the tree together. It was odd, walking beside Hermione without either one of us even attempting to make conversation. There were times, when we were sitting next to each other, that I could easily forget everything that had happened and just enjoy being with my friend again. It was almost as if I had to remind myself to be angry with her even while handling the broken pieces of my broom.
Finally, by the end of the second week, I could no longer overcome one of the lessons that the Dursleys taught me - never be an inconvenience. Though in my head I knew it was only fair that she was helping me (it was her fault, after all), I couldn't help but feel that I shouldn't be a bother to her. It was something that the Dursleys beat into my skull day after day, year after year, and I couldn't break from habit. Rink a bell, and I'd probably start salivating.
So, as we were packing up to go to lunch, I cleared my throat. "Er, not that I don't appreciate your help, but you don't have to keep coming out here day after day."
Hermione looked at me in mild surprise, no doubt taken aback by the fact that I'd spoken to her using more than four words at once. She gave me a small smile. "I don't mind."
"No, really," I insisted, "it's not necessary. I mean, you've done enough already."
I was somewhat surprised when I saw how she reacted to my statement - hurt and surprise registered on her face - before I realized how it might have sounded. And while it's true that I could easily have meant it that way, I honestly wasn't trying to rub it in.
"Wait, I didn't mean it like that," I said quickly. "What I meant was-"
"No, you're right," Hermione said in a firm voice. She took a deep breath and then looked in my eyes. "I have done enough. I…" she paused, made a few attempts to speak, and then turned to face the lake.
I tried to fill the uncomfortable silence, "Hermione…"
"It's hard for me to admit when I'm wrong," Hermione said, as if I'd never spoken. "And it's doubly hard when I'm both wrong, stupid, and hurtful." She turned to face me. "I'm sorry, Harry. I never meant to hurt you. I…I have no excuse for what I did," she said, still maintaining eye-contact.
I fidgeted nervously. Having someone apologize to me is a relatively new experience; in fact, before this, I think I've only had one real, heartfelt apology before. "Er, it's okay," I said reflexively. "You're already helping me rebuild the broom."
Hermione shook her head. "It's not the broken broom that matters - not that the broom wasn't important - but it's the fact that I broke your trust, which is so much more valuable." She looked as though she might burst into tears right then, but then she sniffed and seemed to compose herself. "Ever since we were eleven, you've placed your trust in me, and I've never let you down before. Over and over, through the years, we've been there for each other, through petty fights and life-threatening situations. And then, with one act of stupidity that quickly compounded into multiple acts of stupidity, I ruined it all. And even when I knew that I was hurting you, I only thought about myself and trying to cover my tracks."
As she's saying this, I have wonder where she's going and why. This isn't the way that I deal with things. I don't talk about them. I don't dwell on them. I just push past them, and yet here's Hermione, dredging it all back up by talking about trust and feelings and junk.
Girls.
"Listen," I begin, but Hermione cuts me off again.
"I've taken you, us, for granted, Harry. I see that now. I see a lot of things, now that I've thrown them all away." Hermione wiped at a tear, and then looked me directly in the eyes. "I know I can't fix this with just words, but I promise you, that I will do whatever it takes to earn back your trust; that is, if you want to try and be friends again."
After a second I realized that she was waiting for an answer. But by this point, there was only one answer to give. Maybe it was because I always believe in second chances, or that the Hermione of the past six years doesn't match up with the Hermione of a month ago, or maybe I was just a glutton for punishment. Either way, the answer was simple, "Yes," I said, "I'd still like to be friends."
Hermione's lower lip trembled, and then she launched herself at me, arms going around my waist as I staggered backwards. I patted her awkwardly on the back until she pulled away. She gave me an embarrassed smile and rubbed a spot on my robes that had gotten damp from her tears. "Sorry about that," she said softly.
"It's okay. It won't leave a permanent mark, and it'll be back to normal in no time, you'll see."
She looked at me, and we both knew that I wasn't just talking about the tear stains on my robe. Hell, I can be all deep and symbolic when I want.
***********
Over the next couple of weeks, things seemed to settle down between Hermione and me. At least on the surface, we both seemed to come to an unspoken agreement to put the whole thing behind us and to try and rebuild our friendship; after all, she's already apologized, and she's helping me to rebuild the broom, so there's not much sense it rehashing the past.
Of course, if only it were that easy. One thing that I've always been good at is holding grudges; letting go of that anger and resentment towards Hermione would take a lot of work on my part.
I was running late for dinner one day, having had to subject myself to another interview. As I entered the Great Hall halfway through dinner, I detected a noticeable buzz throughout the air. I sat down in my customary place, next to Ron and Hermione. "What's all the excitement about?"
"Dumbledore's announced the ball!" squealed Pavarti from my other side.
"The ball?"
"Yeah," Lavender said, eyes sparkling in excitement. "The Graduation Ball! I've been looking forward to it for seven years," she sighed.
My stomach fell. A ball? Great, that's all I needed after everything else that's gone on this year - another chance for teenage angst and awkwardness where I'll no doubt be near the center of attention.
"Hey Harry, I have an idea…" Hermione said.
I looked at her. "What's that?"
"I know how you must hate the idea of going to a ball…" she said.
"True enough."
"Well, I was thinking we could go together," she said cheerfully.
My mouth dropped in disbelief. After everything that happened... "Together?"
She nodded. "I know we've been through some bad times this year, but…well, wouldn't you rather go with someone you know, where's there's no pressure or awkwardness, someone who can understand why you hate the attention you'll no doubt receive?"
I had to admit that she had a point, but still! No pressure or awkwardness? Did she forget that tiny little incident where I professed my undying love for her and she shot me down?
"Harry?" she asked, suddenly looking uncertain and shy - and adorable, which proved to be my undoing.
"Yeah, sure," I said, "I think that's a great idea." I smiled while internally berating myself for being so weak.
Just then, Terry Boot appeared behind us. "Erm, hi Hermione," he said nervously.
"Boot," I acknowledged in a cold tone.
If Terry was nervous before, he looked like he was going to have to scourgify himself in a second. "H-H-Harry."
"Hi Terry," Hermione said.
Hearing Hermione's voice must've pulled Terry out of his stupor, for he managed to collect himself. "Um, I was…uh…wondering if you'd…uh…like to…you know…go to the ball with me?"
Before I could form any emotional reaction to that, Hermione spoke, "I'm sorry Terry, but I'm already going with Harry."
"With Harry?" he asked doubtfully.
I grew angry; `with Harry?' What's that supposed to mean? I stood. "Yeah, with me. You have a problem with that?"
Terry's eyes widened, and had I not been angry I probably would've been amused. "No, of course not…there's no problem…er, uh, I'll see you later." And then he scampered off.
I sat down, Hermione apparently deciding to ignore my testosterone moment. I turned to her, a little irritated. "You still talk to that guy? After everything that happened?"
She shrugged. "It really was my fault, after all. Plus, he's brilliant in Arithmancy."
I sullenly turned towards my plate. "Yeah, brilliant," I muttered under my breath.
***********
A/N: Next chapter coming soon. Some HBP thoughts ahead, so move along if you haven't read it. Actually, it's odd that I have HBP thoughts since I'm only on page 77 right now, but whatever.
Something must be afoot! You can't say JKR is a horrible writer based on book six when you've said she's a wonderful writer based on five other books. She's said before that she rewrote chunks of book 5 to lay clues…well, there were no clues to H/G or Hr's personality change, so there must be a reason. If we went straight from GoF to HBP, then it'd make more sense, but OotP tells me something else is going on here. I'll wait for JKR's interview with Leaky and Mugglenet before I begin the tearing of hair and gnashing of teeth.
But even if H/Hr doesn't happen by book seven, they have the rest of their lives to get together (assuming they all live). After all, how many relationships that start in high school end up in marriage (excluding my own, two of my best friends, and two other good friends)? How many marriages end in divorce? Looks like H and Hr are just taking a detour on their way towards each other.
Besides, a few of my fics are post-Hogwarts, as are some of the greatest novel-length fanfics (e.g., Lori's POU, Paracelsus' Restitution, Ebony's TiP/PL), and most of them have R/Hr occurring in the past. And if I can still ship Buffy/Angel, then I can certainly ship H/Hr.
I'll no doubt have more thoughts once I actually read the book.
-->