Disclaimer: I'm not rich, I'm not British (though, I do have English blood), I'm not married, I'm not famous, and I don't have kids. I'm almost nineteen, I go to college (in other words, I'm dirt poor), and I was born in Hawaii (and no, I'm not making that part up about Hawaii) - so of course, you all now know from that lovely description that my name is J. K. Rowling! This is sarcasm; notice the sarcasm, see the sarcasm, hear the sarcasm in my written words. . . .
Summary: It's an angst ridden bit of Harry/Hermione romance that I had originally felt compelled to write for Valentine's Day. It's now known as the one-shot that got extended. It is now complete this time . . . really.
Small Snippet to Torture Reader until Reader Reads (and Reviews .:Hint:. .:Hint:.): His lips brushed against her other cheek, his touch so soft, she almost hadn't felt it. "You really do love me, Harry . . ." Yes, he did. She could see it in his gaze, feel it with every caress. There was hope for them again - "Always."
~*~*~
In the End
Warmth; it was all around her. Every part of her was encased in a cushion of soft, silky warmth. It felt so good . . . such a contrast to the cold she had felt before. She didn't want to move, didn't want to remember anything . . . just wanted to stay in the comfortable reverie she was in, forever. She soon found out that such a feat was quite impossible.
Hermione opened her eyes to be welcomed with the sight of large scarlet curtains and with a fluffy, red comforter to match; she was in her bed in the girls' dorm. She turned to the other side to find nothing. There was nobody else with her. He wasn't there with her. Her heart began to sink as she realized . . . a dream, it was all a dream. She could remember every word, touch, and shiver, everything that he had done to her, and it had all been just a dream . . . a very cruel dream.
The comforter and sheets fell from her body as she sat up, cold air hitting her and sending goose-bumps over her skin. She gasped because it was at that point when she realized, she was completely naked. She grabbed the sheets and pulled them against her, covering all of the necessary parts. Maybe, it hadn't all been a dream. . . .
She was about to peek out of the curtains to find some clothes before she heard a door open and quick footsteps approach her bed. The curtains began to pull back. . . .
"Harry, you've been in bed all day. It's time to get -" Ron stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Hermione. He didn't move, just continued to stare with his mouth gaping open.
"Honestly, Ron! Don't just stand there, staring at me! Close the curtains!" she demanded.
He didn't move.
"RON!"
"SORRY!" he suddenly squeaked, finally turning away from her and replacing the scarlet barrier between them.
"Ron, can you look around for my clothes?" she asked, having realized that last night had been very real and that she was in the boys' dorm rather than the girls'.
"WHAT?" he squeaked again, his voice raising another octave.
She sighed in frustration. "Can - you - find - my - clothes?" she repeated, over-enunciating every word.
Ron gave off a strange noise that resembled a whimper. She could hear him moving about the room, trying to find her garments. Several minutes later, she saw her shirt and her skirt flying over the top of the curtains. "Ron, I need my knickers too," she said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Another whimper . . .
Again, clothes flew over the top of the curtains; her bra landed in her lap while her underwear landed on her head. "Thanks."
. . . and another . . .
After getting dressed quickly, she made her way to her own dorm to fix herself up. She ran a tap in the washroom. A long hot bath would help to relieve the sore muscles that she'd acquired from her previous night's escapades. She ran another tap, one with bubbles. Yes, a nice hot bubble bath was what she needed to help clear her head. She got in, the heat burning her skin at first.
Memories kept flashing through her head. . . .
"Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours."
"Always?"
"Always."
She could still feel him holding her, filling her.
Her fingers were beginning to prune from the bathwater.
"Hermione, can you promise me something?"
"Anything."
"Don't ever leave me."
"I won't. I'll always be with you, Harry. I promise."
He had been so sure that she was going to leave him.
The bubbles were beginning to dissipate.
"Hermione, do you think I'm going to survive the final battle? Do you think that we are going to last?"
"No. I don't think; I know."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I just am. I believe it with all my heart. So, I just am."
He had been so sure that he was going to leave her.
The water was getting cold.
"What if you're wrong . . . ?"
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Go to sleep."
She wasn't wrong. She couldn't be wrong. She couldn't imagine her life without Harry, so she was not wrong.
Hermione toweled off while watching the used water swirl down the drain.
She was not wrong.
She began to get redressed, putting her old clothes into the hamper along with her wet towel.
She was not wrong.
She vaguely wondered why she had to keep telling herself those words over and over again. Did she really believe them . . . ?
Yes, she believed them. She had too. If she didn't, she'd lose her sanity.
She was not wrong.
After that last thought, Hermione descended the stairs to the common room. Looking around, she spotted Ron playing chess with Neville. "Ron?"
"Ah!" He jumped and fell out of his chair. Apparently, he hadn't gotten over seeing her in Harry's bed with nothing more than a sheet to cover her body earlier that day. Picking himself up off of the floor, he stared at her with wide eyes, waiting for her to continue.
"Have you seen Harry at all today?" she asked, ignoring his odd behaviour.
He gulped and shook his head from side to side.
"Oh. Well, thanks anyway." Where was Harry? He must have left her early in the morning for Ron not to have seen him all day. . . .
Now, most people in her situation would go out and start searching for the person they were looking for . . . but, Hermione was not most people. Being the clever witch that she was, she knew of a better way to find Harry than to blindly search the castle from top to bottom, wasting a ton of time, until finally happening upon him.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she said a few minutes later, while tapping the Marauders' Map with her wand. Lines began to spread out on the map like a spider web, starting from where she had touched her wand to the tattered parchment. She studied the map, her eyes roving over the spots where Harry spent most of his time. She finally found his name, located at the edge of the lake. Jumping up from Harry's bed, she made her way to him, taking the map with her in case she needed it again.
She had just made it out the front doors of the castle when suddenly a powerful wave of nervousness hit her. What if she was making a mistake in trying to find him? After all, if Harry had wanted to talk to her, then why would he have fled the castle before she woke up? Maybe, he was trying to keep away from her. . . .
Another part of her reasoned that he was just trying to avoid others, not her. He of course wouldn't want to hear the taunting and goading of his roommates he was sure to get if they found out that Hermione had spent the night with him in his bed. He knew that she was smart. If he had been trying to avoid her, surely he would have taken the map with him so that she couldn't automatically find him. If he were avoiding her, he would have taken it with him to make sure that if she got too close to him, he could move away, right?
Yes, that had to be it. He left early to keep from having to face others, not her.
She seemed to be having to convince herself of a lot, lately.
She continued walking. Each step seemed to take forever to make, yet she reached his hiding place in too little time for her liking. Fear was not a becoming thing, especially when it was caused by someone who shouldn't be feared, but she couldn't help it; she wasn't afraid of him, really, but rather, she was afraid of rejection. No matter how many times she told herself that he wasn't trying to avoid her, she couldn't squelch the little voice in her mind that told her otherwise.
She treaded carefully, making very sure to create a lot of noise, so he could hear her coming. Sneaking up on Harry was not a clever thing to do these days, as he had taken a leaf out of Mad-Eye Moody's book and was prone to hex anything that moved in a secretive manner behind his back.
Hesitating for a moment, she finally decided to sit next to him on the grass. He still hadn't made any indication to her presence, and that voice that had been causing her doubt seemed to increase in volume.
No! He was not ignoring her! He was just lost in thought. That was it; he was lost in his thoughts. Though, she decided she'd try to start a conversation with him, anyway . . . just to make sure that little annoying voice in the back of her head wasn't right.
"Hi." Oh, how much lamer could she be? Hi? They had just spent an amazing night together and that was all she could come up with? She began to mentally slap herself but was stopped by his voice breaking through the still air.
"Hi."
Well, at least he answered her, even if their conversation wasn't much of one so far. She felt relief wash over her, just from knowing that he was willing to talking to her.
HA! Take that, little annoying voice! He's not ignoring me!
"You left early this morning . . ." she continued, not really sure of what she wanted to say. She couldn't very well ask him out right if he had been avoiding her or if the previous night had just been a fluke on his part, could she?
"Yeah."
That's all he was going to say? Now, Hermione was getting annoyed. "That's it? You're just going to say, 'yeah'?"
He sighed, and for the first time that day, his eyes met hers. "What do you want me to say?"
"I-I don't -" What did she want him to say? She didn't even know. She just wanted him to say something more than what he had . . . something that had meaning . . . something that would reassure her that he was still hers, that she wasn't alone. "Why? Why did you leave?" she finally asked, her voice sounding a lot weaker and more desperate than she'd have liked.
He reached for her hand, twining his fingers with hers and staring down at them. His skin was freezing from being outside for so long. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just needed some time to think . . . away from everything."
"What have you been thinking about that's kept you here all morning? Last night?" Her voice was just as quiet as his had been. She hated to admit it, but she was afraid of his answer even more now than she had been before. He hadn't shown much reaction to her, and he seemed distant . . . way too distant.
"Yeah, last night."
"And?"
"And last night should never have happened." Her heart was hammering. No! He couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying. She knew he wanted to be with her, the previous night had proved it, so why was he saying this? "I was weak. I should have stopped, but I couldn't. I've wanted to be with you for so long now, and I just couldn't stop, not when you were so close. Last night shouldn't have happened, but it did.
"It's too late now. He already knows how much I care about you." His hand squeezed securely around hers, as though he were afraid she'd disappear at that very moment. "He's after you now. He knows that I'd do anything for you, even give up my own life if it meant you'd be safe, and he knows that hurting you is the one thing he can do to hurt me the most." His eyes were filled with so much pain and fear, and she could do nothing more than wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly. She felt useless. Why couldn't she do anything more to reassure him, to help him?
At that moment, she truly hated Voldemort. It wasn't the fear and dislike she'd felt for the evil creature before. She truly hated him with all of her being. She hated him for putting Harry through all of the pain and suffering he'd had to endure over the years, and she hated him for taking away Harry's hope, for ruining Harry's one bit of happiness.
"Harry, I don't care if he's after me. It was bound to happen at some point in time. I am one of your best friends and a muggle born, after all. Don't allow him to control your life like this! You can't live in fear of what might happen!"
He looked so lost. His eyes were now dull like he'd given up all hope, and her heart broke at the sight. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."
She'd only just realized that in her rush to find Harry, she'd forgotten her cloak. The winter cold was finally hitting her, as she prayed that she wouldn't end up alone again at the end of this conversation.
"Don't. Don't you dare. You didn't do anything wrong. We're going to be just fine, so don't you dare start acting like that." She was desperate. She was in love with him, and he was acting like he was ready to ruin what they had because he was afraid of what might happen to her. He couldn't do that to her. They'd been through too much together! She wasn't going to allow him to push her away anymore . . . She couldn't.
"I'm sorry," he continued. "I tried. I tried to not care, but I couldn't." He began running his hand over her skin, reverently, seeming to savor each touch like it was his last. "I still can't. Even though I know I'll cause nothing but trouble for you, I can't stop caring. I should be telling you to never see me again, to get as far from me as possible, but I can't lose you now, not after last night." His voice was starting to break as he spoke. "You're the one person I can't stand to be away from, and it might cost you your life. I can't bring myself to care enough for your well-being to force you away because I need you so much. I'm selfish, and I've practically killed you because of it."
"STOP IT! You haven't done anything to me! Look at me! I'm right here! I'm alive! Stop acting like I'm not!" She didn't mean to yell at him, but she couldn't control her emotions anymore. It was all too much to handle. She couldn't stand seeing him in such a state, speaking as though she were nothing but a mere memory.
Her words seemed to have woken him from his hopeless state of mind, though. At first, he was surprised by her outburst, but then, his eyes began to take on an intensity she'd only ever seen a few times before. They were burning with determination. "You're right." He was silent for a while, thinking. Finally, he seemed to have made up his mind about something. "I won't let him."
"Huh?" Now, she was slightly confused. What was that supposed to mean?
"I won't let him hurt you." His hands framed her face as he spoke, his eyes brighter than ever. "Dumbledore told me that if I were to stand any chance at winning the final duel, I would need to know what I was fighting for. At first, I thought I was fighting for the whole wizarding world, but I was wrong." He leaned in pressing his lips to her check, gently. Pulling back, she could see the warmth in his eyes returning. "If I'm going to fight for anyone, it'll be for you. So you - no - so we can be safe and happy, so we can live . . . together."
His lips brushed against her other cheek, his touch so soft, she almost hadn't felt it. "You really do love me, Harry . . ." Yes, he did. She could see it in his gaze, feel it with every caress. There was hope for them again.
"Always." Suddenly, his arms were wrapped around her, holding her body tightly against his, his lips crashing down upon hers. The kiss was bruising, almost desperate, and she loved every minute of it. Her fingers twisted in his hair, clinging, pulling him closer.
She was lost in his touch, every nerve on fire. She could feel his fingers tracing over her skin even after they'd already passed. She could feel his lips as they trailed down her neck, every part of her longing for more than just a sweet caress. She wanted him to make her forget, forget about every loss, every worry, every pain . . . and he did.
Time ceased, all sound faded away, and the winter cold no longer existed. Nothing did except for his lips on hers, his arms around her body. There was no evil lord, no destiny, no prophecy. Things were simple, just him and her. He, who was her warmth, who she was happy with . . . he was all she knew.
How could she have ever doubted his feelings? How could she have ever doubted what they shared, their trust, their loyalty for each other? She'd known before, and she knew then, in the end no matter what happened to them, he would always be hers. Nothing could change that, not Voldemort, not even the three Fates.
She'd always be his.
He'd always be hers.
Always together.
Always loved.
Always . . .
~*~*~
References:
The Three Fates - Moirae, the three daughters of Nyx, also know as the three Fates, are the Greek goddesses who controlled destiny. They were supposed to appear three nights after a child's birth to determine the course of his/her future. Clotho spun the web of life, each string representing a person's life line. Lachesis measured the length of each strand, and Atropos cut each thread, deciding a person's death.
A/N:
Yes, I've finally updated! Amazing, I know. At first, this was only supposed to be a one-shot, but since there were so many people begging for me to continue, I decided to compromise. You now have a second chapter, but it's going to be the last chapter, so I hope you enjoyed it. I'm afraid that if I try to continue it anymore, I'll ruin it (if I haven't already). The best part about it is that it's just a short bit of fluff highlighting the turning point in Harry and Hermione's relationship. I don't want to drag it out. So I wrote another chapter for all of those who wanted more, but this is all there's going to be for this fic.
I'm sorry for all of those people who wanted me to change the rating and add some smut to this story. I have absolutely nothing against smut, I love reading it, but this is only my second fan-fic ever, and I'm not quite comfortable with writing R-worthy material yet. I might at some point in time, a very long time from now, write a separate piece to go along with this fic, highlighting the night that the two had together, but this story is going to stay intact the way it is.
Thank you to all of my readers/reviewers and to my beta, Nati! I love you all!
- Amie