There's Always Hope

H_HrFan

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 14/02/2005
Last Updated: 14/02/2005
Status: completed

A little one-shot. Harry's PoV on how he might feel after he has fulfilled his destiny. Different from others I've read. Please R/R. Thanks.

Chapters

1. There's Always Hope

1. There's Always Hope

DISCLAIMER: Alas, the world of Harry Potter is not mine. Though I long for the skill used to create it…sadly enough, that too belongs to JKR!!!

A/N: On a car trip last weekend I laid my head back to rest and this bizarre little story popped right in and made itself comfortable. As soon as I got home I started writing it down and today I finally got to finish it. It's told from Harry's PoV which is something I've not tried in a story like this.

Just a short little one-shot! It's different…I hope you like it.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY to all who celebrate…and to those who don't, I wish you a day of love just the same!

H_HrFan

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I am wooden. There is nothing left. I have fulfilled my destiny and now I am hollow inside.

For seventeen years I have been a puppet. One puppet master --- different puppeteers. The master has always been there, biding his time, waiting in the background while silently guiding the actions of the puppeteers --- the left arm --- now the right --- pirouette --- now bow down…always I was forced to do the bidding of whoever happened to be pulling the strings. Now, finally, the strings have been cut and the puppet master is no more.

I no longer feel real, I no longer feel --- anything. There is so little of me left now that what remains is slowly being consumed by the emptiness. I have killed a man, another being, and for that I am left with nothing, this is my punishment --- my punishment for murder. No matter what his crimes, I still carry the weight of his death. Who am I to have that right? Who am I to take something so sacred as another life? Destiny or no, I am now no better than the puppet master himself was in life. Someone once said that two wrongs don't make a right…whoever was the first to say it didn't lie; there is nothing right about this.

My life has always been played in the hands of another and now that I am alone I don't know if I can carry on. What will I do now that there is no one to pull the strings? No one to point me in a direction? Any direction.

How am I standing with nothing inside to hold me up? Has my body become so accustomed to its strings that it doesn't yet realize I've severed them? It should have collapsed long ago, given out on me --- given up on me, just as my mind has.

I am heavier although I am lighter. I am weaker although I am stronger. I am lonely although I am not alone. I am lost although I know where I am. Nothing is right and nothing is wrong. It is no wonder I am empty; everything is what it isn't and I can no longer sort through to find the truth. The emptiness is so much easier to understand. It helps me to avoid the emotions I fear will destroy whatever piece of sanity I might someday find --- although I know I do not deserve it.

I feel --- something --- a hand held firmly against my cheek.

I hear --- a voice --- so soft, so full of --- what(?) --- I do not know.

“Can he hear me?”

“I think he can, try.”

“Open your eyes Harry.”

I can hear --- but no words pass through my lips. I am suddenly afraid that if I speak she will leave me --- that if I open my eyes she will not be there. I fear that I am dreaming…

“Harry, please open your eyes.”

Another word, `please', she is pleading with me --- I hear it in her voice. Still I cannot open my eyes.

I feel her gentle, soothing touch as the pad of her thumb traces my eyebrow. Once…twice…three times her thumb follows that path. Her fingers trace my scar --- the symbol that has marked me and made me recognizable to all. It is the mark that has forsaken me my anonymity --- the one that has made me vulnerable to the vast array of puppeteers. Her touch soothes me --- I feel the lines of tension ease under the gentleness of her caress.

I can feel her eyes on me --- studying me --- searching for signs of life --- a sign of hope.

“I love you Harry, please open your eyes,” she whispers fervently for only me to hear. I can feel her warm breath against my ear and slowly I can feel it moving through my body, warming places that have for so long been cold.

Three more words, `I love you', if I keep my eyes closed will she tell me more --- will the warmth of her breath bring life to my tired, worn body --- to my heart, my soul, and my mind? If I keep my eyes closed will she never leave me --- will I keep this beautiful, life-renewing dream forever?

Her hand is on mine and I can feel the tension as her grip tightens on my fingers. Although her grasp is tight enough that I am aware it should hurt --- it is like a handshake through the numbness that has consumed me. I cannot open my eyes for fear she will disappear, but maybe --- maybe she will stay if I tell her through my touch. I try to move my fingers but they do not connect with hers --- she is gone and I am left with only air.

The warmth that had slowly begun to fill me is evaporating fast at the loss of her touch --- at the loss of her voice. After all this time I should know not to make decisions on my own --- I should not have tried to touch her. I need someone --- her perhaps(?) --- to guide me. I will never again be a puppet but it will take much for me to learn to walk on my own. I am not sure I can do it alone. Where has she gone?

“Why won't he answer me? Why won't he respond?” Her voice is desperate.

“No one knows, Hermione, but if anyone can bring him back, it's you. Believe in your love.”

“I do believe. The question is --- does he?” Her voice is sad, melancholy.

Hermione! It's Hermione! She is here --- but is she real? Is anything real anymore? And did she really say ---did I really hear her say --- she loves me?

“All you can do is keep trying, honey. He's been lying here like this for far too long. Now that you're well, I fear it's up to you and the power of your love to bring him back. I'm sorry baby, but there is no one else who can do it; all we can do is support you.”

It's no wonder I've not felt my legs collapse --- I am lying down --- it has already happened. Where am I? How long have I been here?

“Thanks, mum. I'll keep trying. Can you leave us for a while? I'll find you and dad soon.”

“Yes, honey, we'll be in lobby --- waiting.”

Her mum? Her mum is telling her to believe in --- love? Now I am more confused. Things that might have made sense before are now like fragmented pieces of a long forgotten puzzle in my mind. There are too many pieces to put together and once again I find that I am I helpless --- that I cannot do it alone. Will anything ever make sense again?

“Thank you.”

“Find us soon --- bring him with you.”

“I'll try.”

I hear the door close but she is with me --- I can hear her breathing.

“Harry, I don't know where to begin. For so long I have stood by your side and believe me, there was never anywhere else I wanted to be. We've been the best of friends for so long but it's different for me --- somewhere along the line it changed --- and I realized I wanted more…”

Her hand is holding mine. She has returned to my side. Her voice sounds so pained and yet it is so soothing that I want to listen to her forever…

“…but it seemed there was never a good time to tell you --- and so I didn't. Instead I wrote it down. I thought that if I wrote it all down and something happened to me, you would have my words and you would always know that first and foremost you had my heart. I thank God that nothing tragic happened to me but damn it Harry --- what the hell has happened to you? I need you. I've always needed you so much more than you've ever needed me --- why couldn't you see that?”

Her breaths are shallow, I can hear in her voice that her tears are falling and yet I remain frozen, incapable of raising my hand to wipe them away or to caress her and offer her comfort as she has done for me. I am useless --- unworthy of her love and ---

“Why couldn't I tell you that?”

Her voice is so full of anguish that I want to cry. I want to shout out to her that I am here and yet --- I cannot find my voice.

“Can you feel this, Harry?”

She has taken my hand and placed it over her heart --- I can feel her heart beating rapidly against her chest.

“It beats for you Harry. Can you feel it? Can you hear it? Listen Harry, listen closely. There are messages stored in my heart that only you can hear if you just listen.”

I can feel it --- the rapid tattoo of her heart has quickened the rhythm of my own --- and now they beat together --- almost as though we are of one body. It is through this connection that I hear the words --- bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum --- there are words in that heartbeat that are meant for me --- from her heart to mine the message is clear --- I love you…I need you…come back to me.

I can hear it --- I can hear “it” --- I “can hear it” --- ba-bum-bump, ba-bum-bump, ba-bum-bump --- her heart is beating faster and I can feel it. I can really FEEL it! It is as though it is in a race with my own…

“Harry! Harry please! Please! Open your eyes! I heard you…I did! Please Harry, I'm begging you please open your eyes and come back to me.” She is desperate now and her voice has risen until she is nearly shouting.

My eyes begin to open. I want so much to look at her --- but the light --- the brightness blinds me and my eyes close again immediately.

“Bright.” I struggle past vocal chords that feel as if they haven't been used in years.

She is closer to me --- I can feel her breath against my cheek. It brings with it the glorious warmth of sunshine on the first day of spring and in an instant everything begins to feel new --- maybe all is not lost.

“Say it again Harry. I heard you --- I just didn't understand.” Her voice is filled with excitement; I hear its echo in each syllable of each word --- something I would not have noticed had I not been temporarily blind. Perhaps there is too much emphasis placed on the ability to see because in her voice I can hear all the love that my eyes should have seen long ago.

“Bright.” I repeat, hoping it has been spoken more clearly.

I can feel her weight lift from beside me and her warmth has gone with her --- I miss it. Behind my closed eyes the room has grown darker --- I listen as she lowers the curtains and dims the light. She returns quickly to my side and her warmth fills me in an instant.

“Try again, Harry. Open your eyes --- for me,” I take notice of her pause and I wait a moment for her to finish before I try again, “Do it for --- us.”

I try my eyes again slowly --- I am frightened by what I might find --- a part of me remains scared that it is only a dream.

Slowly my eyes open and I find the view before me to be the most beautiful, yet heartbreaking I have ever seen. She is there and that is the beauty --- but the light, the way it surrounds her has me frightened. She looks like an angel and for a moment I fear she is dead --- my eyes shut tight against the pain that envelops my once numb heart. She has made me feel and yet she is not here to keep me feeling. I lay in silence, praying that I am either dead and we are in heaven together or that the light is playing tricks and that she --- my living, breathing angel --- is truly beside me.

Her hand caresses my cheek and though the pain in my heart is great I realize --- if she were dead I would not feel her touch. If she were dead she would be cold --- and she is anything but. I open my eyes to find the light has shifted --- she has not. The sun has moved ever so slightly from beyond the crack in the curtain and now I see only her --- only Hermione --- and she is real.

“Love,” I whisper hoarsely. “I love…”

My eyes close again and as I feel her thumb gently gliding back and forth upon my brow I turn my head into her palm and I realize --- for the first time ever --- that there is always hope for a boy with no strings…

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A/N2: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW…this is a different kind of story for me and I'm interested in what you, the reader, think - good or bad!

Thanks.

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