Disclaimer: See Ficlet 1
Author's Note: Fluff, as promised…
This ficlet was written for Thanksgiving and is something of a past/future cookie from my WIP, "Complicated", although it can be read on its own.
~You're Welcome~
"Today's a day to spend with family," the waitress, whose name-tag read Elizabeth, said with a smile as she handed the young man the entrée he'd ordered. "Where is your family today?" There was only some idle curiosity and some kindness in her eyes.
"I have no family," he answered automatically.
"Oh. I'm sorry. But happy Thanksgiving anyway. And enjoy your meal," she said as she turned away, leaving him to his thoughts.
I have no family… His automatic response to questions like that and yet, today, even as he thought the words, ten familiar and well-loved faces edged into his mind, belying the words. 8 of them with flaming red hair, one middle-aged man with graying brown hair, penetrating but kind gray eyes and an equally kind if tired, smile, and one who stood out among all the rest… A girl with brown eyes with amber flecks in them, eyes which he'd seen warm with affection, friendship and laughter, dark with worry and fear, flashing amber sparks in anger, and filled with unshed tears… A girl with bushy brown hair, nearly as untamable as his own… A girl whose smile could brighten up his entire day…
~*~
He threw himself wearily into the chair of his hotel room later, his eyes automatically drawn to the stack of stationary embossed with the hotel's logo and the pen beside it. Slowly, deliberately, he reached for the pen and a sheet of paper, beginning to write, the words flowing from the pen without much conscious thought…
November 2-, 1998
Dear Hermione,
It's Thanksgiving here.
Thanksgiving, from what I've found out (I went to the library to look it up- you see your influence on me) is a Muggle American holiday. It first originated in the 1600's when the first settlers here managed to survive their first harsh winter and then, through the help of some Indians, celebrated their first harvest with a big feast, to give thanks. It became a national holiday and now it's one of the big American holidays. It seems, more than any other holiday, to be the holiday you're supposed to spend with family. Which is, I think, why I'm writing to you now.
Someone asked me today where my family is and I said that I had no family, before I realized. I think I was wrong about that. The Weasleys, Remus, they're my family in a lot of ways. And you, of course. You, more than anyone else, are my family.
Thanksgiving also seems to be a holiday about food, specific foods like turkey and something Americans call stuffing and pumpkin pie. But it mainly is a day to give thanks.
Which has made me think, a lot. And I want to thank you, since I don't think I really have, properly at any rate, for everything you've done for me. I know I haven't told you this but it's easier to write than to say and so I'm telling you, I don't know what I would do without you. Thank you for being my best friend, the one person who's always been there for me. Thank you for going to McGonagall about my Firebolt in our 3rd year; I didn't like it at the time but I know you only did it because you cared. Thank you for helping me save Sirius that year; you were brilliant in coming up with the plan to save Sirius and I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you for helping me with the Summoning Charm; that Horntail would probably have fried me to a crisp within minutes without your help, and I know that. But more than that, thank you for believing me when I said I hadn't put my name into the Goblet. You were the only one that really did and I haven't forgotten it.
Thank you for being the only one willing to tell me I was being a prat, in 5th year, for trying to keep me from going to the Ministry. I resented you for it and I'm sorry but I remember how you went along and helped me in Umbridge's office even though you didn't like what I was doing.
And I guess this is really the most important thing I want to thank you for; thank you for sticking with me, for not letting me be alone. It's taken until now for me to fully appreciate it but thank you. Thank you for being so loyal, for being such a friend, for helping me, for saving me. Thank you for being you.
And Hermione, this is another thing it's easier to write than to say, one last thing I want you to know. I love you. And not just as my best friend but as my- well, my everything, really. I love you.
I won't be sending this to you; I can't. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I wanted to say it. And maybe someday, I will send it to you. And I'll tell you in person that I love you… Someday…
~*~*~
Years later…
He found it while rummaging through a box of old papers he had saved. Found it and read it again.
He'd forgotten about this letter that he'd written but never sent because he'd realized that if he sent it, Hermione would know where he was and he knew her too well to think that she would simply not follow him, no matter what he said. Not after everything and not after the way he'd left. So he hadn't mailed it; had only saved it thinking that maybe one day he would send it to her.
He smiled a little and then sighed at the memories the letter conjured up. The loneliness of that time, the nightmares… The constant feeling of running, of avoiding something that he couldn't escape no matter where he went…
He gave it to her that night as she was preparing for bed. "I found something of yours while I was searching through that hall closet today."
She gave him a curious look. "Something of mine? What is it?"
He handed it to her, watching the expression on her face change from puzzlement on seeing the hotel stationary to surprise to tenderness.
When she looked up at him, her eyes were shining with tears even though she was smiling. "Thank you. It's the most beautiful letter I've ever read."
He smiled as he reached for her, kissing her with all the love in his heart and feeling the familiar warmth of her response. He broke the kiss to say softly, half-teasingly, against her lips, "I think, from what I remember saying in that letter, the proper response would be, You're welcome."
He felt her smile and her lips part to speak but he kissed her again, swallowing her words. He didn't need to hear her say it. The time when he really would have needed her to read what he'd written because he couldn't say it aloud was passed… There was no need for words between them…
And as he kissed her, loving her with all his heart, body, mind and soul, he could hear her voice in his head. You're welcome…