Disclaimer: See Ficlet 1.
Author's Note: This little ficlet was inspired by one line in vicariousleigh's wonderful WiP, "Nightingale" and so this is for her.
Stay With Me
Stay with me.
The first time he said the words to her was in the Infirmary at the end of 6th year.
He opened his eyes to the consciousness that Dumbledore was gone. Dumbledore, the only person standing between him and Voldemort, was gone now. There was no hope anymore… He didn't know what he would do now, how he was supposed to face Voldemort and defeat him… He had no special power, no special knowledge…
He blinked back tears at the thought and shut his eyes again, for once thankful for the sleeping potion Madam Pomfrey had insisted he take earlier. Sleep, and the oblivion that came with it, was a welcome refuge right now and he gladly succumbed to the waves of exhaustion sweeping over him.
He awoke to see her watching him with a worried frown creasing her brow. She started up on seeing he was awake. "Oh, Harry, how are you feeling?"
"I'll live," he managed to say with an attempt at flippancy which fell sadly flat. Oh he would live through this-the question was how much longer after this he could survive against Voldemort…
He sighed and then felt her hand smooth over his forehead and then down to cup his cheek. "Don't think like that, Harry. It isn't hopeless and you're not alone." He felt no surprise that she knew just what he'd been thinking; she just understood…
He met her eyes, warm, concerned… "Thanks."
She moved to stand up. "I should tell Madam Pomfrey you're awake."
He grabbed her hand almost without thinking about it, holding her back. "Stay with me," he said. "Please." He didn't understand exactly why he didn't want Hermione to leave; he just knew that he didn't. He knew he couldn't bear it right now if she left. He needed her with him to give him hope, to make him believe, even if only a little, that maybe, just maybe, he could defeat Voldemort, somehow. Her belief in him made him believe in himself more; her faith strengthened him…
"Stay with me," he repeated softly.
"I will." And it was a promise, in her tone and in her eyes.
He let his eyes drift closed again, still holding her hand. "Thank you," he murmured.
She stayed with him the rest of that day, still holding his hand. Even if she had wanted to try to move, which she didn't, she didn't think she could. His grip on her hand was too tenacious. It seemed as if even in sleep he was conscious on some level of her presence and comforted by it.
Stay with me.
She said them to him a few months later when he woke her up in the Common Room. She'd fallen asleep over her books. He'd been unable to sleep and had come down to the Common Room and found her, moving restlessly, making small noises of distress.
He put his hand on her shoulder, shaking gently. "Hermione. Hermione, wake up."
She awoke with a slight gasp, her eyes immediately going to his face. "Harry. You-"
"It was only a nightmare. It's okay," he said reassuringly. "You should go back to sleep. It'll be morning soon enough."
"What about you?"
He shrugged. "I'll manage."
She relaxed a little back into the couch, reaching out for his hand. "Stay with me, Harry." She needed to hold on to him, to know he was there and safe. To know he wasn't lying outside somewhere bleeding with Voldemort standing over him, as she'd seen in her dream.
"I will." He pulled up one of the big armchairs, settling into it. "Sleep, Hermione."
Long after her breathing had become deep and regular, he stayed, watching her, remembering the time in the Infirmary he'd asked her to stay with him. She was his comfort, his hope… He was only glad that at this moment, he could be her comfort too…
It was good to see her sleep; she seemed to sleep so little these days, staying up late studying for N.E.W.T's and studying every DADA book she could get her hands on in the search for something to help him face Voldemort. There were shadows under her eyes on most days now, it seemed. Shadows which bothered him because he knew they were there mostly because of him… He stayed, watching her sleep, until he dozed off himself.
Stay with me.
After that, it seemed to become a phrase they always associated with each other. Seemed to summarize the way they depended on each other, for support, for reassurance, for strength, for friendship…
He said them to her when he regained consciousness fleetingly, the first time, after the final battle, the only words he managed to whisper before lapsing back into oblivion. She blinked back tears at the words, so soft she'd barely heard them. And answered, even though she knew he wouldn't hear her, her voice half-choked with the lump of emotion, of fear, in her throat. "Of course. I won't leave you. As long as you stay with me, too. You have to get better, Harry. You can't just go like this; I won't let you. Stay with me…"
And he had…
He said the words quietly now, breaking the comfortable, sated silence. "Stay with me."
Hermione looked up at him curiously. "I wasn't going anywhere."
He shifted a little on the bed, closer to her, moving his hand from where it rested on her stomach to caress her cheek. "I didn't mean now. I meant, forever. I want you to stay with me always. Stay with me, as my best friend, my lover-my wife…" He paused to smile slightly, tenderly, into her eyes, where glad tears were beginning to shine. "I love you, Hermione. Stay with me; be my wife?"
"Yes. Oh, yes," was her only answer before she slipped her hand behind his neck, bringing his head down to kiss him, letting her kiss communicate the words of love, of happiness, she hadn't said.
His hands slid down her body in a leisurely caress and there was no need for words anymore. There was only this, skin against skin, lips on lips, and the silent communication of two loving bodies…
Stay with me.
Always…