Disclaimer:
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
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Chapter 2
Hermione woke with a start, still laying down, but eyes flashing open. What had happened? Why had Harry all of a sudden left? And right after that sincere confession of his love, too? Hermione sat up in bed, the springs creaking slightly. The quiet movement was enough to wake Ginny, who slowly opened her eyes.
"What are you doing up, 'Mione?" she asked sleepily.
Hermione gave a half-hearted smile. "You're a light sleeper, aren't you?"
Ginny decided not to answer the question, but concentrate on the sad look on Hermione's face. "What's wrong? What happened?"
Hermione sighed and turned her head to face the window. "Oh, Gin, you're going to think I'm the most daft female alive. I swear, sometimes I'm worse than Luna."
Ginny sat up. "What happened?"
"Well... I had another dream again. Except it was one of my other dreams... Goodness, this is hard. I have certain... regular dreams in which everything happens exactly the same each time. Tonight, I had my one about me and Harry's honeymoon. We're in this tropical hut and everything smells like salt water, and you can hear the ocean's waves from the room..." Hermione trailed off, taking a tentative look at Ginny, and was encouraged by the look of rapt attention on her face. She took another breath. "Well, usually, this dream is just very... How do I put this?... Oh bother, it's very sexual, as in we don't talk at all. But this time, it was like Harry couldn't help but talk. He went on and on about his feelings for me, and how much he loved me... Don't get me wrong, I loved it, and I wish it were real, but it's just so off the beaten path for that dream."
"Wow," exclaimed Ginny softly.
"That's not all," said Hermione, shaking her head. "Right after he finished talking, and we were... getting back down to business... He just disappeared. Like he Disapparated, or something. I can't explain it. One second he was there, and the next, he just wasn't."
"Wow," Ginny said again.
Hermione sighed. She had never been so embarrassed in her life. "I know, it's stupid and daft, but I just can't real--"
Hermione stopped talking when she heard someone creeping in the hall outside of her and Ginny's bedroom. Ginny pressed her ear against the wall.
"Maybe it's Harry," she suggested, pulling away. "Go find out!"
Hermione sputtered her objections, but Ginny's look of scepticism silenced her. "Why not? It's not as though he knows about your dreams. And anyway, he probably needs a friend right about now, if he's creeping around the house at this ungodly hour."
Hermione nodded, and with a breath, quickly exited the room. Looking to her left, she saw the end of a body slipping behind one of the many tapestries that decorated the mansion's walls.
Swallowing hard, Hermione followed the body, folding back the heavy tapestry to find a narrow set of stairs. Not knowing what she would find at the top, she started up the steps carefully and quietly. At the top, a small, circular room came into view, with a large window effectively lighting the room with a full view of the moon. There was a desk and a chair, and a medium-sized bookcase, filled completely with large and dusty volumes.
In front of the window stood Harry, looking almost serene surrounded by the bright moonlight, sipping on something in a mug.
Hermione was extremely afraid of barging in on something private, but with timid steps, remembered what Ginny had said - he probably needed a friend. Quietly, she made her way towards him, and before she could lose any courage, she placed a hand on his shoulder.
She felt him tense slightly under her grip. "Are you okay, Harry?" she asked, before he could turn around and hex her into oblivion.
Harry's shoulder relaxed, seemingly at the knowledge that she was with him. "I thought it was you," he said extremely quietly, almost to quiet for Hermione to hear. "No, not really," he replied, "but I will be."
Hermione took her hand from his shoulder, not moving from her place just as he didn't move from his. "...Was it another nightmare?"
He shook his head. "No... A dream, not a nightmare." He took a breath. "Let's just say it was, erm... thought-provoking, and leave it at that. After last year, I've learned I really need to think things through instead of just reacting."
Hermione diverted her eyes at his mentioning of the year previous, even though he wasn't looking at her. It was a sensitive subject that Ron and Hermione had decided they wouldn't bring up until Harry did, and he had yet to seem comfortable talking about it.
Taking the initiative, Hermione placed a hand on Harry's back as she walked up and around to face him. She looked into his eyes and held in a gasp. The usually guarded orbs of emerald green now looked so worried, so scared, so... open. Never, other than various times in their first year, had Hermione ever seen her friend so vulnerable to everything. She never doubted his bravery, but there were times where she wondered if he was even human, the way he held in so much emotion. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of his, finally realizing that he was just like her.
"Thank you, 'Mione," he said suddenly.
Hermione was taken aback. "What for?"
"For simply being there for me." Harry shrugged again, a pink tinge staining his cheeks. "You'll never know how much it means to me."
Hermione was touched. She felt tears stinging in her eyes, but not wanting to be that typical female, she held them back. Placing her head on his shoulder, she said quietly, "I wouldn't be anywhere else," and pulled him into a soft sideways hug. Almost immediately, she felt his arm go around her shoulder.
No sound permeated their existence, except for Harry occasionally sipping from his mug. For a fleeting moment, Hermione realized whatever was in the cup smelled faintly like her beloved vanilla shampoo.
----
Waking up the next morning was a tiresome task for Hermione. She vaguely remembered being woken up by Ginny earlier in the morning, but enough foul language had come from her mouth for the red head to leave her alone for the time being.
"Hermione Jane Granger, get up now! You've slept in so late! You're going to sleep the entire day if you don't get out of bed this instant!"
Hermione groaned into her pillow. "What time is it?"
"It's 9:30, thankyouverymuch, and I'm extremely hungry, but mom refuses to serve breakfast without you and Harry there, so let's go!"
Hermione sat up slightly. "Harry's not there either?"
Ginny leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms, a smirk crossing her face, replacing her expression of utter anger. "No, he's not. And believe me, it's looks highly suspicious!"
Hermione wanted more than ever to stay within the warm confines of her blankets, but Ginny's last comment struck a chord. "Well, you weren't up when I got back last night, so I wasn't able to tell you what happened," she said in an effort to defend herself.
"Well, then, tell me later; I'm too hungry to listen at the moment. Get dressed, please!"
And Hermione did just that, mumbling her protests at the extreme lack of sleep she had received. Ginny just grinned, perhaps at the look of anguish on Hermione's face.
The girls entered the kitchen, where they were automatically accompanied by Mrs. Weasley and Ron. Mrs. Weasley smiled at the pair, while Ron and his unruly bed-head nodded in recognition of the two.
"Look at you, dearie, you don't seem to have slept at all last night, do you?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a concerned voice.
Hermione gave a half-smile. "It was a slightly rough night. But I'm fine," she added hastily, responding to the alarmed look on the caregiver's face.
Hermione sat down and readily accepted a hot mug of coffee. After applying the right amount of sugars and cream, she sat down in her usual chair, closing her eyes and hoping to be awoken by the strong fumes of caffeine. Just then, Harry walked into the room, looking as tired as Hermione felt. He sat in his spot across from her, and gave her a smile, which she would have loved to return, but she was too tired. He mouthed "I'm sorry," which Hermione took as an apology for keeping her up the night before. 'As if he needs to apologize for me being near him,' she thought, and quickly dismissed it with a wave of her hand.
Hermione wasn't that hungry, and was completely content with her mug of coffee, so she ignored the food on the table and concentrated on the cup in front of her.
"Didn't sleep well either last night dear?" She heard Mrs. Weasley ask Harry a fair few minutes later. Looking up, she noticed his half-eaten plate before Mrs. Weasley cleared it. Apparently, Harry wasn't that hungry either.
Harry placed his elbow on the table and leaned his chin on his hand. "No. I guess two restful nights is too much to ask for."
Hermione mimicked Harry's stature and placed her chin on her hand. Her eyes kept flickering towards him. He was just sitting plainly, looking out towards the kitchen door, moving his hands to rest in between his thighs. Her thoughts were brought back to last night and his spontaneous thank-you. He really hadn't been himself lately, and frankly, it was driving Hermione mad.
It wasn't like Harry didn't have a reason to block everyone out and act like a brooding hippogriff sometimes; Hermione was well aware of all the pressure put on him by the entire wizarding society, as well as his aunt and uncle and their rudeness. Plus, he had had a rough year at school, and that wasn't even delving into what happened at the Ministry. Or Sirius. But sometimes, it still see--
"'Mione, what are you doing?"
Hermione shook herself out of her reverie to face the confronting Ginny. "Pardon?"
"You're zoning out on us," she whispered.
Hermione scratched her head. "Sorry about that..." she muttered quietly. After a second, though, she decided to quietly excuse herself. Hermione cleared her plate and made her way to her bedroom.
She had had an amazing time the night before, even if no one else could understand it. She could hardly understand it herself - why, exactly, had last night been so comforting? It didn't take much hard thinking for Hermione to come up with the answer. 'He was almost normal last night,' she thought as she laid down on her bed, 'he put all the masks down for a moment, and I could see who he really was.'
Just then, Ginny entered the room. Quietly, as though not to wake anyone up despite the lack of sleep in the room, she made her way over to her bed, sat down, and stared at Hermione. "What's up." It was said as a statement, not a question, as though Hermione had no choice but to answer.
It took the brown-haired girl a couple of minutes to come up with what she was trying to say.
"Haven't... Haven't you noticed that Harry's been acting differently all summer? Like, different than usual?"
Ginny gave Hermione a patronising look. "Listen, 'Mione, he kind of saw his own godfather die not too long ago, I wouldn't think that's all too hard to understa--"
"Yes, yes, I get that," Hermione said impatiently. "I just thought that maybe... I guess he'd be able to share it with us, you know? His best friends. It's what we're here for, isn't it?" Hermione didn't give time for Ginny to respond before she carried on. "And I know that whole idea of 'being there for them even if they don't need to talk, maybe they just need someone there,' I get that... But sometimes I just want to slap him. I just want to tell him that maybe he'd feel better if he got it all out. I don't know if he understands that sometimes that's what helps the most: to find an emotional escape like that."
Hermione took a large breath. "For instance: his birthday party. Do you remember what he was like when he walked into the room, and saw all the presents? He just scowled, Gin, like he didn't want any of them. He scowled as though he thought us stupid because we thought that anything might cheer him up! And what did he say, exactly? 'How can you lot be concentrating on material things when people are dying? When you lot die, will you care about what you got for your birthday?' Isn't that exactly what he said? That's not something the old Harry would have said, even if he was thinking it. He would've taken into account all the effort we put in to trying to find things he'd like. He wouldn't just ignore the thought and blow up at us for trying to guess what's in his head. It's stuff like that he needs to talk about!"
Ginny listened quietly, contemplating what was being said. "Well... I guess you know Harry better than I do, but there are different types of people, Herm. There are the types that like to talk, and the ones that don't. You know that Sirius is a very delicate subject. Harry himself is delicate, to be honest."
Hermione sighed, looking out the window. "I know." She paused. "Sometimes... Sometimes I think what's going through his head is a lot worse than what any of us think it is."
Ginny didn't say anything. Hermione took this as her cue to continue.
"Sometimes I think that he's thinking of things that we would never expect him to. Things that no one would expect of the great Harry Potter, the great Boy Who Lived. He hates the fact that there seems to be this standard set for him, as though he's this great warrior automatically ready to head into battle, emotionally detached, and extremely set on his goal. Because that's not what it's like, I can assure you that. Everyone expects him to be ready and willing, but I don't think he is."
"What do you mean?" asked Ginny quietly.
"Last night, when I followed him, it was him, by the way, he went up to a hidden spot where I think he's been hiding all summer. He was just standing there, looking out a window, sipping on whatever he was sipping on. He just seemed so much calmer there, as though it was his escape. I'm afraid he's a bit of an insomniac, Gin. I'm afraid that he doesn't sleep at all because of what's going through his head. I'm afraid the dark things going through his head are consuming him, night and day."
Ginny was wide-eyed. "Wh-what..." She cleared her throat. "What do you think these dark things are?"
Hermione averted her eyes to the window, trying to hide the tears that were appearing. "Oh, I don't know. I'm afraid he thinks he's going to die. I'm afraid he thinks he's ready to die. Or that he needs to die. Or that he wants to die. I'm afraid he wants to die, Ginny."
----
She was the only one in the stands, yet again. Searching the skies, it only took her a couple of seconds to find the lone flyer, as well. She watched, like she always did, as he turned abruptly to his right, and suddenly cut down towards the pitch. Down, down, down he went, and Hermione watched in horror as Harry's look of concentration turned to fear as he realized he couldn't control his broom as such speeds.
Hermione lost sight of him over the barrier boards, but she knew what had happened. Quickly, with blurry vision because of her tears, she tore down the stadium steps, two at a time, and ran towards Harry, screeching his name at the top of her lungs. Harry was lying down, muttering something to himself, his eyes screwed up in pain.
Not regarding the obvious state of pain he was in, Hermione jumped on Harry, taking him into her arms.
"...Hermione..." she heard him wheeze underneath her, "'Mione, I'll be fine."
Wrenching herself away from the battered body, Hermione knew what was about to happen as though she had just rehearsed it. Looking into his eyes as intensely as she could, she let the tears come. "Harry James Potter, you promised this would never happen!"
Harry attempted to pat Hermione's heaving back. "Just... get me to Madam Pomfrey... and I'll be... okay."
Hermione's mind was working logically like it normally did, and she refused to budge. "I can't! There's no one else here, and I left my wand in my room!" She just looked at Harry, whose body was shaking in agony, and she collapsed onto him, positively bawling. "I love you too much to lose you now! I can't lose you to Voldemort, and I definitely can't lose you to a silly game of Quidditch! I feel like I'm losing part of me!"
Harry forced himself to sit up, holding Hermione in her arms. This action was almost enough to stop Hermione's tears. This wasn't supposed to happen; Harry was supposed to die, not sit up and hold her lovingly.
Into her ear, he said, "You'll never lose me, especially not like this."
Hermione couldn't understand. Bewildered, she turned around to look at him. "Y-you-your injuries," she stammered, shaking her head, "...you should be dead - dying!"
Harry strained a smile. "I refuse to cause you that much pain. Even if it means I don't get the pleasure of dying in the arms of such a beautiful woman," he said quietly, looking pointedly at her.
Hermione didn't understand. She was in a state of disbelief; she couldn't, for the life of her, understand why Harry just wasn't dieing. Betraying her confusion, though, she pulled Harry close to her, hugging him in an almost desperate fashion. Hermione felt Harry's hand take her chin, and slowly, he pulled it up to be equal with his, as he kissed her softly and reassuringly. Hermione melted at the sincerity of the act, surrendering herself to the love she felt inside.
After a while, Harry slowed the kiss down and pulled away lightly, staring straight into Hermione's eyes. "Just remember that you will never lose me, because you're my Snitch."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "What? Huh?"
Harry took a large intake of breath. 'It must be hard for him to talk while trying not to die,' Hermione thought simply. Harry kept his vivid green eyes concentrated on her brown ones.
"You're my Snitch, 'Mione, my reason to live. Like a snitch, you're beautiful and elusive, something few will get the honour of getting close to, and only the most worthy will ever get to catch and hold. I have always been so close, yet you've remained just out of my reach." He took another breath, averting his eyes for only a moment before looking back at Hermione. "I want to hold you so bad it hurts, but happiness is something that has always been kept away from me. But I'll always follow, keeping you within my sight, forever trying to catch happiness."
Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and this time, she didn't care about looking like the stereotypical teenager. She smiled through her tears, playing with the hairs on the back of Harry's neck. "Wow," was all she could muster.
Harry never lost eye contact with her as he slowly leaned toward her, pulling her into yet another passionate kiss.