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 4
Hermione's eyes fluttered open as the soft rays of morning sunshine forced their way into the bedroom. Untangling herself from the bed sheets she was holding, seemingly for life itself, she sat up slowly to rest on the bed's headboard.
Yawning, Hermione turned to see that Ginny was stirring as well, although she was nowhere near as awake as Hermione.
"G'morning, Gin," said Hermione, stifling another yawn.
Ginny groaned into her pillow. "Morning."
"How'd you sleep?"
"Fine... What times is it?"
Hermione shrugged, readjusting herself on the back board. "I'm not quite sure. Morning, anyway."
After a minute or so, Ginny propped herself up on her elbow to face Hermione. "So, how'd you sleep last night? Any night time wanderings? Or... dreams?"
The devilish grin mixed with the sleepiness in her eyes made Hermione laugh as Ginny's expression. "No, no, no night time wanderings, I felt straight asleep last night."
"You were quite the randy little girl yesterday - how'd that turn out?"
"Ginny Weasley!" Hermione felt herself turning red. "Please!"
"Oh, goodness Herm, don't be such a prude," scoffed Ginny, "just tell me."
Hermione opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish for a few moments before deciding what to say. But after taking another look at the slightly more awake Ginny, she decided to confess the dream she had had. Not only was Ginny the only person she could really tell, but her red-headed friend wasn't stupid: she knew something had happened.
Slowly, Hermione began to pour out the details of her incredibly detailed dream. Ginny, being the amazing audience member she was, ooh-ed and aww-ed in all the proper places, never laughing at the prospect or rolling her eyes at the cliche.
"So, it was fairly pleasant, then, eh?" Ginny asked.
"Don't be stupid, Ginny, of course it was."
Ginny gave a Cheshire grin as she finally kicked off the covers. "Just don't let on to Harry what a good time you had last night."
To this, Hermione fell silent. Would it even matter if Hermione let it slip about her dream, or would Harry already know? It had been fairly obvious once Hermione had figured it out that Harry was using Legimency to invade her dreams; she only knew this, though, because they were regular dreams of hers, and Harry's role in them had changed.
This dream was a completely new one, however. For all she knew, Harry could have been wide awake and looking out the great window in his haven, instead of asleep in bed and sharing the dream with her. 'It really all depends on how he acts at breakfast.' Hermione thought, 'I'll be able to tell if he knows by his face.'
"Hermione - hello?"
Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, I got lost there for a second."
"Right..." Ginny trailed off. Looking out of the window at the rising sun, she sighed. "I guess it's time to get ready for breakfast."
----
When the girls arrived downstairs for breakfast, they were greeted with the usual scene: Mrs. Weasley was slaving over the hot stove, although breakfast was already served, and Ron was hunched over his bowl of porridge in a sleep-induced stupor.
"Good morning ladies," Mrs. Weasley said brightly, nodding her head towards them. "Tuck in, breakfast is served!"
Both girls smiled and sat down. Almost instantaneously, Harry strolled into the kitchen with a large smile on his face as well.
"Good morning!" he said in greeting to the lot, looking around at all of them. Ron grunted into his cereal, while Ginny greeted him back, looking quickly at Hermione with a pointed expression.
Hermione grinned to herself, looking down at her own cereal. Ginny didn't even know the half of it - Harry seemed a bit too happy to have not experienced the exact same thing that she had last night. 'Still,' she thought to herself, 'mustn't get overly excited. He's a teenage boy after all, their mood swings are horrendous...'
"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Harry asked suddenly as he sat down opposite Hermione, looking her straight in the eyes.
Hermione willed herself not to grin like the fan girls that followed him around at school. There was a look in his eyes; not one of omniscience, but one of a different meaning, like he knew more than he used to, and he enjoyed the knowledge. She lost the battle with her goofy smile as she replied, "Yes it is, Harry. A most pleasant morning at that."
Ginny giggled softly beside her. Hermione had to hold back her own laughter of happiness. The look on his face told her what she needed to know, and was helped along with a bit of wishful thinking. She couldn't know for sure if Harry was really conducting Legimency unless he told her outright; there really wasn't any solid evidence. As Hermione tried to calm herself down, she quickly thought that Harry would probably be a bit more proactive on the matter if he really was conducting that advanced magic. 'Although, Harry might not even know what he's doing,' revelled Hermione to herself. 'That would certainly explain the lack of awkward situations during the day, as well as my dreams.'
Still grinning, Hermione looked up through her eyelashes at Harry. Seeing the expression on his face, however, she whipped her head up to take a good glance at him. He looked nauseous, as if on the verge of being sick to his stomach. Confusion clouded her senses until she saw him look from his breakfast over to the far edge of the table - the far edge where no one sat anymore out of respect.
The seat at the head of the table had been where Sirius regularly sat, and where he had undoubtedly been sitting no more than four months prior. His death had been in the back of everyone's mind, a sickening idea that put everyone in a sombre mood when the topic was brought up. It was like that for everyone, everybody except Harry. He had been most affected by Sirius' death, and understandably so. Sirius had been Harry's closest friend, other than Hermione and Ron; he had been a mentor, a place of solace, and most importantly, Sirius had been Harry's link to his parents. Hermione didn't doubt for a second that Harry took Sirius' death the worst.
Harry's eyes suddenly went from Sirius' chair to Hermione. His eyes had lost any expression of happiness or joy; they looked empty and sad. Hermione wanted so badly to hold him, as she always did when he looked this vulnerable. He looked as if he could almost cry, and Hermione knew how much he despised breaking down.
After a moment of direct eye contact, Harry stood up quickly, and with a quick "excuse me," cleared his plate and made for the stairs.
Mrs. Weasley watched him leave worriedly, while Ron had fallen asleep and was resolutely breathing heavily into his porridge. Ginny stared pointedly at Hermione before saying, "Well, I'm going upstairs."
"Me as well," Hermione said quickly. She grabbed both her and Ginny's plates and deposited them into the grubby sink before hurrying after her friend to their bedroom.
Ginny sat on Hermione's bed, and Hermione quickly followed suit.
Hermione began first. "He needs to talk to someone."
"What happened?"
"I'm not sure. One moment, he's extremely happy, for who knows what reason, and the next thing I know, I look up and he's really sad, staring over at Sirius' old chair."
An expression of understanding crossed Ginny's face as she nodded slowly. "Ah, yes, that does make sense. You can't blame him for that, really. It's a sensitive subject."
Hermione shook her head. "Of course I understand. I just don't think it would affect him as badly as it always does if he talked to someone about it."
"You know him, though, 'Mione. He doesn't like talking." Ginny shrugged.
Hermione looked out the window. Ginny was right, as she usually was: Harry did seem to despise talking about his feelings. But writing them down - would that be a different story? Hermione quickly thought of the journal she had given him: would he use it? Had he used it?
Ginny snapped Hermione out of her reverie. "Come to think of it, though, the only person he's ever really shared his feelings with out of all of us is you. Maybe he'd talk to you."
Harry had looked at her with quite fervour before he had left the table at breakfast - perhaps he was trying to tell her something? Maybe, after receiving the journal, he realized he was in dire need of confessing his feelings, and was finally ready to share them with someone.
Hermione looked at Ginny. "Do you think so?"
Ginny shrugged as she sighed loudly. "I don't know, 'Mione. All I know is that boy has been sullen all summer long, and it's beginning to feel like the first Potions lesson of the year around here."
----
Hermione closed the bedroom door behind her as she played with the sopping wet locks rolling down her back. Ginny looked at her from the confines of her bed with a stern and annoyed expression. "That, Granger," she said, "had to be the longest shower anyone has ever taken in this house."
Hermione grinned. "Sorry."
The truth was, she was in a great mood, and nothing could really pull her out of it. She had done some thinking in the shower - about Harry of course. It all had to do with the precious journal - if he had written something down, and she could see it, it meant that he was most definitely ready to talk about it, and not just to anyone: to her.
"Has Harry been around?" Hermione asked, trying to soften her friend.
"No. He's been wherever he always goes since breakfast."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "But it's been almost four hours!"
Ginny simply glared as Hermione ran her hand through her hair. "You know," began Hermione, tentatively sitting on Ginny's bed, "I think I'm going to go see if he wants to talk."
Ginny's expression changed immediately. "It's about time! If he wants to talk to anyone, you'd be the one."
"Perhaps," Hermione replied. "But how about if he doesn't want to talk to anyone at all?"
Ginny huffed and rolled her eyes. "You're being a prat, Hermione. I refuse to talk to you until you wise up."
Hermione laughed. Maybe it was true. "Okay. I'm going." Slowly, she stood up and made her way back toward the door. With an encouraging smile from Ginny, she slipped through the frame and padded her way to the hidden staircase, where she tried as best she could to not make any noise.
When she came to the top landing, Hermione saw Harry pacing up and down in front of the magnificent window. He seemed restless, unable to keep still. Scanning the room, her eyes came quickly to rest on the open journal laying on the desk by the bookshelf. Confidence faltering slightly, Hermione gathered up her remaining will and cleared her throat clearly.
Harry immediately stopped pacing and looked over at Hermione. After making eye contact, Hermione slowly walked over to the desk. Afraid of what she would, or wouldn't, see, she picked up the journal. The pages were blank. Extremely disappointed, Hermione flipped past a couple of pages, cementing the fact that she wasn't able to see anything he had written. "Have you written anything? ...Or are you just not ready to share?"
He diverted his eyes to the window. "I've written some. What are you doing up here?"
Hermione shrugged as she put down the journal. "I just thought you might like some company."
"Thank you all the same, but I'd actually rather that you left."
Hermione was determined to stay stoic on her exterior, although the shock from what Harry had just said was already causing her confusion. "I promise I'll stay out of the way. I'll just sit on the window sill and be quiet. Please?"
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as though in impatience. "No," he said, looking at the ground.
"Why not?" Hermione asked, slightly angry.
"Because I can't take you. ...I don't want to be around you, Hermione."
It was Hermione's turn to look at the ground as she tried to hide the tears welling up in her eyes, caused by the force of what he was saying. "Oh," she whispered.
She looked up at the same time as he did. She looked straight into his emerald coloured eyes. His life was so complicated, tainted by so many traumatic experiences that would have sent any other wizard straight to a permanent residence at St. Mungo's. But Harry was different; he had a strong enough will to take all of it.
Because of it all, though, Harry had an enormously difficult time trusting people with his vulnerability. Hermione would never know how he felt, because he would never share it. Harry was a different case, not something she could research in a book, in any library. He was different from the rest, and it pained her sometimes.
"Harry..." she began.
Harry shook his head, looking elsewhere once more. "And don't come up here again."
Hermione could no longer hold back the tears that were clouding her vision. She felt as though she had been winded. "Harry... I-I... I..."
She couldn't do it, and without a glance backwards, she ran back to the steps and, in a flash, was gone from the secret haven.
----
The front door slammed shut downstairs, and the deep voices of men could be heard booming from the foyer. One greasy voice in particular stood out, however.
Ginny looked over to Hermione, who was laying in her bed. She had come back from trying to talk to Harry, and hadn't moved from the room since, save for a quick nip of dinner. "Snape must be here for Harry's Occlumency lesson," the redhead suggested.
Hermione turned over to face Ginny. She hadn't told her what had happened in Harry's haven, but she knew Ginny had probably figured out that the confrontation hadn't gone as planned.
Ginny gave her a half-smile as she too moved around the lie in her own bed. Trying to pick up the conversation again, Ginny tried, "Do you think Harry will block the git out tonight?"
Hermione sighed. After a few long moments, she turned back over to face the ever-darkening window that faced the street. "Honestly, I hope Harry's head really hurts tonight." And with that, she pulled the covers over her head, signalling the end of the conversation.
----
Hermione looked around her, seeing nothing but piles upon piles of large, dusty books. Containing more manuscripts than even the Hogwart's library would have the capacity to carry, the room seemed to have endless rows of large, leather-bound books that were available for Hermione to do whatever she wanted with them.
She looked down at the table she was sitting at, and began to read what was laying in front of her. It was a one-of-a-kind edition, containing Hermione's own neat handwriting. Looking over the words, she realized it was all memories she had compiled. And they all had to do with her and Harry.
Quickly, she began to remember everything that was written down: the third-floor corridor in First Year, the Chamber in their Second, their antics with the Time-Turner, and even the long walks around the lake they had had in Fourth Year when Harry and Ron had been in a spat. The book even included the time Hermione had kissed Harry on the cheek... It had everything they had ever done together, right up to that summer.
Hermione began to take notes. Quickly, she started to analyze the different situations, and how Harry had acted towards her each time. She attempted to find a pattern of some sort - a way of really finding out how he felt about her.
She carried on for quite some time, losing track of the hour, and was fairly engrossed in her work when she heard someone's voice.
"What are you researching now Hermione?" they asked quietly.
Hermione looked up to see no one other than Harry approaching the table, looking at the manuscripts she had been studying. She rapidly shut the book shut so he wouldn't be able to see all that she had remembered. If he was there under Legimency...
"How do you always know where to find me?" she asked, still slightly surprised at his arrival.
"I just know you, that's all," he said. He began to sit down in a chair opposite hers. Before she had any time to argue with his statement, he said, "and before you ask - no, you're not just being predictable. You still find ways to surprise me on a regular basis."
Hermione hadn't been expecting him to say anything like that, and was rendered speechless. "As do you, Harry," she stammered as she began to recover her voice.
Harry shrugged. "You never answered my question - what are you researching?"
Hermione bit her lip, debating whether or not she should just tell him what was bothering her. "I've got conflicting information about something, and I've been trying to sort out the truth," she said hesitantly, wanting to see how he would react.
Harry nodded. "I see."
After a few moments, Hermione shook her head to herself. This was her place, her time to be in control. Harry might have been there through Legimency once more, so he would remember this meeting as well. Yet, there was no need to be scared of what Harry would say. People always said night time was the time when truth came out.
"You can help me, if you want."
Harry nodded his head immediately, almost automatically, it seemed.
Hermione wanted this to work so badly. "I want you to answer some questions for me truthfully. Do you think you can do that?"
"I'll... I'll try."
"Okay," Hermione said. Looking straight into Harry's eyes, hopefully depicting how much this meant to her, she asked, "what do guys look for in a girl?"
"Most guys want some good looking girl that'll snog with them. They want a girl with big boobs, long hair, longer legs, and a model's face. But they'll settle for less if she gives them what they want. I guess all guys are different though," Harry said, looking thoughtful, yet answering extremely quick. "Why do you want to know?"
"I told you, I've got some conflicting information," Hermione said. They want a girl with boobs... They'll settle for less... "I noticed you said 'they.' So what do you want in a girl Harry?"
"I want someone who likes me for me, not because I'm the famous Boy-Who-Lived. I want someone who is loyal, honest, and caring. I want someone who wants to hold me in her arms, who's first thought in the morning is me... Who's last thought at night is me. I want someone who loves me unconditionally, just as I love her."
Perhaps Hermione was being paranoid, but it seemed to her as though Harry was answering very quickly. Maybe she was gaining more and more control, like she had had before.
She refused to break eye contact with him, penetrating him with her piercing stare. "Don't you want a girl with big boobs? ...Or the rest of that... stuff?"
"I've learned that beauty is very subjective. I can see beauty where others don't."
Hermione cocked an eyebrow. What exactly was he saying?
"Just like Hagrid thinks a dragon, or a three-headed dog, can make a great pet, I can see the beauty of, say... the Shrieking Shack. It may be ugly to the rest of the world, but knowing what it really is, a place where friends stood by each other in the worst of times, it has it's own unique beauty."
"So..." Hermione quickly blurted out what she wanted to know so desperately, before she was able to chicken out. "Is Cho beautiful, Harry?"
"She's nice to look at, but not beautiful."
"Do you still like her?"
Harry shrugged. "No. I'm not sure if I ever really did."
Again, his answers were as automatic as they had been before. Hermione noticed they weren't quick as if he was just trying to say what she wanted to hear, but as if he was saying what he meant without thinking of the consequences of his actions... He didn't seem to be thinking about being vulnerable anymore.
Hermione closed her eyes, crossing her fingers underneath the table. "Am I beautiful, Harry?"
She opened her eyes once more, full of anxiety and fear at what he would say. He was looking straight at her, and for once, he seemed to be taking his time to answer the question.
She was getting ready to hear all the answers she constantly gave herself: No, Hermione, you're extremely smart, but never pretty... You look... Just normal. You're nothing special.
Harry kept eye contact. "You are the most beautiful person I know Hermione, on the outside as well as inside. And don't let any mirror tell you otherwise."
Hermione felt all the muscles in her stomach release. She maintained a calm exterior as she asked, "What are your feelings toward me, Harry?" She began to fix him with her penetrating stare once more.
"You are my best friend, so of course I care about you."
Hermione didn't believe him. She could tell by the way he looked away that he wasn't telling her everything. And she wanted to know everything. "Once more, how do you really feel about me?"
Looking at him as intensely as she had all night, wanting this answer more than any, Hermione waited for what he had to say.
"I love you."
Hermione opened her mouth slowly, hardly daring to believe what she had just heard. "How long have you felt this way? How long have you known?" She looked at him harshly again.
Harry sighed in a defeated manner.
"The very first day we met on the Hogwart's Express, you obviously knew who I was, as did the rest of the wizarding world, but you didn't let that get in the way of getting to know the scared and awe struck little boy I was. For that I gladly became your friend. By the end of that year, after you followed me into the bowels of Hogwart's and helped me prevent Voldemort from obtaining the Philosopher's Stone, I knew we had become and would always be good friends.
"Then in the second year, when everyone thought that I was the one unleashing a monster on the students, especially after I unknowingly spoke Parseltongue in front of most of the school, you stuck by my side. You even risked the thing you held most dear, school, to help me when you brewed the Polyjuice potion. After you were petrified trying to deliver me the answers we sought, I realized how much I cared for you then and that our bond was stronger than friends, it was as close as family.
"Third year is when I started to get confused. I became ever more concerned about you each day that I watched you working yourself to death, not knowing the complete truth of what you were doing. Even so, when the rush of events happened at the end of the year, you were once again by my side. I knew then that the bond between us could never be broken. When you wrapped your arms around my waist as we rode Buckbeak, I felt something stir inside of me, something I wasn't prepared for. I wanted to be more than just your friend. I felt an attraction towards you stronger than I had ever felt for any girl before. I knew it was more than just platonic love, because I didn't feel any of it in the thankful embrace from Ginny when I saved her from Riddle. But you were my best friend and some part of my brain told me it was wrong, like having a crush on a sister.
"When fourth year started, I tried to force myself to like someone else, and it was Cho that I settled on, as she was widely considered to be desirable and some people thought I already liked her. But no matter how hard I tried I just didn't feel the same way about her as I did for you. I know that I was only fooling myself in thinking I could. Then Yule Ball came, when I saw you with Krum I was angry and jealous, but I had lost my chance by not asking you when I wanted to so badly.
"Then the kiss on the cheek you gave me at King's Cross at the end of that year tore me in two. It took every fibre in my being not to grab you and kiss you back. That part of my brain was still telling me that my affections for you was wrong, so I re-doubled my efforts to shift those feeling from you onto Cho. Valentine's Day fifth year just proved I wasn't up to the task of keeping my mind on any other girl while I secretly longed for you.
"When we went to the Ministry, you were once again by my side. It amazed me how many times you have been there for me when everyone was against me, when it meant breaking the rules, when no one believed me, when I was being a bastard, and even when you knew that I was rushing into a potentially lethal situation before thinking.
"In the few short moments between the time you where hit with that curse and when Neville told me you had a pulse, I felt my willpower and my very life slipping away. It was then that I had an epiphany, that voice in my head was wrong. Just because you were my best friend, a relationship that is as close as family and can never be broken, my attraction to you was not wrong, but a natural progression.
"The events of that night left me with a dilemma. I had finally thrown off the shackles that prevented me from being honest about my feelings about you. But, if I confessed my love for you, Voldemort would have even more reason to try to use you to get to me. As this is the last thing I want, I kept my feelings for you to myself. So I willingly accepted the fact that you would never know of my love, that I would never know the taste of your lips, if it meant you would live. I decided that I would kill Voldemort, not for the world, not for Dumbledore, not even for myself, but for you. I love you Hermione. I love you with all my being. I would die for you. So, I die a little each day so you stay safe."
Hermione's jaw hung open. He tortured himself everyday, dieing inside, so she wouldn't be put into danger. A single tear fell down her cheek as she realized that Harry had always felt the same way about her that she had felt about him. The feeling had been mutual, but they had both thought there was too much on the line to risk anything more.
Harry was confessing a love of no boundaries, where happiness rested in the other person's safety. He was willing to be unhappy himself, as long as he knew that Hermione would be safer and more secure because of it. He wanted her to live a happy life, while he was suffering.
Hermione sniffled, still soaking in all of what Harry had said. His attempts at pushing her away had done nothing but make her forlorn and grief-stricken. Even if he had been doing it for her own safety, Hermione decided that she'd be much more happy if she was with Harry and extremely vulnerable, than without him and safe.
As Harry lowered his eyes to the table, obviously embarrassed, she began to smile. The way he had struggled against saying what he had said hinted strongly toward him actually being present in the dream through Legimency... That would mean that every word he had uttered was true. It would mean he did love her to no end.
Looking over the table at the highly embarrassed Harry, Hermione gave into temptation as she stood up and leaned over as far as she could, grabbing his shirt collar. Pulling him up, she plunged her lips into his, bringing them together in a fierce kiss. Running her tongue along his lips, Hermione silently showed she wanted more. Harry parted his lips, and instantly their tongues met in a heated and passionate dance. Unwillingly, Hermione pulled away from Harry, only to clear the table of all of the books and manuscripts that had filled it. She climbed on to it, pulling Harry to rest on top of her.
She tried to pull him back for a kiss, but he found her neck, and she quickly began to feel his hot breath and tongue sweeping across her sensitive skin. Licking and nibbling his way along, Hermione moaned rather loudly as Harry gently tugged on her earlobe.
Harry began to undo the front of Hermione's robes, trying to concentrate on the fastenings while still lavishing Hermione's earlobe with appropriate attention. Once he began to undo them, however, Hermione felt him leave her ear and instead he began to follow the trail of skin being exposed by the lack of her robe with his tongue.
Harry quickly disposed her of the robe. She was quite aware of the fact that she was extremely nude. Looking up at Harry, she gained immediate confidence at the look of awe and appreciating on his face. Growling slightly, he quickly tore off his own robes. Hermione let out a small whimper as she starred at his own naked body. The tight muscles in his chest and stomach contracted as he looked down at himself in surprise.
Hermione growled quietly, which brought Harry right back to attention. Instantaneously, his hands were at work, finding themselves cupping Hermione's soft breasts. Hermione moaned at the sensations. She ran her hands through Harry's jet black locks just as he brought down his head for yet another heated kiss, which Hermione readily returned. She let her hands trail from his hair to his neck, and slowly down his back.
With Harry's hands playing with her hardened nipples, and his tongue and teeth playing with hers, Hermione placed her hands on Harry's ass. She moaned at the sensations caused by his hardness being pushed closer to her entrance, and she steadily began to push him more and more towards her. Harry laughed into their kiss, and without breaking their embrace, he positioned himself on top of Hermione.
Hermione clawed at his back, heavily anticipating what was coming next. Without warning, Harry entered her, fast and hard. She gasped, arching her back so her chest collided with his. Harry began to create a rhythm; fast enough to satisfy, yet still slow enough to drive Hermione mad.
Hermione brought her legs around his waist and dug her heels into his back, forcing them closer together. Harry grunted and began to enter her with more intensity, harder and faster than before. His movements were bringing Hermione closer and closer to the edge, and with a last moan on his part, Hermione saw a blinding light, no longer in control of what she way saying.