Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it. I also do not own the song "Gifts and Curses" off the Spiderman 2 soundtrack, Yellowcard does.
Gifts and Curses
Chapter One
Gifts and Curses
I try to be strong for her, try not to be wrong for her
But she will not wait for me, anymore, anymore
Why did I say all those things before?
I was sure?
Harry had billions of thoughts swimming through his head. All of them focused on one thing, one person: Her. She wasn't here, not as they had planned. He had expected her to wait, expected her not to rush him. And then, he'd said those stupid things, all of those stupid things.
It was time for the final battle, or at least, it would be soon. He'd told her that it would be all right, that he would keep her safe, but she couldn't stay; too many had already died, and she was scared to death. She couldn't stand seeing the ones she loved die.
(She is the one), but I have a purpose,
(She is the one), and I have to fight this,
(She is the one), a villain I can't knock down.
She was the one for him; they were meant to be together, but she knew that the fate of the wizarding world, and even the muggle world, rested in his hands. He had been sent to destroy evil. Ironically, the one evil he couldn't defeat was from the power she held over him. He tried to get her to stay, yet again, but it didn't work; she refused to stand around and watch those she loved die . . . especially him.
She is alive in the bright New York sky,
The city lights shine for her, above them I cry for her
Everything's small on the ground below, down below
What if I fall, then where would I go, would she know?
Her leaving was the worst thing to happen to him - ever. She moved to another city, another continent even! She transferred to some American school, and it broke him. He didn't know when, or if, she would return. For all he knew, she had found someone else, someone to replace him.
But that wasn't what really bothered him; what bothered him was the thought that she wouldn't know if anything had actually happen to him. And even if she did know, would she care? Would she just mourn over him for a few days and get back to her normal life, or would she mourn for the rest of her life?
(She is the one), all that I wanted,
(She is the one), and I will be haunted,
(She is the one), this gift is my curse for now
She had been all that was left that made him happy. She really was all that he had wanted. And she really did haunt him. He felt as if it was his fault she had left, like he had driven her away. But he didn't know the half of it and probably never would.
He was chosen to be the only person with the gift to destroy the worst evil the earth had seen, ever . . . his power, his gift, his curse. A curse that made it so he couldn't be with the one person who had accepted him for who he was, and had loved him for it at the same time. She didn't care that he was the Famous-Boy-Who-Lived; she didn't care that he had grown into a handsome young man. Caring about such things was shallow, and Hermione wasn't shallow.
As for the title the "Famous-Boy-Who-Lived" . . . that should have been changed to the "Famous-Boy-Who-Was-Cursed-To-Save-The-World-But-Couldn't-Get-The-Girl-Of-His-Dreams-Because-Of-It". Sure, it was a bit long, but that was something he could live with. He was, after all, the Boy-Who-Lived; though, he would rather be the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Ended-Up-With-The-Love-Of-His-Life.
I see your face with every punch I take,
And every bone I break, it's all for you
And my worst pains are words I cannot say,
Still I will always fight on for you
And then it came, his final battle with Lord Voldemort. Every member of the Order, everyone that was left, had joined the fight. Even Ron had fought by his side. There had only been one person missing: Her.
They all knew now that there really were things worth dying for. For Harry, Hermione was one of those things. Every time he had hit someone, every time he'd cursed someone, one thought went through his mind . . . "This is for Hermione."
He hadn't known why he did this. All the emotional wounds she had left, he had trouble getting over them. Actually no, he still hadn't gotten over them. But even so, he had fought for her. She truly was the reason he'd kept going, even after being severely injured. He had known that he'd never get another chance to destroy Voldemort . . . just like he would never get another chance to get her back.
He hadn't used his wand to kill Voldemort; no, he'd done it the old fashioned way; he had beaten him to death. Every punch, every hit, every move he made was for Hermione. It hadn't mattered how badly injured he'd gotten or how many bones he'd broken, he'd continued with his battle.
I see your face with every punch I take,
And every bone I break, it's all for you
And my worst pains are words I cannot say,
Still I will always fight on for you
Even at the beginning of the battle, he'd thought of her . . . from the first curse he had thrown at Malfoy, Sr. to the last punch. Then, he came - the cause of Hermione's anxiety: Dolohov. After that curse Dolohov had hit her with, at the end of fifth year, her life had become a mess; she had always been watching her back, afraid.
Harry hadn't even thought of using his wand, he'd gone straight for Dolohov's neck, causing them both to topple over; and every punch Harry had thrown, he'd imagined Hermione's body lying on the floor, unconscious. This was the person, no, thing that had driven Hermione into running and hiding. He'd taken Harry's fun-loving, rule-breaking, slightly bookish Hermione away from him. She had left because of Dolohov, and Harry had made him pay for it.
Now, more than ever, Harry couldn't stand the fact that Hermione was gone. He had never told her how much he loved her. Hell, they'd never even talked about a relationship, really. They'd never made plans for their futures that involved each other; they hadn't kissed; they hadn't even had a date, not one! So, why was he doing this?
He didn't even know if Hermione felt the same way he did. He just had a feeling, some kind of instinct that told him she did . . . but it didn't matter if she didn't love him the way he loved her; he had still fought for her, hoping, wishing, and praying that she did. And if she didn't, he would just learn to deal with it, as long as she returned - as long as she was still in his life.
I see your face with every punch I take,
And every bone I break, it's all for you
And my worst pains are words I cannot say,
Still I will always fight on for you
And when he'd finally vanquished Voldemort, when the evil that he'd been born to kill was finally gone, Harry's fight still wasn't over. The war against evil may have been over, but his fight for love was still being fought. Should he love her, or should he not? He would, at nights, angrily punch his wall, over and over again. He'd ended up breaking his wrist one of the times, but he still kept punching the wall at night. Eventually, he'd collapse to the floor, but he hadn't given up; he would never give up - not on Hermione.
He knew she would be back . . . someday. . . .
Still I will always fight on for you
Fight on for you, fight on for you
He would always be fighting - fighting for her.
Someday . . .