A/N: Wow. Just… wow. It's been less than twenty four hours since I posted part 8, and I've gotten *75* reviews just for that chapter, not to mention the reviews for other parts that have come in today, as well. I'm… a little overwhelmed, to tell the truth. I only expected to get about 75 reviews total for the entire story! I'm immensely flattered that people are enjoying this story enough to want to let me know what they think, but I'm a bit intimidated as well. I hope my story continues to live up to everyone's expectations! And speaking of expectations, I'm falling woefully behind mine in not getting all the reviews replied to before posting the next section. Hopefully this weekend will give me a chance to get all caught up. Please don't think I don't appreciate the reviews just because I don't reply right away!
A/N 2: Brace yourselves, one and all, because this is where the *real* angst comes in. There *will* be a happy ending when I finish with the story, but we are *not* at the end yet. I appreciate everyone's patience!
Section 9:
"You should have left it alone," she said, her face turned to the piece of parchment while her finger softly stroked against it. "It was charmed for a reason, you know. I always told you that your curiosity would get you into a sticky situation someday."
"Hermione, I don't understand. Where did that drawing come from?"
"You do understand, Harry." Her voice sounded so *normal*, it was unnerving. It was the same tone she used when he asked her for help on a potions question set and she told him that he already knew the answer, if he would just think about it. The fact that she was using that tone now made it seem even more unreal. She turned her face to look at him.
"You're just in denial. You've seen my drawings before, and you know perfectly well that it came from me."
"But how… why… what does it mean?"
"It means I'm in love with you, Harry. I have been for the longest time." Her voice was still perfectly calm and steady, but now he could hear the strain behind it, like she was holding back tears by sheer force of will. That same tension was evident in her shoulders and in the lines of her jaw. Her eyes, usually her most expressive feature, were deliberately blank.
"You're… you're what?"
"I'm in love with you," she repeated calmly. "I'm sorry you found out like this. Truthfully, I'm sorry that you found out at all. I hadn't planned to tell you."
An unexpected bolt of hurt shot through him. "Hermione, how could you keep something like this from me?"
At last, something flashed in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had arrived. "Because of this," she answered, and stepped closer to him. For a single, dizzying second, he thought she was going to kiss him. Before he had a chance to decide whether the resulting adrenalin rush was fear or anticipation, she reached for the locket that hung around his neck, caressing it gently. She popped it open and stared at the pictures inside. The picture of Lavender was giggling as she blew a kiss to the picture of Harry. Hermione clicked it shut with a sigh. "You made your choice and I wasn't it. What would you have had me say?"
"How long have you felt this way?" Harry asked.
"I've had feelings for you ever since fourth year," she answered matter-of-factly. "But I knew you weren't interested in me like that, so I tried to ignore them. I tried to convince myself that all I felt for you was friendship, and that if I spent all that time thinking about you, it was just because I was worried about you, with Voldemort and everything else. But then I stumbled across the Mirror of Erised."
Harry gasped in realization. That night, when he had found Hermione in the abandoned classroom in front of the Mirror. She had been crying. He had told her that whatever she saw in the mirror was obviously upsetting her, and she had agreed. She had said it hurt… oh Merlin, she had said it hurt because it showed her what she could never have. With her usual intuition, Hermione easily picked up on the direction of Harry's thoughts.
"When you found me in front of the mirror during your engagement party, I said I was saying goodbye to it, remember? I had finally realized that no matter how patiently I waited and no matter how desperately I loved you, you were never going to love me back. I haven't been back since you found me there. I've kept my promise. But I made this drawing to remember it by. Every time I looked into the mirror, this," she picked up the parchment and held it up so he could see it, "was what I saw." She tapped the parchment gently with her wand and Harry fought the urge to protest as the picture vanished once again. Hermione rolled the parchment gently, sliding it into her pocket.
"It was charmed so that no one could see what it truly held but me, but you've always been able to break through all my barriers, haven't you, Harry?"
"I… I don't know what to say," Harry replied shakily.
"I know this makes things awkward," Hermione stated softly. "I'm sorry for that. You need some time to get used to this. I'd better go." Turning swiftly, she started to head for the portrait hole.
"Hermione, wait!" With his seeker's practiced skill, he managed to grab her arm before she ran away. She jumped as if she had been stung but Harry's grip was firm and he refused to let her go.
"Wait for what?" Her voice was considerably colder than it had been just moments before, and considerably less steady. She was close to breaking down and they both knew it. That was why she was so desperate to get away. But Harry had no intention of letting her go until they had resolved the issue. A sick sort of panic was washing over him at the thought that this might be the end of his friendship with Hermione. Her friendship, her help, and her support had literally saved his life more times than he could count. He couldn't imagine his life without her in it. He didn't *want* to imagine a life that she wasn't part of. He had an irrational fear that if he let her go in this one instance, he'd never get her back. The thought was unbearable. Instinctively, he tightened his grip.
"You're hurting me." Her gasp of pain startled him out of his fears. Horrified at how tight his grip had become, he released it immediately.
"I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to; I mean, you know I'd never hurt you. I just wanted… That is to say, I… We should… talk? Yes. We should talk. I can't let you go like this."
"You can and you will."
"No! I know that look on your face. Merlin, Hermione, I know *you*! You're going to go up to your room and you're going to cry and it's going to be because of me and I can't bear the thought of that. You're my friend, I don't want-"
"If you tell me how much you value my friendship, I swear by the saints above and the demons below, I'll scream," she hissed, her desperation driving her directly into anger. She looked like a cornered lion: fierce and desperate and surprisingly beautiful. "I don't want your *friendship*, Harry, I want your *love* and you can't give it to me! That's what hurts and nothing you can do can change that. Can't you see that?"
"Please, Hermione, please just tell me what it is that I need to do to make this right," Harry pleaded.
"There is nothing you can do." Her voice this time was less harsh, but equally intense. "You can't make this go away and you can't undo what has been done. The only thing that would take the pain away was if you loved me back, and you *don't*. Nothing you could say can change that, and nothing you can do can stop it from hurting."
Harry felt like his heart was breaking. Hermione was close to tears and it was all his fault. "I can't stand the thought that you're in pain because of me."
Hermione finally looked up at him and her face softened. He looked hurt and bewildered and horribly upset and she was bitterly sorry for the whole mess. If she hadn't been so weak, if she hadn't drawn the picture in the first place, there would have been nothing for him to find, and Harry could have continued in blissful ignorance, oblivious to her feelings, as usual.
"It's not your fault," she insisted. With great effort, she composed herself so she could continue. "You've done nothing wrong. It's… unfortunate that it had to happen like this, but it's too late to change anything now. You're in love with Lavender and I'm in love with you. It hurts, yes, but I'll get over it. All you can do for me right now is let me go so I can start to move on."
"But I don't want to let you go," he whispered.
"It's not your decision. You've made your choices. This one is mine." And with that, she pulled out her wand, mumbled something that Harry couldn't hear, and disappeared.
In his panic, he thought that she had disapparated. It wasn't until he heard the footsteps racing up the stairs that he realized what had happened, and by then, he could hear that she had reached the top, and he knew it was too late. In spite of himself, a wry smile of reluctant admiration crossed his face. Hermione knew him so well.
She knew that if she just ran for it, he'd immediately run after her. Hermione was fast, but Harry's speed wasn't limited to a broomstick. He had excellent reflexes and would be only a few steps behind her if she bolted. If she ran out the door, he'd follow her, and he'd catch her. Even if she ran for the girl's dorm, as long as he managed to be only a few steps behind her then he'd be able to prevent her from getting away. They both knew that as soon as he set foot on the stairs, they'd dissolve away into a sheer slide to prevent a boy from accessing the girl's dormitories. If Harry stepped on it before Hermione reached the top, Harry wouldn't be able to go up, but Hermione would have no choice but to slide down to him. So since she couldn't run and since she refused to hex Harry, no matter what the circumstances, Hermione did the only thing she could do to get away from him.
It wasn't possible apparate or disapparate in or out of Hogwarts. Hermione had told him so a million times. But he always forgot. Hermione knew that he would forget. After all, no one knew him like Hermione. She knew that if she could make herself invisible long enough to get to the staircase, he'd assume she had disapparated and she'd be able to get upstairs before he could run after her. The floo channels in the dormitories were usually heavily warded (mostly to prevent horny teenagers from open access to shared sleeping arrangements) but as Head Girl, Hermione had complete floo access to any fireplace in the castle. From the girls' dormitory, she'd easily be able to floo to her Head Girl's quarters. Harry would have bet galleons to knuts she was already there.
Running up to his own dormitory, Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak, and his Firebolt. The window wasn't really designed for exit via broomstick, but Harry wasn't the best flier Hogwarts had seen in a century for nothing. Within moments, he had managed to get himself out the window and over to castle tower that held the Head Girl's room. As if she had known he'd fly after her (which she probably did; she was always able to anticipate him) the curtains over the window were tightly drawn and tingled slightly with the magical signature that he recognized as a silencing spell. If he knew his Hermione, there was probably a detection spell up as well, just to make sure she didn't open the window until she was certain he was gone.
Wrapping his cloak firmly around him to avoid detection, (Snape, or even McGonagall would *crucify* him if they found him trying to fly his way into a girl's dormitory room, *any* girl's dormitory room) he waited at her window, hoping against hope that she'd give in eventually and let him in.
She didn't. Hours passed, and the afternoon trickled slowly by, but the curtains didn't so much as twitch, and neither did Harry. It wasn't until the sun set completely and the night air started rolling in that Harry finally gave up, flying back to his dormitory window. Once he landed on the ledge he let his broom clatter to the floor and climbed on to his bed, lying motionless with his eyes wide open, dazed to immobility from a mixture of confusion and pain.
A bewildered Ron, puzzled over why neither of his best friends had shown up for dinner (and more than a bit aggravated from having to interrupt a very pleasant during-dinner-cuddle with Luna to explain to Lavender a dozen times or more that he didn't *know* where Harry had gone) barged in, his mouth already half open to question Harry, but took one look at him and realized that this wasn't the time for questions. Instead, Ron pulled the curtains shut around Harry's bed and told everyone that Harry was catching up on missed sleep. The absolute silence coming from Harry's bed was enough to convince everyone that this was true.
Inside the darkness of his bed, Harry lay perfectly still while he tried desperately to convince himself that everything that had happened since he woke was just a bad dream. In the course of one day, he'd overslept, found some parchment, made a discovery, and lost his best friend. It didn't seem real. It *couldn't* be real. It had to be a dream. Just a dream. Harry lay there wide-awake for hours, trying to convince himself that he was dreaming.
Sleep was a long time coming.