Disclaimer: See Part 1
Author's Note: In this chapter, I try to answer the question of just why Hermione stays with Harry and Ron after all that's happened to her because of them.
Part 4 of 5.
A Hero's Choice
Part 4
His words echoed in her mind.
I'm angry because I want to be left bloody alone and you have to keep sticking your bossy, nosy self where you're not wanted! What will it take to convince you to leave me the hell alone! I don't want you here, don't want to talk to you, don't want to be with you.
Every word slashed at her heart and drew blood. The coldness of his tone, a coldness she'd never heard before in his voice, never dreamed of hearing, hurt her too. Everything hurt her- his words, his pallor, his expression, the distance between them, both the physical distance and the mental one he'd created…
She wrapped her arms tighter around her knees as if she could somehow contain the agony she felt.
She had cried all the tears in her body already, cried until she could cry no more, cried until her eyes were dry and scratchy.
She heard the harsh things he'd said over and over again, an unrelenting echo in her thoughts, tormenting her, ripping out her heart.
And always in the midst of her heartbreak, one word, one question echoed. Why? Why, why, why?
What had she done to make Harry so angry? If she hadn't done anything, then why had he been so angry? Why had he said what he had? Cruel words, cutting words… Why?
Why had he said such things?
She knew him. Knew him like she knew no one else and she could swear that he cared too much to deliberately hurt someone. But that was what he'd done earlier in what he'd said to Ron and to her. She knew him and she had recognized the purposefulness in his voice. His words hadn't been words spoken in the heat of anger and then forgotten. He'd known exactly what he was saying, how they would hurt-known and had said them anyway.
He'd meant to say them.
But why?
She knew he was grieving for Sirius, knew he felt guilty over Sirius, knew it because of how well she knew him.
But she still didn't know why…
And she needed to know.
Because she still loved him. She still trusted him and wanted to help him. Despite everything he'd said… Even if he didn't want her help, she would find some other way to help him. She had to. It was simply something she needed to do.
And she needed to understand his reasons.
She knew saying the words hadn't been easy for him to say, had sensed the strain, the tension in him, as he lashed out at them. His gaze and his expression had been cold, as cold and angry as his voice, but he had been hurting too.
She thought again of their fight (had it been a fight?), relived every horrible, heart-rending moment of listening to Harry's angry and oh so hurtful tirade. The way he'd leaped up, avoiding her touch as if it were poisonous-oh that had hurt to see. The lines of strain framing his mouth, the look on his face that suddenly made him look so much older than his years, the look of someone who's seen and experienced things no boy his age should have to have seen or experienced (but then, he had).
He had looked so vulnerable, so young, when she'd first walked into his room this afternoon, and she'd had one of her rare moments of realizing she was older than Harry though she never thought of it usually. Harry was simply- Harry, and they were equals, friends, and she never thought about any difference in age as it just didn't matter.
But then he'd let loose his anger, words she could still hardly believe Harry had really said, spilling out of his mouth, and the vulnerability was gone, replaced with a hardness that had wounded her almost as much as his words. Oh, his words-painful, painful words that still echoed in her mind…
And yet- and yet he- he had never, she suddenly realized, through all those minutes in his room, met her eyes. Not once. It almost seemed, remembering it now, as if he'd been avoiding her eyes… So she couldn't read his expression…
Oh… She let out her breath slowly and for the first time felt a faint flicker of hope break through her aching hurt.
He hadn't-he couldn't have meant his words… Surely that was the reason he hadn't met her eyes even once. They hadn't sounded like something he would say, especially when she knew he hadn't spoken in the heat of anger; his words had been too deliberate for that.
Or was she only clinging to an invented hope to block out the unbearable truth that maybe he really had meant every word he said? That he really didn't want her around? That he really did find her bossy and annoying?
No! She shut her ears to the insidious fears, refusing to give in to the vulnerability she hid so carefully.
He couldn't have meant what he said! Not Harry. He wouldn't hurt her like that, wouldn't say such things, wouldn't think such things…
She believed that. She had to believe it.
Otherwise she would be lost-and at that moment, she knew just how true that was. She would be lost. She hadn't fully realized just how much it had meant to her to have Harry and Ron as her friends, to believe that they-that he- liked her, enjoyed her company. That she was needed, that she could help, because of her cleverness and her reading…
After a childhood spent with books as her main companions, it had meant so much- just how much she hadn't even stopped to think about until now- to know that someone, that Harry, liked her and appreciated her for who she was. To know that he respected her, trusted her, appreciated her… To know that he needed her for her knowledge, yes, but also just as his friend… It was what made her try even harder than she otherwise would, made her read even one more book than she otherwise would, research a little longer, write a longer paper than she otherwise would-just the hope that all her studying, all her love of reading, would help Harry. The knowledge that he needed her had kept her going-and she loved him for needing her, loved being needed.
But if he had meant his words; if he really did find her bossy and nosy and irritating… She shuddered, a small sound, half-moan, half-whimper, escaping her lips. No, no, no, no, no…
He couldn't have meant what he said, had to have been avoiding her eyes for a reason. She believed that. She did…
Her hand was on the door knob and then she hesitated, bit her lip, and then let her hand fall, stepping back from the door. Again.
How long had she been standing out here, debating with herself, hesitating? She couldn't believe how nervous she was, how incredibly, painfully afraid she was of facing Harry. Harry! To be afraid to see Harry, talk to Harry! She'd never been nervous, dreading the sight of him as she certainly did now, before. He was her friend, her best friend, and he still was…
Yet still she hesitated, her cowardice getting the better of her, afraid not of him but of the truth she knew she couldn't bear if it were the truth-that he really did find her bossy and nosy and didn't want her to be near him anymore… She couldn't believe it was true but she was so afraid it was, afraid because she loved him and knowing- really knowing-he didn't like her, let alone love her, would break her heart.
She bit her lip again as she stared at the door to Harry's room. And then lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders and opened the door. She wouldn't be a coward anymore; she was a Gryffindor too and besides that, this uncertainty might just be worse than anything else.
It was pitch black in the room and she wondered briefly why he hadn't bothered to turn on any lights. "Lumos," she said softly and then made the light dimmer with another wave of her wand.
He hadn't moved, hadn't reacted to her entrance or to the light in the room, just stayed in his position sitting on the floor, his back to the wall, legs curled up, his face buried in his arms.
Oddly, something about his position reassured her, even as it sent a sharp pang of sympathy, of worry, through her. He looked-broken, was the word that came into her mind, as if he had lost everything of any value to him and had nothing left, was only a shell of his former self.
And somehow, suddenly, looking at him, she knew he hadn't meant what he had said. She didn't quite know how she knew it but she did, was as sure of it as she'd ever been of anything. Harry, whatever his reasons for saying such terrible things, hadn't meant them. He wouldn't- he couldn't- look quite so despairing, so terribly solitary, if he had…
She moved closer to him, slowly, wondering as she did so what she should say- what could she say to help him…
She knelt in front of him, putting a gentle hand on his arm, feeling the sudden tension at her touch. And then she knew what she needed to say, the only thing she could say right now to help him. "I'm here, Harry. I forgive you."
I forgive you. And she did. She still didn't understand why he'd said what he had, the wounds from his words still present but right now, at this moment, her own hurt didn't matter. Her own hurt, her anger, her confusion-all was momentarily forgotten in a surge of love, of forgiveness.
"I forgive you," she repeated firmly.
He tensed even more at her words, drew back to press himself even further against the wall. He didn't want to feel relieved at her words, didn't want to hear of her forgiveness. And yet-and yet, he couldn't help but feel relief, a surge of sheer gladness so powerful it nearly overwhelmed him. She didn't hate him; she forgave him… And even though he knew that in giving in now, he was putting her in danger, at that moment, he couldn't help but give in. He couldn't. He wasn't strong enough, couldn't do this without her. He needed her and dear God, it meant so much to hear the familiar warmth in her voice, filling him, healing him…
The emotional walls he'd built around himself came crashing down and he crumbled. He pitched forward, his arms closing around her with stunning force, his face burying itself in her shoulder, his entire frame trembling from the force of his turbulent emotions.
He didn't say anything for a while, until gradually his trembling eased a little. "I'm sorry," he gasped out as if the words were being ripped from his throat. "Oh God, I'm so sorry…" His voice cracked with regret and sorrow and he swallowed hard. "I- I didn't mean it, didn't mean any of it. I'm so sorry…"
He felt her arms tighten around him. "It's ok, Harry. It's alright; I know you didn't mean what you said and I forgive you." She paused and then added, softly, "I'm here, Harry, I won't leave you."
I won't leave you… He wasn't alone… Not anymore… he would never be alone again… He heard it in the simple promise in her words, her tone. She wouldn't leave him. Even if he'd hurt her, even after all he'd done to her, she wouldn't leave him.
He flinched a little at her words. "How-how can you say that after all I said to hurt you? Why do you still care? Why- why don't you hate me?" he asked so softly she could barely hear him, his voice hoarse from emotion.
She sighed and answered him, speaking slowly, thoughtfully. "Do not ask me to abandon or forsake you. Where you go, I will go… I'll never leave you-I- I love you."
For a moment, his heart seemed to stop beating, time stopped, the entire world stopped its spinning and held its breath. "You- you- what?"
She shifted slightly, moving her shoulder until he lifted his head, meeting her eyes, his own still damp with the few tears he'd shed. "I love you, Harry."
He opened his mouth. "I- I don't know--" he began and then stopped. He didn't know-didn't know what to say or how to react or what to think or feel…
And then he forgot whatever it was he had half-meant to say or what he'd even been thinking because she had moved just a little closer to him and before he had time to react or wonder, her lips were on his.
He stiffened from shock and- and surprise and… something that might almost be pleasure? His eyes closed automatically, his hands going up to grip her arms but he didn't push her away, only held her. Her lips were warm; he could feel her breath on his cheek and a pool of heat settled in the pit of his stomach. Her lips softened, parted ever so slightly in response to his angling his head in an instinctive move to deepen the kiss. He didn't think of what he was doing, only acted, only felt that somehow, this kiss felt good- felt right…
The kiss ended slowly; she drew back but only until there were a few inches of space between their lips and he could still feel her breath in a soft whisper against his cheek. She was flushed and looked, it dawned on him slowly, almost as surprised as he was by what had just happened. As if she hadn't consciously meant to kiss him at all but had reacted instinctively, thoughtlessly, to the vulnerability in his expression and his tone…
"I…" he began and then trailed off uncertainly.
"Ssh," she said softly. "You don't- you don't need to say anything. I- I just needed to show you, to tell you, I loved you. You don't need to say anything."
She looked away, drawing back further as if to restore the normal amount of personal space between them.
His hands unconsciously, automatically, tightened their grip on her arms, keeping her where she was as he thought, confusedly, that right now, being this close to Hermione felt good… The warmth of her made him feel warmer, dispelling the chill that simply being in this wretched house caused, comforting him insensibly.
He just wanted- needed- her to stay close, to reassure him that she was still here for him, that he wasn't alone, that he would never be alone. After the past few miserable hours of believing she hated him followed by the sudden incredible release of accepting that no matter what his reasons-his still-valid reasons- for trying to drive her away from him and despite all the risk, he needed her beside him, wanted her beside him. He would, he knew, hate himself for his own weakness that he couldn't stay alone, that he couldn't continue to shut her and Ron out-but not now. At this moment, all he cared about was knowing she still cared.
She settled down to sit beside him, in silence. Right now, there was no need for words; there was only the quiet reassurance of sitting side by side, together.
She knew there were still things to be discussed, things which needed to be talked about to clear the air and heal the lingering wounds from this afternoon. The impulsive kiss she'd given him which had turned into something more…
But they would wait.
For now, it was enough simply to sit beside him and feel the certainty in her heart and soul that, whatever else went on, Harry truly did care about her… And that was all she needed to know.
I will be the answer
At the end of the line
I will be there for you
While you take the time
In the burning of uncertainty
I will be your solid ground
I will hold the balance
If you can't look down
~Sarah McLachlan, "The Answer"