Something to Live For

Something to Live For

Harry lay awake on his bed. This wasn't a surprise, the same thing happened every night. He would reluctantly fall asleep, and then wake up, just having had the nightmares that constantly haunted him. Scenes from the Department of Mysteries flashing through his head, the two worst were always the last he saw before he woke up. Sirius falling through the veil, the feeling that Harry had felt, that he was just on the other side, but he wasn't. He was dead. Then there was the image he always woke up to when he had it, Hermione, falling from the purple flame Dolohov cast on her. She lay lifeless on the floor. Every time he saw that he had the same feeling, she was dead. But she wasn't dead, Neville had found a pulse. If there was anything he was grateful for, it was that Neville had found her pulse. For a brief moment Harry had been immobile, his mind had stopped working, and his heart had stopped beating. She didn't know, but Harry would die without her. She had no idea how badly he just wanted to hold her in his arms, his, until death do them part, but that could never happen. He couldn't risk her life because of him. If he was to admit his feelings to her, and she returned them, she would just be another target of Voldemort. The last thing Harry wanted was to give Voldemort a greater reason to hurt her, to lure Harry to him.

He got up off of his bed, and headed down to the common room. This was the place where he could go to dwell on his thoughts. No one was ever there this late at night, and up in his dormitory Ron's spider dreams, and the other boys snoring, was always interrupting him. He sat down on the couch near the fire, the last embers dying away. He remembered that once Sirius had talked to him from that fireplace. Harry had been glad to talk to him, and Sirius was happy for conversation after being locked up in Grimmauld Place for so long. Harry still resented Dumbledore for that, his mind was divided between blaming Dumbledore for Sirius' death, and himself. Dumbledore had kept Sirius locked up for so long that he was dying for an excuse to get out. So when he heard that Harry and the others had gone to the Department of Mysteries he had immediately headed after them. Harry also blamed himself though. If he had not been so foolish as to fall for Voldemort's trap, none of them would have even been there. If he had just spent more time on occlumency, and less time being mad at Snape, then Voldemort would not have been able to trick him.

These were the kind of thoughts that Harry dwelled on in the common room. He was glad that no one was there to interrupt him, or so he thought. What he didn't know was that he was never alone. Hermione was always there with him, she could not sleep at night either. As she lay awake in bed one night she decided to come down to the common room. There she was surprised to find Harry, staring into the dying embers of the fire. She was going to say something to him that night, ask what was wrong, but deep down she already knew what it was. He was still mourning the death of his godfather, as was she. She wished that Harry knew that he was not the only one who was sad that Sirius had died. Why didn't he think of the others, especially Remus? He was as bad off as Harry, and he had certainly known Sirius longer, since they were in school together, both of them Marauders. She also missed Sirius; after all, she had been with Harry when they rescued him from receiving the kiss that would take his soul. She saw the look on Harry's face as he watched Sirius fly off, riding Buckbeak into the night, the only true family he had left. She knew how much he loved Sirius; he was the only father figure that he had ever had. Hermione wanted so badly to tell Harry how she felt about him, how she would die without him, but she knew that he would either shut her out, or not return her feelings.

It was during one of these nights, Harry sitting in the common room, Hermione standing against the back wall, that she decided to try to talk to him.

“Harry?” He jumped a little and turned around,

“Yeah.”

“Can I sit down?” He gave her a very small nod, and she started over, fully expecting him to blow up at her. She sat down next to him.

“Harry, I know why you're here, you're not the only one who cares. That's why I came down. I know how you feel. Why are you separating yourself from everyone, especially Ron and me?”

“Hermione, everyone that I love dies, first my parents, then Sirius, I don't want that to happen to anyone else.”

“Harry, we are all targets anyway, just choosing to fight against Voldemort makes him want us dead. Being close to you doesn't change anything.”

“Yes it does Hermione, you don't understand, I can't lose anyone else. I won't be able to handle it. The closest thing that I have ever had to a father just died, just like my real parents, and it doesn't help that Dumbledore keeps everything from me!”

“Like what Harry.”

“Like the fact that it's kill or be killed when it comes to me and Voldemort!”

“What?”

“Do you remember the prophecy from last year, the one that broke?”

“Yeah, but it doesn't matter Harry, nobody heard it over the fighting.”

“The one in the Department of Mysteries was just a recording of the original; Dumbledore heard the real one from Trelawney before I was born. That's why he hired her actually. He told me it last year:

`The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,

Born to those who have thrice defied him,

Born as the seventh month dies,

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,

But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not,

And either must die at the hand of the other,

For neither can live while the other survives.'

See Hermione, I have to either become a murderer, or be murdered, you don't know how I feel.”

“Harry, why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“Because, I didn't want any of you to feel sorry for me. I don't deserve it, that's why I've been separating myself. I don't want you to have to be friends with someone who will either die, or kill someone.”

“Harry, it doesn't matter if it's Voldemort you're killing! Why would anyone be mad at you for killing someone if it's him? Harry, we want to spend as much time as we can with you, and you will defeat him, I know it. But that can't be the only thing bothering you Harry.”

“It's not, but I can't tell you the other thing.”

“Why?”

“Because it will just make you even higher up on Voldemort's hit list.”

“Please Harry, just tell me.”

“Hermione, I can't, I wouldn't be able to live without you.”

“Why not?”

“Because Hermione, I…I love you.”

“What?”

“See, I knew you wouldn't like me in that way anyway.”

“No, Harry, I just can't believe it. I've loved you for so long; I've been waiting forever to hear you say those words.”

With that she moved closer to him, she pressed her lips to his, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Harry was shocked for a second, before realizing what was happening, and returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist. They finally broke apart and Hermione looked up at him.

“Harry, please come back to us.”

“Don't worry, I will, I have something to live for now.”

-->