The Letter

Disclaimer: All of it belongs to the goddess we all adore, J.K. Rowling. No money is being made. It's just to appease the plot bunnies.

Author's Note: First and foremost, I must thank Ben, (bentheslayer), my dear, dear friend and beta, who never fails to help me, support me, and encourage me. Thank you so much, love, for everything!

Second, this idea simply Apparated into my mind a few days ago. I was looking through Prisoner of Azkaban screencaps and I stopped on one near the end of the movie where Sirius has his hand over Harry's heart. Why I thought of a letter with an interesting connection to Hermione, I've no idea, but I immediately set to work, and here it is.

Third, I made it PG-13 just to be safe, as there are a couple of swear words. Also, the genre choices were difficult for me. It's romance, yes, and also angst, but very slight angst. I suppose there are a couple of slightly humourous moments as well.

Anyway, please enjoy and leave a review, whether you like it or not. I always enjoy hearing from those who have read my writings. Thanks!

The Letter

For the first time in a long time, Harry was happy. It must have been the atmosphere. The fresh summer air that made the flames of the enchanted candles dance, the fairies that hopped about, happily dancing to the music and laughter of the people in the castle's courtyard. The smiling faces of the happy people surrounding him, dancing as wildly and merrily as the fairies. Only three weeks after the final battle and he was smiling, when, while he stood over the lifeless body of his nemesis, he thought he would never smile again.

But how could he not smile now, with his friends around him, congratulating him, not because of his victory over Lord Voldemort, but because of his graduation with top marks from Hogwarts? It was definitely cause for celebration as, not long ago, they were all afraid there would be no Hogwarts to graduate from. Thanks to the Order, the Aurors, and the students, the fortress had remained standing against the war that raged on its grounds. These old walls had seen war before, but never one so brutal and never one so utterly triumphant.

There had been many losses on both sides, but the Death Eaters received the greatest blow when, with a wave of Harry Potter's wand and a rushing green light, their master, Lord Voldemort, fell to the blood-stained earth, a look of surprise plastered forever on his evil face.

Harry shuddered presently, his happy smile faltering slightly as he remembered those wide red eyes staring unseeing into his own. It was an image that would haunt him for eternity, proof that he had committed the worst of sins, but he would not let it haunt him tonight. He was determined to make his last night at Hogwarts an enjoyable one.

At that moment, Remus approached him and Harry's smile returned as they greeted each other with a handshake.

“How are you?” asked Remus, looking at Harry with slightly narrowed eyes.

He knew he could not fool his former teacher. The man would see right through a lie, so he was honest. “Tonight, I'm okay.”

Remus nodded, accepting his answer, and looked out at the dancing crowd. Harry followed his gaze and watched as Hermione laughed and danced with Neville.

“How does it feel,” said Remus, “leaving Hogwarts after everything?”

Harry continued to watch his friends, a small smile playing on his lips. In truth, he had tried not to think of it as leaving Hogwarts for good. Part of him believed it was just another summer holiday, that he'd be back in September, ready for another year of classes, detention, Hogsmeade visits, and homework complaints. That part of him simply could not bear the thought of something else changing. So much already had. And how could he leave the only home he had ever known so easily? What if he did come back in September and refused to leave? Would Professor Dumbledore humour him and let him stay? It was always worth a shot. Screw Auror training.

“I don't know,” he said at last. “It's strange. I don't really want to leave.” He laughed at himself softly.

Remus smiled. “That's how I felt in my last year, to be honest.” He sighed wistfully. “I first came here, reluctant to stay, and I left, wanting to cling to the marble staircase.”

Harry laughed. “Do you still miss it?” he asked, tearing his eyes from Hermione, who was now dancing with Ron, to look at his mentor.

“Oh yes,” he said. “My days here were the best of my life. There are many times when I wish I could return to those carefree years.”

“I already want to return to mine, though… they weren't exactly carefree,” replied Harry, with a small smile. “I think I will cling to the grand staircase tomorrow.”

“You're definitely Sirius's godson if you do.”

Harry was incredulous. “He didn't?”

“Oh, but he did.” Remus was grinning, both amused and sad at the same time. “Professor McGonagall didn't know if she should scold him or laugh at him. Obviously, detention was out of the question, but James took care of him for her.”

“What did he do?” asked Harry.

“Well, we had to silence him first. He was screaming and sobbing. You know how dramatic he was,” said Remus, his grin broadening at the memory, making him look quite a bit younger than he actually appeared. “I was too amused to be much of a help, so Lily did the charm to perfection. James then tackled and wrestled your dear godfather until he calmed down a bit, all the while threatening to hex him into next week. Finally, Sirius allowed us to lead him out of the castle. We had to keep the silencing charm on him, though. He was still sobbing.”

Harry chuckled as Remus laughed quietly at the memory. It was a few moments before Remus continued speaking.

“Speaking of Sirius…” he said his smile fading. He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved an envelope. “This is for you, Harry. He told me to give it to you when you finished school.”

Grin fading, Harry took it from him and stared at it.

“You don't have to read it now, but -“

“No… I want to…” he said. “Excuse me.”

Not taking his eyes off the envelope in his hands, Harry wandered away from the festivities until the noise was a distant buzz of cheer. He sat beneath a willow tree at the edge of the courtyard and simply gazed at it for a few moments. Swallowing, he opened the envelope with shaking hands.

There it was, his godfather's scrawl, dated three years prior to this night. His eyes starting to sting, and not from the glow of the setting sun over the lake in the distance, Harry began to read.

Dear Harry,

If you are reading this, it means that you have completed your schooling, and I, sadly, am not there to celebrate with you. For that, I am sorrier than you will ever know.

In the short time that we knew each other, you and I grew very close, and our bond is something I will cherish forever. I have watched you grow so much, even in these few short years, and I know that James and Lily would be as proud of you as I am. You're an amazing young man, Harry. Truly your father's son.

Harry smiled, a tear falling from his eye as he read the words his godfather had written so long ago.

I have watched you grow into your glasses, into your powers, and I have watched you grow to love a woman unconditionally. Hopefully, by now you know what I'm talking about. And if you don't and I was there, I'd give you a swift kick in the arse.

He frowned at this. What woman did he love unconditionally? Who was Sirius on about? Had his godfather actually lost it as had been rumoured?

As I'm writing this now, you have no idea about your feelings. You are young, so it's understandable that you don't realise how much you love our young Hermione. I hope that by the time you read this, you have realised it and that she didn't give up on you somewhere between now and then.

Harry's jaw dropped. Hermione? What? I love Hermione, sure, but not like that! He has lost it! Shaking his head, he continued to read.

If it has taken you this long to realise it, go to her immediately and apologise for being an absolute git.

That girl has loved you for a long time, even I can see it. She has been by your side through thick and through thin, never asking for anything in return. I saw her devotion to you last year when she was the only one, besides me, who believed you about the Goblet of Fire. Hell, she helped you save me and Buckbeak, two hardened criminals, so you know she's a keeper.

“WHAT?”

Just as Harry thought he would be able to scrape his jaw off the ground, his godfather “tells” him that Hermione loves him? He pinched himself. Ouch. Okay, not a dream. So what was going on? Why did Sirius write such things? Hermione didn't love him! Why would she? She could have absolutely anyone she wanted! And that wasn't him.

I'm sure you're wondering why I'm bringing this up now, so I'll explain.

I want you to have what I never had, what your parents shared. They were best friends, maybe not at first, but eventually. They could practically read each others' minds, they saved each others' lives, and they loved each other more than anything. They were partners, lovers, husband and wife.

While I want you to have what your mum and dad had, I also want you to have what they didn't have. I want you to have the luxury of a big, loving family, something that has been denied you all your life. I want you to watch your children grow up as you grow old with your wife, something your parents were robbed of. That is, after all, all Lily and James ever wanted.

“So we have kids now?” Harry asked the parchment incredulously.

If you already know and understand what I've been going on about, give Hermione a kiss for me. If you don't, go to her. She will understand.

One last thing, Harry. Enjoy life. I know it has been hard in the past, but now is the time to live. Enjoy it.

With Love from your Godfather,

Sirius

Harry gaped at his godfather's penmanship, which he had once loved to see. Now, he wasn't so sure. It was making him think of things he had not thought about since fourth year.

He read the letter again and again, trying to make sense of it all. It was absurd, really. Hermione couldn't love him. If she did, wouldn't she say something?

No, said a voice that was typically Hermione's in his mind. She probably wouldn't, would she? When does she talk about her feelings?

Okay, but how could he love her and not know it, as Sirius said? Well, the subconscious is a strange thing, isn't it?

But none of this is true!

Wrong again. She was by your side throughout everything.

“But that doesn't mean she loves me!” Harry exclaimed aloud, frustrated by this internal argument.

But what if she does?

Harry blinked. What if…

“Oh, this is mad!”

He folded up the letter, placed it in the envelope, and put it in his pocket as he stood. He made his way back to the party, his mind reeling. He took a seat at one of the many tables that sat around the dance floor that Dumbledore had conjured for the occasion. Most of the people were still dancing and enjoying themselves, but Harry paid them no attention. He scanned the courtyard, instinctively searching for Hermione. He found her quickly. She was finally taking a break from dancing and was drinking pumpkin juice while talking to Remus.

Harry merely watched her. That girl… that woman across the way… She loved him? How would Sirius have known? How could Sirius have written something so ridiculous? How could he have thought there was something more than friendship between them? So what if she had been by his side through everything for seven years? That's what friends are for!

But who else would stand by and face problems like the ones she faced with you?

He watched as Ron joined Hermione and Remus, interrupting their discussion. He watched as she laughed at something Ron said. Her laugh was different somehow, and not just because of the scar on her cheek. With a sigh, he forced himself to look at his other best friend.

He wasn't there for everything.

Running his fingers through his hair, he returned his gaze to Hermione. She was sipping from her goblet again and… looking right at him.

He blushed as she took the goblet away from her mouth and smiled at him. He felt nervous all of the sudden, but he smiled back at her. What was going on? He was never nervous because of Hermione!

It's just that stupid letter getting at me.

That unbelievably accurate letter that's getting to you.

He looked down at the table. If the letter was right… why hadn't he realised it before now? He couldn't be so stupid as to not even realise he was in love with his best friend! Madness. Absolute madness.

Look at it reasonably, will you? Who has never left your side? Hermione. Not even Ron has stayed with you for everything. Who do you go to for help? Hermione. Who is the one you go to for comfort? Wisdom? Support?

“Hermione,” he said aloud, without really realising it. He looked up from the table and found her once more. She was still talking to Remus.

Should he go to her? He needed to figure this out, but would it be completely tactless of him to give her the letter, have her read it, and tell her if he was right in thinking it was absurd?

Yes, probably.

Bugger all!

She was walking away from Remus now, away from the party, out of the courtyard. What should he do?

Before he had decided, he was out of his chair and following her as quietly as possible. She was walking quickly, nearing the Forbidden Forest. Was she mad, going in there alone? As he watched her, she slipped an envelope into her pocket and entered the forest. Where they were going, Harry didn't know, nor did he really care. He was focused on the girl in front of him, the way she walked, the way her hair waved in the cool, summer night breeze.

She and her silent follower kept to the path, one that was only vaguely familiar to Harry. He had been this way before, he was sure of it, but when? He shook his head. Why worry about that now?

Hermione removed her wand from her pocket as they headed deeper into the forest. She lit it, but Harry dared not do the same. He didn't want to attract her attention, for some reason, not yet. He followed her wand light, losing track of time as they walked.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, she stopped and raised her wand, lighting two torches, and Harry suddenly realised what the path had been leading them to.

They were in a huge clearing in the heart of the forest. The torches flanked a wrought iron gate that guarded a graveyard. He had been there to witness Sirius's burial.

As she entered the graveyard and walked among the marble monuments, both old and new, Harry hid himself behind an ancient tree, peaking out only to watch her. At last, she came to a stop in front of a tombstone. He could see her face now, and, even from this distance, he could tell that she was crying.

“Hello, Sirius,” he heard her say. “Remus just gave me your letter, and I…” her voice faded with a sob.

His heart broke for her. He had always hated to see her cry. What could Sirius have written that was so terrible as to upset her like this? Had he written the same nonsense that he had written to Harry? Was she angry because of it?

“I just,” she began again, after taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I just want to thank you. Everything you said was true, and I appreciate your kind words.” Pausing, she took another shaky breath. “You didn't have to thank me, you know. You… you know why I've done what I've done. You said as much in the letter.”

She paused again to kneel beside the grave, so that Harry could barely see her.

“You were right… completely right. Was I really so obvious, Sirius? Wouldn't he know if I was/ He's not an idiot… Maybe he does know and… and he doesn't feel the same way….”

Harry's heart both broke again and skipped a beat at the same time. She sounded so miserable… Had he, Harry, done that to her, and not Sirius? He was overcome with guilt by the mere thought of it.

“But I suppose there's always a chance that you're right, and he doesn't know. I mean, he has been so busy and overwhelmed with… with the war.” She sniffled. “He has had so much on his mind that I can't blame him… and no… no, I haven't given up on him.”

Why was his heart aching so badly at her words?

“You know why I can't give up on him, Sirius. You know why I've never left his side. I love him.” Another sob. “And you tell me to confront him with my feelings, but how do you expect me to do that? He either has no idea or doesn't feel the same way! I'm not as brave as you think I am.”

Her voice, so anguished, brought tears to his eyes. Should he go to her now? If he did, what would he say? He couldn't very well tell her he loved her when he…

But did he? Who did he trust more than her? No one. Whose opinion did he hold higher than hers? No ones. Who did he love more than her?

“No one,” he whispered.

“I can't do it, Sirius,” she was saying. “I can't. I've loved him for seven years, and I will be here if ever he needs me, as I always have been. But I can't just tell him.” She sniffled again and stood. “I'm sorry.”

Harry made to move back behind the tree so she wouldn't see him, but, as fate would have it, he tripped over a tree root and fell to the ground with a yelp that made his presence known. The string of swear words that issued from his mouth did not help the situation at all.

“Who's there?” Hermione called, her voice sounding panicked.

Harry stood hastily and, dusting the dirt off his clothes as well as trying to prepare himself for whatever hex Hermione would send his way, made his way out from behind the tree, careful to keep his hand and wand raised, in case she thought he'd attack.

“Don't worry, Hermione, it's only me,” said Harry, walking slowly closer to the light so she could see him properly.

She gave a sigh of relief, lowering her wand. A moment later, however, she tensed again and said, “What are you doing here, Harry?”

He hesitated. “I er… I followed you,” he replied, figuring it was best to be truthful and get the hexing over with as soon as possible.

“You—“ she said disbelievingly, indignantly. “You followed me? Why would you follow me?”

“I, er…” he spluttered. “I was just…”

“Invading my privacy!” she shouted, sounding dangerous. “I can't believe you, Harry! Why would you—“

“Hermione!” he interrupted desperately. “I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry.”

She glared at him for a moment, but Harry could tell that her anger was ebbing away. She wiped at her eyes, sniffled. “Did… did you hear…?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes,” he said, his voice quiet, his eyes firmly on hers.

“Godric,” she whispered, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, good Godric…”

He watched her silently, not knowing what to do or say, until he saw her shoulders shaking with a fresh wave of tears. Immediately, he went to her and took her into his arms. He could think of nothing but how she felt in his arms. It was confusing, really. His heart skipped another beat and he found it rather difficult to breathe. Hermione never had this effect on him… Well, not when she wasn't in danger, that is.

This thought brought terrible memories to the surface of his mind, memories he had tried so hard to forget. He remembered the panic he felt in their fifth year at Hogwarts, when, at the Ministry of Magic, the Death Eater had almost send the Killing Curse her way, before he, Harry, had tackled the fiend to the ground. And what seemed like a moment later, when the other Death Eater, Antonin Dolohov, who had been silenced by Hermione just seconds before, had shot that violet flame through her chest, causing her to collapse and Harry to believe she was dead. Such terror he had never felt before. He couldn't remember breathing. He could only remember going cold with dread and praying to some unknown god to let her live…

And then during the final battle, when Voldemort had summoned her to him, threatening to take her life in front of Harry. He had stopped breathing then, too. He had stared at her with wild eyes, silently, frantically planning. Her brown eyes, feral with horror, staring into his own, were burned into his memory forever.

He had dropped his wand, and Voldemort had thrown her aside with manic laughter. “You admit defeat to save the Mudblood whore, Harry?” his enemy had said, but before he had finished his question, Harry had pointed his hand in Hermione's direction and cried, “Accio wand!”

Her wand had risen and flown into his grasp and before he could even think, he had committed the murder he had been destined to commit.

Presently, the only thing in danger was her heart and the walls Harry had built around his own.

What do I do?

Look at the situation reasonably. You could lie and tell her you don't care for her. She won't hate you for walking away.

But… It wouldn't be a… I'd rather die than hurt her!

She knows that.

Well, she knows everything. That's one reason why I love…

Love. Harry blinked, staring at the graveyard, but not really seeing it. Love.

With that thought, that word, the walls around his heart became ruins.

For so long he had been denied love. Every time he managed to find it, it had been taken from him. His parents, Sirius, Hagrid, Mr and Mrs Weasley. It never failed, and so he had given up, never letting himself feel it or realise it was there, in the form of Hermione, the bushy haired know-it-all who had always been there.

Why was he such an utter git? Why did it take him this long to figure it out? How come it took a letter from his deceased godfather for him to even consider it? And why, why was he frantic with these thoughts when the very object of his adoration was currently staining his robes with tears?

“Hermione!” he cried, pulling away and holding her at arms-length. “I'm sorry I'm such a git!” he blurted.

Her red and puffy eyes blinked up at him. “What?” she said, sounding as if she had a head cold.

“I'm a git! Even Sirius knows it!” he said, looking at her with wide eyes.

“Harry, what're you—“

“I love you!” he declared, with a look of sudden understanding.

“—on… about?” she finished in a whisper, her red eyes widening with surprise. “What?”

“I love you!” he repeated with that same expression.

“No, I heard that! I just—“ she stopped speaking, a frown puckering her brow. In Harry's opinion, she had never looked more beautiful. “I just don't understand.”

“I got this letter from Sirius, right?” he began, speaking fast. “And he told me I loved you, can you believe it? And at first I thought it was ridiculous, you know? Wouldn't I know if I loved you? But I realised I'm a bloody git, so I didn't know!”

She stared at him. Stared at him for so long he thought he had a few grey hairs by the time she reacted. He was already feeling like a prize idiot, and her response did not help his self-esteem one bit.

She laughed. She laughed so hard she started crying again, but she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. And everything was right in the world at that moment. For the first time in his life, he felt truly happy, completely stupid, but completely happy.

When she pulled away a few moments later, she was grinning with tears in her eyes. “Oh, Harry,” she said breathlessly. “You're hopeless.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he wondered.

“If it was, how could I possibly love you this much?”

Those words melted his heart and, with a stupid grin, he kissed her again.

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