Distinctly
Summary: "I'm going to do everything I can for as long as I can to protect her. To protect her life and her happiness and her brilliance and just her; she's my number one priority." Harry realizes that something that is distinctly Hermione. One-shot.
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Today is almond.
Today is honey.
Today is pumpkin pie and cinnamon. Today is warmth and a hint of lilac shampoo, fresh parchment and creased pages of an ancient tomb.
Today is smudged ink.
But most of all, today is something that is distinctly Hermione. A distinct something that, until now, I couldn't place. A something that comforts me when the world is cold, and something that makes the weight of it all seem so much lighter.
I guess that something is home. I guess that something is Hermione.
It scares me to know that Hermione is my home.
The feelings I feel when I'm around her- when I'm home- are familiar, but it took me forever to recognize these feelings as something other than that-thing-Hermione-is-but-I-don't-know-what-exactly-it-is. So it scares me to know that because Hermione is my home, that she always will be my home, even if she doesn't know it yet, the possibility of losing her, just like I lost my parents, is great. She could be there one minute and gone the next.
I'm going to do everything I can for as long as I can to protect her. To protect her life and her happiness and her brilliance and just her; she's my number one priority.
My sleeping best friend right here curled up in my arms, one of her legs tangled in mine, her breath on my neck, her curly, disheveled brown hair sprawled out all over the place- all my number one priority.
This moment feels so right, but at the same time so wrong. Right, because she fits me perfectly, and I don't think I've ever felt so many things at once- elated, at peace, in love, calm, protective, scared, angry, and depressed. Wrong, because I shouldn't be feeling elated at all, even if I've just realized my undying love for my best friend of six years.
She understands me entirely now, through and through, inside and out. Even though she has always understood me better than anyone else, there was always something that she couldn't fully understand; not having a loving family.
I'd rather Hermione not be able to understand me in that way, but because of who she is to me, she's an orphan now, too.
My depression stems from my growing guilt; Hermione's parents were innocent; bystanders in a raging war they should've had no part in.
But they were killed.
They died because of me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
When Dumbledore arrived yesterday to give us all the horrible news, I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that I'd killed more people, and not just people I'd never heard of before, but Hermione's parents. Hermione's caring parents who had raised her to be the woman I fell in love with.
The woman I am in love with.
The moment the words left Dumbledore's lips I thought I was as terrible, as evil, as Voldemort himself. He killed my parents, and I killed Hermione's.
Then I realized how selfish I was being.
I was selfish to sit there smashing drinking glasses in the cabinet and sending books in the study straight into the fireplace (without meaning to, of course), while Hermione was up in her room, alone, feeling empty.
I don't remember how long it took me to run up the stairs, or if I tripped and stumbled along the way. I don't remember knocking on Hermione's door, or turning the knob. I don't remember gasping for air from my exertion, or how I ended up clutching a shaking Hermione in my arms. I don't remember how long we stood there- Hermione sobbing uncontrollably into my shirt while whispering between breaths of air, "It's not your fault"- or how we ended up under the covers of Hermione's bed. I don't remember shedding tears of my own, or what time we fell asleep.
All I remember is telling myself that I would never let anything like this happen again. I remember telling myself that I loved this girl in my arms.
I remember not wanting to let go… and I didn't.
She's still here in my arms after our long nap. We may have shifted while we slept, but only to move closer to each other. And just like before, whenever before was, I don't want to let go, but Hermione is suddenly shifting in my arms, trying to stretch herself from sleep.
I watch her almond eyes flutter open only to look into mine, and I'm met with a look of confusion, sadness, hope, and something that is distinctly Hermione. Something I've never been able to place.
"Good morning… or maybe it's good night. I have no idea what time it is," I say hoarsely. Maybe I cried more than I thought I had.
I can tell she doesn't know what to say. She has no idea where to begin, and I don't blame her. She's lost a major part of her life all at once, and in the worst way possible.
"So is this how it feels?" Her eyes are downcast, and streaks of sorrow are streaming down her lovely face. I didn't even realize she had started crying.
"I guess so. Hermione, if you want me to leave, I'll-"
"Harry, don't be ridiculous. I don't blame you for anything because it wasn't your fault. I do not want to argue with you right now, especially when I know that I'm right."
She looked so very lost as her eyes met mine, but at the same time, her eyes held a spark of determination.
"No, Hermione really-"
"Harry. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to think about what happened. I don't want to know that my family is gone and there's nothing I can do to get them back. I don't want to think about how I might have been able to save them… how maybe- maybe they'd still be alive."
She paused for a moment as if to catch her breath or collect her thoughts. Maybe she paused, realizing the position we were in, or how awkward it would be for anyone else to see us this way.
But after that pause as she spoke softly, "stay with me, Harry," something changed between us forever.
We are still Harry and Hermione as I hold her closer to me. I'm still the wizard destined to defeat Voldemort or be defeated by him, and she's still the brightest witch in over a century. Ron Weasley is still our best friend. Our parents are still gone.
But with her words, I finally realize that something in her eyes that is distinctly Hermione. That something I, until now, have never been able to place.
Love.
The word had never meant much to me, but now it means the world.
Now it means Hermione.
Hermione, who's loved me from the start. Hermione who knows me best, who deals with my moodiness, with my "saving people thing", with my disheveled hair, with my nightmares.
Hermione who loves me.
As I trail my hand gently up and down her arm, her face buried in the crook of my neck, I think she knows it now too.
She knows that I love her just as much as she loves me.
We'll have to talk about it later, I know, but for now, for today, I want to stay with this almond. To stay with this honey, pumpkin pie and cinnamon, warmth and a hint of lilac shampoo, fresh parchment and creased pages of an ancient tomb. I want to stay with this smudged ink.
I want to stay with Hermione; today, tomorrow, forever.
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A/N: This was something that's been floating around in my head for a while now… I hope you liked it! Any type of comment is appreciated!
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