Because It's You

A/N: Well, hullo there everyone. Final MSc exams are well underway, with four down and one to go on the 9^th of June. Will be doing an MSc thesis as well but I am still trying to find time to squeeze in some Harry Potter fanfiction…

Unfortunately, while my creative cup runneth over with ideas and inspiration, it’s a bit shuffled aside on my life-tray; currently the cups of real life are holding centre stage J nevertheless, I shall do my best to get some more stuff out next week - this particular story came about because I was feeling quite down myself, wherever he is, my Harry Potter needs to get his act together and make an appearance in my life right quick. As such, I request that reviewers please understand that this is completely bereft of plot and life sustaining inspiration. Just a story and a vent I was able to get out, courtesy of Harry and Hermione. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. If they were, they’d be giving Arthur and Molly Weasley serious run for their money.

******************

‘Harry! No! For God’s sake, please don’t leave me! I’ll do anything Harry, anything! Just don’t leave me! I love you, Harry…HARRY, NO, PLEASE DON’T GO!’

The last piercing shriek drew Harry sharply from his sleep and he jerked awake to find Hermione sitting bolt upright her back rigid and stiff and staring in anguish at the wall ahead.

She was panting and her breath was coming in choked gasps. Harry blinked as he saw the tears streaming down her face and alarmed by the way her body was heaving, he gently but firmly placed a hand on her shoulder, bracing for her to flinch or pull away in a knee jerk reaction.

‘Hermione, love, calm down. It was only a dream. Whatever it was, I’m still here and-..’

Harry’s voice died down as his wife whipped around to face him at his last words. She reached out a trembling hand to cradle his cheek and he remained perfectly still, letting her do whatever she felt she needed to do. He recognised the unfocused and glazed look in her eyes all too well. She was still caught up in the throes of whatever horrific images she had been witnessing and she had to progress out of it naturally without him.

Sure enough, her eyes cleared and Harry sighed in relief inwardly as the dear cinnamon orbs sported a familiar twinkle, albeit exceedingly duller than usual but it vanished as his wife’s tears turned to explosive sobs.

‘Hermione,’ he began, choosing his words carefully and striving to keep the panic and worry out of his voice, ‘Sweetheart, why don’t you tell me-…’

His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as Hermione launched herself at him in a truly crushing embrace the likes of which he couldn’t ever recall receiving from her. And for Hermione whose fierce hugs had become a constant in his life ever since she’d stormed into it, this was saying something.

Trying desperately to breathe, he took note of the fact that Hermione had somehow manoeuvred herself in such a way that her entire frame was wrapped around her husband’s. His brow furrowed in concern and a not too slight twinge of anxiety. What was going on? Hermione had never been like this. Her arms were viciously tight around his neck and her legs seemed soldered together around his waist. He tried to pull back to talk to her but she only sobbed louder and squeezed her arms tighter. Harry opened his mouth in an attempt to draw in some more air; all he could offer in terms of comfort was a kiss to the side of her neck or cheek or how much ever of the two he could reach with his wife steadfastly refusing to release him.

His heart ached as her anguish and turmoil didn’t lessen as the minutes went on. Figuring that he had let her cry for a while now to regain easier control of herself, he began stroking her hair lovingly.

‘Darling, what’s wrong?’ he spoke soothingly, softly, making sure that he held her to him with his other arm around her back and waist. ‘What is it, my Hermione?’

He sucked in a horrified breath as she started to hyperventilate at the use of that particular endearment. Back in seventh year – and they weren’t dating at this point- when Hermione had impulsively given him one of her trademark hugs in the common room while studying for the NEWTS, she had whispered in his ear, ‘Goodnight, my Harry.’

To which he had automatically replied with a cheeky wink, ‘Goodnight my Hermione.’

After that, it had become a quiet and unspoken rule between them. In times of distress and in need of comfort Harry and Hermione would unobtrusively stake claim and ownership to the other. It seemed like a perfectly natural and seamless progression.

Harry was pulled out of his reverie by Hermione mumbling something incoherently into his neck. He frowned as he tried to decipher what she was saying but she was gasping for breath while simultaneously attempting to choke down her sobs. He then tried to pull back from her again but Hermione surprised him by suddenly moving back to look at his face; however their faces were still close enough to look directly into the other’s eyes.

He felt his heart thump as streams of tears continued to cascade endlessly down her face and drip onto her gown and his pyjama shirt. He felt her shiver and smacked himself mentally for his stupidity – of course, she was sweaty and all her crying was making her shiver. Her nightgown or at least the top half seemed coated with perspiration. He moved away wanting to get a new gown from their cupboard when her voice abruptly made him freeze.

‘Pl…please, don’t go, Harry.’

Harry stared at Hermione, dumbfounded. His hands automatically came to wipe her cheeks and he started as she grabbed them tightly and clung on as if they were her only lifeline. He opened his mouth yet again in an attempt to soothe her but she continued mumbling incoherently, rocking herself alarmingly back and forth but still fiercely clutching Harry’s hands on her cheeks. Harry strained his ears to understand what she was saying but instantly wished he hadn’t.

‘I promise you, Harry. I’ll do whatever it takes to save our marriage. I love you so much, Harry. Please don’t leave me. I…I…I c-couldn’t live without you!’

‘Hermione, stop it!’

She flinched involuntarily at his raised voice and whimpered. Harry cursed himself, and taking a deep breath, firmly tilted her chin forcing her to meet his gaze unwaveringly.

‘Dear heart, I don’t know what’s going on,’ he began in what he hoped was a strong and calm voice although he was sorely distressed, ‘but we need to talk. Something has been eating away at you for quite some time now, darling.’

As Hermione slumped wearily in his arms and closed her eyes in defeat, he pulled her in for a warm hug and continued to whisper, ‘Now, we are going to go down, and have ourselves some warm milk, ok?’ He paused for her confirmation (yet another nod against his chest) and pressed a kiss to her bushy, wild hair that took on a life of its own at night. ‘And know this, I love you with all of my heart and soul and will never, ever leave you. What on earth put such fantastic ideas in your head, anyway?’

She leaned back to look at him and Harry felt his gut tighten at the utterly lost and desperate look etched on her features. Her whole demeanour was forlorn and woebegone and as she hitched a breath to speak, he interrupted her, ‘Never mind. What we first need is for you to be warm and then its milk for us. And then we are going to talk Hermione. A really important talk and I need you to tell me every single thing ok?’ His expression was serious and he kept his voice firm, ‘Every. Single. Thing’

She whispered a choked ‘yes’ and Harry softened his voice, ‘Come on now, lets get you into a new gown.’

He gently disentangled her from his person, not failing to notice her sudden gasp of fear as he moved away to bring out another cotton nightgown from her section of their wardrobe. She sat limp and unresisting as he gently manouvered her out of her wet nightwear and tugged on a new and dry cotton gown. He grasped her hands and pulled her out of bed, keeping an arm firmly around her as they slowly made their way downstairs to the kitchen.

The moonlight bathed their descent and as Harry deposited his wife softly into one of the chairs put around their dining table, he took the moment to survey her and run over recent events into their life.

Try as he might, he couldn’t understand what had brought about tonight’s sudden storm. Hermione had been having some trouble sleeping for the past month or so but she had unrelentingly maintained that it was because of stress at work and cheekily added that the stress from her husband and children wasn’t less. Harry had snorted, the tension had been diffused with humour, and that was that. After all, she had experienced similar bouts of insomnia when they were revising madly for their NEWTS back during their seventh year at Hogwarts, and she had all but ennervated herself in order to stay awake every second of every minute of every day. Of course, adding to the mix at the time was her perpetual worry about Harry and Voldemort.

Hermione was taking deep breaths and staring at the table and he let her regain her composure. Harry mused silently as he set about making their milk, trying to wonder what in the world might have set his wife off like this. She had been quite restless during the night for a while now and he had noticed with growing concern, the grey shadows that always ringed her eyes.

The microwave beeped and Harry moved to remove two steaming cups of milk from it, ensuring that Hermione’s was not too hot to drink. He placed it before her and then slowly sipped at his own, watching her steadily over the rim of the cup. When Hermione had not moved for more than a few minutes, he reached forward and placed a hand over the trembling fingers clasped tightly together on the tabletop. Her gaze snapped up to his as she registered his touch and she sighed wearily as her shoulders slumped.

‘I-I’m not all th-that hungry, Harry.’, she whispered. It was just barely audible and Harry had to strain to catch what she was murmuring. ‘God, I’m just so, so tired…’ she trailed off.

Harry squeezed her hand and entwined their fingers. ‘I can see that. You have been quite preoccupied and tense for the past few days.’

She looked at him with something close to wonder. ‘You noticed?’

Harry stared back as if she had grown a second head. ‘Of course I noticed, you goose!’ He smiled at the involuntary twitch of her lips, happy to see even the slightest sliver of joy on her face. ‘I always take notice, love. You definitely haven’t been yourself’, he finished softly, this time making his expression serious. ‘Please tell me, Hermione. What’s going on?’

Hermione’s eyes widened in a familiar sign of panic and Harry grew alarmed but forced himself to remain calm while he firmly kept his gaze on her. She was wringing her hands together and her face was contorted tensely. Finally, she forced herself to take a deep breath and spoke in a small voice that tugged at Harry’s heart. ‘Am I still attractive to you, Harry?’

Harry blinked and goggled. Out of all the conceivable questions his wife could have asked him and all the countless scenarios that he had envisioned, this was a complete shocker. He blinked again. ‘What on earth-..’

‘And do you still love me even if I am just a bookworm, and am fr-fr-frizzy, b-b-boring and..and…and…’ she couldn’t continue as her chin quivered and lower lip wobbled. Fresh sobs wracked her and Harry hurried to embrace her again. His mind was racing. What in the world was she asking him? He then examined his own actions over the last couple of weeks. Had he ever given her a reason to doubt him? Doubt their love? Doubt their marriage?

I’ll do whatever it takes to save our marriage…

Harry sucked in a harsh breath, remembering what she had murmured in bed. Did she honestly for some reason only known to her, think that their marriage was in trouble?

After five children and twelve years?

He took a deep breath to forcibly steady the relentless pounding in his chest and gripped her hand tighter. His voice was soothing, coaxing yet clearly expectant of a complete reply, brooking no refusal.

‘Why are you asking me this, Hermione?’

Barely had the words left his mouth, when she snatched her hand away, drew back so sharply that the chair she was sitting in just avoided being knocked over. The parent in him was inwardly thankful that it hadn’t toppled over and awoken their children. The husband in him was getting increasingly bewildered and confused, not to mention desperately worried by the minute.

He reached out again, intending to bring her back to the table, but was shocked into immobility as she skittered further away from him, the panic and fear so starkly visible in her eyes. She backed up until she registered that she was against the counter with the sink behind her and there really was nowhere else to go.

Seeing that she was cornered and before she could figure out what to do, he stood before her and instantly, gripped her arms strongly – the trained Auror in him knowing exactly the balance of pressure and force required to stop just short of hurt but sufficient enough to discourage any unexpected bolts for freedom.

‘Hermione?’ he whispered, very aware that she was emotionally very fragile and that he had to tread carefully. ‘Its me, sweets. Your Harry.’

Her eyes rose from where they had steadily been fixed on the feet and later on, at his chest, to meet his eyes. He nearly shut his own against the swirls of agony that were merrily wrapping their misty fingers around her brown irises and resolutely leaned forward to brush his lips against her forehead. Seeing no resistance to his advance, he pulled her into his arms, holding her strongly, squeezing her affectionately trying to convey with every ounce of his being his love and his need for her.

‘Please tell me what’s wrong, dear heart? What’s going on?’ The tears flew down her face again at his loving words and she sobbed frantically in response, ‘Please tell me that you still love me, H-Harry. Tell me you wont leave me, because I…because I don’t play Quidditch, or because I don’t have the right fig…figu…figure anymore or…or…’ She collapsed against her chest, her sniffles drowning out her choked utterances.

Harry simply stared at the wall ahead of him, blankly. What on earth-?

His brows knit together in a frown and with the determination that reminded one why he had been the one chosen to defeat the Dark Lord, he suddenly moved, tugging her along into their living room. Taking advantage of his wife’s surprise at his abrupt motions, he gestured at the fireplace, where a bright flame roared instantaneously from a burst of wandless magic and then sat himself down on the squashy love seat, pulling Hermione next to him and keeping her securely within his arms.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts and then spoke, ‘Sweets, I don’t know what’s been happening, but I don’t like it one bit. Who’s been saying such nonsense to you? And as I asked earlier, where did you get such a fantastic idea that I would ever even think much less actually go through with it, of leaving you?’

She hiccupped at which Harry smiled indulgently at how adorable and child like she seemed with that tiny jerk, and he brought a hand up to slowly wipe the tears away. Then he stopped, as if thinking, shook his head and leaned forward, placing his lips on her cheek instead. At any rate, his wife seemed to need some reassurance of his love and he hoped his actions would further reinforce what his words were conveying.

‘Go on love, tell me.’ His lips were urging her softly while sucking on the salty tear trails simultaneously and he inwardly smiled in masculine pride at the shudder he felt running through her. Twelve years of marriage with three years of courtship prior to that, and he hadn’t lost his touch. He looked into her eyes intently and then placed a hand under her chin so her gaze would continue to meet his. ‘Hermione, did someone say something to you?’

The way her eyes shifted gave him the answer and he sighed helplessly. While the majority of the Wizarding World had joyously rejoiced at the news of The-Boy-Who-Lived’s wedding, which they complained had been done with too little fanfare and pomp, for which Harry had been extremely grateful, there had been a constant undercurrent of speculation as to what it was possibly that Hermione had, which no other influential Wizarding family lass possessed and what could Harry have possibly seen in her.

Hermione had arguably suffered much more than him, as she received a constant stream of hate mail for months after the announcement of their relationship and double the amount when they had publicised their engagement. Even after the wedding, it was apparently still difficult to stomach that The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, a descendant of the scion of the noble, extremely rich and very aristocratic Potters and Godric Gryffindor himself, had fallen in love and married a Muggleborn witch who was by all standards, quite plain to look at, had a less than admirable figure, and had no fortune to speak of to her name.

And quite a few sections of the elite openly wondered at the seeming incongruity of the pair.

Harry of course had gone hoarse through the years, openly affirming his love and devotion to Hermione and at a historic press conference, which he had never given again, had frankly discussed for the first time ever the extent of the emotional havoc that Voldmort had wreaked on his life and how it had been the constant presence of Hermione and Ron that had pulled him back from the brink of insanity.

It was simply right, and so fitting for lack of better words that the woman he should ultimately share his life with would be the one who had been with him on every step of his arduous journey to victory. She knew him like no one did, but most importantly she wanted him for him, Harry Potter alone, and not the boy destined for eternal and timeless Wizarding glory. He found it difficult to accept that he was now a constant figure in every book, especially those specialising in dark arts defence, but Hermione’s love and Ron’s support had kept him level headed and as sane as could possibly be hoped, whether he was on the brink of despair or bewildered by the outpouring of adulation.

The attention had died down of course, although it had risen each time they had had a baby, but even now, there were still stray comments. What incensed him was that he knew that all of them would be directed at Hermione. She was the one taking the brunt and she was the one suffering emotionally. He knew that off late she had been stressed, and whatever she would have heard must have been like the icing on the cake. By the looks of things, she was utterly depressed and woebegone.

Well, he mused, time for a little reminder of my love.

‘Harry?’ Her tremulous tone brought him out of his thoughts and he looked at her. She was biting her lower lip and looking back at him uncertainly. He smiled and placed a kiss on her temple.

‘What…what…are you thinking?’ she asked in a very small voice.

‘I am thinking how to show you that you were, are and always will be the most beautiful woman in the world to me’, he whispered with a sincerity so profound that Hermione felt a slow, yet bright blush suffuse her face.

‘Harry..’, she gave a choked whisper and he felt his heart pound at the way she brought a hand to her cheek and averted her eyes to the floor.

He had always loved the fact that his wife had a sense of modesty. Perhaps others may have persisted in being scornful of what they considered prudish or old fashioned behaviour, but Harry had loved Hermione all the more for her shyness and her initial hesitancy and apprehension about revealing herself to him completely. It set her a class apart from the disgustingly brazen behaviour of witches who still persisted in throwing themselves at him in spite of his wedding band and much publicised familial background and gave her an elegance and demeanour that commanded respect because of her strong sense of honour and virtue.

It didn’t mean that their intimate life was all coyness. While their honeymoon had been a delicious mix of innocence and experience, they had over the years become comfortable and familiar with each other and were agreed that their bedroom was their sanctuary for just about anything – it was here that their own individual proclivities emerged slowly – Harry discovered much to his amusement that Hermione was incredibly responsive to verbal soliloquies, especially during their love making, of course she would be, with her love of the written word, and while talking filthy never made an appearance, an occasional naughty whisper or fervently blunt declarations of force had made her melt innumerable times.

That was another thing that threw him off. Hermione, it would seem secretly liked it when he was forceful with her. She was slightly hesitant with taking control in the bedroom, although it was she who ran their house anyway, he reflected wryly, and over the years they had both learnt about each other and in course, strengthened their relationship and marriage and family even further.

Which begged the question of just how exactly he was going to reason with his wife now.

Which also meant that she had to be more elaborate in her replies.

He forced her gaze back to his and queried calmly, ‘Tell me what happened, Hermione. There’s something deeper at work here.’

Hermione sniffled and took a breath, ‘Well, when we went to dinner last week, remember how you left in the middle to go to the bathroom and then there were these two ladies who were sitting just on the other side of the potted plants and they didn’t know I was there waiting for you and that I could hear them and then they and it was about us and about me and-…’

‘Hermione, slow down!’ Harry interrupted. ‘Take a breather, love. I’m right here, and am not about to go anywhere.’ He grinned at the indignant look on her face at this reprimand and tucked her even more comfortably against him, ‘So don’t tell me you let some idiotic hags get to you, love. We have been married for more than ten years darling, and you should know that…’

‘But Harry, this wasn’t like what others said, they weren’t being mean as in vindictive, but actually thinking about what the problem was.’

Harry sat up and looked at her questioningly.

Her voice faltered but she resolutely continued, ‘Its just…they were talking about how handsome…and gorgeous and how attractive you were and how you were such a hero and the pride of the Wizarding World and…’

‘Right’ Harry snorted. ‘The same world that branded me a lunatic initially for calling their attention to Tom Riddle in the first place.’

‘But Harry, don’t you see?’ Hermione’s voice was desperate and she clutched at his hands. ‘You…you’re a hero to this world and they were wondering what it was that you really saw in me in the first place. And they were wondering on why I was saddling you with five children…’

‘Saddling?!’ Harry queried incredulously. ‘All our children were out of voluntary love and because we wanted them, thank you very much!’

‘Yes, I know but its like you are the hero and I just come across as this boring nag who has nothing better to do than open her mouth and endorse the campaigns for werewolves, goblins and giants.’

‘But love’ Harry tried to choose his words carefully, knowing that his next comments may be potentially hurtful, ‘this has happened before and you’ve never minded.’ He hugged her to him and kissed the top of her head. ‘I used to be much more agitated than you, remember? It was you who always wanted me to calm down.’ He rubbed the forearm that was laid across her torso lovingly and squeezed her.

Hermione sniffed again and then gave a sob as she choked, ‘It wouldn’t have been so bad but then you came out of the bathroom and that woman was talking to you.’

Harry frowned as he tried to think back to that time. Yes, he had made his way back to their table but had been intercepted by a woman who clearly had more innocent motives than friendship on her mind. However, it was one of the finest restaurants around and he had wanted to cause a scene and so had continued to engage in small talk, deftly and valiantly steering the conversation on boringly neutral ground when it threatened to glide over the boundaries of propriety and wander into the smallest glimmer of flirtation.

‘Hermione?’ Harry’s voice was calm but there was an undercurrent of exasperation. ‘You don’t really think that I was talking to her because I…’

‘Oh Harry no!’ she pulled back and shook her head vigorously. ‘No I didn’t think that you liked her or anything but when she was standing next to you and she looked so beautiful, so…so…perfect, Harry – fantastic figure, great hair, beautiful teeth and she carried herself with so much elegance, I…I was suddenly struck by the fact that I could never measure up to her. And I guess I began wondering if I ever could, I mean suddenly I could understand what the fuss was all about and why everyone was persisting in wondering why you hadn’t found someone else.’

Harry groaned, throwing his head back against the couch and ran a heavy hand over his face. He turned to look down at her upturned face with red, bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks that bore trails of tears. Even as his eyes roamed her beloved features, e wondered how long she had been keeping these fears inside. More than the actual insecurities itself, it seemed to be a combination of everything.

Her last uncertain whisper made him reel, ‘and you…you haven’t said you loved me for so long.’

A pang of guilt coursed through him as he realised that he had hardly been affectionate or loving with her for a while now. He had been so busy with work at the Auror Academy – being its Deputy Director had required him to spend a month travelling and Merlin! When had they made love the last time?

He realised with a growing horror that he couldn’t remember. Oh Lord, had it really been so long that he couldn’t remember the last time he was intimate with his wife? Another shard of guilt stabbed his heart when he realised how all her fears and insecurities must have culminated inside and fed upon each other with no way to vent or discuss them with him, especially as he had been away so much recently. Even when he had come back from his travels abroad two weeks back, he had spent nearly the entire day at work, often staying until late in the night and coming back well after the children had all gone to bed. More than once, he had apparated in to find his beloved wife curled up in the couch, her favourite woollen blanket wrapped around her and Hogwarts, A History tucked up to her chest, clearly waiting up for him.

And she was right, he realised with increasing loathing at himself. They had always made it a point to exchange I love you’s before they each went off to work and at night before bed, or whenever they talked at work during the day and he had been so taken with his work and settling into the new responsibilities that came with his promotion that he began to wonder and rack his brains anxiously to recall when he had said those words to her last. Yes, he had noticed ever since his return that she had been stressed and restless but he hadn’t drawn her attention to the fact that he had noticed, which would have led her to continue to believe that he wasn’t concerned about her anymore and consequently further fuel her fears.

He hugged her tighter as the familiar sting of tears prickled the backs of his eyes, and he absently kissed her forehead again and again as he feverishly whispered, ‘Please, please forgive me, dear heart. I know we haven’t spent much time together lately, but oh I love you so much, darling. Never ever doubt that, ok?’ He drew back and placed his hands on her cheeks, willing his gaze to convey all the love that his heart held. ‘You give me strength and you give me hope. You and the children are all that is good and sane in my world and don’t ever think for a minute that there is a single woman out there who can hold a candle to you.’

He smiled tenderly as fresh tears, but now of joy and relief left tracks on his wife’s face and softly wiped them away. ‘I love you for you, Hermione. And that’s the whole you. Its not just about how you look, for me you will always be beautiful because you are the only woman that I can see myself with.’

‘Really Harry?’, asked Hermione, hating the fact that she felt the need for further reassurance but wanting to savour the words all the same.

He nodded assertively and then moved his hands to take hers. ‘I’ll make sure my work load gets lighter. I’m sorry love, so very sorry that I haven’t been spending time with you or the kids. Tell you what,’ he continued as his countenance brightened, ‘shall we go out to Hogwarts for the weekend? Have a picnic by the lake and just relax just you, me and the kids. It’s time we had a real family outing.’

Hermione smiled warmly and whispered, ‘Oh that sounds wonderful. Yes, do lets do that.’

‘Right then.’ And Harry involuntarily let out a huge yawn. Hermione looked horrified, ‘Oh I’ve kept us up so late and you have to be at work early tomorrow, I can take a half day but you…’

‘Hush, love, no matter.’ Harry smiled. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and gave it a small, affectionate tug, ‘I’m more happy that we got things sorted tonight.’ Then he became serious, ‘Don’t ever think this way again, ok? You are the one I love and after all these years, you do believe me, don’t you?’

Hermione sighed as she let Harry arrange her more comfortably in his arms and as she felt the steady beating of his heart underneath her head, ‘I…I know Harry. And I don’t, well its not that I doubt you. Sometimes it just all becomes too much and I’ve been feeling so down lately and tired at work and I…I’ve missed you Harry! and every time our anniversary comes closer, the media still wont let up and becomes nasty at least this one time in the year. I guess I just wanted some reassurance as to why you wanted me and not anyone else.’ She snuggled closer into him, wishing that she could pull him over every part of her like a secure blanket.

‘Oh Hermione!’ Harry shook his head and laughed quietly. ‘I love you, because you’ve always been there for me and I just cannot see anyone else being my wife.’ As he noticed Hermione’s eyelids drooping with a contented smile on her face, he laughed again, and lovingly ran a finger down her cheek, ‘No big secret really. I love you because you’re you and that’s about it. That’s all there is to it.’ Within seconds he too was asleep.