Never Let You Down

Bingblot

Rating: G
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 17/07/2005
Last Updated: 17/07/2005
Status: in_progress

She needed to know. “Harry, what happened after I- while I was unconscious?” OotP missing moment fic. One-shot.

Chapters

1. Never Let You Down

1. Never Let You Down

Disclaimer: Still JKR’s (although I’m beginning to think she shouldn’t own them anymore!!)

Author’s Note: Written before HBP (obviously). What I think should have happened in OotP between Chapters 37 and 38.

Because I was thinking about how OotP seems to be the book where just about everybody lets Harry down in some way: Dumbledore, Hagrid, Snape (not that Harry relied on him but he didn’t act like an adult or a teacher), Sirius (to a lesser extent), James (for not being the perfect hero Harry always thought he was), etc—and Harry learns he really can’t rely on anyone- except Hermione.

Never Let You Down

“Harry.”

Harry- what had happened to Harry? Was he alright? What had happened?

The thoughts- images, memories, worries, fears, and through it all, his face- crowded into her mind, fast and furious, and found expression in the only word she could say: “Harry.”

There was no answer, nothing to reassure her at all.

She had left him alone. She hadn’t helped him; she hadn’t been able to help him. And she didn’t know where he was now or what had happened…

Oh God, please let him be alright. Let him be alright… Lethimbealright…

She turned her head to look around to see if Harry was in the Infirmary.

She saw Ron, who looked to be unconscious. She saw Ginny, who was asleep, one leg propped up on a pillow. One bed over, she saw Neville, also sleeping.

But no Harry.

Where was Harry? He must be alright since he wasn’t in the Infirmary. But what else had happened after the spell that had hit her? How had they all gotten out of the Ministry?

She moved, trying to sit up, to get out of bed to see how Harry was—but a spasm of pain passed through her chest and she fell back onto her pillow with a small gasp, tears coming unbidden to her eyes.

Harry—she needed to see Harry. Where was he? How was he? What had happened?

Madam Pomfrey bustled up. “Ah, you’re awake, I see, Miss Granger.” She gave her a potion to drink and Hermione drank it down hurriedly, trying not to gag at the bitter taste, and then asked, “Madam Pomfrey, where’s Harry? Is he alright? What happened?”

Madam Pomfrey hardly looked up from the spells she was performing. “Mr. Potter is fine. He’s resting after speaking with the Headmaster. You all were brought back to Hogwarts by members of the Order.” She paused, making a tsk-ing sound under her breath as she muttered, “Children against Death Eaters; it’s a wonder any of you are alive…”

Hermione closed her eyes. Harry was safe; they were all safe. Somehow she felt no relief; there was more; she knew there had to be more that had happened. And she needed to know how Harry was feeling, what he was thinking… She needed to know…

She opened her eyes when she heard the door open softly—and knew it was Harry even before she saw him.

He glanced at Neville and Luna and Ginny as he passed their beds and over at Ron before coming to stand by her bed, seeing that she was awake.

She caught her breath at the sight of his expression and his eyes. God, his expression! And she knew that he wasn’t alright. He looked- he looked like he had just lost something incalculably precious, as if he was only just barely managing to keep standing under the crushing weight of what it meant to be him. He looked as if he was deliberately restraining his emotions because if he let them out, they would consume him.

He just sat down, in silence, in the chair he pulled up by her bed and looked at her for a moment.

She answered his unspoken question before he could ask it. “I’ll be okay, Harry.”

He sighed slightly, some of the concern leaving his expression but still leaving it bleak, filled with hopelessness that tore at her heart.

“How are you?” she asked softly.

He let out a sound that was something like a bitter laugh, one that had nothing of amusement in it and she flinched involuntarily. It was a harsh sound that had no place coming from a boy who wasn’t even 16, had no place coming from Harry, especially, Harry who was so, well, nice, to use the most basic word.

And it hurt her to hear it.

“Fine,” he said briefly.

“Are you sure?” she persisted, keeping her tone gentle, unassuming, not wanting to drive him away or make him retreat inside himself, closing himself off from her.

Something like pain flickered across his face and he opened his mouth but then closed it again. “Not now,” he finally managed to say.

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll be here when you want to talk,” she said simply.

Some life, some feeling, returned to his eyes at that. “I know.”

She hesitated but she needed to know. “Harry, what happened after I- while I was unconscious?”

She watched in silent sympathy as his controlled expression seemed to collapse in on itself and for a moment she saw the depths of grief and guilt and anger he was feeling. He looked away- to hide tears, she knew- and took several shuddering deep breaths before seeming to steel himself and looking up again.

“The Order came and rescued us.” His voice was flat, toneless as if he were telling what had happened to some other people and had nothing to do with him, as if that were the only way he could tell it. “They- Remus, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Moody and- and- Sirius- came to rescue us.” His voice cracked slightly on Sirius’s name and she saw him swallow hard, again looking away, down at the floor as he continued on. “Sirius is d-d—he’s gone,” he said softly.

Oh God, no… Her eyes filled with tears that she blinked back- tears for Harry, who should not have lost someone else dear to him, and tears for Sirius, too. “Oh, Harry…” she finally managed in a whisper, wishing there were something she could do or say to help him and knowing there wasn’t.

Harry continued, his voice trembling slightly from the effort to sound calm and emotionless and her heart broke for him. “I- I wanted to kill Bellatrix Lestrange for killing Sirius but Voldemort showed up. We- we fought—but Dumbledore came and he- he saved me.”

As she listened, her mind had been working, thinking, remembering what had happened, realizing that, after all, it had been a trap. Voldemort had wanted to get Harry into the Department of Mysteries, for that prophecy about them. That must be what the Order had been guarding—but why? It had been a trap… The word seemed to echo in her mind. A trap, a trap… And Voldemort had been there, had nearly killed Harry.

Dear God… She shuddered to think how nearly Harry had been killed tonight—as he would have been if Dumbledore hadn’t come. Oh God, oh God, she should have been there to help him—somehow. She should have been there… She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let him be alone—and now he’d been through the worst night of his life and she hadn’t been there. She’d let him down. The reproach settled in her mind with all the heaviness of a boulder. She had let him down…

“I- I’m sorry, Harry. I- I should have been awake, so I could have helped more. I should have tried harder, should have known something wasn’t right…” The words spilled out of her, her conviction and her own sense of guilt beginning to press down on her.

She should have known! She should have guessed it was a trap! She should have—she didn’t know but surely she could have tried harder to keep Harry from going to the Ministry. She- she should have-- She should have been quicker so the Death Eater hadn’t been able to hit her with that curse, so she would have been conscious to help Harry out.

She’d let him down. The one thing she’d promised herself- and him, silently- that she would never do. She’d let him down. She should have been conscious to help when all this had happened! She could have done something!! She could have done something, surely, that might have saved Sirius so Harry wouldn’t be feeling this way. She should have been there beside him so he wouldn’t have been alone when he faced Voldemort. She could have—she should have been with him!!

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out again. “I’m sorry I let you down.”

He was staring at her—confusion having replaced his grief. “What? What are you talking about? You- you didn’t- you haven’t—”

“I- I don’t know,” she said shaking her head, speaking quickly. “But I could have done more- could have done better, could have at least been conscious to see all this happen! I should have helped you!” Some small part of her was beginning to be aware that she was being irrational but she couldn’t dismiss the feeling that somehow, in some way, she might have been able to do more if she’d only been conscious. If she had only tried harder, been faster, thought quicker, she might have been able to do something, anything, to save Sirius and keep Harry from feeling the grief he was feeling now. She would have done anything, she knew, would still do anything—to keep Harry from feeling the way he felt now. But she hadn’t been there; she hadn’t even known it had happened until he’d told her and now she’d just made him relive it all for her…

“No!” Harry’s protest was sharp, though he kept his voice quiet. “No,” he repeated more calmly. “Hermione, look at me.”

She did.

His eyes held hers—and for the first time since he’d come into the Infirmary, they were clear, approaching their normal bright green again. The shadows had gone- although she knew Harry too well to think that they were gone for good. But for now, they were gone- his eyes warm, honest.

“You didn’t let me down,” he said quietly. “It’s not your fault; none of this is your fault.” And it was true. It was his fault, his fault, even Dumbledore’s fault, Snape’s fault, Kreacher’s fault, Bellatrix’s fault, Voldemort’s fault… But not Hermione’s… Never Hermione’s…

Harry felt the first flicker of warmth, of affection, begin to enter his heart again, nudging out the anger and the guilt and the bitterness and the sorrow that had been filling it. “You didn’t let me down,” he repeated. “You didn’t. You’ve never--” he paused, suddenly remembering what he’d thought in the Department of Mysteries about Sirius. That Sirius would never not come out when he was screaming for him, that Sirius would never not try to help him, that Sirius would never let him down… He felt a fresh surge of grief—Sirius, I’m sorry—but there was someone else to think about now. There was someone else, he realized, who had never let him down and would never not try to help him. Hermione. And she was lying in a hospital bed right now, because of it.

He blinked, clearing his throat a little. “You never let me down, Hermione,” he finished softly. “Not today, not ever. And you were right. Right about everything. I- I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” His voice cracked on the apology but he finished it anyway. “It’s my fault about Sirius—and it’s my fault you’re hurt.”

No… Her first thought, her first reaction, on hearing his words was a denial. Her own self-reproach was forgotten in her concern for him. She couldn’t let him blame himself like this. She couldn’t. She knew him, she knew how Harry would torment himself over this. And she couldn’t let him do it. She couldn’t help his grief but she could try to alleviate his guilt.

“No, Harry, don’t say that, don’t think like that. It’s really not your fault; it’s Voldemort’s.”

He frowned slightly, opening his mouth to protest but she went on before he could.

“It is his fault. You shouldn’t blame yourself for caring about Sirius and wanting to rescue him! It- it means you’re a good person, Harry. It’s his fault for taking advantage of you that way, for tricking you; not yours for caring. And don’t blame yourself for what happened to us; we all chose to come with you. You couldn’t have stopped us from coming. It’s not your fault.”

“I-” he stopped, hesitated, and then said, softly, “Thanks.” He didn't quite- he couldn't- believe her completely but somehow, knowing that she, at least, didn't blame him comforted him.

She moved, intending to sit up and hug him but fell back as another spasm of pain passed through her chest.

He sat up straighter, frowning. “Are you- are you okay?”

She nodded, trying to smile. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll go,” he said. “I should let you rest; I shouldn’t be bothering you like this. And I’ll call Madam Pomfrey.”

“No, really, I’m fine, Harry. Just- just stay with me.” And it was partly from selfishness and partly because she didn’t want him to be alone after what had happened, what he’d been through. She knew he hated being in the Hospital Wing but at least here, he wasn’t alone. She was with him.

“I’m sorry about Sirius, Harry,” she said, so softly he could barely hear it.

For a moment she was afraid she had made a mistake in even mentioning it as he stilled and didn’t say anything.

But just when she was beginning to hate herself, he spoke. “I know,” he said, equally softly.

His eyes met hers—and she knew he understood and accepted her words with the feeling she’d put into them.

She moved her hand to rest on his for a moment, giving it a gentle pressure in a silent gesture of support.

She couldn’t take away his grief; she couldn’t change what had happened. All she could do was let him know that he wasn’t alone, that she would always- always- be with him. And she would never let him down.

What’s coming will come—and we’ll meet it when it does… And I’ll be with you, whatever happens…