Meant to Last

Disclaimer – I do not own this, as I’m not JKR, and you can be sure I’m not, since Hermione shockingly remembers that she’s Harry’s friend in this fic. JKR would never write something that weird. *sarcasm is an excellent coping mechanism*

So, I hope you enjoy, and I hope this gives you a bit of hope for Hermione’s character.

Meant to Last

Harry fell back onto his bed in another random inn in another random part of England. Again, they’d failed to obtain a horcrux – two, just two, were missing still. They’d found Hufflepuff’s cup and destroyed it with deceptive ease when they began their quest. A month later, Voldemort had foolishly sent Nagini to spy on them, thinking, perhaps, that a snake would be less detectable than a wizard, not knowing that the snake was precisely one of the things they were after. Nagini was dead before Voldemort could find out.

But there were still the two missing objects – the locket, taken by the mysterious R.A.B., and the still unknown relic of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.

Hermione spent most of the time at Hogwarts now, holed up in the library with Dumbledore’s private collection of books now there to assist her, researching names, objects, locations – anything that could be of use, but little ever was these days.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron trekked the country, searching for potential hiding places. If they found something, one would Apparate to a point just outside Hogwarts grounds and call Hermione; she would come, and they would take her to the place. Once there, the three would work through Voldemort’s elaborate enchantments and puzzles. Harry was becoming quite adept at detecting magic, Hermione was cleverer than ever in deconstructing it, and Ron – well, Ron was still Ron, and that was enough.

Tonight, Harry was tired as all hell. This was the fifth location that had not panned out, and his hope was waning more rapidly with each failure.

He found he couldn’t quite remember what it was like to worry about Quidditch and girls and exams, petty rivalries and bickering housemates. All that was gone now, replaced with the seriousness of their mission.

Hogwarts had closed. Dumbledore’s death left the school too susceptible to attack, according to the governors, and most mothers were thoroughly disinclined to send their children back, anyway. Harry hated leaving Hermione there in the lonely, abandoned castle with only the Order to protect her, but she insisted that she must. “I’m the one who finds the answers,” she’d told him quite firmly in the beginning. “You risk your neck your way, I’ll do it mine.”

Hermione was staying with them tonight, however, too magically exhausted from heavy spellwork to travel back. He tried not to think about her sleeping just across the hall. Her very nearness had him wanting to be closer lately, and he wasn’t exactly sure why.

Thoughts like that, he knew, were a betrayal to Ginny. Sometimes, Harry couldn’t quite remember why…but they were. After all, he’d loved her, hadn’t he? And they could still be together, after this was over…they could have a normal life together.

But for some reason, that thought didn’t comfort him like it used to. Harry couldn’t quite imagine going back to Ginny at the Burrow and having a chat about Quidditch or poking fun at Ron. He couldn’t imagine trying to tell her all he’d been through, all the searches and the near-death experiences…but just now, he couldn’t imagine talking about much else, either.

No…he couldn’t imagine a life after this mission…after Voldemort, provided he lived through that confrontation. If he did…he wasn’t sure what he’d do with his life. Plans such as those would have to wait until he was at leisure to make them – until the seventh piece of Voldemort’s soul was destroyed.

There was a soft knock on the door. Harry knew it was probably Hermione. Her late-night visits weren’t frequent, but they weren’t unusual, either. Nevertheless, he grasped his wand as he called through the door, “Who’s there?”

“Honestly, why would a Death Eater bother to knock?” came his best friend’s muffled voice.

Harry grinned, loving this part of the ritual. “What’s your favorite jam flavor?”

The exasperation in her voice was potent as she replied, “For the millionth time, raspberry.”

Harry opened the door for her with a flick of his wand, and she walked in, illuminated by the light of her own wand. She shut the door behind her, and Harry could see by the furrow in her brow that she was performing a series of nonverbal security spells.

Satisfied, Hermione turned back to him.

“What brings you here?” Harry asked as she made herself comfortable on his bed.

“Same thing as always,” she said, valiantly faking a pleasant tone of voice. “I miss talking to you.”

Harry offered her the usual sad smile. “I miss talking to you, too.”

“You’re not looking too well,” she said, peering critically at the bags under his eyes and the stubble along his jaw from not shaving in five days.

Harry shrugged helplessly, noting the matching bags under her eyes. “Is anyone?”

“No, I suppose not.”

There was a long silence before Hermione asked him something she’d never asked him before.

“Do you miss Ginny?”

Harry was slightly surprised by the question. Of course, it hadn’t used to be unusual for them to discuss his love life, but that time seemed so far away…they’d talked about very little other than the search lately.

“I – I don’t know. I can hardly remember what it was like to be with her. I can hardly remember who I was with her.”

“Do you think that will change, when this is all over?”

Harry wondered why she was so curious after four months.

“Honestly? I doubt it. I know she’s probably counting on us to be together again, but…I don’t know. We’ve all changed so much. How can it ever be the same?”

Hermione gave him an odd look. “Can I be honest as well?”

“Of course.”

She shifted, settling back against the headboard of his bed. From the angle he was looking at her now, he couldn’t easily read her expression.

“I don’t think that relationship was ever meant to last. I know you were really happy with her, and I was happy for you, but…she never could have understood your world. Everything that you’ve been through, and all we’re doing now…the prophecy and all you’ve given up to do this. I know that not even Ron and I fully understand, but…Ginny, she really doesn’t know who you are.”

Harry stared at the ceiling as the truth of her words sunk in. Yes, that was exactly why he couldn’t imagine returning to Ginny. Ginny only knew the Harry that returned miraculously alive from his latest adventure to win the House Cup for Gryffindor. She never saw the part where he fought tooth-and-nail for survival. Well, she had – she’d seen it for herself in the Department of Mysteries, and sure, she’d been brave and handled it well…but she hadn’t insisted on standing beside him when he’d ended their relationship and left her behind…not like Ron and Hermione would have done, had he tried to push them away.

“Yeah. I suppose you’re right. Again.”

Hermione reached for his hand and patted it in a simple but oddly comforting manner. “Do you think maybe you were more in love with the idea of her than Ginny herself? You know…something normal? Something that, for awhile, wasn’t affected by Voldemort?”

Harry craned his head on his pillow to smile slightly up at her. “Why ask? You’ve got it all figured out already, haven’t you?”

Hermione shook her head in that you’ll-never-learn sort of way that used to drive him nuts. He found he missed it now. “Harry, I’m trying to help you figure it out.”

He looked up at her, not at her face this time, but eyeing the curves of her body, not quite hidden under the satin dressing gown she was so fond of. He’d always known she’d had a pretty face – that was simply fact. But he hadn’t quite seen the merits of her body until lately. Harry sighed, remembering the subject of their conversation. “I think I get the gist of it now.”

Hermione seemed satisfied with this. She readjusted herself again so that she was lying alongside him, propped on an elbow. They often ended up like this.

“So…what about you and Ron?”

Neither Ron nor Hermione had ever spoken to him about their relationship, if there was one. Harry would have liked to think that they would have told him…but he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps they thought it best not to distract him, to leave him thinking his two best friends were entirely devoted to him.

Hermione, to Harry’s surprise, looked completely and genuinely confused at his question. “What about me and Ron?”

“Well, are you two…you know…together?”

Hermione looked very uncomfortable. “Harry…whatever my behavior – or his – last year may have suggested, there was never really anything between us.”

And Harry’d thought he was done with puzzling over relationships. “There wasn’t?”

“No. I – I’m really embarrassed about the way I behaved, actually. I wasn’t really jealous because I wanted to be with Ron, I just…I didn’t like that he’d moved on. He’d fancied me for the longest time, and even though it was for all the wrong reasons, I sort of liked that…I’d gotten used to it. And then other girls started taking an interest in him, and when I saw that he was enjoying that…well, I just…panicked, I suppose. It was like I had to prove I was better than Lavender and that he wasn’t the only boy that would ever fancy me, if only to myself, although I wanted him to get the message, too.

“In any case, Ron and I were both moving on by the end of the year. I think he had to realize that I wasn’t the only girl around just because I was the closest to him, and I had to get over my silly insecurities…but we’re well past that, now.”

She smiled awkwardly, and Harry felt inexplicably relieved. “In retrospect, I feel like I let you down. I was too busy acting stupid and immature to really help you – I could have tried harder to help you figure out what Malfoy was up to. I should have believed you. We – we could have stopped it, somehow.”

Her voice cracked with tears as she finished, and Harry wished somebody, somewhere had taught him how to comfort a crying girl.

“It wasn’t your fault, Hermione. You know that,” he said, watching her wipe furiously at her eyes. “Dumbledore knew what Malfoy was up to…he knew he’d been assigned to kill him, and he never did a thing about it. I think…I think Dumbledore’d almost gotten through to him that he didn’t have to do it, but then the Death Eaters showed up, and…we couldn’t possibly have expected Snape to turn out the way he did.”

“You did,” Hermione said, her voice strained. “You knew.”

“And I tried to tell Dumbledore, and he didn’t care,” Harry said firmly, feeling as though he should offer some physical comfort somehow, but he’d never quite gotten the hang of physical gestures. “Hermione, there was nothing you could have done that I didn’t try, believe me.”

Hermione nodded, sniffling. “I just wish he was here…he’d know a way to find the horcruxes. He’d know what to do. And I have no idea.”

Harry tried placing a hand on her upper arm. It didn’t seem to do much. “Nobody expects you to find all the answers, Hermione. We’re working with you on this…we’ll find them, we always find a way.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears and honesty. “I still feel like I’ve let you down.”

Harry shook his head. “No, never think that, Hermione. You’ve always done your absolute best to help me – I’ve never thanked you enough for that. You’ve worked so hard, just for me…how could I possibly ask for more?”

“You deserve more,” she said quietly. “You deserve more, when you’ve given me so much.”

Harry swallowed. So she’d finally gone mad. He wasn’t exactly surprised…all that time spent with books had to do something to a person. “Hermione, I’ve never given you anything.”

“You’re wrong,” she said insistently. “Don’t you see? You gave me my life! Without you…I would have been lonely and friendless forever, buried away in my books.”

“You would have been safe.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, really, Harry, no one’s safe, no matter whose side they’re on. If I hadn’t been friends with you, I’d still have had to leave Hogwarts this year…I’d be home with my parents, where I’d probably be captured and killed simply for being Muggle-born. I’m safer with you, Harry…you’re the only one that can defeat him, after all. Who better to protect me?”

Harry felt tears pricking at his own eyes. “Yeah, well…I’m not so sure how easy that’s going to be, considering how well things are going just now.”

Hermione reached up a hand to cup his cheek. “You said yourself, we’ll find a way. We always do.”

Harry nodded and found himself amazed by her. There she was, clearly as disheartened and hopeless as he was, and yet she was trying to tuck it all away, only to comfort him. It was astounding to him at times, the extent of her loyalty.

“You really think we can do this?”

“Of course, Harry. I have faith in you – in what we can do together. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Harry felt his cheeks flush. Hermione had faith in him. She always had, he supposed…more than anyone else.

I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.

And Harry supposed that was why it was her lying on his bed in the middle of nowhere, and not Ginny or anyone else. She was the only girl – the only woman – that had ever believed in him enough to do so.

It all fit together like a very elaborate puzzle, ten thousand or more pieces that had been slowly and meticulously put together throughout the years, starting with a childhood friendship that had been built onto until the bigger picture was so much more, and so drastically different.

“Hermione?”

She looked at him expectantly. “Hmm?”

“You know how you said you thought me and Ginny were never meant to last?”

Her eyes took on a curious glint he’d seen many times before. “Yeah?”

Harry wet his lips. “You think…you think we were?”

Hermione smiled at him in a way she hadn’t smiled in a very long time – a radiant, beaming smile that made her eyes dance with life. “Yes…yes, I think we were.”

Harry stood outside the gates of Hogwarts, still flanked by rather extravagant – and rather ugly – winged boars. Hermione had called him there using the fake galleons she’d created for the D.A. – quite handy, now that standard lines of communication like owls were out of the question. Owls were far too traceable.

He’d left Ron at their safe house – Number Twelve Grimmauld Place – where they stayed between searches. The hope was that he’d have a few moments alone with Hermione before they had to depart – whether that meant him leaving her at Hogwarts again or going off to check out another location.

Soon he saw her walking hurriedly down the path, cloaked against the November wind with her wand drawn and ready. Though he would have rather seen her moving easily and without fear, he was very glad to see her at the moment.

“Harry,” she said as she drew near. “Jam?”

“Blackberry,” he replied promptly.

She grinned back. “Grape.”

“Impostor,” he accused, though Harry knew that neither of them need ask. Hermione would know him anywhere, and no one could fake the smile on her face so well.

“We need to get somewhere we won’t be overheard,” she said without preamble. “I think I’ve got something.”

“Let’s go back to the house, then,” Harry said, grabbing her hand so they could Apparate together.

So much for alone time.

~

Five minutes later, they were settled around the kitchen table with a pot of tea heating on the stove.

“So you’ve found something?” Ron asked Hermione.

“Yes,” she said. “I have an idea what the last horcrux may be.”

Harry felt his entire body tense with anticipation. Could this really be it, the missing piece?

“I was thinking about the two objects that he’d found of the Founders – a cup and a locket. They seem quite unrelated, don’t they? But then I remembered Gryffindor’s sword – a sword, a cup, a locket – like a coin. Reminding you of anything?”

Ron gave her a blank stare, the patent, “You’re mental” look. Harry raised an eyebrow.

“No, can’t say it is.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry almost laughed at the sight. It was like being back at Hogwarts, having Hermione lecture them over their homework with her little exclamations of, “Oh, honestly, can’t you two read?” But the laughter died quickly. Those days were gone, and reminiscing could do no good. Nothing could bring back those times…

But at least Hermione hadn’t changed.

“Maybe if you’d paid attention in divination, you’d understand – although, I’d be surprised if Trelawney actually managed to teach you this. They’re three of the four suits of tarot.”

It was a moment before the idea came together.

“You think the missing object is the fourth suit?”

“Yes. Once I had that idea, I started researching something of Ravenclaw’s that might have fit the bill – I finally came across a staff she used to carry, and Harry, I think he got his hands on it. It was last known to be in the hands of a wealthy French collector, but he was killed twenty years ago – the staff was never found amongst his possessions.”

Harry sighed. “Sounds about right. Now we just have to figure out where the bloody hell he hid it.”

The tea kettle whistled sharply and Hermione went to tend to it. “That’s always the hardest part,” she said with a note of weariness. “I’ll start researching that when I go back, and you two can be brainstorming here.”

Carefully, she sat steaming cups of tea in front of them, and it suddenly struck him how much he missed her. Of course he’d longed for her until it had ached while she was away, but having here there in the house again, doing her typical Hermione things, drove home how empty life had been without her.

“Have you two been taking care of yourselves?” she asked in a motherly fashion. “You look thin, Harry.”

He couldn’t help smiling in his affection for her. “I always look thin, Hermione.”

Ron chuckled. “He’s got a point, the scrawny bugger. And you sound just like Mum when you’re checking up on us.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I can’t help it if I care. You’re my boys. I have to take care of you.”

“Bloody hell, now you’re channeling her!”

They all laughed easily – all laughter had been locked up for so long that it was dying to bubble up to the surface, to see the light of day. Now that they were all together again, they couldn’t resist.

“I’ve missed you both,” Hermione said. The bittersweet tone of her voice jabbed at his heart just a bit. He didn’t want her to go back to that lonely, lifeless school without anyone but a few Aurors to keep her company, to protect her. He wanted her safe by his side, under his careful watch – for he certainly could never keep his eyes off her.

“Don’t go back tonight,” Harry said on impulse, without caring what his words implied to Hermione or Ron. “You’ve still got your bedroom here,” he continued. “I doubt you’re going to get much research done between tonight and tomorrow anyway.”

Hermione smiled and nodded. “That sounds really nice, actually. Maybe…maybe it wouldn’t hurt for me to stay a few days, even. I did bring a few volumes with me that I thought might be relevant, so we could go over those together….”

Harry grinned, his heart rising as though it were filled with helium. “That sounds even better.”

Hermione held his happy gaze for less than a full second, but it was long enough to attract Ron’s suspicion. In her subtle way, Hermione shifted Ron’s attention to other matters, and Harry could breathe easily again.

It wasn’t that they were hiding anything in particular. They’d only managed to kiss a few times in the past few months – when they’d reached a dead end in their search, Hermione had returned to the Hogwarts library almost full time and Harry and Ron returned to Grimmauld Place. There was nothing else to do but turn to what they did best – Hermione researched; Harry and Ron went flying headfirst into Merlin-knows-what kind of danger as soon as they knew when and where to do so.

The defining lines of their new relationship hadn’t even been laid – how could they even begin to explain? “Um, Ron, we’re sort of snogging now and then and we might have some sort of romantic relationship.” No, there was no sense risking turning their trio on end until they knew what it was they had.

Nevertheless, Harry couldn’t deny that he felt something intense for her…that she was certainly more than a mere friend now, that he thought about her night and day…that he quite possibly loved her. And that…well, that was quite a lot to keep from Ron.

Hermione babbled away about something irrelevant – Harry was too engrossed in his thoughts to pay much attention to what she was saying. It was mostly idle chatter anyway, fit to pass the time until they had to return to serious matters once more.

They ate a comfortable dinner and spent the rest of the evening in the drawing room, pretending they were still normal teenagers doing normal things. When the clock struck ten, Hermione stretched lithely and excused herself. Some fifteen minutes later, Harry could resist no longer and followed after her.

He considered going straight to her room and stealing the kiss he’d been dying for, but thought better of it. Perhaps she didn’t want that anymore…she’d always come to him before. He would wait for her to do so again.

But when he entered his room, he got the shock of his life – and considering he’d once found out that he was not only a wizard, but a famous one, that was saying a lot.

The first thing he noticed was Hermione’s shoes on the floor with her socks placed just inside them. The second thing he noticed was her pile of clothing at the foot of his bed – her jeans, her blouse, and folded neatly on top, a lacy white bra. Third and finally, he noticed his old Quidditch T-shirt, which was currently wrapped nicely about Hermione, who looked quite cozy in his bed.

She smiled shyly at him. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Harry swallowed. “No, of course not. I…um…I’ll change,” Harry said, almost as a question, searching for confirmation from her as to what to do next. He’d never been in this situation with a girl, especially not one as important and essential to his being as Hermione. He couldn’t afford to mess this up.

Settling back against the pillows, she watched him remove his socks, pants, and shirt. He could feel her eyes on him, and that left him hot and flustered. She was looking at him the way he looked at her, full of appreciation and – dare he say it – desire.

He pulled on a T-shirt to sleep in and slid into the bed beside her, very eager to take her into his arms. She looked so snug and warm under the blankets, so soft with her hair fanning out across the pillow…she looked like a brilliant night’s sleep. Whatever she intended to happen tonight, he would be content if he could just hold her close to him until the light of morning stirred them from their slumber.

As soon as he pulled the covers back over them, she snuggled into him and he gladly embraced her. She nuzzled his neck.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered. He shivered as her hot breath drifted across his skin.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, running his fingers through her hair. Letting the strands slip through his fingers, he continued, “I hate that you’re not here…with me.”

“So do I,” she said. “But I’m here now.”

Harry read the look in her eyes as an invitation and took the chance he’d wanted to take ever since he’d met her at Hogwarts. Soft and full, her lips accepted his kiss eagerly, and she tightened her hold on him.

Oh, how he’d needed this, her softness all around him, smooth legs sliding against his, her delicate fingers tangled in his hair. Life was so lonely without her around. Ever since they’d met, she’d been the only constant source of affection in his life – the only person that hugged him, that kissed him, that would pat his arm in reassurance. He’d had no idea he relied on that physical contact until he’d had to be without it, and now, he needed to make up for lost time.

Harry was glad Hermione was offering this affection, that she only pressed closer to him when he slipped his tongue into her mouth, that she responded with a moan of approval to his hands slipping under her shirt to caress her skin. She had a way with him, a way of completely clearing his mind of everything but her. He loved that about her.

When she tugged off his T-shirt, he didn’t question her; he didn’t want to, didn’t want to risk ending these few moments in heaven. She tossed her own shirt to the floor, and he knew he needn’t ask – no need to ask permission to take what was being freely given.

Soon he was naked, and so was she, and he dove into her beauty and drowned in it. He wasn’t sure if he was in love, but if he wasn’t, he was so close that he certainly would be by the time he woke up in the morning.

From the first gasp as he slid into her to the final cry as she came, making love to Hermione was like…music. All the harmony, all the discord, the rhythms and crescendos, came together in one fantastic melody that continued playing in his soul long after they’d ceased to move, nestled close under the covers. She’d given him an unexpected peace in this time of war, had shattered his doubts and left him somehow more complete than he’d been before, even though he hadn’t known he’d been missing anything at all. And even though he knew the worst was yet to come, he had a strange feeling that the best years of his life had just begun…with her.

As she fell asleep in the crook of his arm, his mind that had been so restless of late finally stilled, and he went to sleep that night without worrying what the next day would bring.

The End

A/N: I’m not sure if this will be the very last installment in the universe, but I’ve no more plans for it as of now, so don’t hold out hope. Soon to come is, hopefully, an update to Sanctuary, and then work on my novel-length…and, of course, more one-shots. Thanks for reading, all of you.