Title: All Nights (11/?)
Keywords: Hermione, Harry, Harry/Hermione
Summary: After facing Voldemort and witnessing Malfoy's death, Hermione has to deal with the aftermath.
Rating: R
Word Count: 3, 365
A/N: This was a very emotionally draining chapter to write. The good news is that I'm really feeling this story again. Thanks, as always, to everyone who's given me feedback and encouragement, I hope you guys like this one.
Hermione awoke to the soft murmur of voices. She shifted and the familiar lump of a Hogwarts' hospital bed pushed against her spine. She drew in a breath and it pierced through her side.
"Gently, Hermione. You need to give your body a chance to heal."
Harry. She opened her eyes to find him sitting next to her bed, his fingers linked together and elbows resting on his knees.
"Hey," he said. "Madam Pomfrey healed your wound, but I reckon you'll be sore for some time."
Hermione touched her side and winced. She licked her lips. "What's going on?"
"Oh…" Harry glanced over to where Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, Tonks, and Lupin were clustered. "Dunno. They're trying to figure out how Voldemort managed to get in here, I s'pect. They've… er, they've decided to send Malfoy back to his mother." Harry paused. "But I've been paying more attention to you, honestly."
Hermione swallowed and fought to sit up. Harry moved forward. "Hey-take it slow."
She grabbed his arm to hold herself steady and found his gaze. "Malfoy thought there was a Horcrux here."
Harry frowned. "Well-yeah, it's a nice theory, but-"
"Connection," she blurted. Her grip tightened on his arm. "They're all connected. To each other, to Voldemort, to you-what is he connected to?"
Harry's eyes widened as he thought. "Hang on-if it was…" he trailed off and stood up. "I'll be right back, okay?"
He squeezed her hand and rushed off, the hospital wing's door swinging shut behind him. Hermione leaned back against the pillows, fighting tears.
"How yeh doing?"
Hagrid's kindly face stared down at her, his eyebrows crinkled together in a frown of concern. Hermione's throat burned and she looked away.
"I'm-I'm…" her chest heaved and she clamped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, Hagrid."
The bed squeaked as Hagrid sat down next to her. He held up a large handkerchief, the edges frayed. "Here-yeh've been through a rough time, Hermione."
She took the handkerchief and blew her nose, letting out a loud sniffle. "I saw-Voldemort killed Malfoy…." She wiped at her eyes. "Oh, it was awful, Hagrid. He didn't deserve to die that way. He was a terrible person, Malfoy was, but he didn't deserve it."
Hagrid didn't say anything, but the concern on his face seemed to break through her defenses.
"Harry's right angry with me, isn't he?" she couldn't keep the pleading note out of her voice. "It was stupid what I did, I know it was-and I suppose he had to leave the Weasleys to come here, didn't he?"
Hagrid ducked his head. "You should'a seen him while yeh were unconscious, Hermione. He's feeling a whole lot. Give 'im time."
"Yeah," she whispered, squeezing the handkerchief between her fingers. "How much time? I think… well, I think… I could really use a best friend now."
Hagrid looked on the verge of tears himself. Hermione handed him back his handkerchief and he wiped at his eyes.
"I daresay you were lucky, Miss Granger."
Professor McGonagall's shoes clicked along the floor as she approached her bed. Hagrid hurriedly stood up and shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket.
"I know, Professor," she said softly.
"Good bit of magic, that was, leaving a message with your cat. Though, if Mr. Potter hadn't thought to go looking for you-" McGonagall stopped and pressed her lips together. "Well, there's no need to go over that."
Hermione nodded and stared down at her hands. Heat rose to her cheeks. "I'm sorry for letting you down."
"Oh, child." McGonagall squeezed her shoulder before hastily pulling away. "You're young-it's such a heavy responsibility for the three of you. There's no need to dwell on what might have been. You will learn from this mistake."
Hermione looked up at her. "Malfoy died, Professor. I rather think it's a bit late to learn the lesson."
"Malfoy, Miss Granger, was perfectly capable of making his own decisions. Unless you yourself performed the killing curse on him, you are not to blame."
Hermione folded the top of the sheet over and back again. Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip. "Thank you, Professor."
McGonagall's voice was gentle. "Have Potter take you home, Granger. I think you could use a fair bit of rest."
"Yes," she said. "That would be nice."
***
Hermione insisted on walking on her own after she and Harry Apparated back inside Grimmauld Place. A sharp pain throbbed below her skin, reaching from her hip to under her breastbone.
"Are you certain you're alright?"
"Fine," Hermione said, smiling. "Did you… did you find something? After you went rushing off?" She clung onto the edge of the kitchen table for support.
Harry's gaze didn't falter from hers. It made her feel uncomfortable-it was like he was looking for something, some answer she didn't have.
"I've got a hunch."
"And what's that?"
She saw something flicker in his eyes. "Oh, it was just…" he turned away and started to pace. When he stopped, his face was tight. "Why did you do it?"
She stared. "What?"
"You know, I've done loads of stupid things before, but at least there was a reason!"
Hermione took a startled step backwards, bumping into the table. "I thought it was the right thing, Harry. Malfoy said-"
"Malfoy?" Harry said, voice rising. "Are we talking about the same Draco Malfoy here? Because I'm nearly certain we don't trust him!"
"We don't-that's why I left a note with Crookshanks! But I had to, Harry. If there was even some chance he was right, I couldn't let that be."
"Couldn't let that be?" Harry said. "This isn't your responsibility!"
"Not my responsibility?" she said shrilly. "How can you even say that?"
He whipped the hair back from over his forehead and took two steps towards her. "That's why. I'm the one with the bloody scar!"
"So what?" she said, her chin trembling. "I hardly think that means you're the only one who's allowed to fight this war."
"You almost DIED! What the-hell-would ever…" Harry stopped, his throat working. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so furious. "To go off with Malfoy, of all people. You do remember him, don't you? Held you under Crucio? THAT MALFOY!?"
She swallowed. "Of course I remember," she said quietly. "I thought I was being careful."
"CAREFUL?" he repeated. She winced. "Careful is waiting for Ron and I-that's what careful is. What was all that about doing this together? Here's what we'll do, Harry. We'll take one thing at a time. And you know? I believed you. How do you think I felt when I learned you disappeared?"
"Surprised you noticed at all, really," she said bitterly. "You seemed awfully busy with Ginny at the time."
She watched him stare at her for a moment, colour rushing up to his cheeks. "You can't honestly tell me that's-" he faltered and gave her a piercing look. "That's why you took off? Because I went to visit Ginny? I'm sorry, Hermione, I suppose I reckoned you'd have more faith in us than that."
"Oh, don't give me that," she said. "Last time I thought someone cared about me, he ended up snogging Lavender Brown. Do you know what it's like seeing someone you care about with someone else?" She watched him blink and she set her jaw. "It wasn't right what I did, I'm not saying it was, but don't go putting all the blame on me, Harry."
Harry flinched and, if possible, seemed to grow angrier. "Well, what was I supposed to do?" he hollered. "She was lying in a hospital bed, for fuck's sakes. Sorry, Gin, 'fraid I don't much care for you anymore, turns out I'm with Hermione now, how about that? She'd been tortured, Hermione. She watched her parents nearly die to protect her. Sorry, but it didn't strike me as the best time to bring up our relationship."
He spat the last work. She took a step back, clenching her hands together until her nails dug into her skin.
"When I got to Hogwarts and saw Malfoy…"he was nearly choking on his words. "I thought I was too late."
Her voice was a raw, desperate sound. "I'm sorry." Tears sprung into her eyes. She rubbed at her arms. "Harry, I'm so sorry."
Silence descended. She didn't know what else to say.
Harry's anger seemed to go as quickly as it came. With forced calmness, he said, "We're through."
The words pierced through the kitchen. Her eyes widened. "I-what?"
"We're through," he said again. He didn't meet her eyes. "This can't ever work."
"Can't work?" she repeated, her tongue and lips feeling heavy. "What are you saying?"
Slowly, he reached into his pockets and drew out the two vials Madam Pomfrey had given her for her injury. He set them on the kitchen table next to her.
"Pack up your stuff," he said, in a practiced, mechanical tone. "I'll take you back to your parents. You said it yourself, you miss them."
"Miss them?" she said, stumbling over the words. "Harry, are you-you're asking me to leave, aren't you?"
He waited a moment before answering. "Yes," he said. He looked back up at her and met her eyes. His voice was soft. "You'll be safe there."
Before she could say anything, he turned his back and left the kitchen. His footsteps were heavy and plodding. Hermione stayed frozen, numb shock filtering through her system. Her side ached and her head felt like it might explode.
"Harry!" she finally said, real anger in her voice. She ignored the vials on the table and rushed after him. "Don't you dare, don't you dare!" He stopped and she limped after him. Her hands and legs shook from the exertion.
"I'm not stupid!" she yelled, getting up in his face. "I know what you're doing and it's not going to work!"
She jabbed a finger at his chest and his mouth fell open. "I'm not a cowardly little girl waiting on you to save me! I'm more than that, Harry, and you need me on this. I don't care if it puts me in trouble-I made that choice long ago!"
She wanted to push him. Instead, she took a step back and glared. "You can't shut me out, I won't let you. It's too late for that."
Harry seemed to recover from his initial surprise. "And I won't have you putting yourself in danger because of me!"
"Danger?" she spat. She tore at her shirt, pulling down the neckline so that her right shoulder was visible. There was a faint scratch etched on her skin, running from below her breast to her neck. "This, Harry-I got this when you dragged me off the Department of Mysteries two years ago! Do you remember that?"
"Hermione-"
"And I never blamed you!" she said hoarsely. It was exhausting her to stand upright, but she grasped his hands, needing to make him understand. "I went with you even when I knew it was a trap-I went. So stop it! Stop blaming me for this!"
Harry pulled his hands away. "That was different. I thought Sirius was in trouble."
She almost laughed at that. She pressed a hand to her forehead and tried to regain her balance. "Oh, you never could listen to reason, could you? Honestly, Harry-I don't know what else to say to you."
Harry gazed at the floor. "You ought to get some rest, then."
He moved to turn away. She let out a high-pitched sniff and lunged forward to grab his arm. "You complete and utter git! You're worse than Ron, you know. At least he always had the stones to face me!"
Harry spun around and she almost lost her balance. "I love you," he said flatly.
She gasped, her hands flying to her face.
He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. He let out a shaky breath.
"I love you."
"Oh, my god," she whispered. Her chest heaved with a sudden flare of pain and the colour drained from her face. "Oh, my-"
Harry came forward, his forehead crinkling. "What? What's wrong?"
"I-oh…" she moaned and clutched her side before meeting his eyes. "I left Madam Pomfrey's vials in the kitchen."
"Er… oh-right-" Harry gave her an anxious look before rushing off. Hermione stumbled her way to the banister, the room spinning around her.
When Harry came back, his hands were shaking as he uncapped the first bottle. "Take a small sip, your system won't like it if you down the whole thing at once."
She nodded. The liquid was sharp, like lemons, and burned her throat. It warmed the inside of her stomach, making her skin tingle. Her eyes watered, but the pounding in her head subsided.
"Better?" Harry asked softly.
She finished the second vial, wincing at the taste. "A little."
"Alright, you… er-" He thought for a moment. "You should get some rest."
"Harry-"
"Rest," he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Just… get some rest. We'll talk later, okay?"
"I…." She trailed off, as he turned around and practically ran off. She sighed. "Okay."
She climbed the stairs in a daze, stumbling to her bed and collapsing facedown on it. Images from the last twenty-four hours passed in front of her eyes; Malfoy lying unconscious on the floor, Voldemort as he hurtled her Sectumsempra back at her, Grawp's gnawing face, and Harry's cold eyes as he yelled at her.
She could feel the potion working its magic through her body, relaxing her muscles, making her eyes feel heavy. Blindness overtook her, pushing the thoughts from her mind. Her pillows and sheets smelled like she remembered-fresh and clean, with the barest hints of roses.
***
Her mouth tasted like sawdust when she woke up. She pushed the hair out of her face, forcing the loose strands behind her ears. Her body protested as she made her way downstairs. I ought to take a shower or a hot bath… or perhaps go back to bed and never awake…
A creak made her pause. "Harry?" she said.
She didn't get an answer. She stopped to listen, rubbing her fingers together against the evening chill. Another moment passed and then-there. She heard the noise again. It was coming from the living room.
"Harry?" she repeated. "Are you alright?"
She found him sleeping on the couch. He was resting facedown on a book, one leg hanging off the edge of the couch. His glasses were hooked over one ear and lay across his mouth. Various open books were scattered around the floor. She could see notes scrawled in the margins, some from her, some from him.
He was not sleeping peacefully. Sweat glistened along his brow and he moaned, his face contorting. She recognized the way his forehead was creasing-it had to be his scar. She bit her lip, feeling as if she was intruding on his privacy. He was so much more vulnerable this way, so different from the anger he'd shown her earlier.
"Oh, Harry," she whispered, sinking down to her knees beside him. He rubbed at his forehead with one hand, but didn't open his eyes. She sighed and studied him.
One of her knees rested against an open book. She glanced down at it. Though many have attempted it, the best-known triumph over death was by Nicolas Flamel. Outside of externally imposed magical sustainability, however, immortality is thought to be near impossible…
She pushed the book off to the side and reached for his hand. She held it between both of hers, tracing his fingers with her own. His thrashing began to subside. She turned his hand over, palm side up and leaned forward to press her lips to his wrist.
She glanced up and gasped. His eyes were open. She dropped his hand and back away, her foot landing on the book and tearing the page.
"Harry-Oh, I didn't notice that you were-how long have you been awake?"
He sat up and rubbed his eyes before putting his glasses back on. "Not long," he said. "I didn't mean to fall asleep in the first place."
"Well, I daresay you probably needed it."
"Yeah," he said vaguely. The light from the fire bounced off his glasses, making the rest of his face seem pale. "How are you feeling?"
Something in his tone went through her. She tried to smile, but her lips trembled and she pinched them together. "I'm…" she shook her head and laced her hands together. "I've been better, honestly."
Harry slipped off the couch so he was level with her. "Let me see."
A single tear dripped down her cheek as she moved closer to him. He gently raised her shirt over her stomach, the fingers of his other hand dancing over the fiery red skin of her side.
"Does that hurt?"
"No."
He placed his other hand on her other side, her shirt falling back down. His hands felt warm against her bare stomach. He moved them to her back, his thumbs smoothing over the curve of her spine. They looked at each other, their noses close enough to touch, and his breath tickled over her neck.
"Hermione?" his voice was barely above a whisper.
She cupped his face in her hands. "What is it?"
"When I said I wanted you to leave earlier…" he struggled and bowed his head. "It was stupid. I didn't mean it."
She forced his head up so she could look into his eyes. "Do you love me, Harry?"
"Yes." He hesitated. "D'you understand what that means for you? It'll get worse than what you faced earlier. Malfoy was only the beginning, if Voldemort had any idea what you really are to me-"
"Shhh," she said. "Don't-don't ruin it."
"Okay," he said, voice breaking. "Okay."
She hugged him tightly and his arms nearly crushed her. And she didn't care. She clenched a fistful of his shirt in one hand and pulled away so she could kiss him. He moaned, his tongue flicking out against her teeth. His hands moved further up her back, under the clasp of her bra.
When he pushed her down against the floor, she didn't protest. She wanted to feel him pressed up against her
He moved his lips down her neck, his kisses having a slow, drugged feel to them. One of her hands tangled in his hair and the other traced his back, pulling at his shirt.
He squeezed her breast, his fingers finding her nipple. They kissed again, slowly. "Are you alright?" he mumbled.
"Yes," she said. She turned her head to kiss his cheek. "Yes, I'm alright. This-this feels-"
"Brilliant," he said, almost in awe.
She giggled and pressed her face to his shoulder. He took the opportunity to undo her bra clasp. "Smart boy," she whispered.
"Mmhmm," he said, pushing her down on her back again. He lifted her shirt over her head and then held her hair back while he kissed her again.
"I don't… well, I don't think having a quick shag is exactly the best way to fix-mmff-"
His lips were on her neck again, which she was discovering was a very sensitive place. His fingers traced a path down her stomach, over her hips, before reaching the button and fly of her jeans.
"It's not a shag, Hermione. This is more than-" He met her eyes. "It's us. I need to feel close to you."
"Oh, Harry," she said. She found his hand and their fingers entwined together. "I love you."
He stared at her for a moment and then smiled, squeezing her hand. "We'll talk afterwards, okay?"
She didn't give him an answer. Instead, she helped him pull down her jeans, removing the barriers between them one step at a time. With Harry, she never had to pretend.
***