Disclaimer: All things HP belong to JKR, no money is being made, etc etc.
Author's Note: Written for the hhr_serendipity ficathon on LiveJournal and posted there first.
Partly inspired by Charles Dickens' "The Christmas Carol."
Much love and hugs to Anne for reading this over and giving me feedback on it.
Second Chances
Prologue: You're Wrong
"Thanks for giving me a shoulder to cry on these past few days," Hermione said with a grateful smile at Harry.
He smiled back. "Anytime. What else are best friends for?"
An odd expression he couldn't read flitted over her face. He wondered at this reaction to something he'd said lightly enough though with perfect sincerity, but dismissed it.
He opened his mouth to say something about how she'd done the same for him before but her mouth was suddenly in the way. She flattened herself against him, kissing him with a passion he'd never dreamed of.
He stiffened in shock before his arms went around her automatically, his lips softening unconsciously…
This was Hermione and he cared about her and even though he'd never allowed himself to think about kissing her before, she tasted so good and this felt so- right- somehow…
And she had just gotten over telling him she loved Ron and crying over their break-up.
The thought quenched his growing response with the efficacy of a bucketful of ice-cold water and he stiffened again, gently putting her away from him.
"No, Hermione, I can't. We can't," he blurted out, looking anywhere but at her lips, slightly swollen from their kiss.
"I know you're hurting but this isn't what you need or want. I'm not what you want. You want Ron and- and we can't do this. Not now, not when you only want this for comfort," he said as gently as possible, given that he was torn between wanting to kiss her again or run as fast and as far as he could.
"Oh Harry…" she sighed and he finally dared to look at her.
She was pale but there was a hint of some new resolve in her face, of gathering her courage and he waited tensely for what she was going to say.
"I do love Ron; of course I do. He and I-we just-we've been together for so long; he was my first real boyfriend…" she trailed off, looking down and then looked up at him meeting his gaze again bravely. "But Harry, I love you too."
He tried to smile but only managed a brief twitch of his lips. "Yeah, I know. I love you too."
She let out a breath that was almost a laugh though there was no amusement in her expression. "No, Harry. I'm in love with you."
There was a strange buzzing in his ears as he stared at her, convinced he must be hallucinating and wondering wildly if his knees were going to give way. She hadn't-she couldn't have-just said…
"I- you- what?" he croaked.
A small, sad smile crossed her face. "I'm in love with you, Harry. It- it's partly why Ron and I broke up because I- I realized that and lately he's been hinting-hinting that I should stop working and- and we should…" she trailed off and finished miserably on a sigh, looking down at the floor, "get married… It- it just wasn't going to work anymore…"
"No," he said, his voice sounding strange in his own ears, feeling his head move back and forth in automatic, instinctive denial, feeling as if the world were suddenly collapsing in around him.
"No," he said again. "You- you can't. I- you- no…"
He remembered seeing Ron's pale face when he'd dropped by Ron's flat a few days after Hermione had come crying to him over their break-up. Remembered the empty bottles of Firewhiskey around him and the dull, emotionless way he'd greeted Harry. "Hi, mate. Come to help me drown my sorrows?" he'd asked with a sardonic twist on his lips.
Ron had been-was-so hurt, oddly resigned, but hurt and trying (and failing) to cover it with a mask of cynicism and detachment.
Harry had stayed, not drinking much but only watching as Ron slowly but steadily went through another several bottles, still retaining some coherence, amazingly enough, listening as he rambled about Hermione… About how he guessed he'd always known they wouldn't last but he hadn't wanted to acknowledge it, how he loved her no matter how angry she could sometimes make him, how he missed her and wanted her back even as part of him knew that, somehow, they might be better off apart…
Harry had been miserable, between his sympathy for Ron and his sympathy for Hermione; they were both his best friends and seeing both of them so wretched tore at his heart.
And now-and now-Hermione was telling him why, or at least, partly why, all this had happened and both his best friends weren't talking and were unhappy…
And he knew what he had to do.
He forced himself to take a few deep, calming breaths, refusing to meet Hermione's eyes so he couldn't see the vulnerability, the desperate hope, the appeal, in them.
He managed a smile though it felt stiff and unnatural on his lips. "Thank you but you and I both know it's not true," he began gently, hating the awkward formality of his tone and words but unable to help it.
He closed his ears to her little intake of breath and his heart to the incredulity warring with pain in her expression and her eyes. "You love me, yes, as your best friend, just as I love you. But it's Ron you really love. Ron, not me. If you think about it, you'll realize I'm right."
He stopped, having run out of words to say and suddenly, miserably aware that, even if he didn't-he couldn't-believe Hermione's confession, part of him desperately wanted to believe it…
Part of him wanted to believe that Hermione really did love him in that way, wanted to believe it because maybe- just maybe, he might care about her in that way too… And then he cut off that thought, killed it before it could grow.
Good God, no. He didn't-he couldn't-he'd never thought of Hermione in that way! She was his best friend, had always been his best friend, had been Ron's girlfriend since their 7th year-and he'd never thought of her that way…
And yet-and yet… Part of him did want to believe that Hermione really loved him…
And the realization stunned-and horrified-him. What kind of friend was he to want something that would hurt his best friend? No, Hermione was mistaking her feelings for him as real love from gratitude at his having been there for her these past few days, putting her feelings for Ron onto him because she'd been hurt by Ron somehow… She had to be… And Ron loved her; they should be happy together…
She hadn't said anything, was still only staring at him as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
He made himself move closer to her and brushed a chaste, very platonic kiss against her forehead. "Goodnight, Hermione," he murmured and left her flat before she could speak.
Goodnight was what he said; what he meant was goodbye…
~*~
It had been surprisingly easy to be transferred from Auror Training in England to the American equivalent in Boston for the last remaining months of the program.
There had been notices posted in the Auror Training Headquarters in London, asking for volunteers to complete their training and then begin work in Boston, as the number of trainees in America was significantly less than their counterparts in England. He'd signed up the next day with only a brief pang at the thought of all he'd be leaving behind. But this was what he needed to do…
Transfers were effective immediately and he'd only had time to see Ron and say goodbye. He had bent the truth saying he'd been told to transfer, leaving out the fact that he'd volunteered to avoid any uncomfortable questions.
He had not seen Hermione, did not want to see Hermione, was almost afraid to see her. He sent her a short letter explaining his transfer-and that he'd be cut off from owls during training which was true although not as strict a rule as he deliberately implied…
Dear Hermione,
When you read this, I'll already have left for America.
The Aurors there are low in numbers and I'm being sent to finish training in Boston and then start my actual work there.
I'm sorry I didn't have time to see you before I left, and sorry, too, that I won't be able to send or receive owls during the last few months of training in Boston.
I'll be in touch as soon as I can. I wish I could say when I'll be back but I don't know.
I just wanted to say, goodbye…
I'll miss you, Hermione. You are-you'll always be-my best friend and I love you.
About the other night, I honestly believe you and Ron should try again. You love him, you know you do. And I want you both to be happy.
Take care of yourself; don't work too hard as you tend to do. And be happy, Hermione.
Love, Harry
~*~
Hermione finished reading the letter, swiping away the tears she was tired of crying.
Harry thought she really was in love with Ron, that she hadn't fully thought about what she was saying to him…
Slowly she folded the letter back up and put it away.
"Goodbye, Harry," she said softly to the empty room. "But you're wrong…"