Disclaimer: See the Prologue.
Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, who's read and reviewed this so far!
Second Chances
Chapter 4: Regret
Harry blinked, disoriented, and it took him a moment to realize that he was back in the bedroom of his flat, back to his real life, his life where he was alone, where he had cut himself off from both Ron and Hermione… His life, that, successful and busy as it was, suddenly seemed incredibly empty and bleak…
He sat down heavily in a chair, closing his eyes as he rested his head on his hands, remembering, thinking of all he'd just witnessed… A silent, unseen witness to the joy he could have had and all he had been missing these years.
He started when he heard Sirius's voice, not having realized that apparently Sirius had returned from wherever it was he had gone.
"Well?"
Harry looked up. "I was an idiot, wasn't I?" he said bleakly.
"I wouldn't say-ok, yes, you were an idiot," Sirius admitted and Harry cracked a wan smile. Sirius continued on more soberly. "You made a mistake, yes, but I can't say you didn't have good intentions. It's good that you're loyal to your friends, good that you want what would make them happy. It's always been one of your strengths. But as you saw and as you should understand by now, you weren't why Ron and Hermione broke up. You were only one of many causes-and your leaving didn't mean that Ron and Hermione would get back together again either. And Harry, it's okay to be selfish sometimes."
Harry blinked, frowning slightly. "What?"
"It's okay to be selfish sometimes. Obviously not all the time or you'll turn into some sort of Slytherin creep but sometimes, it's what you have to do for yourself. Sometimes that's more important; sometimes it's the right thing to do."
He paused, sighed a little, let his head drop to look at the floor, and muttered more to himself than to Harry, "Now I wish Lily had come instead of me; she'd be better at saying this." He looked back up after a moment, continuing. "You and Hermione had love, the sort of love that really only comes once in a lifetime-and you gave it up. Harry, when you get the chance for that sort of love, you hold on to it with all you have in you. You don't give it up, no matter the difficulties. You don't take the easy way out. Do you understand what I'm saying, Harry?" His tone was quiet, understanding.
Harry looked up at the ghost of his godfather with so much naked emotion in his expression that Sirius felt uncomfortable for a moment, seeing Harry so vulnerable, so open. And for a moment, he looked much younger than his 27 years, looked for a moment like the little boy he had been when Sirius had first seen him after his escape from Azkaban.
"What- what can I do? Is it too late? Did- have I lost my chance?"
Sirius sighed. "That's not for me to say. Your parents and I have done what we could just in showing you what you could have had; we can't tell you what Hermione will say or do. We can't guarantee you a happy ending, Harry. Now it's up to you, to decide what you'll do now that you know the mistake you made and how you allowed yourself to stray from all you could have had."
Slowly Harry stood up, a new purpose and determination in his expression. "I'm going to go back."
Sirius smiled approvingly. "I thought you would."
"I'm going to go back and see if I'm too late. She loved me then; maybe, somehow, she still loves me now… But even if she doesn't, I have to find out; I have to try…" His voice dropped and the last phrase was spoken more to himself than to Sirius. "Because without her, nothing else will really matter…"
"Then my work here is done. And, Harry," Sirius paused, putting a hand briefly on his godson's shoulder, "good luck."
Harry smiled slightly. "Thanks, Sirius, for- for everything." He hesitated and then added, "And- and tell my parents, I- I said thank you, too."
Sirius nodded. "I will." He stepped back and grinned slightly. "And we'll still be watching you so we'll know what happens."
"Yeah," Harry said, without really knowing why.
And with a last smile, Sirius was gone.
Leaving Harry to stare for a moment at the empty space where just a moment ago, the ghost-like figure of his godfather had been standing-before he blinked and shook his head slightly to clear it, beginning to mentally plan all he needed to do before he could return to England-and to her…
He'd never imagined this would be how it would be.
In the few times he'd allowed himself to think about what it'd be like to return to England, to see Hermione again, he'd never thought it'd be like this.
Hiding under his Invisibility Cloak outside her flat, waiting for her to come home… Because even though he was a Gryffindor, an Auror, and had faced Voldemort and Death Eaters, somehow, the idea of facing Hermione knowing what he did, feeling what he did, scared him more than anything else.
It had been two weeks since Sirius-or Sirius's ghost-had visited, two weeks of remembering and thinking… Two weeks where he'd managed to settle everything with his supervisor for being permanently transferred back to London, two weeks of saying goodbye to the few friends he'd made in Boston, two weeks where he'd been unable to think of anything besides Hermione-and what a monumental idiot he had been to let her go…
Two weeks of alternately hoping for and dreading this moment of standing outside her door.
His dread had momentarily conquered his hope, hence why he was standing outside under his Invisibility Cloak so he might, at least, see her without her seeing him.
And as if the thought had called her, he heard her voice coming up the stairwell and froze at the familiar sound.
"You really didn't have to, you know," she was saying.
"I know," responded another voice, an unfamiliar, male voice-and he stiffened, now immensely thankful for his Cloak. "I wanted to, though, and besides, it's pretty much on my way, anyway."
"It's a waste of time," Hermione protested half-laughingly and then he saw her for the first time in 7 years.
She hadn't changed much. Her hair looked slightly tamer but since it was pulled back away from her face, he couldn't really judge. She was dressed as simply and as practically as she had always dressed, in pants and a loosely-fitted blouse-she was lovely.
His eyes took in these details of her appearance but they didn't quite register as his mind was preoccupied with the sight of Hermione's companion, whom Harry didn't recognize but irrationally resented on sight just for the seemingly-proprietary way in which he had a hand on Hermione's arm.
"Thanks for dinner," Hermione smiled up at her friend.
"Anytime. It was my turn anyway," the man smiled and Harry didn't even have time to react to the implication that they met and had dinner together on a regular basis before his world seemed to stop, his heart cracking, as Hermione kissed the man on the cheek with obvious affection and gave him a quick hug.
Harry felt himself retreat instinctively until he felt the wall at his back, leaning against it as he felt his body sag.
He was too late.
He was too late; Hermione was already involved with someone else, someone whom she clearly cared for (he could see it in the way she smiled at him, hear it in the tone of her voice as she talked with him).
Of course he was too late. What had he been expecting, that Hermione would have been pining for him these past 7 years, just waiting for him to realize his mistake? She wouldn't have done that; he knew her too well to think it. She was so strong, independent; she would have moved on. And it wasn't as if there would have been a shortage of fellows for her to choose from; Hermione was smart and pretty and kind and caring and…
And he had thrown away his chance.
He sighed heavily, trying to reconcile himself to a future that would bear no resemblance to the one which he'd seen, before slowly straightening, shrugging out from under his Cloak since Hermione had gone inside while her friend had left. He couldn't completely give up now, not until he saw her and heard her tell him he had no chance. He had to try… He had to tell her…
With that resolve in mind, clinging desperately to his tiny remaining shred of hope, based on the very sincerity of her tone and her expression when she'd told him she was in love with him so many years ago, he raised his hand to knock.
Then he hesitated, dropped his hand, sighed, and then shook his head. This was ridiculous. He was a Gryffindor, wasn't he? He'd been running from and denying his feelings for years now; it was about time he faced up to them.
On that thought, he took another breath and knocked firmly.
The door opened promptly with Hermione's smiling voice, "David, did you for--" And then she saw him and her words cut off abruptly as she stared, her eyes widening and her breath catching in her throat.
He managed a smile. "Hello, Hermione."
"Harry?" she asked faintly and then again, louder this time. "Harry?" Then she had thrown her arms around him in a hug that took his breath away. "Oh Harry!"
His arms closed around her as he rested his head on hers, breathing in the remembered and familiar smell of her shampoo and that essence that was simply her. Oh God, he had missed this-and he wondered now how he could possibly have stayed away from her for so long, how he could possibly have convinced himself he didn't need her, didn't love her, could live perfectly happily separated by an entire ocean. If what he'd seen in Sirius's visions hadn't convinced him, he knew that this moment of seeing her, of hugging her again, would have done it. And he knew he could never leave her again. No matter what she said to his question, no matter what her feelings for him still were… He couldn't leave her. He needed her in his life, even if it was simply as his best friend.
It was a few minutes before she stepped back, suddenly recalled to herself. And in the rather awkward silence that ensued after she let him into her flat, he realized just how much he had damaged their friendship.
"What- what are you doing here, Harry?" Hermione finally asked quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.
He took a deep breath and finally just blurted out, "I- I came to tell you that I've been an idiot. I was an idiot."
An odd expression he couldn't quite decipher crossed her face fleetingly. She didn't need to ask what he was talking about; she understood, as always, and in spite of everything.
"I- I was scared and I didn't want to hurt Ron and- and I was a prat." He sighed, running an absent hand through his hair, before meeting her eyes squarely to say what he'd come back to England to say. "I love you, Hermione. I'm in love with you. I was in love with you then; I always will love you." He paused, regret momentarily twisting his features as he saw the pained expression on her face, and then continued on. "I- I love you, Hermione-and I came back to tell you that and to ask… Am I too late? Can you forgive me? Do- do you still care?"
She turned around so her back was to him, her shoulders shaking slightly-and his heart broke.
"Hermione, please," he burst out, knowing he sounded desperate, which he was, and not caring, "please. I- I know I was an idiot and I don't deserve it. I- I don't expect you to still love me but at least give me another chance. Please, just give me one more chance. Give me some hope…" he trailed off.
It seemed an eternity before she turned around again, although it was really only a few minutes, an eternity in which he remembered all he'd seen in the visions and wondered bleakly, how he was going to live if she said it was too late.
But finally, she did turn to face him again, slowly, turn so he could see the traces of tears on her cheeks and the tears still glistening in her eyes. His heart twisted at this evidence of just how much he must have hurt her.
"You broke my heart," she said quietly. There was no reproach in her tone; it was a statement of fact.
He flinched and moved one step forward, closer to her. "I know. I'm so sorry, Hermione."
"You left, letting a letter say goodbye, at a time when you knew Ron and I weren't really talking and left me alone, without the help of either of my best friends. I had to move on alone."
He paled slightly, closing his eyes briefly as if to brace himself. "Am- am I too late?" he faltered.
"I don't know, Harry," she answered honestly. "I just don't know. I- I'm not the same person I was back then. I changed; I had to. And it's been so long. I- you can't just show up after 7 years and expect me to have been pining for you all these years!" she burst out, anger flaring up suddenly.
He flinched again as if he'd been struck, remorse and regret written all over his face as he looked at her. "I know. I- I don't expect, didn't expect, you to have been waiting. I- I just need to know I can try, need to know it's not too late."
And finally, finally, she smiled slightly-and he knew he had her answer. He could have his second chance. The soul-deep relief he felt nearly brought him to his knees and he closed his eyes momentarily and let out a breath before looking back up at her.
"Have dinner with me tomorrow night?" he asked quietly, holding his breath for this answer on which it seemed his entire future life depended.
A few moments of silence passed, and then-"Yes," she answered.
He smiled.
And with that one word, the first step was taken to rebuilding their friendship and moving toward the future he had so blindly thrown away…
To be continued…