Fix You

caalan

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 27/11/2005
Last Updated: 27/11/2005
Status: completed

A simple conversation about a job fair leads to a wonderful discussion regarding hope. One shot.

Chapters

1. Fix You

1. Fix You

Author/Artist: Caalan
Title: Fix You
Prompt: Harry and Hermione go over career choices
Summary (for fics) Medium (for art): A discussion of a Job Fair leads to a meaningful conversation regarding hope.
Warning: None
Other ships: Mere mention of past H/G; R/Hr is not mentioned because in HBP it was only hinted at with even more anvils and not established. Interviews do not count as canon.
Rating: PG – A very safe one

From his view on the hill, he could see all the activity on the pitch below. Even from his distant perch he could smell the grassy turf and the wind was just right for flying. Usually it was a sight that never ceased to uplift him…a green field, a blindingly blue sky, the territorial colors of the House flags whipping in a perpetual cheer. He never thought there would come a time when he would seek to avoid this place. At the moment, however, it was crawling with people, colorful pennants, ramshackle booths, and possibly the most disturbing thing….hope.

Today Hogwarts was hosting its annual Job Fair. All the graduating students and sixth years were swarming the field below, listening to recruiting speeches and taking contact cards for all types of Wizarding employment from Honeyduke’s to St. Mungo’s, or even the Ministry. Not even the possibility of professional Quidditch scouts could tempt Harry from his solitary watch. They all had him pigeon-holed anyway. He was The Boy Who Would Save Them All and at the moment mingling among all that…hope…was more burden than he could bear.

A soft sound behind him in the distance brought him out of his observation of the remote crowd. She always found him, and he always was aware of her arrival. She had a way of walking, her steps calculated and measured, efficient but never rushed. Whether she knew her path like the back of her hand or she was encroaching on unknown terrain, it seemed she always recognized a path and it showed in the confidence of her footfalls. It was a comforting sound to him and he smiled. She came and sat next to him in silence a few moments, simply regarding the chaos below. She didn’t bother to ask why he was here, hiding in the heights; she already knew.

The fact that she could comfort him so easily in turn made him a bit nervous. He felt he shouldn’t be allowed such a thing as comfort, not yet; not when he had such horrible tasks ahead. He spoke out of the overwhelming need to find tension, to keep him alert.

“Don’t you find it a waste of time?”

She glanced at him. “What? The fair? No.”

Harry continued on, looking for the right angle, the one to inspire the fire in her, the one that would in turn inspire the motivation in him. “No? Most of those people down there will be engaged in a battle of life and death sometime soon, and it will have nothing to do with candies, or medical potions, or administration skills. Even the students will probably be in a war before they will be up for a job interview.”

She smiled sadly, not taking the bait this time. “You are probably right, but they need this type of thing, we all do.”

“How can denial be beneficial to our cause, in any form?” He crossed his arms over his knees and turned to her somewhat, determined to tempt her ire with all things evil to the surface. He needed that. She could always inspire him; remind him that it was all worth it when she ranted against the atrocities they’d seen.

“It isn’t denial, Harry.” She turned her face into the sun, basking in its warmth.

“What would you call it then?”

“Hope.”

Harry cringed. There was that word. Hope. Ever since the death of Dumbledore it seemed he had lost patience with anything resembling that emotion. “I don’t see the point, really. It seems like counting chickens from eggs and all of that. What we have to do is hard enough without adding silly dreams on top of it.”

Hermione finally turned her gaze on him then, concern evident in her expression and her stern voice. “How on earth could you call that silly?”

Good, Harry thought, finally the rise he’d been looking for.

She continued, waving her hand over the motion of the crowds below. “They need this. This normality. This reminder. It isn’t that they expect any of it to be there tomorrow or a week from now, a year from now. It’s the little things we hold on to, Harry.”

She turned her face into the sun again, a breeze lifting her hair a bit, rearranging the magnificent untidiness of it. “The little things like the breeze breaking through the hills, a simple dance with friends, the job or internship after school…the simple act of living and planning that fuels the desire to win this war.” She turned to him again, concern still there, but her voice softening, causing his chest to ache. “Don’t you have that, Harry? Little things like that?”

“I have to focus on what I have to do.” Harry’s gaze upon the pitch below was hard, irritation rose at his failure to find the angry inspiration he needed. “I can’t afford to hope.”

He had expected immediate verbal retaliation. Several beats of silence caused him to slyly glance her way. She was again watching the mass below, that look upon her face, the one that she held when she encountered a tricky potion or spell. One could literally see her going back through her time and experiences to find factors to help her deduce the solution. He openly admired her now while she was so distracted, the way she chewed her lip and the way her eyes would blink slowly as she categorized another fact in her brilliant mind. He was so involved in watching her that her matter of fact voice caused him to jump.

“It scares you.”

“Excuse me?”

She turned to him, shifting all of her weight and pulling at him to face her as well. “Hope. It scares you.”

“I can’t afford fear either, Hermione. Neither can you.”

“Oh, shut up, Harry. You are so worried about the tactical facet of our task when you really need to ask if you even want to do this. Why would you? Without hope…why would you?”

He couldn’t keep his voice from being bitter, “Because that’s MY job, Hermione. Why go to a job fair? I have a job. Assassinate the Dark Lord, seems I came into this world pre-qualified.”

“You are a lot like him, you know.” She sat back a bit, head cocked to the side sporting that all-knowing smirk.

“I am nothing like him.” He ground out, unable to keep the sneer off his face. Has she always been this annoying? He thought. “You’ve got a bit of the Dark Lord in you, did you know? Just there!” His Inner Hermione stabbed at his scar while the real thing continued on, set to make her point clear.

“Maybe not, Harry, but right now you are.” A trace of impatience laced her words. “You keep looking for anger to keep you going…hate. He has one objective – Kill them all. You have only one too – Kill Him.”

He sulked silently and after a moment he heard her sigh as she settled closer to him, assured now that he wasn’t going to bolt away. She sat quietly, picking up a stray leaf or rock to examine it more closely…simply waiting him out.

“I don’t have anything else, Hermione…not anymore.”

Again her soft voice, not the fiery one he had hoped for earlier, but the one that made his throat tighten and his eyes burn. He looked down at the ground, watching a stream of ants busily carrying tiny unknown fragments. He wondered how far they had to go with their tiny burdens.

“Harry, if that’s all you believe, if you don’t have something, anything to look forward to, then we will never make it. He’s already won.” She ducked her head so that she could sneak into his line of vision. “Surely, there is something, anything that makes you happy, something you love.”

He locked eyes with her then, the moment stretching…how far would it go? He had no idea even what he was trying to convey to her but by the furrow in her brow she was gleaning some type of information.

“That’s why you broke up with Ginny.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “This has nothing to do with Ginny!”

“Yes, Harry, it does.” She grabbed his hand then and he tensed. Her touch, soft and warm, was as unnerving as that voice. “You don’t allow yourself hope….or love…because every time you have…he takes it.”

Harry tried to pull his hand away, but Hermione held fast. “Your parents, Sirius, Dumbledore…and you fear for Ginny, for all of us.”

The pin prick burning began in his eyes and he yanked his hand from her, startling her and he regretted it. The tears and regret made him angry. “Well someone has to! If I linger about with silly wishes and rambling romances, then we will die; all of you will die. He’ll find out and you’ll die!”

“I’m already a target, Harry. So are Ginny, and Ron, and all the Weasley’s. Any Muggleborn, any supporter of their cause, is going to be in his line of fire. It has nothing to do with whether you love us or not.”

“I have hopes…and dreams. I want that new version of Hogwarts, A History, I want to work in a bookshop, touching all the books … reading all the latest ones during the slow times. I want romance too…and eventually … love.” She stopped short as if realizing rambling about her own desires was wrong. “Harry, if you can’t even harbor a glimpse of hope, then we will die. He has you pinned down in fear. If you can’t even imagine what life might be like if you win, then there is no point in waging the war.”

He twisted around, picking up a nearby rock and hurling it out into infinity, immediately looking for another. Her gentle touch stilled his arm. “Harry…”

His voice broke. “I…I can’t.”

She grabbed on with both hands, again pulling him around to sit facing her. “Yes. You can. You have to. Even if you harbor it inside and never tell a soul, you’ve got to want something, Harry.”

Looking at her now, her deep brown eyes fixated solely on his…devoted and determined, he felt the possibility of want. He tried to speak and found he couldn’t; he cleared his throat and choked out, “How?”

She actually laughed then and he half-heartedly smiled. “Well, start simple. Close your eyes.” He complied and was instantly aware then of their linked hands and the fact that their knees were touching. “What’s your favorite food?”

“All of it.”

She giggled, “Good. And your favorite sport?”

Was it possible to roll one’s eyes while they were closed? “You already know that. Quidditch.”

“Fine, so long as you know it too. Who’s your best friend?”

“You. And Ron.”

She squeezed his hand softly and her voice deepened a bit, softer now. “Why do you love flying?”

“Because I feel free. Even when I can’t be out flying, I send Hedwig out and watch her soar in the wind. Such a small animal, really, and she has such power.”

“If you were free, Harry.” She paused a bit, searching for phrasing he assumed. He was wrong as he heard the catch in her voice. “If you weren’t Harry Potter, but just any average boy, like you’ve always wanted….what would your life be like?”

He sat quietly, wary now. Could he say it out loud? He could feel the tension in her hands, even though her grip remained soft and comforting. She had been about to slip away when he spoke, so softly that he felt her lean in very closely to hear him.

“I would still have my parents, and Sirius, and no scar, and no one would instantly recognize me.” When had it gotten so quiet? The breeze, the rustling leaves, the murmur of the far off crowd…all gone. His voice got even softer…lower. “People would like me for who I really am and not for what I am supposed to do.”

And now he really felt like he had nothing left, that he had given away all his fears and his secret hope and all that was left to him was this pressing void of sound.

“They already do, Harry. I already do.” He could hear her crying now and was about to open his eyes when she sniffed loudly to clear her voice. “And this version of yourself, what would you do? When you grew up and went to Hogwarts and found yourself at the Job Fair today…what would you want to do?”

He was momentarily stunned. What would he do? He’d never thought of anything other than his goal of stopping Voldemort and maybe a flying fancy of Quidditch, but he’d had enough of fame really. Then it came to him, like a breeze, and much like the feel of flying he mentally stretched out wings and lifted off on it.

“Make wands.”

Softly she asked. “Why?”

“Because that’s where it all started for me. I held that wand and a new world appeared before me. I’d want to do that. Create tiny universes for every little witch or wizard, to watch as their face opens in wonder and possibility. I’d take pride in each creation and be especially happy to welcome any Muggleborn into this crazy parallel. I’d want to witness every pairing of wand to wizard because it is the one moment I wish more than anything that I could have shared with my parents.”

Silence met this revelation as well, but it was a good silence. No expectations. He slowly opened his eyes to see Hermione smiling softly, her face tracked with tears. “You see, Harry? You’ve had hope all along. I hope I can be there to see it happen.”

This newfound talent for revealing deep hidden hopes unburdened even more from Harry. “Well, I’d rather thought you’d be in the business with me. You are an especially gifted witch…”brightest witch of our age” Both of them chuckled softly, simultaneously saddened and amused at his poor imitation of Sirius.

She blushed then and he realized how naturally pretty she was. He had once been astounded by her transformation in fourth year, but this was more of a confirmation of what he had always known.

He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, softly…slowly. This time he ducked into her line of vision. “But I wouldn’t want to take you away from your bookshop or passionate romances.”

She let her head fall back in laughter. If he thought she was pretty before, she was absolutely gorgeous when she laughed. “As if we have the time for anything so permanent, I’m just trying to find some enjoyment as I walk through life.” She patted his hands warmly. “We’ll see. I rather like your vision. Until then, what do you say we walk down to the fair and see if we can find some mindless fun job to dream about and maybe even romance, even if only temporarily?”

She stood then and held out her hands to pull him up as well. He waited just a moment, entranced by the vision of her with her hands out, offering him what he did not quite understand. As he reached up and rose to his full height above her he tugged her nearer. He held her gaze solemnly; and slowly bent down, intending to kiss her cheek. He stopped just short of his goal and pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes. And there he saw the same comfort he had always heard in her approaching footfalls, that quiet confidence, measured, possibly planned out for ages, efficient…but never rushed.

With one more whispered word, he offered up another wish. “Hermione...”

He kissed her then, none too softly. She opened her mouth to him and kissed him with that same confidence…quiet…measured….never rushed….and quite possibly planned for ages. Slowly, he broke the kiss, lingering close, his forehead to hers. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?”

“For hope.”

The End