Snow blinded

Snow blinded

Harry Potter sighed quietly to himself as he stared out at the partially frozen Black Lake. There was snow everywhere; the whole of the grounds was coated in the stuff. Harry had used his wand to clear off a place to sit by the tree but the rest of the lawn remained covered. By all rights, he should be freezing after sitting outside for over two hours in nothing but his pajamas and a bathrobe but if he was cold at all there was no sign of it. His knees were pulled up to his body and his arms were crossed on top of them, his dark head leaning back against the trunk of the tree. His green eyes were staring straight out over the lake but it was impossible to say if he was actually seeing anything, the dazzling reflection of light off the snow made it hard to see much of anything, even if Harry had been concentrating enough to even attempt it.

He was lost in thought, staring blindly out over the lake as he recalled what a horrible mess of things he’d made of things. Everything had been going great; Voldemort was gone, it was Christmas, they were halfway through their seventh year, Ron had finally gotten over his crush on Hermione and was happily dating Luna. Everything had been perfect. Until this morning…when he’d screwed it up.

Harry couldn’t understand what had possessed him to give Hermione the present he had, it really was a stupid gift. In hindsight a book would have been much better. Writing his feelings for her out in a note and giving them to her was really the most awful idea ever, he couldn’t comprehend why he had thought it might have been a good one. That’s why he had run away. He was a Gryffindor and had faced Voldemort without turning tail but at the prospect of losing Hermione because of his stupidity, he chose to flee the scene rather than stay and watch the inevitable occur. At least that way she was still his friend until she managed to find him. Granted, his hiding place wasn’t exactly…hidden but, after rejecting the idea of flying away from Hogwarts on his Firebolt, it was the first place his feet thought to carry him.

He had loved her for years but hadn’t said anything. For one thing, it would’ve only made her a bigger target for Voldemort, as if being his best friend hadn’t already done that. The second reason he hadn’t said anything was because of Ron. He had known his best friend had a crush on their mutual best friend and because of it, Harry was reluctant to confess that he also had feelings for the bushy haired know-it-all. If he had and she rejected him, he’d have ended up ruining his friendship with Hermione. If he did and she felt the same way, he’d have ended up ruining his friendship with Ron. So he had kept his mouth closed and watched things unfold between his best friends. There had been a few awkward outings to Hogsmeade, leaving Harry behind with his textbooks and nervous energy. Neither one of them had deemed it worth the time to tell Harry exactly what had happened but the absence of the normal fighting and the lack of more private outings led him to believe that they had talked and worked out where exactly their relationship was going. And then Ron had started dating Luna Lovegood and Harry thought that his life might finally be going right. His best mate was dating the perfect girl for him, Voldemort was gone, Hermione was still available, and best of all, no one had had to stop being friends with anyone else for it to be achieved.

So, when the Christmas season had rolled around, Harry had deemed it the perfect time to reveal his feelings for Hermione. Obviously he hadn’t thought that idea through enough, he groused to himself as his unfocused eyes stared out at the frosty lake. He had spent hours on the letter, writing and rewriting until his eyes crossed, staying up until all hours of the night, laboring endlessly on the most important thing he would ever write. After weeks of no sleep and countless hours of work, it was finished. The words, such an inadequate way of expressing his feelings, were as perfect as he could make them. He had even made an effort to dress up that Christmas morning, rather than just rolling out of bed and down to the Common Room. So, pulling his robe over his shoulders as he walked down the stairs, he had seen Hermione peering into his envelope curiously and his courage had deserted him and he had bolted. He could dimly remember hearing her call out for him to come back but he had kept running, ignoring the shouts from the still sleepy (or hung-over?) Fat Lady as the portrait slammed closed behind him. His fearful mind had toyed with the idea of running to the Quidditch pitch and taking flight. Only the realization that, if he fled, he didn’t have anywhere to go stopped him from getting his broom and trying it. There was no way he was going back to the Dursleys, no matter how desperate he was to escape. And the Burrow was empty, the Weasleys were in Egypt with Charlie this year. Hearing sounds of pursuit behind him, he bolted down a side corridor, silently thanking the Weasley twins for giving him the Marauder’s Map. Picking up speed, he tore through an empty classroom and used a hidden passage behind a tapestry to reach the stairs down to the entrance hall.

Several harried minutes later, he had ended up at the tree beside the lake. He could barely remember how he had gotten there but there was a vague image of shoving past Snape on his way out the doors but he couldn’t be sure if that was just wishful thinking or not. Reaching the tree, he had removed the wand from his pocket and cleared off a space to sit out of the snow.

And now, two hours later, he was still sitting here, staring absently at the snow covered landscape.

“I can’t believe I was so stupid!” he spoke aloud to the cold air for the first time, inattentively staring at the cloud of fog that rose up as his breath touched the air, momentarily covering the bright reflection the sun was creating on the snow.

“What were you stupid about?” a voice asked him. He only noticed that his inner voice sounded more like Hermione than ever before as he answered.

“You should know, you were there,” he said to his subconscious, blinking as this new cloud of breath dissipated and he was blinded again by the glare off the snow.

“Well, yes, I was, but I don’t understand what you ran off for,” the Hermione voice replied.

“Are you crazy? I was about to make a complete fool of myself. She was opening that letter I wrote. I was about to lose her,” he protested, arguing with himself.

“What makes you think you would lose her once she read the letter?” the voice asked, sounding confused.

“You read it! I told her exactly how I feel about her in that letter,” he said, his voice raising.

“Yes I did. And you didn’t answer the question,” his Hermione voice argued back.

“She doesn’t feel that way about me. There’s no way she’ll stay with me as a friend if she knows that I love her as more,” he said, his voice full of despair.

“And what make you so sure that she doesn’t love you too? You didn’t stay long enough to find out,” came the questioning reply.

“She can’t love me,” he said again.

Behind Harry, Hermione smiled sadly as she looked at the back of his head. He hadn’t moved in the time she’d been out here, he was just staring out over the lake. She’d been about to reveal herself when he started talking. When she’d answered him, she’d expected him to turn around but he had continued staring in front of him. With his last statement, she decided that the revelation of her love for him shouldn’t come from the Hermione voice that apparently resided in his head.

Dropping her hands down on his shoulders, she rubbed gently to get his attention. He leaned his head straight back and blinked as he stared up into her face. She gasped in surprise as tears welled up in his eyes. Dropping to her knees in the snow next to him, she pulled him into a tight hug.

“Harry, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” she asked, worried.

Harry hurriedly reached up and wiped the water from his face. “I’m not crying,” he said quickly. “I’m snow blinded.”

She pulled back and smiled at him as tears continued to stream from his eyes, trying to adjust to the comparative dimness as he looked away from the lake.

“Is that why you didn’t know I was there?” she asked with a grin.

Harry swallowed and looked down. “How long were you there?” he asked, looking in horror at the envelope she held in her hand.

“Long enough,” she said with a nervous smile. “Harry, this letter you wrote,” she paused as she tried to gather her courage.

“I meant every word,” Harry said, deciding that since she had already read it, there was no reason not to at least go down like a man and accept his fate of a future without her.

“Oh Harry,” she sighed, clasping the envelope to her chest. “I love you too.”

Harry looked up quickly, trying to read the truth in her eyes. Could it be possible? Could he possibly not have screwed it up? She loved him? The part of him that was still living in the cupboard under the stairs was telling the rest of him that it was impossible.

As she leaned forward and kissed him, he told that part of himself to shut the hell up as the rest of him enjoyed it. He pulled her out of the snow and into his lap as the kiss broke. Tears began to well in his eyes as the full realization of everything set in. Hermione peered up at his face and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Still snow blinded?” she asked, wiping his tears away with her fingers. Harry looked down at her and smiled as he shook his head.

“No, I’m in love with you,” he stated simply. Tears welled in Hermione’s eyes as she leaned against his chest and watched the dancing reflections on the snow with him.

AN: I'm on a roll I guess.