Goodbye To You

Rewritten slightly, because I always did want to continue this story, but some things needed to be changed…

Anyway, based off the song, “Goodbye to You,” by Michelle Branch. It's probably obvious where this story is headed, but then again, I do love my plot twists…lol.

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Neither of us knew how it happened.

We were simply lying on the ground, hidden by the grass, our backs soaked. We stared up at the night sky, side by side. We could hear laughter, music, conversations, and the pitter of feet dancing - all part of the celebration in honor of the marriage of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delaceur. We had just left the noise and the crowd, desperate for a place of solace, for a place to speak our minds.

I had expected that he'd want to discuss the horcruxes; maybe even talk about Godric's Hollow, about the hunt, about the war with Voldemort that drew closer each day. Perhaps even the prophecy. Yet not once did such a topic enter our conversation. Instead, he divulged to me his hopes for the future. Neither of us needed to add if he survived. We both knew very well that such a phrase was a necessary ending to each dream he revealed - each dream any of us revealed. But the phrase remain unspoken, as we knew that reminding ourselves, or rather bringing what we knew out into the open, would do neither of us good, especially during such a joyous occasion - one of the few we were sure to experience.

That was when it began. We turned to look at one another, and we were both laughing with happiness we hadn't felt since fifth year. He continued to tell me more about the future as the stars, the silver sparkle accentuated by the deep midnight blue of the sky, grew brighter and brighter, just like his dreams. That's when his eyes caught mine - green on brown, brown on green. It was as if some gravitational force unbeknownst to either one of us was pulling us closer.

“Hi,” I whispered gently, not blinking, trying to drink in all of his eyes.

“Hi,” Harry replied, just as softly. He lifted his hand and his thumb lightly caressed my cheek, leaving a tingling trail.

We leaned into one another, eyes closed, and kissed. He moved his hands from my face, placing them on my back, while my hands found their way into his hair, and pulled one another closer.

It was then that we realized what we were doing. As if embarrassed, we pushed away from one another, breathing heavily. He ran his fingers through his messy hair, while I tried to straighten out my light blue dress robe, which, with its numerous amounts of grass stains, was beyond repair anyway.

“I'm sorry,” I said immediately, now preoccupied with removing bits of dirt from my hair.

“No, it was my fault,” he replied. Suddenly, dirt became unimportant as we began to babble, our sentences cutting one another off.

“It was the atmosphere, I mean—”

“It must have been the music, that's what—”

“And emotions running high, what with—”

“And, really, it must be the wedding that caused—”

We finally stopped talking nonsense and locked eyes once more. We both knew what happened between us had nothing to do with how brightly the sky was shining, the music in the background, or the happiness that lasted from the wedding - they were all simply beautiful coincidences. That kiss had been no mistake, and for either of us to deny this fact would be not only stubborn, but also insane on both our parts.

“So,” I said hesitantly, threading my fingers through his. We lay back down on the grass, our fingers still entangled.

“Where do we go from here?” he asked me quietly.

“I'm not sure,” I replied, as I moved closer to him once more.

He cleared his throat. “Should we…should we forget it ever happened?”

Horror rushed through my body. “Well…I mean…” I trailed off, looking away, and letting my hand fall limply from his. Then I continued, still not looking at him, “Do you want to forget what happened?” I held my breath, hoping beyond hope that his answer wouldn't be one that charged a knife through my heart.

“No,” came his reply. I never thought such a simple word could give me so much joy. A smile all over my face, I'm sure, I turned back to him.

“Really?”

“Really.” He returned my smile with his own; his green eyes alight with joy.

Instead of kissing once more, as one would expect done, like in those pointless muggle romantic comedies, we spent the rest of the night talking. Except, instead of discussing future, we spoke about our worst year at Hogwarts, the one we had just left - sixth year.

“Being with Ginny made me feel as if I wasn't me,” Harry told me in a voice barely above a murmur. “Sure, it felt nice, but it was as if I was protecting myself from what was really out there. And then, whenever something went wrong, there was this voice inside my head, always reprimanding me, always guiding me. The voice was yours. It's been yours for as long as I can remember.” He gave a little laugh, and then became serious once more. “I think I've always felt something more than friendship towards you,” he continued.

“I feel the same,” I confessed. “Honestly, I can't believe how…how mental I went this year.” I closed my eyes, ashamed of how I behaved. “First there was that thing with Ron…oh, what an experience that was,” I sighed. “Never had I known someone to have a crush on me like he did. I wasn't sure if I returned the feelings, but I knew that no one had ever felt so…so desperately about me. I just expected that he'd treat me better after Ginny told me last summer, I guess.” I closed my eyes again, thinking painfully of that day when Ginny revealed to me that Ron's feelings towards me were more than platonic. I should have realized his true intentions by, at the very least, fourth year. Really, I should have. But I was too preoccupied with making sure Harry was safe the entirety of fourth and fifth year to notice Ron or the way he acted towards me. “And then he went off and tried to make me jealous with Lavender, and he was constantly insulting me…I went insane,” I continued in a hoarse whisper. “It's not that I wanted him as a boyfriend. He'd always been…more of a brother to me. I guess…I guess I thought that, somehow, he'd treat me better. I was convinced he would. But he didn't.”

I took a moment to breathe in deeply, calming myself down. I never realized how much Ron's cruelty at times affected me. Finally, I said what I had wanted to reveal for a while.

“Do you know the first time I realized how I felt about you?” I asked Harry.

“When?” Harry asked curiously, brushing a piece of bushy hair from my face.

I grinned at the gesture, then continued, staring up at the patterns the stars created: “That day in Transfiguration, when Ron did that impression of me, and I left the room and my books in tears. You came after me.” I turned away from the sky to look at him and repeated, “You came after me. If I got into an argument with you, Ron would never have found me. But you did. And that's when I knew that there doesn't need to be jealousy, or tension, or anger for someone to turn from a friend to…this. ” I gave a little laugh as I remembered the aforementioned day, and added the memory to my explanation. “It also helped when Neville told me that you told off Ron for making fun of me. Apparently, when you asked him why he imitated me and he replied I shouldn't have laughed at his mustache, you told him, `So did I, it was the stupidest thing I've ever seen'?”

“I did,” Harry grinned. “It was, really. And I couldn't stand how upset you were.”

“That's how I knew,” I smiled. “But, I also knew that Ginny still had a crush on you, and you were growing feelings for her…” My smile slowly turned into a frown as I thought back to the day I discovered that their relationship was bound to occur. “So, I preoccupied myself with Ron,” I continued. “It was the only way I could…I could stop myself from attacking Ginny.” Harry didn't frown, as I had expected, but smiled even wider.

“You wanted to attack Ginny?”

“Yes,” I said, and couldn't help a small laugh. “It was just so obvious that she didn't care about you in the same way as I did. That she was still caught up in the school girl crush - still obsessed with her fangirl dream.” I closed my eyes and shuddered. “I wanted to tell you that she still saw you as the `Boy-Who-Lived,' but you were so angry with me this school year. I didn't think you would believe me.” My voice grew so soft that I feared he could no longer hear me.

Harry listened to me, not once interrupting. When I finished my last sentence, he said, uncertainty flickering throughout his face, “Hermione, I'm so sorry. I really am. I was horrible to you.”

“I was just as horrid,” I replied shakily. “I truly was. I put all my frustrations on you…my frustrations with Ron, with Ginny, with the prophecy…and then, finally, my frustration with the fact that your intentions with Ginny bothered me. It was so hard to smile that day,” I told Harry. “The day you two kissed.” Harry remained silent, until he responded with something absolutely unexpected.

“That's why you looked at me that way,” he said, understanding dawning on his face.

“Looked at you…what?” came my confused reply.

“The night I left, when I gave you two the potion…” Harry ran his fingers through his hair, thinking. “You looked at me strangely. I thought it was because you were scared.”

“I was!” I insisted immediately. I really had been.

“Yeah,” Harry said, frowning. “But that wasn't it. It wasn't that you were just scared that I could have died; you had that look in you that told me that you were scared you wouldn't be able to tell me something. That one of us would die before I knew.”

I blushed, something I never thought I would ever do in my entire left. I always assumed blushing was something reserved for girls such as Lavender and Parvati. I guess I had to be wrong sometimes. “You're right,” I said steadily. “I was afraid I'd never be able to tell you what you mean to me. That you'd die thinking that Ginny was the only one who cared for you.”

“We were stupid, weren't we?” Harry said with a bitter laugh.

“Very,” I nodded in agreement.

“I guess we should make up for lost time then.”

“We should.”

And so we did, in the most romantic way imaginable. My head lay on his chest as he ran his fingers through my hair. We remained there, under the stars, the moon shining on us, until we heard the guests begin to leave, and recognized that we needed to return to our friends, and also face the two people we feared more above anything concerning our new relationship: the two youngest Weasleys.

Before we stood up, Harry whispered in my ear, “Promise me something, Hermione.”

“I'm not going to stay back, if that's what you're asking of me!” I told him immediately, indignant, thinking back to fifth year and what he had told Ginny. But, then again, I wasn't Ginny, nor were we 15 and 16. Still, I sat up, my temper getting the better of me.

Harry sat up as well. “I don't think I could ever convince you of that,” he told me. “Not that I don't want you to…” He trailed off and sighed. “If I was granted tree wishes, the first one off my list would be that you and Ron would stay here, safe and sound.”

“Harry,” I told him impatiently, “Neither of us are one to—”

“I know!” Harry interrupted. “I know! That's why it would conflict with my second wish - for you to be happy. I know that you'd never be content sitting here while we fought the battle. That's not you. You're too loyal, too intelligent, too brave.”

“What is it that you want then?” I asked Harry quietly, my heart beating at a pace that, until now, I believed didn't exist. I honestly had no clue what he wanted from me, yet I felt as if I could hardly breathe.

“If I die,” Harry said slowly, yet deliberately, “If I die, I want you to be strong.”

“What?” I asked him, utterly taken aback.

“I don't want you to throw away your life if I die,” Harry insisted. “I want you to live life as you would if nothing went wrong. I don't want you to mourn for me, or dress in black for your entire life.”

“Harry, let's not talk about this,” I said in a rushed voice, fear catching at it, causing it to rise in pitch.

“It may be inevitable, Hermione,” Harry's voice said, as if from afar. I felt as if we were in different worlds, though I had no clue why. “And if we're going to do this…if we're going to start this relationship, I need to know that if I do die, your life won't be ruined because of me.”

“Harry, please,” I begged him, trying to get through to him, although we remained worlds apart.

Harry wasn't listening. “You deserve to live your life, Hermione,” he continued. “I don't want to be the cause of the destruction of more lives than need be. Promise me?” He turned to me and grabbed my hands, placing them in his tight grip.

I stared at him, not knowing what to say. My mind was conflicted. On one hand, I knew it would be impossible for me to continue living life regularly if he died as a friend, let alone as someone I loved. On the other, I always strived to be the loyal friend Harry needed, the one whom he could trust. Who was I to let him down now?

And so I replied, although hoping with all my heart it would never come down to this, “I promise.”

Harry gave me a relieved smile, and so we stood up, arms around one another, and made our way back to the party.