The Boy Who Looked After
oOo
It was a wonderful night.
�The summer had started with a heat wave coursing through the country. But as the wedding day approached, the temperature slowly cooled, and a refreshing breeze began to blow. It seemed that even the weather wanted it to be perfect, because that wedding was a wedding in a time of war. And weddings in times of war were not only ordinary weddings, but also meant the victory of love over hate; of hope over fear and uncertainty.�
�Everyone seemed happy tonight. He was observing the guests laughing and dancing around the magically enlarged garden of the Burrow, as if nothing was wrong in the world. As if Voldemort didn't exist and Snape had never killed Dumbledore and people weren't dying everyday.
�But he understood. There would be plenty of time to think of Voldemort and Death Eaters and murders and dying.
�Today was simply not the day.
�So he was there, standing near the punch table with Ron and the twins. He didn't really feel like partying, but the Weasleys were trying their best to change that fact, and he was grateful for it. They were talking non-stop about Fleur's relatives. The feminine ones, to be more accurate. Ron had made a terrible mistake of continuing to stare at one of Fleur's male cousins for more than a couple of seconds, sealing his fate forever. Ron, like everyone else, knew that Fred and George wouldn't ever let him -or anyone else- forget it in a while.
He couldn't help but laugh along with the twins at the poor attempts his best friend was making to clean his image.�
But then his smile faded away. He was staring at her. Again. Even when he had specifically forbidden himself to do it.
He knew it wasn't going to be easy. He knew it at Dumbledore's funeral, the moment he told her to stay away. He knew at the Burrow, the moment he arrived and saw her as beautiful as always, but a bit sadder. And he knew it that very morning, the moment he watched her standing near the aisle in her bridesmaid dress.
Now she was there, dancing and smiling with that very same cousin that gave her brother the troubles with the twins.� She looked ridiculously pretty in that green dress, with those little glittering things in her hair.
Swallowing hard, he wished things could be different.
While twirling, she caught him staring at her, but he looked away way before she could even attempt a smile.
It's better this way, he reminded himself for the millionth time.
So he forced his gaze to wander around. And after a couple of rounds, he realized that it had been a while since he last saw Hermione. He recalled that she had been talking to Tonks then, but the pink-haired witch was now chatting with Molly and another red-headed woman. Hermione was not there.� He looked all over the place. She wasn't with Luna and Neville. She wasn't with their fellow Gryffindors Angelina, Katie and Lee Jordan, who had been invited to the wedding as well. She was not with Lupin and Alastor Moody, nor dancing with anyone.
She wasn't anywhere in sight.
He started to feel nervous. It was a dangerous time for his best friend to go missing. He was almost expecting something awful to happen all day, and although his worries hadn't manifested yet, he was still in alert mode. So, with a random excuse, he left the Weasleys and walked towards the opposite corner.
In less than five seconds, he had reached Tonks' chair.
"Harry, dear! Are you ok? Is something wrong?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
Harry really did appreciate Mrs. Weasley's concern, but he was starting to have serious problems with her continuous questions.
"No…no. I'm just looking for Hermione, but I can't find her. She was talking to you a while ago, wasn't she?" he directly asked Tonks.
"Yeah, she was…" she told him in that perpetual wedding mood she'd been having lately.� "…but suddenly she said something about needing fresh air. And I think she truly needed it. She looked a bit pale and-"
"Thanks, Tonks," he cut off.
And without stopping to hear what Molly was telling him, he ran outside the party.
~*~
The Burrow was not very big. He thought he would find her somewhere. But she wasn't anywhere in sight.
After a few seconds of wandering through the gardens with his hand always near his wand, he finally saw a little silhouette sitting on a bench by the fence.
She's ok, he thought, feeling a powerful wave of relief. But then he realized that there was something odd. She was much too quiet, her gaze fixed on the ground. He started to walk towards her.
When he was merely a few steps from her, a very deep sigh stopped him. She was definitely not ok. If she was ok she wouldn't be wiping tears off her face.
He looked at her intently. Her best friend was not being herself lately, even if she was trying to mask it all the time.
But he knew better.
He saw how Hermione seemed to be pulling herself together. She was a big girl, after all. It was thanks to her that Ron and he had managed to stay calm and ready to spend sleepless nights talking and planning. It was thanks to her that he had started, only started though, to believe that he had a chance, because he was not alone. �But the more he stared at her, so tiny and fragile, wiping tears alone, the more he could see the little girl that was simply terrified of being expelled in the first year at Hogwarts.
It's because of this nightmare. This damned quest, a little voice inside his head reminded him. Maybe even today, a happy day, and she couldn't forget about it.
He resumed his walking with slightly heavier steps, finally making his presence known. Now that she seemed to be calm, the last thing he wanted to do was startle her.
Once he felt she had noticed him, he took his time before speaking.
"You do realize that we are making a habit of this, don't you?" he said softly, the hint of a smile in his voice.
She looked up at him, and he could see that her eyes were slightly puffy. She's been definitely crying. She was attempting a smile, and finally managed, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"A bad one, indeed," she answered, making more room for him on the bench.
Smiling back, he placed himself next to her.
"Tonks told me you weren't feeling very well," he said, looking closely for her reaction.
"Oh…yes, but I'm fine. It was just a little…well, I just needed fresh air," she answered. He couldn't know why she seemed so flustered. Maybe she was embarrassed, because Hermione Granger didn't cry. "And I'm a bit tired, you know…"
Harry saw her pointing graciously to her feet. They were high heels, and although he knew nothing about girl's fashion -or girl's anything, now that he thought about it- he thought they were perfect for her beautiful dress.
He had been aware of the large amount of stares at his best friend. His had been one of them, although he had felt like he was doing something he shouldn't. Ron didn't really say anything, despite having caught him looking at his…well, at her, the way he knew he had been looking. To Harry's relief, he just smiled. Hermione did look pretty after all.
Not that she could have been taken for a veela though. Her beauty went deeper than that. She didn't look as sophisticated as Ginny did either, but again Ginny was…well, Ginny. He knew very well what a tease she was, and that she liked the fact that people ogled her red mane of hair…among other things.��
But he was not used to seeing Hermione like this. The Yule Ball was two years ago, and the little girl that impressed everyone then was very different now. She had become this great woman that sometimes still seemed to have trouble fully understanding how worthy she was.
His best mate was a lucky guy, and he didn't seem to be fully aware of just how much.
"Harry?" Hermione called him for the third time.
"Sorry," he said smiling, and with the feeling of having been caught red-handed. "I just got lost in thought."
She returned a smile, but her stare went back quickly to her hands in her lap.
Harry wanted to know. He wanted to know why she was out there, all alone, and not with Ron and the others. He wanted to know why his best friend looked so nervous and upset lately, though he had a vague idea -an idea that involved a madman and a mortal peril and devastated muggle dentists, to name only a few issues.
And although he was aware that this was a silly thing to be worried about, he also was very interested in his best friends. Harry had never asked, but he was desperate to know. He just wanted to know if she and Ron… How could he ask her?
"Are you ok, Hermione?" was the only thing he could manage.
"Yes, Harry. I'm ok."
"People don't cry when they are ok."
"People cry for many different reasons, Harry."
"Ok," he conceded.� "What is yours?"
She didn't respond immediately, as Harry had expected. He knew she wasn't telling him the truth, after all. �
"Happiness," she finally answered, her eyes to the night sky. "Happiness in times of war."
His breath got caught in his throat. He just couldn't believe his ears.
"Hope over uncertainty," he whispered with a slight nod.�
She looked at him.
"Love over despair…yes."
"Yes," Harry said in a whisper, wondering once more how she could do that all the time-feeling the same things, choosing the same words. It was starting to be creepy.� "Love over despair."
Silence fell between them, but only in the outside; Hermione's words were still echoing in his mind.
"Why did you come out, by the way?" she said, breaking their silence.
"I couldn't find you," he said simply. "And besides, I don't feel like celebrating that much, you know."
"Well," she said in a lighter tone. "It seems that maybe red hair is a must to fully enjoy a Weasley wedding then..."
He laughed. "Or not…the twins were giving Ron hell. He made the mistake of staring too much at this veela…"
He saw Hermione's eyes falling again to her lap, so he quickly explained his words. �
"It was a male veela; he wasn't staring at any of the girls, but at this relative of Fleur's, so Fred and Ge…"�
Harry decided to cut off his rambling. Hermione didn't seem to find it funny at all, even though he was sure he had been quick enough with the explanation.
"Hermione are you…did I say something? I mean…everything's ok with Ron, isn't it?"
Hermione's hands were playing with the fabric of her dress now.
"Yes...yes, we're ok," she said too quickly.
Harry made his decision. It was now or never. �
"Hermione, look…I know we don't talk about this but…well, I want you to know that I'm perfectly used to the idea of you and Ron together, and it's more than ok and…"
"Harry…" she tried.�
"I mean, I-well, I just would like to know for sure if you and Ron…if you are, you know…something."
Since their talk by the lake that afternoon back at Hogwarts, he had somehow started to pay closer attention to her reactions and moods. Why or how it had happened, he didn't know for sure. He only knew that their renewed friendship was even stronger than it was before, and he was determined to make up for every day she had spent feeling miserable and lonely. So Harry started to look after her meals and sleep hours, her frowns and tiny smiles. He comforted her when she was missing her parents badly, and lately he had found himself comforting her even after any tense moment that she had with Ron, something he had never attempted to do again after that day in that classroom, where she had hexed Ron with those birds.
And because he knew her that well, he regretted his question the moment he saw the look on Hermione's face.
Damn it. �
Maybe that wasn't the moment after all. Maybe Ron still was being the same moron of a best friend. Maybe his question hurt her, because she was not a veela, and Ron hadn't been staring transfixed at her.
Damn it.
Harry was almost expecting to see tears on her cheeks again, but fortunately there were none.
Great best-friend performance, Potter. Say something, what are you waiting for?
Hermione looked…hurt. And it was then when Harry realized, fully realized two things. One, that he was more than willing to drop the subject forever if it made Hermione feel miserable, no matter how desperate he would get to know. And two, that, for some reason, he wasn't sure he really wanted to hear the answer.
But an answer is what he got.
"Yes," Hermione finally said after taking a deep breath. "We are."� �
"Oh…"
Harry would have never imagined that his own blood could be pulsing this hard on his temples without actually bursting out of his head. He wondered how long it would take until it finally happened.�
So that's it. ��
He knew it. He just knew it. But that knowledge wasn't helping. At all. He would like to have been told. Maybe they thought he wasn't going to be ok with it? Of course he was going to be ok. This…thing had been going on and on for years now- it was just the logical ending. But still he felt a pinch in his stomach. Because I can't have the same with Ginny, he reasoned to himself. Not at the moment.
"Harry," he heard Hermione resume calmly, "we …we are best friends."
He looked at her, not sure he was understanding her words.
"We would have told you otherwise."
They are best friends. And they would have told me. They're only best friends.
"I'm sorry, Hermione." He truly was.
His hands, moments before he could give any conscious order to them, had taken Hermione's in a slow motion.
"Don't be," she said shaking her head.� "I am not."
"Hermione, I know Ron, and I'm sure that he truly-"
"I know, Harry. I know."
Apparently his face was doing a great job at showing how totally confused he was at the moment, because Hermione smiled tenderly at him.
"This…thing has been spinning around in circles for too long. It's been always so complicated. And it shouldn't be, Harry. I believe that…well, that it would take some time for things to work out. And we -I just don't think I have the time…or the energy."
Harry looked down at their hands, knowing that she was now staring at him, paying close attention to his reaction; looking for any little sign that could betray his thoughts.�
Because this was Hermione Granger, and Hermione Granger knew him. And because she knew him, she knew what he was thinking.
It's because of me.
Always the clever girl, she had managed to make him promise to her and Ron that he was going to stop feeling guilty about anything happening to them from now on. He had to understand that they were with him because that was their choice.�
"All these years and you still don't understand a thing, Harry." She had yelled at him one afternoon. He'd never seen her like that before. Not even with Ron.� Can't you really see that we are together in this? The three of us? Your path is our path. Your fate is our fate as well. Listen carefully, Harry: We. Chose. This. �We had more than enough time to back up! But we're here, and I'm sorry to break the news, but it's our choice to make, Harry, not yours."�
�"But it's because of me that you won't give it a try," he blurted out without thinking.
Hermione's head turned with such force that he was almost expecting to hear her neck crack.
"Wha…what?"
Harry was sure that she was going to yell at him, or just get angrier than ever. But Hermione looked nothing like that.
Hermione just looked… terrified.�
"I know I promised, Hermione, and I'm really sorry," he said quickly, "but even you can't deny the fact that maybe you'd have the time and the energy if not for me and the Horcruxes and-"
He stopped in the middle of his sentence. There was no way he could go on with Hermione doing the last thing he would have expected her to do.
She was smiling. She was…relieved?�
"Oh, Harry…"
Oh-Harry had never been very good with girls. He had been even worse at interpreting their hints and actions. But he had thought that Hermione was an entirely different thing, because he knew her.
Until now.
She squeezed his hand, the remnants of her smile still lingering on her lips.
"No, Harry," she said.� "This is not your fault. You know us…the way we are together, and the way we are apart. It's…complicated. I'm tired. And I'm going to need all my strength for other things." Breathing deeply, she caught his gaze. "It's not our time anymore. And you're not responsible for that."
All of the sudden Harry understood why Hermione seemed to find her hands so interesting. They were a great help when you felt like there's nothing to say, or when you want to hide somewhere; when your mind's racing and you just can't look straight into someone's face.
Someday you'll realize the terrible mistake you did by letting her go, mate.�
"Ron's a lucky guy, Hermione," he started, finally finding words. "A very lucky one. He just never realized how much."
Harry saw his best friend's cheeks turning pink, but at least she was still smiling. He knew that she hardly laughed or smiled very often since the end of the term. She always seemed so anxious. But now, right there on the bench, she was smiling.
And he felt so good that he could have kissed those pink cheeks.
"Oh yeah, very lucky indeed," she said only half jokingly. "I'm insufferable, Harry. Don't think I don't know about that…"
"You have your moments, you know…" he answered after a fake deep thought. "But you know what they say: if you love the rainbow, you have to put up with the rain."� He saw that Hermione's cheeks were getting even pinker, if that was possible.� "You're worth way more than a little rain, Hermione."
He hadn't intended to sound so serious but, somehow, the mood had changed. Her hands felt so warm in his. And he couldn't stop talking.
"Most of the time you're just scared for us. And always for a good reason. I don't think I've thanked you enough for being with me all this time. For still being with me."
He looked at her. She was doing it again.
Hermione's lips were wearing a tiny smile, but there were also tears in her eyes. He would never understand the mysterious beauty of this act.�
"Even when I stick my bossy nose in your business when I just should be minding my own?" she asked still smiling.
But Harry was serious.
"Especially then. I am your business, Hermione, and you are my business, no matter what others may say."
His words took her completely aback.
"Harry, what are you…"
"I heard you," he said. "The day we arrived here. I didn't mean to and I wish I hadn't." �
"Oh…I'm sorry, Harry," she said, remembering her conversation with Ginny. "But Ginny was telling me nothing but the truth. You are not my business and-"
"Stop it," he cut her off.
Hermione was lovely, but could be as stubborn as the best of them, so he wanted her to pay full attention to what he had to say. She had to understand a couple of things. He had been thinking about it since the moment he overheard the conversation between the two girls.
There were certain limits. Even for Ginny.
�
"Ginny shouldn't have said those things, Hermione, or at least she should've spoken only for herself. That's not the way I feel about you, and I thought you had understood that..."
He looked at her best friend sniffing, and that's when he gave in. Closing the distance between them, he took her in his arms. She was shivering.
"You've never been a burden to us, and definitely not a burden to me."�
Hermione was still in his embrace, but then he felt her letting herself give into it, her arms around his waist.
He couldn't say how long they were like that, only that when he let her go, he was feeling lighter than he could remember being the whole day.
"Thanks, Harry."
"Anytime, Hermione."
And they both smiled amusedly; they were talking like they were two extremely formal people.
"Uh…Harry," she said hesitantly. "How-mmm, you know, how's been things between the two of you by the way?"
Harry lowered his eyes.
"Oh sorry," she said hastily. "I shouldn't have-"
"No, it's ok. Well, you've seen us. We barely talk at all."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
She smiled at his answer, and so did he.
"But, Harry," she whispered. "Well…I don't know, but maybe-maybe you deserve another opportunity. I mean, she's already a target, being a Weasley and all, and-"
"I know," he cut off. "I already know."
He understood the look of confusion that appeared on Hermione's face. He was confused too.
Seeing Ginny everyday at the Burrow was painful, yes. He still clearly remembered their little escapades by the lake, or the way she was able to make him forget about how miserable and complicated his life was with just one kiss. But as the days went on, even when his dreams were still of her, he started to feel that things wouldn't be the same right now. He wasn't the same either.
"When we…er, talked at Dumbledore's funeral, I told her that our days together were like something out of someone else's life," he said in a low voice, as if he were explaining all those things to himself instead of Hermione. He probably was.
After a short pause, he resumed talking.
"Remember fourth year?"
Hermione smiled a little.
"Hard to forget, I'm afraid," she said.
"Well, the first day, after Dumbledore announced the Tournament, I started to kind of daydream about it. You know, stupid things about how it would feel to be in front of the whole school doing those tasks. How it would be to hold up the Cup, people cheering and clapping and calling my name with admiration. Merlin, I even pictured Cho smiling full of pride…" he remembered with an embarrassed smile. "But then my name came out of the Goblet, and everything stopped all of a sudden. The daydreaming turned into reality. And in reality, I wasn't a champion I didn't really want to be a champion. I didn't want to witness Cedric's murder, nor fight Voldemort for my life."
Hermione's hands were on his again. He hadn't notice when she had taken them, but he needed the grip.
"Oh, Harry…"
"I'm feeling almost the same way now," he said with his gaze still lost in space. "My time with Ginny was like those daydreams. I was happy, my only worries being the ones of a normal guy: the captaincy of the team, win the Quidditch Cup, cheating in Potions, trying to show your girlfriend that you're not such a novice at kissing…things like that."
He felt himself take a deep breath, as if he had been holding the air in his lungs. "Like I was normal…"
When he looked at his best friend, he noticed that she wasn't crying, but teary.
"That's why you didn't tell her anything."
She wasn't asking.
"Yeah. I-I've been thinking about this. I'm quite aware that Ginny is already a target. I didn't lie to her, though; I'm scared of her being hurt because of me. She has told me that-well, maybe she's right, maybe we could…you know, go on with what we had. But I feel that she doesn't belong to this reality. In this reality is Ron, and you, and me, and the Order…but not her."
He felt exhausted all of a sudden. It was the first time he had poured his heart out in…well, forever. He even hadn't put those thoughts into words until they had already spilled out of his mouth. But somehow he had known that this was the right moment. That she was the right person.
Around them seemed to be nothing but silence, although some corner of his mind was still registering the cheery noises coming from the party.
Harry looked at Hermione's hands. They were holding his very tight, as if she thought he could fall in some horrible black hole if she loosened the grip just a little.
She worries all the time…
"Hermione…" he started to say. But before he could even guess what he was going to say, she launched herself at him, her arms tightly around his neck. Maybe she was the one afraid to fall.
"I love you," she said softly, tightening the embrace.
Closing her eyes, Harry smiled between her locks. Those words sounded so good put together... Now, at almost 17 years old, he had finally discovered what it was like to hear them. �It wasn't awkward at all. It was wonderful.
And they had been meant for him. Only for him.
He wanted to say something, He really did, but he had never been so overcome with emotion in his whole life.
"Uh…Hermione, I..." he whispered hesitantly. "Thank you."
The Burrow wasn't that big. That's why after a few steps, anyone could easily find the bench by the fence. That's why it was so easy for him to find them. �