Beautiful Goodbye

moon_shadows

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 26/04/2006
Last Updated: 26/04/2006
Status: completed

Witherwings-competition winner for April, 2006. Harry’s finally separated himself from his friends to keep them safe, but he’s having a hard time letting go. Memories of their last moments together keep haunting him, and he’s still not entirely sure he did the right thing. Would she ever forgive him? It does have a happy ending, believe it or not. Harry/Hermione. One-shot. Songfic.

Chapters

1. Beautiful Goodbye

1. Beautiful Goodbye

Disclaimer: Mine? Ri-ight. You keep thinking that, and I’ll keep living in my imaginary world.

Summary: This is another WitherWings-competition entry (for April, 2006). Harry’s finally separated himself from his friends to keep them safe, but he’s having a hard time letting go. Memories of their last moments together keep haunting him, and he’s still not entirely sure he did the right thing. Would she ever forgive him? Harry/Hermione. One-shot.

Criteria for Challenge:
1. Must be a song fic.
2. Song used must be considered "a sad song."
3. Make sure to credit at least the artist of the song, if not the lyricist.
4. May be any length as long as it is a one-shot.
5. Must be H/Hr.
6. Lyrics CANNOT be used as dialogue.
7. NO Character deaths.
9. Do NOT disregard books 1-6 (though, you can do a "missing scene").
10. Besides the title, do not use the word "sad" unless the word occurs in the lyrics.

A/N: Many thanks to my lovely beta, Nati, because she’s awesome.

~*~*~*~*~
Beautiful Goodbye
~*~*~

I’m fed up with my destiny,
And this place of no return.
I think I’ll take another day
And slowly watch it burn.
It doesn't really matter
How the time goes by
‘Cause I still remember you and I
And that beautiful goodbye.

~*~*~

The rain poured from the heavens, drenching all in its path. He felt that Fate must’ve been laughing at him then, as the weather mirrored his bitter mood. The cold night air seeped through his skin, taking away what little comfort he’d had before the downpour. He remembered how she’d always been next to him on nights like these, always willing to take his pain away and stave off the cold that tried to drown him.

He shook his head. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? He had to move on. He had a destiny to fulfill, one that needed to be satisfied alone. He wouldn’t drag his friends down anymore, especially not her. He’d be damned before causing her death. That wasn’t an option, so, he couldn’t care anymore. He had to close himself off from them. Hermione and Ron would have their life together, and he’d move on alone to be the hero of the Wizarding world. They would be safe, and he’d finish his task without preamble. That was how things were supposed to be... right?

That was how things were supposed to be, but nothing ever went as planned. He’d left, sure, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop caring about them. That was the key to it all. He had to stop caring, close his heart to everything so he’d have no weaknesses—but he couldn’t. Ron was still his brother. Hermione was still... everything else. Her smiling face and bright laughter continued to consume his senses, day after day, and his heart ached for her with each passing memory.

He knew he couldn’t continue on this way. He’d drive himself mad before too long, but the temptation to let his mind entertain his desires was too sweet.

He could remember when they’d started their journey; Ron and Hermione had been as happy as ever, and at the time, he’d been content to watch them. Things didn’t last that way for long, though. One night, Harry had taken a closer look at his female best friend and was surprised to see a trace of lingering sorrow in her eyes, her smiles never quite breaking through the pain he saw there.

Day after day, he saw her smile, and day after day, it was artificial, an imitation of its former beauty. He noticed her pulling away from Ron more and more as they continued on, and he wondered what had brought about this change between them.

It wasn’t until two months after they’d begun that it all fell apart.

Harry found himself the unwilling audience of another of his friends’ notorious rows. By the end of the screaming match, Ron had Apparated to some unknown location and Hermione was on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

It was the most bitter-sweet and beautiful sight he’d seen. She was completely vulnerable, left weakened by the emotional onslaught, and she was gorgeous. He tried to turn away from her, tried to stop the carnal thoughts that passed through his mind, but he was only human.

Stepping lightly, he made his way to her crumpled form and bent down, wrapping his arms around her. She immediately clung to him as if he were her life-force. Her hot tears soaked through his robes as they sat there, taking comfort in each other’s presence.

When she had calmed down, he broke the silence, saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

She mutely nodded.

Pulling her up from the floor, they Apparated to Hogsmeade. He was sure that a warm butterbeer would help heal her wounds, and he was right. They talked for hours, sipping their drinks and laughing like old times. It was as if time stood still for them and all the worries in the world had melted away.

~*~*~

We staggered through these empty streets,
Laughing on and on.
The night had made a mess of me.
Your confessions kept me warm.
I don't really miss you;
I just need to know...
Do you ever think of you and I
And that beautiful goodbye?

~*~*~

They were a right silly sight, walking down the streets of Hogsmeade in the early autumn morning, their playful banter echoing through the village. By the time they arrived home, it was near dawn, and they were rather tipsy from the copious amounts of alcohol they’d consumed.

Their bodies were pressed together, leaning on each other for support and desperately trying not to fall, as they made their way up the stairs to their sleeping quarters. They noticed that Ron had yet to come back as they passed his empty bedchamber.

Harry knew that he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help the questions that gnawed at the back of his mind. He needed to know what had caused his best friends’ falling-out. Why did Hermione have to hide behind her smile?

He helped her into her bed but didn’t leave as he’d originally intended. Sitting next to her, he began his interrogation. “Hermione, why don’t you smile anymore?” he asked.

She looked puzzled, not understanding. “What are you talking about, Harry? I was smiling just a few moments ago.”

He shook his head. “No, you weren’t. It wasn’t real. It’s been that way for ages now. You smile, but you don’t really feel it. It’s as if you only do it to keep questions at bay. I can’t even remember the last time I saw your eyes light up. You’re not happy. Why? What’s going on?”

She hesitated for a moment, but finally sighed in defeat. “I love Ron; really, I do, but...”

“But?”

“But—I’m not sure how to explain it—I love him, but I’m not in love with him. Things just aren’t working out. I don’t feel anything for him. All we ever do is snip at each other. Outside of the arguments, there’s no passion, no lust, no... anything. It’s like we’ve gone as far as we’ll ever go, and we’re still just friends.” She sat up slowly to lean against Harry. “I can’t help but feel a little disappointed by all of it, and I can tell he knows it. We’ve both been pulling away from each other, and I catch myself wondering when he’s going to break it off with me. I don’t even know why we’re still together. All we ever do is make each other miserable.” She sighed again.

“I’m sure if you just talk to him, you can work things out,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “There’s more to it than that.”

“Like what?”

Again, she hesitated, unsure of whether or not to go on. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth as she thought over her reply. He gazed upon her and, not for the first time that night, he had to suppress his desires. How he would love to take that lip from her and suckle it... tasting her for the first time. He mentally shook his head, clearing the traitorous thoughts.

“Like... I’ve begun feeling things for someone else,” she finally spoke softly.

“Feeling things? Someone else? But there’s no one else around. Who could you possibly—oh.” His heart began to race. Did this mean what he thought it meant? Did she like... him? “Me?” he asked tentatively. Nervous anticipation flooded his body as he waited for her next words.

“You.”

She smiled at him, her eyes telling him everything he needed to know. She wanted him. His best female friend, his other best friend’s current girlfriend, his Hermione wanted him. A warm tingling spread throughout his body, and his breathing became labored as he thought over the implications of this confession.

~*~*~

When I see you now,
I wonder how
I could've watched you walk away.
If I let you down,
Please, forgive me now
For that beautiful goodbye.

~*~*~

They sat there staring at each other. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t kiss her, could he? She was still with Ron. But he so desperately wanted to feel those lips on his. He couldn’t decide. He wanted her, but he couldn’t betray his friend.

But she was so close...

Ron and Hermione were having problems anyway, right?

It was just one kiss, right?

It couldn’t hurt that much... right?

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. His primal instincts began taking hold, needing to feel the touch of her skin, taste what had so far eluded him. He ran the back of one hand down her cheek, his thumb sliding along her bottom lip. He couldn’t take it anymore. His arms wrapped around her, crushing her body against his, bringing his lips down on hers. His kiss was strong, the pressure causing her lips to part easily, allowing his tongue to delve deep into her mouth to mingle with hers.

The sweet smell of cinnamon and pumpkin pie filled his head, as he continued his ministrations. His nerves were assaulted with the satisfaction of pleasure, somehow able to feel and comprehend every movement and touch, the tingle of her skin on his, the warmth radiating from her. One hand held her in place, while the other caressed every bit of skin he could find. She moaned softly at his touch, arching her back and pressing her chest further into his.

Her hands were tangled in his hair, yanking and pulling, desperately clinging to bring his mouth harder against hers. He felt as if their bodies would melt into each other with the force of their actions.

When they finally broke for air, he pulled her into his lap and held her against him, reveling in the warmth she provided and occasionally pressing his lips to her forehead. He found himself desperately wishing for time to stop and allow them to stay together for eternity, but he knew that time was cruel. All too soon, they heard a crash below.

Ron was home.

They had to separate, or he’d find them.

But she was so warm...

If they didn’t move, Ron would find them.

But they were so happy together...

They’d ruin everything if Ron found them.

He hated it. He hated pushing her away and leaving her, but he knew he had to. He had to, or else he’d lose everything—everything that was left in their lives would be ruined—so he left.

~*~*~

In these days of no regrets,
I keep mine to myself,
And all the things we never said,
I can save for someone else.
And nothing lasts forever,
But we always try.
And I just can't help but wonder why
We let it pass us by.

~*~*~

They went on with their lives as if nothing had happened, as if the fight between Ron and Hermione never happened and as if the kiss Harry had shared with her never happened. They were the golden trio once again, the perfect friends who never hurt each other.

It made Harry sick.

They shared secret glances, small touches and caresses, without Ron being any the wiser. Harry would never take back the kiss, never regret it, but it loomed over him, haunting him in his dreams. Harry found himself waking suddenly, soaked with cold sweat, in the early hours of morning on numerous occasions. The dreams started out pleasant; he and Hermione would be together with not a care in the world. Then, they took a turn for the worse. Ron would catch them. The group would fall apart, and Harry would lose his friends, the only family he had left. Somehow, during all the commotion, Death Eaters would enter the picture and steal Hermione away from him, forcing him to watch her death repeatedly.

He had the dreams for a month before realizing what they meant. As he woke up again, it finally hit him, why he was so afraid of losing her—he was in love with her.

He was in love with her.

And she was still with Ron.

Why was she with Ron when Harry was in love with her?

Of course, she didn’t know he was in love with her, but he still couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t just end things with Ron. She’d said it herself that things weren’t working out, so why did she hold on to a dying relationship?

Harry was tired. He was tired of seeing them together and tired of not being the one she kissed goodnight and laughed with, tired of not being the one she wanted to be with.

He had to leave them behind. The threats had increased with each passing day; his friends were in more danger everyday he stayed with them—and they were driving him insane. They were the perfect couple again, even with Hermione’s dull eyes, and Harry was sick of being the third wheel. He couldn’t enjoy seeing them together anymore, not when his jealously took over every time.

He planned to leave after Christmas. He’d be able to go off on his own and continue his search for the Horcruxes more quickly—or so he told himself.

All of his stuff was packed; all he had to do was wait for them to fall asleep so he could sneak out. It seemed so simple... but then why was it so hard to do?

~*~*~

When I see you now,
I wonder how
I could've watched you walk away.
If I let you down,
Please, forgive me now
For that beautiful goodbye.

~*~*~

“Harry?”

He cursed at the sound of her voice. He could have sworn he was being quiet. Not quiet enough, it seemed.

“Harry? What’s going on? Why do you have your trunk? Is something happening? You should have told us sooner to pack it we’re leaving.”

“Go back to bed, Hermione.”

“But—”

“Everything is fine. Just go back to bed.”

She frowned at him, knowing something was amiss. “You’re leaving us behind?”

“Hermione...”

Her confusion quickly turned to anger. She was fuming now. “How dare you, Harry? After everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to leave us behind?”

“I can’t stay here anymore! It’s driving me mad!” he burst out suddenly.

“You should have told us! It’s not like Ron and I are attached to this place. We’d be more than willing to leave if you need to!”

“I’m not leaving to get away from here...” he said quietly, “I’m leaving to get away from you two. Seeing you two together... I-I can’t take it anymore.” He turned away from her, heaving his trunk behind him as he moved toward the door.

“That’s it then? You’re leaving? Just like that?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Harry!”

He stopped in time to find her arms wrapped around him and her lips pressed to his. He dropped his belongings, wrapping his arms around her, engraving the moment into his memory. This was it, the end. He’d never have this again with her. He’d never be able to hold her like this or kiss her again. The thoughts caused him to strengthen his embrace, taking from her everything he could to lock away for later.

This was it. Their goodbye.

And he’d never have this again.

He had to let go.

He detested the world and time at that moment, loathed everything that separated him from her. They were forcing him to give up the person he held most dear to his heart, and it was killing him inside.

Finally, he forced himself to let go and turn away from her, to ignore the tears that ran down her face. He felt like something was squirming in his gut, willing him to release whatever was trying to escape. Each step was torture, like having his heart ripped out repeatedly.

Before he closed the door, he could have sworn he felt something warm hit him as a soft glow appeared. He turned quickly, but was met with Hermione’s back and soft sobs. He must have imagined it.

“Forgive me, Hermione.” His soft whisper was carried away by the wind as he finally stepped through the door and shut it behind him with a soft thud, never looking back again.

~*~*~

Baby, what can I do
To get through to you?
And sometimes I cry.
It’s a fool’s lullaby.

~*~*~

Months had passed since the day he’d left. It was the beginning of April. Had it really been so long? Had it really only been a little over three months? Time seemed to take ages and pass in seconds equally, giving him the sense of having lived two lives at once. In as little as three months, he’d done so much that it seemed to have happened decades ago, yet he could remember everything as if it had happened the day before. He’d journeyed all over England and been very successful in his quest; he’d found and destroyed the rest of the Horcruxes save for one. Nagini. He still had to kill her and take on Voldemort himself before he could finish this war. He was so close, able to see the light at the end of the tunnel, yet things still seemed so far away.

Now, he was finally back in London. He needed a small break to rest his body and magic before going on his final quest, and he needed a few supplies as well. The old and weathered sign of the Leaky Cauldron hung before him, swinging violently in the frenzied winds, the ominous creaks telling of things to come.

He pressed forward, taking shelter in the battered building and shaking the water drops from his cloak. Making his way to the bar, he greeted Tom the innkeeper and asked for a room. Tom offered to take the pack that Harry had slung over his shoulder, but Harry declined, asking for the key to his room instead.

He made his way up the steps, glancing at the keychain with his room number written across it. Room number 13. Great. Maybe he’d spent too many days in that tower holed up with Professor Trelawney because he’d been seeing too many bad omens for his comfort. Maybe, he was just going insane. Truthfully, he didn’t much care if he was; he just wanted to get some sleep.

He set his bag down by the bed before collapsing on it, not even bothering to change for the night. His thoughts quickly faded to memories of the past as he fell into his dreams. Hermione’s smiling face was the last thing he remembered seeing before drifting off.

~*~*~

Sometimes I cry.
It’s just a fool’s lullaby.
I’m dying inside.

~*~*~

He was sitting by the fire, curled up with Hermione tucked into his side. The warmth of the dancing flames permeated throughout the room as they sat in comfortable silence and enjoyed each other’s company.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and before them stood the man—no—thing that would take it all away. Their happiness, their warmth, gone, destroyed by the malevolent presence that had just entered.

Not again! Harry thought.

He hastily rose, prepared to fight, but he wasn’t fast enough. With the swish of a wand, Harry was thrown back against the wall. He scrambled to his feet once more, but the feared words had been uttered too soon. “Avada Kedavra.” Harry braced himself for the inevitable impact of green light, but it never came, not towards him at least.

Hermione fell to the ground, unmoving. Harry shook his head. “No.” He couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it. “No!” Why was Hermione on the ground? She couldn’t be... dead?

“NO!”

Harry quickly sat up in bed, sweat pouring from his brow and tears in his eyes. He’d had another dream. It was just a dream, he told himself, just a dream. They were occurring more often now. He needed to end the war soon, if not for the sake of the world, for the sake of his sanity. He took in a deep breath, allowing the cold, night air to seep deep into his lungs, stinging them with the sudden chill. He had to relax if he had any chance at sleeping again. Relax. Just a dream...

There was a loud bang, and the door burst open, causing Harry to jump up instantly and grab for his wand. He shot a spell out at his caller only to have it blocked with a hastened “Protego.” He tried again, but to no avail. Upon his third attempt, the cloaked figure made an impatient noise and spoke, “Honestly, Harry, it’s just me.”

He knew that voice, dreamt about it every night. He lowered his wand with a hesitant, “Hermione?”

She lowered her hood and laughed that beautiful laugh he’d gone so long without hearing. It really was her! Or was it? He narrowed his eyes. How on Earth had she found him, anyway? What if she was someone else using a Polyjuice potion?

“Hermione, I thought we’d agreed to meet up next month,” he quickly lied, wondering how she would react to that statement.

She laughed again. “You know very well we never agreed to such a thing. You just left, barely even said anything to me. I knew you were too set on leaving, too stubborn for your own good, so I didn’t really fight you. Before you left, though, I cast a tracking charm on you incase you didn’t come back on your own.” She smiled at his dumbfounded expression. At least that explained how she’d found him. “Oh, and incase you need more proof that I’m me, your favorite treat is treacle tart and my Patronus is an otter.” Her face suddenly changed to one of surprised understanding as she continued, “You know... I just realized why my Patronus takes the form of an otter. Before, I could never figure it out, but now... If you add a “p” in front of it, you get Potter.” She laughed again. “I suppose that makes sense, hm? After all, you always have been my guiding light.”

It was too good to be true. Hermione, his Hermione, was here with him. He hated questioning it, but why was she here, now of all times and without Ron? Ron. For an instant, Harry had forgotten about him. Where was Ron?

When he voiced his question, her face fell, and he mentally berated himself for causing her anguish.

“H-He’s back at Grimmauld. We got into a bit of a fight.” She fidgeted before continuing, “I’d waited for so long. I’d thought he’d break it off with me soon, especially after you left, but he never did. I wanted him to do it because I thought if he did, it would be on his own terms and not mine. If he did it, even if I was with you later, we’d still all be friends. He’d have no room for complaints if he was the one to make the final decision.”

She walked across the room to sit on the bed next to Harry. “But he never did. He just kept dragging it out, holding onto our ever-dying relationship. After you left, things went completely downhill. I was always so worried about you; I couldn’t stop talking about you, and I drove Ron mad with my incessant worrying. He finally confronted me about it last night. I could tell he was jealous beyond reason, and I finally told him about how I felt. I finally told him the truth... that I only cared for him as a friend and that, yes, his accusations were correct... that I was,” she paused, worrying her bottom lip, before plowing on, “that I am in love with you.” Her eyes met his at her confession, his breath catching at the determined gaze sent his way. “I left to find you. I had to find you. I couldn’t stay there after that, not until I’d found you, not until I knew you were safe.”

He barely registered her last words. One phrase kept running through his head.

...that I am in love with you... in love with you... I am in love with you.

He couldn’t believe it. She loved him. His Hermione—yes, his—was in love with him.

He stared into her anxious eyes as she awaited his answer. He stood from the bed, his gaze never leaving hers, and pulled her up and into his arms. He’d waited so long to be with her again, waited while thinking his goodbye to her had been his last. All the pent-up emotions he’d tried to deny himself from feeling so many times burst through. His hand tangled into her hair as he crashed his lips to hers. Their bodies pressed close together, needing to feel each other once more, needing the comfort they provided each other. Merlin, he was in heaven. He was sure he’d died on one of his Horcrux raids and was now in heaven. How he loved this woman who was currently in his arms.

There was no in-between with her anymore. He knew he couldn’t refute it any longer, and now, he didn’t have to. He loved her, and he would show her.

With four whispered words, “I love you too,” they fell to the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, and continued to show each other what those word truly meant.

~*~*~

“Beautiful Goodbye,” Amanda Marshall