Want

Want : A ficlet of Angst

I’m trying to pretend I don’t feel this way. That I don’t want to reach for her hand and hold it in mine. I’m failing at convincing myself that I don’t want to sweep her off her feet, offer her a dance, and maybe a walk home later. Heck it takes all my self-control not to grab the nearest napkin and scribble ‘Harry Loves Hermione’ on it.

Guys have always come and gone in Hermione’s life. Some have stayed for a while, attracted by her spirit, her kindness, her looks. But eventually, they all found someone else to pine over. Except for me. The Boy Who Lived. The Boy Who Loved. The Boy Who Lost.

We’re currently sitting at a party and the only thing I want to do is leave. Music is blaring from the speakers and Ron has found some girl who tells him that she loves guys with red hair. I’ve only had one drink, but already my vision is somewhat blurry. The guys have always told me that I’ve never been one to hold my liquor. The newspapers will have a field day tomorrow. HARRY POTTER PUKES AT PARTY OF CENTURY. It’s honestly not a teriffic party, but the media will spice up anything to sell itself.

I find myself walking over to her just to say hi. When I do, a smile lights up her face and my insides churn with a mixture of bittersweet happiness and alcohol. She senses something is wrong and asks if I want to go home. I do, but I won’t tell her that. I tell her I’m heading back by myself, that she should stay and chat with her friends. I joke that beer and Harry Potter do not mix. She gives me a sardonic smile and I’m off, waving goodbye to the woman I’ve secretly loved since my Hogwarts days.

I head back to the apartment, shedding my coat and shoes at the door. Flopping onto the bed I close my eyes, wanting sleep to come and take me away. Unfortunately, I seem to have run into a heap of bad luck. All I see on my closed eyelids is her. Swaying to the music, wine elegantly held in one hand, she’s smiling at me. She wants to dance and I can’t resist. We dance back and forth to the music, my arms around her waist. Only after we’ve parted from each other does sleep begin to cover up my thoughts. If true love is where you think about the person night and day, before you rise and before you go to sleep, then I’m head-over-heels.

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“Harry?” A voice rouses me from my sleep. Opening my eyes I’m ashamed to see that it’s Hermione. I must look an awful mess from last night.

“One and the same.” I groggily reply, sitting up slowly as the world spins. She smiles and for a second everything is ok.

“You looked pretty wiped out at the party last night, are you ok?” That’s Hermione, ever the comforting one. I nod as she sits down next to me, her arms wrapping around my sloppy form. I gently hug her back, trying to forget how good it feels to be like this. It gives a new meaning to the cliché, so close and yet so far away. Without meaning to, I let slip,

“Your hair smells really good.” I take a deep breath and she looks up at me and gives a small laugh.

“Why thank you. And you smell like…” I hold my breath. Her nose brushes against my shirt as she finishes, “like soap,” she pauses, “and alcohol.” I laugh,

“What a combination.”

“Indeed.” She says with a grin, and I can’t help wonder if she means something else. It’s probably just my hormonal brain wishing that she were implying that I smell good.

“Thanks for coming over,” I say, beginning to let go of her. I hope she can’t feel the remorse as my hands leave her sides. She stands up and replies,

“For you Harry, anytime.” I smile and attempt to smooth out my crumpled shirt as I stand. She heads toward the door and then abruptly turns around,

“Oh! And don’t forget, Ron’s birthday is next week! We’re having a surprise party for him.”

“Right,” I say smiling, “Ron will be bugging me all week anyway.” She briefly comes forward to give me another hug and then backs out the doorway.

“Bye.” She calls and before I can respond I hear the click of the door shutting.

Now I have two things to worry about. And to follow my string of bad luck, they’re both my best friends.

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“Harry hurry up!” Hermione has been on the edge ever since today started. It may not help that today happens to be 1/3 of the trio’s birthday. “Ron’s coming!” I silently slip behind the couch just as I hear Lavender’s voice saying,

“I’m so excited that you could come Ron.” The door opens and with a,

“SURPRISE!” We all fling out from behind our hiding spots. On Ron’s face is a look of pure shock. A second later a huge Weasley grin can be seen and soon he’s hugging everyone he can get to.

“Wow you guys! This is teriffic!” Hermione smiles the widest, happy that she finally pulled it off. It’s hard to be sad when your two best friends are so happy, but somehow I manage. I disguise it with a grin and hug Ron.

“Happy birthday Ron,” I say. He grins back and says,

“You bought me food, right?” I give a genuine laugh and point to the kitchen,

“Of course!” In a flash he’s gone to find all the snacks we bought especially for him. I turn around and Hermione’s at my side.

“Congratulations,” I plaster my face with a smile, “you really pulled it off. And not to shabbily either.” She smiles but I know that she’s pondering something. Somewhere someone turns on the stereo and in the background Ron shouts,

“Holey sha-moley look at ALL THE FOOD!” Hermione and I both smile at each other. She grabs my hand and we’re dancing. For a moment all time stops and I’m together with Hermione. She whispers in my ear,

“I know something’s wrong.” I attempt to interrupt but she continues, getting a tighter hold around my neck with her arms. “You don’t have to tell me. But just for tonight,” my breath stops, “be happy. Just for one night, let’s pretend that it’s all ok.” I nod slowly, knowing that tonight will be the end of my bad luck.

And we dance. My hands are actually around her and they’re not shaking. We’re slowly moving back and forth and she’s smiling. And I can pretend. I’m pretending that we’re not Harry and Hermione, two parts of a trio, but Harry and Hermione, couple of the year. My gaze is locked on her and a wide grin stretches across my face.

“That’s what I’ve been missing.” She says softly and I can’t help but smile even wider. She leans her head against my chest and smiles. For one moment in eternity, we’re together.

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The party ends with a bang, literally. Ron has seven people lined up popping corks off of wine coolers. It’s a shower of sweetness and I watch as Hermione happily squeals when some of the liquid hits her. People begin to stream out and I smile at Ron and wish him another happy birthday. Feeling bold, I reach for Hermione’s hand and offer to take her back to her apartment. She nods at me and my heart skips several beats. It seems as though when this night ends I will be in the hospital under cardiac arrest.

I drop her off outside her door with a weary grin. Giving her one last hug I tell her that she was amazing. I don’t even bother correcting myself this time. She gives me one special smile, and then slowly shuts the door. And then my pretend-world comes crashing down, and I am alone again.

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Want. Part 2.

Note: Hermione's point of view. Also takes things a bit farther.

Sorry about my jumping of tenses, I've always had that problem…

I honestly couldn't remember where my mind had flown off to or why it had left me in a situation in which I needed it desperately. I was sure my mouth was open, but nothing would come out. If I truly thought about, I would've been very glad that my thoughts stayed in because if they hadn't, my secret would be out.

I had feelings for Harry Potter.

Feelings. I refused to call it anything else. Why should I? It wasn't as if it was anything else. At least, not anything else that began with the letter `L'. And ended in `ove'. No. Definitely not. It was all well and good for the heroines in dime-store romance novels to fall for that sort of thing while their knight in shining armor whisked them away. But in the real world? Things of that nature rarely happened, and I was not one to rely on a lax probability.

So I stood there in the middle of Ron's living room staring at Harry, musing that perhaps I should ask for a dance. Ron was shouting about how much food there was (“I love these cookie things!”) and for a second our eyes met and the dance is a reality. I've always had something of a `Harry Radar' that beeps incessantly whenever something's wrong. Maybe that's really what this dance was all about, comfort.

A huge Harry-grin spreads on his face, the kind that makes the girls swoon when they see their pull-outs from `Witch Weekly'. For a second I think I'm swooning too because my vision is going blurry and surely there is NO OTHER reason why this would be happening? And then I realize I'm not becoming a fangirl, it's just that I've drifted so close to him that nothing's in focus anymore. But it's ok because his shirt smells so wonderful and I think if I closed my eyes I could stay like this forever.

I sound like a sap.

Perhaps the novels are right. Maybe normal people can have knights too.

-------

The radar is beeping again only this time I'm ignoring it as best I can. A glance at the clock tells me that not even the most competitive of early birds are up yet. A sigh escapes as I realize that I'm not going to be getting any sleep until I've satisfied the horrible internal alarm.

Before I even realize it I'm knocking on the door of Harry's flat exercising a patience that I could only hold with him. The door opens and he stands there, looking at me in shock. For a second I become self-conscious, touching my hair and forgetting that I'm not here to impress. I waltz in without a word, letting him shut the door behind me. No one has said anything yet and I suppose it's better that way. Pulling him down next to me on the couch I wrap my arms around him and he sighs. This is how it's always been.

He smiles when I look up at him and for just a second my heart flutters. It's not a painful thump although from previous experiences I'm thankful for that. Kissing him on the temple I question softly,

“What's wrong?”

He looks at me and I wish I could read everything he's thinking. With Harry it's like some secret code that's constantly running. Brinks Security has nothing on this boy.

“I don't really know. But I'm glad you're here.”

I'm glad too. He smells like soap and it's comforting just to sit here on the couch with him and hear his heart beating. I can feel his gaze nearly scorching me so I chance a look up.

My breath catches in my throat and I damn my windpipe. His voice is a hoarse whisper,

“Will you stay the night?”

Merlin. Harry is trying to kill me. It's the only explanation really. Why else would he do that?

“Y…yes.”

He looks surprised, and relieved I suppose. Before I can even think about what I've just agreed to he's picked me up honeymoon-style and is carrying me towards the bedroom. My arms circle his neck and I desperately hope this will not turn out to be a mistake. I'm laid softly on the bed and a moment later I feel the bed creak under his weight as he rolls on.

We had done this so many times at Hogwarts but here, in Harry's flat, there's something so much more intimate about it. I sigh and roll over to meet him halfway, burying my face in his shirted chest. His arm comes protectively around my waist and I wonder if he knows what he's doing. I wonder if he knows what I'm doing. What are we doing?

The last thought to cross my mind before I drift off is, `Why does this feel so right?'

-------

I can't stop laughing and it's all his fault. The first thing I woke up too was a happy grin on Harry's face which should have told me immediately: Run. But I didn't and suddenly his hands are on my waist tickling me until I can't breathe and the only word flashing across my mind is, `MERCY'. He's laughing too although I haven't gotten the proper chance to make him suffer. Finally when I think my guts are going to combust leaving Harry with only a shell of a girl he stops and I'm scurrying off to the loo.

I look at myself in the mirror. I'm a mess.

“You look lovely dear, but I hope you brought along a brush.”

I roll my eyes at the mirror and peek out the door. Harry is nowhere in sight so I quietly sneak out. Of course, auror Harry attacks and I fall against the wall desperately attempting to slip out of his grasp. No such luck apparently. He's still grinning as he lifts me over his shoulder and walks the short distance to the kitchen.

“Harry Potter! You will PAY for this,” I pause a minute and then add, “through the nose!”

“Through the nose?” I can only imagine the look on his face. “That sounds right disgusting. I never thought you were that sort of gal Hermione. Kinky.”

He sets me down but I'm in too much of a state of shock to run away. Still laughing at the look on my face he proceeds to the cupboards and inquires, “So, do you like pancakes?”

I'm still at a bit of a loss for words but I manage, “No. I abhor them.” Now he rolls his eyes and grabs the nearest spatula. I sit on a stool pondering exactly what is going on here.

Harry's cooking me breakfast. After I stayed the night. In his bed.

But not like that, I chide myself. Although it's hard to remind my mind that it was all completely platonic. Completely.

The pancakes are ready sooner than I am prepared for. Harry has always been the better chef than me which provides endless jokes for he and Ron. I find that I'm not too hungry so Harry finishes my portion for me. The radar is giving me the `all clear' signal but I ask again,

“Are you going to be ok?”

He smiles and takes my hand,

“Oh definitely.” He's grinning again but this time I chance it and grin back. He stands up and grabs me around the waist for a huge bear hug. My arms are around his neck as I hug him equally hard back. I'm fighting the feeling that it feels wonderful and that maybe if I pretend to break my ankle I can stay longer. I could ask to stay, but then I would be chasing myself back to the `L' word again. Can't have any of that. A part of me aches and I can't let go of him. Just a few more moments I promise myself, maybe one or two.

He hasn't let go either.

And then slowly I'm slipping down his body as our hug ends. His hand comes out for a moment to brush away a stray hair from my face but instead of feeling self-conscious this time I smile and lean in to kiss his cheek.

Ever so slightly he turns his head.

I meet his lips.

My head goes fuzzy, my brain has left the building, and I wouldn't trade the moment for all the galleons in the world.

-------

I'm kissing her! Me! Harry Potter! This is nothing like the dance, it's nothing like the hug, it's so much more that I can't even begin to explain. In fact, I won't try, because I can't. It's that her lips taste so incredible and that I can't stop my hands from running over her curves, and I wouldn't remove her arms from around my neck for the world.

It was supposed to be like this.

It was meant to be like this.

-------

Perhaps there is hope for the `L' word after all. Because there's only one thing that makes me feel like this every time I see him, every time I'm near him, heck, anytime someone mentions his name.

“Hey beautiful, so how about that, `through the nose' thing?”

Note2: Sorry it's a bit boring, then again I specialize in that sort of thing. I wasn't originally going to write this but it just sort of happened.