Hard to Say

Amethyst

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 27/05/2006
Last Updated: 27/05/2006
Status: completed

After nearly three years of loneliness and misery, Harry finally tries to fix a mistake.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

Title: Hard to Say

Category: Angst/Romance

Pairings: Harry/Hermione, brief mention of Ron/Hermione

Rating: R

Spoilers: None, unless you haven’t read the books at all.

Summary: After nearly three years of loneliness and misery, Harry finally tries to fix a mistake.

Disclaimer: No profit being made, no copyright infringement intended, yada yada yada. This work is purely for the sake of artistic expression. Therefore, there’s no point in suing, as artists are dead broke.

A/N: Umm…so, this is one of the most OOC fics I’ve ever written as far as Harry goes, but I wrote this to explore a situation and some emotions, not a possible future timeline for the books. So please judge it for what it was intended.

It’s hard to say that I was wrong

It’s hard to say I miss you

Since you’ve been gone,

It’s not the same.

It’s hard to say I held my tongue,

It’s hard to say ‘if only’

Since you’ve been gone,

I’m not the same.

The Used, “It’s Hard to Say”

Somehow, after years of being fine, just fine, Harry found himself admitting that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life when he’d left Hermione.

In the beginning, he’d almost been alright. His decision to leave Hermione had been rash, impulsive, and moronic, and he’d always known that. He’d held to his belief that it was for her own good, however. He’d been holding her back, after all. She wanted to study in foreign countries, travel, see the world, but she wouldn’t go because he was training to be an Auror in England, and she wouldn’t leave him, not after everything that had happened. Hermione believed that she needed to stay to help him recover, both physically and mentally, from the final battle with Voldemort, which had left him severely wounded and more than a little depressed. Much as he loved her, and as ineffably grateful that he was for her unconditional devotion, he knew he could finish recovering on his own now, and he knew even better that she was miserable. Yes, she loved him and sincerely wanted to help him, and he knew that she’d rather be there for him than gratify her own desires – but she was discontent, feeling incomplete and wondering if she’d ever see her dreams realized. Harry knew she’d never be talked into leaving him, and so he did the only thing he could do to give her what she wanted. He left her.

She’d cried for awhile. She didn’t understand. Harry had been absolutely miserable, and he hated to see tears in her eyes – but his pain was eased by the conviction that he’d done the right thing, and that Hermione could be happy now.

Hermione eventually left England to study in Paris for a year, which was followed by a year in the States. When she came back, she didn’t come to see him. Harry understood. She had erased him from her life.

Harry buried himself in his training and later his work, often so tired that he would only lie awake for twenty minutes or so missing Hermione before he could fall asleep. Daily he reminded himself that he’d given Hermione what she wanted, and that was what mattered. She would live a long, happy life without him, and her wellbeing would have to be enough, no matter how much he ached for her.

About two months after Hermione’s return to England, Ron came to Harry and asked him if it was all right if he asked Hermione out. Harry had been shocked and more jealous than he should have been. He’d thought Ron had gotten over Hermione years ago. Harry said yes, however, because he thought he ought to have been over Hermione after two years, and, if he was going to be completely honest, he never thought Hermione would agree to it. She did, however, and Harry didn’t speak much to Ron over the six months the two dated.

It wasn’t until Ron showed up at Harry’s flat to tell him that Hermione had broken up with him, however, that Harry realized just how much he’d screwed things up with Hermione.

“She told me she didn’t want to lead me on anymore because she’d realized she’d never get over you,” Ron told him. “I argued with her a bit over it, but I know she’s right. She’s been right miserable ever since you left her.”

Harry stared at his friend who was sitting on his couch, calmly as you please, and he felt a stab of guilt. “But…she never said anything. I thought…I thought she was happy.”

Ron shrugged. “She’s made a good show of it, hasn’t she? I could barely tell from her letters when she was away. But after hearing her cry herself to sleep a few times when she thought I’d nodded off, I knew she was still in love with you. Two and a half years, Harry, and she’s still not over you. Every time she dates someone she ends up more depressed because it doesn’t live up.”

Harry fell into the nearest chair, finally understanding that he hadn’t done the right thing after all. Yes, Hermione had wanted to see the world, but she’d never wanted to do it alone. Instead of setting her free, he’d condemned her to loneliness and misery – and he really should have known better. He’d never doubted that she loved him. Perhaps he didn’t always understand why, but he’d known she did, and he’d known he loved her, and he definitely should have known that being apart would hurt them both.

All the pain and misery he’d put himself and her through…

He’d been such an idiot.

Ron sighed, breaking into his thoughts. “Listen, Harry, I don’t know why you did what you did, but I can tell you’re not over her, either. So would you do the world a favor and go talk to her?”

Harry frowned. “She’ll never forgive me.”

Ron shrugged again. “Maybe, maybe not. But you really haven’t got anything to lose at this point, do you?”

Harry offered his friend a grim smile. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” He paused. “You’re okay with it? I mean, you just broke up with her –“

“Yeah, but she was yours first, wasn’t she? And I reckon she never really became mine anyway, and never will be. So I’m leaving her to your care now. Just…try, Harry. Because if I can’t repair our friendship after this, she’ll have lost us both, and she doesn’t really have any other close friends. Maybe she won’t miss me much, but she needs you.”

Harry nodded, feeling terrified, but resolute. “I’ll go see her, then.”

Ron smiled slightly, and went to the door. “Good luck,” he said.

~

Harry arrived outside Hermione’s flat approximately five seconds later, but he stood outside her door for at least two minutes more. How could he knock on her door and expect her to let him in? It wasn’t as if he was crawling back to her after a week. It had taken him two and a half years to figure out what an idiot he was. Could it be possible for Hermione to love him still?

Ron’s words echoed in his head. Two and a half years, Harry, and she’s still not over you.

Perhaps he had a chance. Hermione’s love had always been unconditional.

You really haven’t got anything to lose at this point, do you?

Harry sighed and stepped forward, rapping quickly but firmly against her door.

Her voice came muffled from across the flat, growing louder with her footsteps. “Ron, I really don’t want to –“ she opened the door and stared – “oh. H-Harry. What…what are you doing here?”

Harry felt twice as flustered as she looked. “I, um…I wanted to talk, I guess.”

Hermione swallowed. “Now? Now you want to talk?”

Oh, yes, she hated him. “Er, yes. Ron told me what happened, and I thought…if you want me to leave, I will, but…could we talk?”

Hermione frowned, but stepped back from the door and said, “Come in, then.”

Hesitantly, he went in and walked into the living area, Hermione trailing behind him. The last time he’d been in this room, tears had been trailing down Hermione’s face. That was a memory he was altogether too familiar with and not at all fond of.

“Sit down,” Hermione said, choosing her armchair for herself. Harry seated himself on the edge of the couch.

“What did you want to talk about?” she asked.

“Ron said you broke up with him,” Harry said. “Are you…all right?”

Hermione snorted. “Am I all right? I’ve managed now to lose both my best friends. I should never have started dating Ron…he’ll probably hate me forever.”

“Ron doesn’t hate you,” Harry said, shaking his head. “He understands.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. “So, what, you came over here to tell me everything is fine and dandy?”

While Harry had somewhat expected frigid hatred from Hermione, dealing with it was becoming quite aggravating. “No, Hermione, I…there’s a lot I want to say, I just…it’s hard to put it into words.”

Looking away, Hermione sighed. “What can you possibly have to say after all this time?”

Harry almost laughed. “Too much…too much to even think of right now.”

Hermione sat back in her chair and drew her legs up in front of her, hugging them to her chest in a self-protective gesture. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, showing her pale, tired face, and she wore loose jeans and a white T-shirt she’d evidently bought as a souvenir in Massachusetts. She looked so vulnerable.

“I – I just want to say first that I don’t expect anything. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’m sorry. I know now that I was wrong when I…when I left you. I’ve missed you so, so much, Hermione, and I never said anything because I thought you were happy…I didn’t want to make things worse…and I’ve screwed up so much…”

Tears had begun to stream from her eyes. “Harry…why? I still wonder all the time, why did you do it? I don’t understand…we were happy, and I thought…no, I knew you loved me. You did. Why, Harry, why?”

He wished he could go to her and comfort her somehow, but he knew she wouldn’t let him, not yet.

“I did love you, Hermione. I did, and I still do – I never stopped. That’s…that’s why I did it. I thought I was holding you back from the life you wanted – from traveling and studying. I knew that was what you wanted to do, and I couldn’t go – and you wouldn’t leave me.”

Hermione stared at him incredulously. “You’re telling me you broke my heart because you didn’t think I had the right to make up my own mind about my life?”

“I never said I wasn’t an idiot,” Harry said quietly, feeling ashamed. “But you did go, and I thought you would be happy…I thought I’d done the right thing…”

“I went because it was too painful to stay here,” she said brokenly. “Everything reminded me of you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…”

“I still don’t understand, Harry. Why are you doing this now? It’s been almost three years, and I haven’t had one word from you…if I didn’t know better, I would have thought you’d forgotten my existence.”

If Harry could have dug a hole and buried himself in it at that moment, he probably would have. “I didn’t, Hermione. I didn’t go a day without missing you. I wanted you to be happy, so I never said it. But when I talked to Ron tonight, he told me he didn’t think you were over it, and –“

“And you thought you could come here and make everything better, is that it?” she interrupted angrily.

“No! No, I don’t expect to. I know I can’t. I just…I thought if there was even the slightest chance of at least being friends again, it was worth taking…”

Hermione looked down at her hands. “I don’t know if I can do this, Harry. There’s just too much pain…”

Harry swallowed. “If you want me to leave and never come back, I will. I – I’ll do whatever you want, whatever I can, just…tell me what to do.”

“I don’t know what I want you to do, Harry.”

“Could…could I stay until you figure it out?” he asked hesitantly.

She almost smiled. “You could be here for awhile.”

“I don’t mind. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Hermione sighed. “You really are an idiot, Harry. But…you can stay.”

Harry finally relaxed enough to sit back against the couch and watched her stare at the wall opposite her chair. He hadn’t understood exactly how much he’d missed her until now, seeing her again and wanting desperately to take her into his arms.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

She shifted and met his eyes. “I’ve really missed you.”

His heart flipped and he smiled, feeling hope again. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“I know. You already said so….” Hermione bit her lip and then stood, coming to sit next to him on the couch. Without asking, she curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Her nearness made his body ache painfully for her, and putting his arms around her was not enough, not nearly enough.

“Harry, I’m afraid to do this again. What if we can’t ever get back to what we had? Is it even possible anymore?”

Harry closed his eyes. Please, please, don’t let her turn me away, don’t let me lose her again.

“I…I don’t know if we could ever be quite what we were before. But…I still love you as much as I did three years ago. I’d never be stupid enough to put myself through this again – though all this pain. You loved me and trusted me once, and if you still do love me…then surely there’s a chance you could trust me again?”

Hermione pressed her cheek more firmly to his shoulder, causing her hair to fall forward and hide her expression. “I…I think I could. But it would take time.”

Harry tightened his hold around her. “If it’s possible, I’ll give you all the time in the world – whatever you need, whatever it takes. Hermione…you’re the only love I’ve ever known, and I think it’s going to stay that way. I don’t think I will love again if I’m not loving you. So…even if it’s not possible to have exactly what we used to have, isn’t it better than having nothing?”

He felt Hermione’s tears soaking into his shirt. “I don’t know what I want anymore,” she said, her voice muffled until she looked up at him. “I just…could you…could you just kiss me?”

Harry lost his breath as he stared at Hermione’s tear-streaked, desperate face.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, and as she inched closer to him, he didn’t hesitate to lean forward and touch his lips to hers.

The familiarity of the sensation brought them both closer, seeking more contact, falling into an old pattern. Hermione shifted, straddling his thighs and settling into his lap. Harry pulled her nearer, as close as he could, and slipped his tongue into her mouth. Tingles shuddered through his body as her tongue caressed his own and her delicate hands dipped under his shirt, feeling their way up to his chest. Harry didn’t attempt to disguise a moan. How had he gone without this for so long?

A little sigh escaped from Hermione’s lips as he mirrored her actions and slipped his hands under her shirt, eager to rememorize the feel of her skin. She pressed closer and Harry allowed his fingertips to trace the bare curve of her breast. Her skin was just as soft as he remembered, although she’d become thinner, shrunken somehow. If only he could fill her up again, bring life back into her flesh, restore her heart to its former strength and happiness…completing her would make him whole again.

Harry lost himself in her feather-light kisses against his face, her sweet scent, her fingers tickling his sides. She was still so, so lovely…

She tugged at his shirt, pulling him off the couch, luring him along with her mouth back to her bedroom where they fell onto her bed. A final tug sent his shirt flying across the room, and he was lost as soon as he felt her hands against his bare skin once more. Time had done nothing to quench the fire she could rouse in him.

Like a madman, Harry struggled with the button of her jeans and, once undone, tugged down the zipper and slid them down her legs in record time. He reached for every bit of the skin now exposed to him, from her delicate feet, up her calves, her thighs, finally reaching the damp spot in her simple white cotton knickers. She moaned and squirmed as he pressed his fingers against her core.

Impatiently, she pulled him upwards with her fingers tangled in his hair and kissed him fiercely, nipping at his lip with her teeth. As she distracted him with her mouth, she went to work on his jeans. Once he’d kicked them off, she pulled him closer, fastening her legs around his hips.

Desperate for more of her, he took hold of the hem of her shirt and pulled it off, watching her hair fan out across her pillow. He raked his eyes over her body. Oh, she was just as beautiful as ever…hardly changed, in fact. Hungrily, Harry descended upon her with his lips, eager for the taste of her skin, the warmth of her body under his tongue.

She arched her back just the way she always had when he laved her nipple with his tongue; she mewled just the same way when he worked finger under her knickers to caress her; she shimmied out of her panties just like she always would when they were both desperate and ready for more. The desire had not changed at all…only the intensity had increased with the passage of time.

Harry’d always particularly loved this part, when she was naked and squirming beneath him; when he’d tease her, dragging her slowly to the edge; when he’d lower his mouth to her sex and drive her moans to their highest pitch before pulling away, leaving her just short of release. As he did it this time, Hermione growled with frustration and took charge as she’d done few times before, driven by a desperation he’d never seen in her, pushing him onto his back and forcefully removing his boxers.

He could manage to do little more than breathe as she stroked him once, twice…too many times to count, impatiently, before she straddled him and took him inside her.

It had been so, so long since he’d done this with her….with any woman, for that matter. As he watched her now, moving slowly and deliberately atop him, he didn’t know how he’d gone so long. Everything about her was beautiful in that moment, from the sheen of sweat on her skin to her eyes locked on his…. He wished he could go back in time and change everything…erase their years apart and replace them with moments like these.

Hermione braced herself with her hands on either side of his head and sped up her movements. Soon her arms began to shake and her body began to shudder. He thought it was out of pleasure, but found he was wrong when she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

Harry’s heart broke a little bit more at the sight. How had he been so incredibly foolish as to hurt her, the only woman he’d ever truly loved…who had ever truly loved him?

Gently, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over, taking upon himself the effort of their lovemaking. Tears pricked at his own eyes as he eased in and out of her, trying to comfort her with soft kisses and whispered words. She clung to him tightly and eventually, her tears subsided, giving way to moans and cries until, finally, the tremors of her body consumed her and she went hurtling towards ecstasy. Harry plunged in after her, knowing only the scents and sounds and the feel of her, his…his everything.

Waking once more to reality, Harry moved aside and took her into his arms, hoping that his love would be enough to heal her heart with time.

~

When Hermione woke sometime in the early morning, she was the only one in the bed. Panic surged within her. Had he gone already? Had she lost him again?

The sound of the toilet flushing put an abrupt end to her thoughts, and she cursed herself for her stupidity as Harry wandered back into the room. Of course he hadn’t left…he’d explained why he’d left her before, and it wouldn’t happen again…. She wanted so desperately to trust him again, to love him as she once had – without fear or restraint. That love had made her whole in a way she’d never expected…she wanted that feeling back.

Hermione sighed and shook those thoughts away as he slid into bed beside her. He was here now. That was all that mattered.

He turned to her in the darkness and kissed her with those lips – those lips that could bring her to the greatest heights of ecstasy, that had broken her heart so easily. She’d missed them.

“I’m sorry – I tried not to wake you,” he said quietly as their mouths parted.

“It’s all right,” she murmured, allowing him to draw her closer. His arms were strong and solid as ever.

“Hermione…I have to know. Do we still have a chance? Can you love me again?”

Hermione kissed him softly but soundly. “I never stopped, Harry. I doubt I ever will.” She sighed as her mind resigned itself to the truth her heart had known the moment he’d turned up at her door the night before. Harry was – her destiny, for lack of a better word. Whether it was chosen by some higher power or the result of their friendship, their lives were forever intertwined…inextricably.

“I think we should put the past behind us,” she said, willing her mind to do just that. “I don’t want to dwell on it anymore.”

Harry smiled slightly. “That works for me.”

~

“Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. O no; it is an ever-fixed mark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken.” – William Shakespeare