Newfound Purpose

chocodance

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 06/06/2006
Last Updated: 06/06/2006
Status: completed

A visit to Godric's Hollow gives Harry a new reason for fighting.

Chapters

1. Newfound Purpose

1. Newfound Purpose

Harry found he could do nothing but watch the raindrops trailing down the car window. They would leave little streams and slightly obscure his vision of the countryside whizzing by, which was quite beautiful from what he had seen. He always pictured his parents living in a place like this; simple and peaceful, yet stunning even amidst the rain and dreary skies. It would remind them of Hogwarts with the rolling hills and forest out in the distance. Even though Harry had not been to this place in nearly sixteen years, he felt as if he was approaching home.

He had tried very hard not to think of this journey in the previous weeks, but it haunted him nonetheless. He appreciated that Hermione and Ron understood his need to visit Godric's Hollow the day after the wedding, crazy as it might seem. Why start on the beginning of the journey to the end when you can have at least a few days more of peace and normalcy? Harry didn't really know why, he just knew he had to. Whether it was the urgency of the evil at hand or just a longing to finally see home, he didn't know and didn't really care. Nothing was ever really normal in Harry Potter's world, anyway, and pretending otherwise would be wasted time. If by some chance he survived, he would find his normal later, if it was possible to find it.

The rain had finally stopped, but the skies were still dark. Harry glanced over at Hermione and Ron, both of whom had been completely silent throughout the journey. Hermione was in the middle, looking straight ahead and scrunching her nose like she was thinking extra deeply about something. Ron was leaning his head against the window, his eyes closed in a light sleep. They had left very early to escape unnoticed, since they were not just going to Godric's Hollow. This was the beginning of the horcrux hunt, and none of them expected to be back for some time. Ron left a note for his parents, and Hermione's thought she would just be staying at the Weasleys' for the summer. She didn't have the heart to tell her parents she wasn't going back to school yet, or where she was really going.

It was another weight of guilt on Harry's conscience to know how much they were both giving up for him. Ron was giving up the chance to graduate with his friends and possibly his life. Hermione was giving up certain Head Girl status and, very possibly, her entire future for this. Harry tried convincing both of them to stay home numerous times, but they wouldn't give in like Ginny had. As scared as he was for both of them, he was also very grateful. They all gained strength from each other in their own way, and separation was not an option. They had been the trio since first year and they were not breaking apart now, especially when they needed each other most.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the driver in front, a muggle friend of Lupin that lived in the area. "Almost there. Might want to wake your friend," he chuckled before turning back around. Hermione hit Ron on the arm and he lifted his head of the glass, yawning. "I'm warning you, the place is looking a little run down. Remus pays the rent and visits every once in a while. Hasn't been back in a year or so, though. Told me when he called me bout you three he'd been very busy. A good man, Remus is. A bit strange like James was, but a good man, like your father. Imagine how surprised I was when I found out the Potters' boy was alive. Where've you been hiding all these years?"

"Uh… away. With other relatives."

"Ah, I see. Well, we're here," he declared, pulling into the curving dirt driveway. Harry was afraid to look out of the window just yet- now that they were finally here, he wasn't sure he was ready for it.

The man opened the car door and Hermione and Ron scooted out the other side. Harry just sat there, and Hermione sent him a knowing look. "If you're not ready for this, we can go back."

"No, we can't go back now," he sighed shakily. Despite his mind screaming at him to just turn around and run away from it all, he slowly got out of the car. Glancing over the vehicle's roof, he got his first look at the home that was taken away from him so long ago.

It was a simple house, and there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about it. It was very small and wooden with two floors and a porch out front. The walls looked deteriorated and some overgrown plants and vines clung to the edges of the structure. One of the smaller windows in front was broken. There was a rectangular patch of dirt by the porch where Harry assumed a garden used to grow. There was a shed out in the back right on top of a little hill. As peaceful as it looked now, Harry could only imagine how wonderful it looked when he lived there.

"I'm going back into town for a while, so you kids can look around while I'm gone," the driver spoke while re-entering the car.

"Thank you for driving us, Mr. White," Hermione said.

He just smiled and started the engine. "Anything for friends of Remus," he yelled out the window before backing out of the driveway. Hermione waved and turned around, glancing at Harry as she did.

"Are you okay, Harry?"

"Yeah... I'm fine. Let's, uh, go inside." In truth Harry felt so many emotions running through him he thought he might combust. Fine was definitely not what he was feeling, but he knew he couldn't stand outside and gawk at the building all day. It wasn't what they were there for, after all.

Ron led the way, taking the little dirt path to the porch. It had little decorative stones around the edges, some missing, and the stairs were cracked and creaked loudly when stepped on. The house had been abandoned for only sixteen years, but it looked and sounded like it had been alone for decades.

The door was unlocked, and Ron twisted the knob and slowly walked in. Hermione gave one last concerned glance at Harry before she entered, as if asking whether he was ready. He nodded before following her in.

At first glance the room was fairly dark, but the light streaming through the windows let them get a decent look around. They had walked into the living room, with an old green couch and a couple of chairs scattered around a small table. There was a fireplace with pictures on the mantle, some moving and others still. Hermione wandered over to them and placed her hand on her face, as if stifling a gasp. Ron and Harry followed her, looking at all of the pictures as they walked by.

There was a moving one with his parents at Hogwarts, and Harry smiled as he watched his dad throw a snowball at his mum, who then proceeded to tackle him to the ground. There was a still muggle photo of them sitting at the beach. A larger photo was taken at their wedding, and Harry felt the sting of tears as he watched his dad twirl his mum around in her beautiful dress, both of them laughing. Another wedding photo had his dad, Lupin, and Sirius clutching bottles of firewhiskey and looking like they were singing and laughing. There were a few smaller pictures of their friends and Harry as a baby scattered around. The most recent looking one sat in the center, the one that Hermione was looking at. It was a picture of all three of them outside in the backyard. He was sitting on the ground, held by his mum, as his dad let go of a snitch. Harry looked up at it in wonder before reaching out for it with his tiny hands, causing his mum and dad to laugh.

It was almost too much, and Harry felt the gentle grip of Hermione’s hand on his arm. He was not going to cry already, he couldn’t. It was so quiet in the room that Harry could hear her breathing grow louder, and one glance at her told him she was desperately trying not to cry as well. She was hurting for him, she was feeling his sorrow at the lives that ended much too quickly. How different would things have been if his parents were never betrayed? Harry could only guess and wonder. He could be there with them, in his own house, enjoying summer in the backyard and playing Quidditch with his dad. His mum would be outside tending to the garden, smiling brightly and laughing with them. It was perfection and it was what he had lost, and now he was most likely going to die trying to make the world safe once again. He had lost it so early and he was never getting it back; Harry Potter was destined for other things. The injustice of it all was not lost to him, and without warning an angry tear streamed down his face.

He heard Hermione’s sharp intake of breath before he could wipe it away, and he gave her a slight smile to try and reassure her. I’m fine... I will be fine.

She gave him a questioning look as if to say she knew he was lying. Ron was running his hand furiously through his hair, not knowing quite how to deal with emotions such as this.

"Let’s go upstairs," Harry’s quiet voice broke through the uneasy silence.

"Uh… I think I’ll go outside. Need some air... air," Ron muttered incoherently before walking through the front door. Harry knew it was too much for him. Ron was a wonderful person and friend, but dealing with emotions was not something that came easy to him sometimes. Harry felt very tempted to follow him, but the tug of Hermione’s hand on his wrist brought him back.

She looked up at him with glossy eyes and a look that made his heart ache. "Harry... if this is too much, it’s okay to stop. Please don’t push yourself if you’re not ready." Her voice was gentle yet pleading, but Harry knew what had to be done.

"I know, but I’m ready. I’ve waited for so long. It’s time." He knew he wasn’t making much sense but Harry didn’t care. One look from Hermione told him she understood, and she slipped a comforting hand through his before beginning up the stairs. They creaked ominously with each step, and when they got to the top there was a charred spot on the wall, most likely from a curse. Hermione squeezed his hand but Harry was so numb by now he wasn’t feeling much of anything. It was all so surreal, like in one of his many nightmares. A few similar spots were on the walls, leading to a room at the end of the hallway. Harry felt himself drawn to that room, and he pulled Hermione toward it with his hand as if floating through a dream. The room was pulling him toward it, and Harry knew it must be special.

One glance inside of it told him it most definitely was. A large, messy bed indicated it was his parents. A couple of dressers were lined along the wall with more photos on them. Hermione gasped slightly at the sight of a crib shadowed in the corner, and it was then Harry knew this was the room where it all took place. The realization hit him with such sudden ferocity that he felt he would fall over if Hermione hadn’t been holding him up.

This was it.

Harry thought he would have sudden flashbacks or visions, hear his mother screaming, a baby crying, his father yelling, something.

But nothing came. Just a quiet, simple, dusty room to his eyes... nothing more.

Hermione gently let go of his arm and walked over to the crib, as if in a trance. Harry found himself mesmerized by the way she placed her fingers on the corner of the crib, slowly trailing her fingers across the rail where the paint was chipping off. Her hand stopped at the other end and she took in a sharp breath, willing herself not to cry. She gripped the edge of that crib as if it was her lifeline, and she slowly turned her head toward Harry. Her glossy eyes and tearstained face met his, and he was struck by how utterly sad she looked.

He found himself drawn to her for reasons he could not explain. They kept their eyes locked the whole time as Harry slowly advanced to the crib, and he was struck by the intensity of Hermione’s gaze. There was something there he hadn’t seen before, and he couldn’t figure out what it was. He knew her well enough to realize it wasn’t just simple sadness or anger or frustration in those eyes, but something more, beyond all of that. He felt himself drawn to her further, breaking her glance to look at the crib. He ran his hands across the rail just as she did before placing his hand on hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. She refused to meet his eyes then, staring resolutely at their intertwined fingers. Harry placed his hand underneath her chin, slowly moving her face toward him. Her eyes were still glossy and utterly sad, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

Harry was never good with crying girls, and his experience with Cho proved that. But this… this was different. This wasn’t just a girl to him, it was Hermione. She was the friend that was there for him when no one else was. When everyone else saw him as the Boy Who Lived, she saw him as just Harry, nothing more... and that’s all he had ever wanted to be. She was his voice of reason, his consoler, his one to depend on, and so, so much more to him than he could ever put into human words. She had done and risked so much for him and never asked for anything in return. Instead of shying away from her tears, he felt himself pulled to her like he had never been to anyone before. The thought that she looked beautiful in her sadness dwelt on his mind before he could chase it away. What was he thinking this for? This was his best mate’s girl, after all! But as hard as he tried to think of Ron, of Ginny, of anything but the way Hermione’s look made him feel, he found he failed miserably.

Hermione sniffled, and Harry wiped the tear from her face. Why was she hurting herself so much for him, why was she doing this to herself?

It was then Harry identified the thing in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. It was love. She loved him.

The thought sent his mind reeling. He didn’t know if it was true or not, and he really did not fancy asking her. But those thoughts were blown from his mind when he felt the soft skin of her hand on his cheek. Hermione was wiping away his own tears that he didn’t even know he had, but even after they were gone her hand lingered. What was she waiting for?

Their eyes locked and time and space held no meaning anymore. Her eyes were dark with sadness and longing, holding his gaze with hers.

Harry felt himself pulled to her even more, and couldn’t stop himself from what he did next. Without thinking, he placed his hand in her bushy curls and pulled his head down to her, eyes closed, and felt his lips brush quickly against her own.

Hermione stiffened a little at first, but soon drew back to him again in another soft kiss. The first few were quick and gentle, but both of them felt the longing for each other grow even deeper with each touch as if they couldn’t ever get enough. Harry felt her part her lips slightly, and he gladly took the invitation. They explored each tentatively at first, slowly, innocently, before the passion and need grow more than they could handle and Harry found himself, quite simply, snogging her senseless.

Words could never describe the way he felt kissing Hermione. It was sweet and gentle and passionate and full of need and just so right all at once, creating a feeling inside him that was more than just a simple monster of lust within. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her lips and her mouth, and her tongue swirled around his with a fervor of need and love. He ran his hands through her hair and hers trailed down his back, both gripping with a ferocious intensity as if they were afraid the other would fall away and this would all just be a wonderful, blissful dream. They delighted in the feel of each others skin and bodies pressed and the little escaped moans and the feel of not being entirely Harry and Hermione for just a moment, just being, just existing, just feeling, just this and nothing else would matter.

The need for air caused them both to part, gasping loudly. Hermione’s cheeks were flushed and her hair was messier than normal, as was Harry’s. They both just stared at each other in wonder and disbelief at what had just occurred. Harry was very afraid that he had just completely and utterly screwed everything up, but the wide smile that grew on her face told him otherwise.

"Hermione... what have we done?"

"You, Harry James Potter, just gave me the best kiss of my life. And I think you really liked it." Her laugh was sweet and flowing, not forced at all.

"Um… I did. What about... what about Ron, and-"

"Ginny? Ron and I never really got together, Harry. We kissed and tried to start something, but the spark just wasn’t there, I guess. The issue with Ginny you will have to decide for yourself. If you’d rather be with her, I’d understand," she smiled but it was forced this time, and Harry could tell she was very afraid of losing him to her.

What did he think of Ginny? Yes, she was a great girlfriend while she lasted, but the whole thing never seemed quite right to Harry. He cared for her and she was very attractive, and they had a few good snogs and semi-intimate moments, but it never came natural to him the way kissing Hermione did. He felt an attraction to Ginny, but the whole relationship felt like a lie in the end. Their dating was an escape to normalcy, a glimpse of the simple and peaceful life, but that’s all it ever was. Lust was ever all he felt for her, but with Hermione it was so much more. It was lust, attraction, passion, love, admiration, amazement, a sense of rightness and completion and many other things beyond words. Ginny was his normalcy, but Hermione was there when the delusion of normalcy fell away and reality was left in its wake. She was there for him now and always would be.

"I want to be with you, Hermione," he whispered gently into her ear, "I want to be with you more than anyone else."

She gasped slightly before looking up at him with wide eyes. "You do?"

Harry leaned down and kissed her again, lingering on her deliciously soft lips. Actions speak louder than words, after all. He felt and heard her sigh contentedly before leaning into him once more. This kiss was much slower and gentler than the first, a simple reassurance of their love.

They broke away again, almost painfully, when they heard Ron open the door downstairs. Hermione sighed and gave Harry a look that said it was okay.

"When are we going to tell him?" Hermione asked, slipping her tiny hand through his.

"Soon. Not now, but soon," Harry gave her hand a gentle squeeze before walking toward the door with her. He had to visit his parents’ graves still, and there were other things to be done that day.

Hermione nodded and wrapped her arms around him in a half-hug. They turned around and glanced at the room in silence, lost in their own thoughts. The room that had, at first, looked dark and full of death to Harry now held a little light. He could imagine his parents in there, putting the crib together and laughing and being happier than they ever thought possible. As painful as it was they way things ended, Harry knew they would have never regretted a thing. Their time together was short, but they had found love, something many people spend a lifetime searching for.

What lay ahead on their journey, Harry didn’t know. He wanted to promise himself that everyone would come out of it fine, but it would be a lie. There were likely to be many hard days of death and darkness to come, but Harry wouldn’t be alone. With Hermione and Ron by his side, they would overcome, and he knew that their bond could even surpass the boundaries of death. He had a better sense of purpose now, and he was driven to accomplish his goal more than he had ever been. Before he was destroying Voldemort for revenge, for the world to be safe again, but now it was more than that. He never thought he would have a future before, but now he would fight for it. Harry would fight so they all could be happy and finally, truly live their lives; so he could have his own little house in the country and grow old with his family and friends in a peaceful world. They would all have a future, and he would make sure of it. With Hermione’s love, he felt like he could do anything.

It was with that thought that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, turned away from the room of his mother’s death and the place that started the nightmare, Hermione’s hand in his, and walked into the face of the beginning of the end of all things.

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Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter… obviously.

This is my first HP fic ever, so any comments would be much appreciated. If you’ve seen it before, it’s because I’ve already posted it on ff.net and livejournal. My address is chocodance.livejournal.com, so if you’re on LJ stop by and say hi- I love making new HP friends! **twirls**