Newfound Purpose by 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.




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**