Testing the Limits

A/N: I don’t own Harry or any of his friends, but I’d appreciate it if you’d comment about what I’ve done with them!

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They sat on opposite sides of the room. His face was pressed against the glass of a bay window, and she sat in a wicker chair behind him, pretending to read but actually studying him anxiously.

It hurt Hermione to see Harry like this.

- - - - -

"It should be just there, down this lane," Hermione said, double-checking the sheet of parchment in her hand.

Harry stopped in the middle of the road and Hermione bumped into him.

"Let's go," Harry finally said, trying to reassure himself.

Hermione tucked the parchment into the folds of her cloak and swallowed hard. They turned the corner and walked about fifty paces before they finally saw it.

The big gray house was a sight, shrouded by overgrown shrubbery and a stripped, crumbling foundation. Harry gasped, but proceeded, not wanting to lose his nerve when he had made it so far.

Stiff brown grass crunched beneath their feet as they approached the front door. The handle gave easily and the front door creaked open. Inside, they could still feel the thick humidity of the rainy August evening, but everything appeared as if the last occupants of the house had merely left for a holiday.

"D'you reckon we should go upstairs?" Harry breathed.

Hermione nodded, incapable of basic speech because of a thick lump in her throat.

The first door they found bore a bed with simple yellow sheeting and dark green curtains. A bureau held a china tea set, a porcelain bowl, and a silver brush with a few dark red strands of hair woven through the teeth. Harry examined the brush, holding it close to his chest, and then replaced it on the bureau surface.

"This was their room," he said, uprighting a chair.

To their right, the next room was empty save a rolled carpet leaned against one wall and a couple of rusted cauldrons. The walls had been charmed a midnight blue color with twinkling yellow stars.

Apparently deciding there was nothing of import in that room, Harry led Hermione to the hallway, where they faced the final door. The handle was rigid; it was locked.

As if panicked, Harry slammed against it. The door gave a bit, but remained tightly sealed.

"REDUCTO!" he shouted.

Hermione watched as the door became hundreds of wooden pieces scattered across the floor. Moonlight streamed through the room, revealing its features.

“This is…” Harry trembled. “This is where…” He sagged to the floor, clutching his forehead. Hermione knelt beside him for several moments before tentatively touching his shoulder.

He looked up at her, his eyes dry but filled with naked pain, and inched toward her. She took his hand and squeezed it, and his trembling stopped. He lifted his head and their eyes held.

Harry's green narrowed in confusion, regarding her warily. Hermione held his gaze, emanating confidence. She knew that's what he was looking for: hope for him, trust in his strength. His eyes softened and absorbed Hermione in her entirety.

Without preamble, Harry reached to her with one trembling hand. Before it could touch her shoulder, it stopped, but he didn’t have to go any further; Hermione had met him halfway, both inviting and consenting to him. He accepted and held her urgently.

"Thank you," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear.

She squeezed his shoulder in reply.

- - - - -

They had found a Muggle motel just outside of Godric's Hollow, and Hermione took care of the arrangements. Harry had been silent since they left his first home, studying the road beneath his feet and only blinking when drops of new rain hit his cheeks.

When they reached the simple room, Harry had immediately removed his cloak and gravitated toward the bay window. Hermione charmed their clothing dry since they hadn't any replacements; they had left the Delacour-Weasley wedding immediately with only the belongings on their person, no time to even say good-bye to Ron.

Hermione closed the book before her, hoping Harry would respond to the noise, but his stare never deviated from whatever unknown object caught his attention outside the window. She had no idea what he had found because all she could see from the window pane was her own reflection and Harry's, whose eyes she found, were trained on her.

Startled, Hermione's cheeks flushed, but she smiled at him. Her mind raced as she rose from her chair and crossed to the bed. Had he been staring at her all along, she wondered, as she drew back the grainy comforter.

"I, erm, I'm going to sleep now," she announced. Harry turned to face her. "You can have the bed." She removed an extra pillow and charmed a pallet on the floor beside the bed.

"No," Harry said. "I'll have the floor, thanks." He took the pillow from Hermione's hand. There was no use arguing with him, she decided, kicked off her shoes, and settled into the bed. Even though the springs of the mattress pushed against her shoulder blades, she fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the day's events.

Harry, on the other hand, did not even attempt to sleep. When Hermione's breathing had reached a satisfactory pace, he rose from the floor, shook the moisture from his cloak, and left as quietly as he could, studying Hermione's sleeping form in the hallway light before leaving her.

They had passed the cemetery on their way to the house, and Harry felt pulled in its direction. Although the area was unfamiliar, he found the location easily, and searched the gravestones with the light of his wand.

The Gothic stones weren't in any particular order, and varied in size and shape. He must have passed at least fifty sites before he found what he was looking for.

James Potter and Lily Evans Potter
The sun will shine less brightly evermore
31 October 1981

He sat down next to it, the soggy land squelching beneath his legs, and ran his fingers along the indented lettering. H-E-R...

The grave had changed beneath his hands.

Hermione Jane Granger
Whose bright and innocent blood was shed
15th May 1997

"No!" he screamed. "NO!" He sprawled across the grave, facedown, and clawed at the grass. The barrier that he had so carefully built after the death of Sirius, the death of Dumbledore, and the gravity of his parents' home had crumbled before him. He felt shattered and stripped as his body burned with pain and choked with sobs and his mind flashed back to his first image of Hermione's eleven year-old face on the Hogwarts Express, showed her nearly falling out of her chair trying to get Professor's Snape's attention, and kneeling before him in the Hogsmeade snow, to her soft glow on the steps of the Yule Ball entrance, until it stopped on her still form in the Department of Mysteries over a year before and grew dimmer and dimmer until it finally she disappeared from his memory.

"HARRY!" Hermione's voice was strained with urgency, but fresh to his ears. She looked surreal standing before him in her pale blue frock, soaked with rain, and bathed in the yellow light of the streetlamp.

"No, Hermione!" he shouted over the rainfall. "You can't. I can't do this anymore, I--"

"Don't you dare, Potter. Don't you dare tell me what I can and cannot do!" Harry saw a strength in Hermione that he had never seen before; her voice was almost vicious.

He stood and bolted to her, nearly knocking her over with the force. "If I have to bury you, Hermione...if you become another stone in a grave. If he takes you because of me, then I..."

She sobered and eased into his arms. "Then we'll have lived fully and died trying. But I can't live if I don't try. I can't live if we're not--"

Harry held her at arm's length and pushed her hair from her face with one soft sweep of his hand, caught his fingers in the back of her hair, and kissed her. He knew at that moment, that no matter how long this business with Voldemort would take, he wouldn't last a minute without Hermione by his side. And they both realized that they had known it all along.