The Wishing Candle

Violet Kefira

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 17/07/2006
Last Updated: 17/07/2006
Status: completed

The phrase 'Be careful what you wish for' takes on a whole new meaning for Hermione.

Chapters

1. The wishing candle

1. The wishing candle

Hello! This is my first delve into the fanfiction world for Portkey, though most of my works are hanging around FF.net somewhere. I cannot tell you people how utterly excited I am to have been accepted!

*jumps about with joy*

I'm quite a happy person, can't you tell?

I had a lot of fun writing this story. It's the answer to a challenge here at PK that I took up a few months ago. For the lovely plot line, let's have a round of applause for Scout, who issued the challenge.

*claps enthusiastically*

Yes, I'm finally done boring you all to mucho death. Here's the story!

OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO

The Burrow was fluttering with activity. It was Hermione's nineteenth birthday, and with the recent defeat of Voldemort (courtesy of one, Harry Potter, the newly christened Boy-Who-Conquered), everyone was in a celebratory mood. Despite Hermione's insistent protests, Harry and Ron had conspired with the rest of the Weasleys to throw her a fantastic party. All of her friends were there, and her parents had even been able to come. She really was having the time of her life.

The best thing, though, to Hermione at least, was how happy Harry seemed. Over the last few months, Hermione had hardly ever seen him smile. The burden of the war and his responsibility to kill or be killed had really taken a toll on the poor boy, making him seem much older than his mere nineteen years. Hermione had seen him face so much; she'd faced a lot of it, too, at his side. His green eyes had shed so many tears over their fallen friends - Professors Flitwick and Sinistra, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Ernie McMillan - and there had been nothing she could do.

But the worst of it by far, had been the hurt when he'd found out that Ginny had cheated on him while the three of them were away. Oh, they hadn't been officially together, Harry had broken it off after all. But the shock of seeing her hanging on the arm of Draco Malfoy (he'd switched to the side of the light three months before the final battle with all sorts of helpful information for the Order) at Flitwick's funeral had been terrible. Not only that he'd lost her, but that he'd lost her to his former arch enemy, a man he still wasn't sure he trusted.

Harry hadn't been the same after that. He had stayed in his bedroom for nearly a week after the funeral. The collapse of Hermione and Ron's already shaky romantic relationship hadn't done much to lighten the mood of Grimmauld place as they waited for word on the last Horcrux.

But Harry had gotten over Ginny, and the awkwardness between his two best friends had subsided with Luna Lovegood's first invitation to coffee for Ron. So the trio was back to a different kind of normal when Harry defeated Voldemort. But Harry still didn't smile.

That's why Hermione was so happy at seeing him laugh and joke with Ron and the twins over something in their highly successful joke shop. If anything good had come from her short-lived relationship with Ron, it was that she had finally realized where her true feelings lay - with Harry.

“Gather round, everyone!” called out Mrs. Weasley as she entered the living room. “It's time to cut the cake!” The boys cheered, and even Hermione let out a small, timid whoop. On the platter in Mrs. Weasley's hands was a beautiful seven layer cake made with all manner of wonderful flavors: chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, butterscotch, lemon, strawberry, and caramel. Mrs. Weasley placed it in front of Hermione at the dinner table and handed her a large kitchen knife with a smile.

“Happy birthday, Hermione!” she said, and everyone else chimed in with their own birthday greetings. Hermione lifted the knife and was about to cut the first slice when a loud “Wait!” was heard.

It was Tonks, who rushed in with a small box in her hand. Her hair was waist length and a soft blonde, a sign of her gentle, maternal side coming through due to her pregnancy (she and Remus had married soon after Dumbledore's death). “Wait, wait!” she cried again. “Wotcher, Hermione. I have a special present for you.” With a flourish, she whipped the top off the small box and presented the contents to Hermione.

“Oh, what a lovely candle!” exclaimed Hermione, smiling. “Thank you, Tonks.”

“You're welcome,” replied Tonks politely. “But it's not just any candle. It's a wishing candle.” All the members of the Weasley family and the other magical guests “oohed” and “aahed” over this statement.

But Hermione tilted her head to the side. “What's a wishing candle?” she asked.

Behind her, Harry gasped over-exaggeratedly. “A magical object that Hermione Granger doesn't know about? What has the world come to?” Hermione reached behind her and whacked the side of his head with her paper plate. “OW!” he exclaimed. Ron snorted. Harry elbowed him.

Tonks glared at the both of them. “Thank you for asking, Hermione,” she said, directing a softer gaze back to Hermione. “It's quite possibly the most marvelous thing the wizarding world has ever created.” Arthur Weasley coughed behind her. “Er - besides some really great healing potions and stuff, of course. Anyway, when you put it on a birthday cake and make a truly heartfelt wish, then blow it out, that wish - if it's meant to happen at any point - will come true before midnight of your birthday! Isn't that exciting?”

“That's absolutely brilliant!” Hermione cried. “The magic on that thing must be astronomical in complexity!” As she took the candle from Tonks and began to inspect it, she heard Ron mutter behind her,

“Sure, Hermione gets an absolutely guaranteed wish and all she can think about is the stupid spell behind it.” Hermione ignored him.

“Well, go ahead and wish then, why don't you,” said Ginny impatiently. With a reluctant sigh (she was very interested in learning how this little purple candle worked, after all) Hermione stuck the candle into the very middle of the cake and lit it with her wand.

She thought very carefully before wishing so as to get the words exactly right. Finally, she closed her eyes and wished firmly. I wish that tonight, Harry would tell me that he loves me, but only if he really does. Oh, and kiss me, she added with an inner, wicked smile. She opened her eyes then and blew out the candle in one try. Everyone clapped, and she quickly cut the cake into slices.

Later, as they all sat in the living room with their paper plates on their laps, Harry turned to Hermione and asked, “So, what did you ask for, birthday girl?”

Hermione felt a sudden quickness of breath. A slightly hysterical voice in her head kept on repeating He knows. He knows. He knows! Hermione shushed it before replying, “I can't tell you, Harry, you should know that. It wouldn't come true if I did.” Hermione nudged him in the side with her elbow before turning back to her cake.

Harry leaned over and whispered in Ron's ear. “Five sickles say she wished that Vickie comes flying in through the window and carts her off to some history museum for a romantic learning experience.” Ron snorted into his Ginger Ale and desperately attempted not to laugh.

Very calmly, Hermione set down her plate. She took the couch pillow from behind Harry, inspected it, then stood up and hit him across the cheek with it. “I'll have you know it was most definitely not Victor, Harry,” she said with her nose in the air. Then she looked back down at him with a wicked smile. “It was Percy.”

“Ooh, you've gone too far now, Granger.” Ron jumped up and grabbed a pillow. He spun it around him in circles like a clumsy ninja.

Laughing, Hermione attacked him with her pillow. It wasn't long before - in an unspoken agreement - the two of them turned on Harry at the same moment. Thinking quickly, Harry grabbed not only a pillow, but the much larger couch cushion. He posed a much more impressive figure than Ron.

“Prepare to die, my dear friends,” he said menacingly. In a flurry of movement, he advanced on Hermione and Ron with pillows whirling.

It was soon quite obvious that, though there were more of them, Harry had a prominent advantage over Ron and Hermione. Within only a few moments, they had all collapsed back on the couch, laughing and all in a very good mood.

Having tired themselves out watching the young people having fun, the Grangers and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said `good night' and, with a last birthday blessing for Hermione, trudged on up to their bedrooms. Bill and Fleur soon apparated off to their own flat.

“Have you noticed that the two of them seem to go to bed a lot earlier than they used to?” whispered Ron in Hermione's ear. She blushed and punched him in the shoulder. He smirked.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione clung to her pillow as she cried. It was eleven fourteen p.m. if her watch was working correctly, and everyone else she was sure had long since fallen asleep. She should have been asleep, too, she knew. But the ache in her heart wouldn't let her.

Nothing, she thought again. Absolutely nothing from Harry. She'd tried her best to stall before going to bed, but nothing had worked. He'd simply wished her a happy birthday and strolled off to his bedroom.

It hadn't seemed real at first. She had so expected him to make a dramatic confession to her just before she left for bed. She had thought it was guaranteed because of the wish candle. She had been certain that Harry loved her. She had known exactly what would happen.

She had been stupid. That's all it was, she decided. What reason could Harry possibly have that would make him love her? She wasn't beautiful or funny like Ginny. She always tried to stop his spontaneous schemes; Ginny would follow him into anything. She didn't have a fiery personality like Ginny. She had never once stopped pestering him about his schoolwork back at Hogwarts, but Ginny encouraged him to live for the moment and not worry about his next Transfiguration essay.

There was her answer, she thought. He'd fallen back in love with Ginny. Or maybe he'd never gotten over her in the first place and was just waiting for the right time to say something. A sudden sickening thought occurred to her. What if they were already back together? What if even now they were secretly meeting out by the pond, or in the tool shed behind the house, or even in one of their rooms?

Hermione shuddered violently and leapt up from her bed. She couldn't take it anymore. She was not going to stay in this wretched, stuffy place a moment longer. Wrenching open her door, she rushed out -

And ran straight into Harry. The two of them tumbled to the floor with the force of Hermione's impact. It took them a few moments to right themselves before they stood up. When they did, Hermione whispered, “What are you doing here, Harry? Your room isn't even on this landing.”

“I know that, Hermione,” Harry snapped, perturbed. “I went to get a glass of water and I heard crying. Are you alright?”

Hermione suddenly remembered her reasons for leaving and had to blink furiously to keep from crying again. She glanced down at her watch. It read eleven twenty-three. There was still time! “No, I'm not okay, Harry,” she replied wearily.

He reached out with his left hand and rubbed her arm comfortingly. “What's wrong?”

Hermione sighed. If anything was going to happen between her and Harry tonight, she had to tell him the truth. “My wish didn't come true,” she said.

Harry's gaze immediately softened. “Oh, Hermione,” he whispered, and pulled her into a tight embrace. “I'm so sorry.”

Wrapped in Harry's arms, Hermione felt a peace of mind, though she knew it wouldn't last long. The minutes were ticking away at a breakneck pace, and she wasn't doing anything about it. She began to cry softly again into Harry's shoulder. “I should have known that it would come true,” she sobbed. “It was too much to ask for.”

“No, no, nothing it too much for you, Hermione,” Harry said soothingly, stroking her hair.

“Yes, it was!” Hermione cried. “It was foolishly made and not at all well-thought out. I should've just wished for a pony like I did when I was five.”

Harry chuckled, and Hermione felt just a bit better. “But you never would've gotten a pony, you know, Hermione,” Harry told her. She looked up questioningly. He smirked. “The candle would have known that you couldn't take care of it properly. You wouldn't ever stop horsing around.”

Hermione groaned. “Oh, dear God, Harry, that was horrible,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Maybe so,” he replied. “But you love me anyway, don't you.”

“Oh, of course I do.” Hermione snuggled deeper into his arms happily.

“That's a good thing, Hermione,” he said then. “Because I love you, too, like the sister I never had.” Harry placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

Hermione's eyes flew open. “What?” she whispered.

“I love you like a sister,” Harry repeated. He looked down at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

Hermione wrenched herself out of his embrace and backed against the wall. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.” She shook her head with each `no,' trying to force his words out of his mind.

Harry looked confused and hurt. “Hermione, what's wrong?” he asked, taking a step towards her. But she moved away.

“That wasn't supposed to happen,” she said, wide-eyed. “It was supposed to be different.” She raced into her room, shut the door, and collapsed on her bed, crying again. She heard Harry banging on her door, but it was as if from a far off place.

A deep, gnawing ache had filled her heart when Harry kissed her. She'd gotten what she had wished for. But it hadn't been at all as she had imagined it. The thought that Harry would only love her like a sister hadn't entered her mind when she'd wished. He would either love her or not, that's what she'd thought.

But this, this changed everything. There was no hope of feelings being developed if he loved her like a sister. You didn't suddenly have feelings for your sister. A sister was your friend, your confidante, your defense when things got ugly, but never your lover. Never a girlfriend. Never romantic.

And so Hermione cried. Her watch read 11:42 and that meant that it was done. In eighteen minutes, her world would finally come crashing down, and she would be broken. Why hadn't she thought her wish through more thoroughly? She could have wished for anything, and she wished for the one thing that would hold her high up or beat her down low.

Vaguely, she registered a great bang! but didn't even try to learn of its cause. There were a few moments' silence, and then she was being pulled out of her reclining position and into a tight embrace by two strong arms.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Harry said forcefully.

Hermione was struck by the irony of being shown more affection from Harry in one night than she had in the last seven months. She shook her head. “No,” she said.

“Why?” he asked.

“You can't make me tell you,” she replied. She struggled free of his grasp and strode towards the door. But Harry grabbed her by the arm and turned her around to face him.

His green eyes blazed with a hidden fury. “Tell me what is wrong, Hermione,” he said, with more calm than Hermione thought he felt.

Hermione was ashamed to once again find tears streaming down her face. “My wish came true,” she said.

Harry looked intensely confused. “But you said that it hadn't just a while ago,” he said, baffled.

“That's because it hadn't yet come true just a while ago,” she replied. She knew it was only a matter of time before Harry put two and two together, and she wasn't sure she could bear the rejection. “Just leave me be, will you, Harry?” she said then, terrified that he wouldn't.

“In a minute,” Harry said, then continued quickly, “What happened in the last few minutes that made your wish come true? What was your wish? And what on earth are you so upset about?”

Hermione sighed. Turning her face away so she wouldn't have to look Harry in the eye, she said, “It really isn't important.” As Harry's grip had loosened, she pulled her arm out of his grasp and went back to sit on her bed. “I don't really think you want to know.”

Harry sat down beside her. “Oh, but I do, Hermione,” he said softly. “Whenever you're upset, I want to do my best to take away what's bothering you, you know that. Tell me what's wrong and let me to something about it.”

“You can't just fix this, Harry!” She looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. “You can't wave your wand and expect everything to be better. These things don't work that way.”

Harry took her hand. “Let me try anyway,” he pleaded. “You mean the world to me, Hermione. Let me try.”

Silence overtook the two of them as Hermione thought. Her watch told her that she still had eleven minutes left. There was time for - but, no, Harry had said `like a sister.' Eleven minutes of explaining and crying couldn't change that.

But there he was, sitting beside her, just waiting to have a soul poured out upon him. How many times could she say that had happened? How many times had Harry been that open and loving? Not many, so best to take advantage of the opportunity as it presented itself.

She sighed. “Okay,” she said finally, and Harry smiled beside her. After taking a deep breath, Hermione began.

“When Ron and I broke up, it made me realize something that had never even crossed my mind before. I realized that, even though we'd had a certain chemistry at school, Ron and I aren't at all right for each other. It was fun while it lasted, really it was. But we could never have lasted. That's why we broke up.

“It didn't occur to me until later that our differences might not have been the only reason for the split. I didn't seem to need any other reason. But there was one, and when I figured it out, it pretty much blew me away. I trust you with my life, so I suppose you deserve to know.

“I figured out that, while Ron and I weren't good together…you and I are. Or, at least, you're perfect for me. That shook me because I'd never considered the idea of anything more than utter platonicity between us. But it felt right, and I couldn't get over it.

“So, I wished that tonight you would tell me you loved me. And - and kiss me, too,” here Hermione blushed. “I thought it was a foolproof plan. Tonks said that it would happen if it was ever meant to happen at all. I figured that some day you would have feelings for me, so my wish would come true. But it didn't. Then I ran into you and I had some hope after that because there was still time, but then you told me you loved me like a sister, and it all blew up in my face. I hadn't even thought it would turn out like this.” Hermione fell silent, studying her clasped hands in her lap.

Harry, too, was silent for a long time, and Hermione worried that she'd ruined their friendship. But then she heard him sigh. “I'm sorry that you had to go through that, Hermione,” he said. Hermione's heart sunk at his words. They weren't even remotely romantic. He must mean to reject me, then, she thought. There were a few more moments of silence, then, “Do you know what time it is?” Harry asked.

Hermione stared at him. “What?” she said.

“Do you know what time it is?” he repeated, looking nonchalant.

Bewildered, Hermione looked down at her watch. “It's eleven fifty-four.”

“Ah, plenty of time,” Harry said. Briskly, he took her hand in his and looked her in the eye. “Hermione Granger, by the power invested in me by the nation of England and the Ministry of Magic, I hereby grant your wish.”

“Harry, what on earth are you -”

“I love you,” he whispered, and pressed his lips firmly to hers.

Several minutes later, much to Hermione's chagrin, Harry pulled away with a smile on his face. “You know you could have just asked me to do that,” he said. Dazed, Hermione could only gaze back at him with a senseless sort of smile. Harry laughed. “I second that opinion.” And he kissed her again.

Hermione decided to buy Tonks something nice.

And have that blasted candle framed.

OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO

Oh, but that was rather fun.

Sorry, dears. I'm a bit obsessed with my works. Oh well.

Review! Review! Review! It'll just make my day.

~ Violet Kefira

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