Disclaimer: The HP world belongs to JK Rowling. The horrible plot lines are mine.
A/N. Hi Everyone. Erm, first original portkey fic. This fic's loosely based on my friendship with *someone specila*. Fluff in front, angst in back, bittersweet story. Happy Reading.
EDIT: I now have a trailer up for this fic. Check it out at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpYypgHgqfM
Why me? I would always wonder. I wasn't special. I wasn't very built. I wasn't very handsome. I simply refused to wear contacts. I was a geeky kid, really. Even then, at twenty four years old, I was still geekier than ever. It was because I was a hero. It always was. The reason why she noticed me in the first place. I was Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. Everyone noticed me. She saw my scar. She saw my hair. She saw my glasses. She saw Harry Potter.
I saw Ginny Weasley, the younger and much quieter sister of my best friend. She was just…she was Ginny. She wasn't her own person. I didn't even know who she was. She was just…Ginny. That would have been my answer to anyone's question. She wasn't my sister, she wasn't my friend. She was…she was Ginny. I never realized how horrible it sounded.
I didn't know why I noticed her in my sixth year. I just did. It became an obsession. I often wondered if that was what love was. All I knew what that if I didn't have her…I'd go crazy. And I did. I got her. Too late, though. It didn't last long enough. The Second War began too quickly. I lost my innocence and was forced to become Harry Potter. I was forced to become a hero. Just Harry was gone. The Harry Hermione met. Hermione recognized me by my scar. But she knew me. Just like Ron. They didn't know the boy-who-lived. They knew Harry. They stood by Just Harry's side during the Second War. Ginny was taken out very quickly by Dolohov. We moved on without her. They stayed there for as long as they could, resulting in Ron diving in front of a Crusiatus Curse for me. Hermione and I went on for as long as we could. She took a Sectumsempra Curse for me from Dolohov. And just like that, I was alone. Like I was destined to be. I fought Voldemort. Like I was destined to. I beat him. Like I was destined to. I lived. Something I didn't plan on.
The world had changed. Everything was different when I woke up, two months later. Hermione and Ron were officially a couple, Ginny had recovered from her broken legs, half the staff at Hogwarts had died and I was a hero. A very big hero. But that didn't matter. I no longer had a purpose. I could be Harry. I was ready to live a life. I was so ready to move on and get through my stupid past with Voldemort. Ginny, Ron, Hermione and I moved into Grimmwauld's place, making it our own. Ginny and Ron became a chaser and keeper for the Chudley Cannons respectively. Hermione and I, Unspeakables at the Ministry of Magic. Everything was perfect. We were the perfect couples. Ginny and Harry. Ron and Hermione. One big happy Weasley family, Mrs. Weasley joked once. And although it was quite true, I could never shake the feeling that something…someone…was missing. I would look for it every night in my pensieve, searching for that something…that someone…who was missing in my life. I'd never find her. I would stay up late sometimes, ignoring Ginny's calls to come back to bed. "Who are you?" I'd ask the pensieve softly, "Who are you?"
~*~
"Harry? Harry, it's me."
Harry raised his head at the sound of Hermione's voice.
"Come in," he rasped.
The door knob turned slowly and she slipped into the dark room. Harry was sitting on edge of his bed, his glasses on his desk, a piece of paper in his hand.
"Is everything alright? You were quiet again during dinner."
Harry bowed his head once more, fisting the paper in his hand. The crinkling sounds drew her attention.
"What is that?" she asked softly.
He shoved it roughly in her hands and she suppressed a gasp.
"Read it," he said.
She took the paper and raised it to her eye level.
TROUBLE IN PARADISE?
Current Girlfriend of Harry Potter, Ginerva Weasley, was seen exiting the Cat Scratch Club last night with two men. One was identified to be her brother, Ronald, and the other, a male stripper. The picture has called Weasley's devotion into question. No word yet on how Mr. Potter is responding.
Under the article was a large picture of Ginny, Ron and a half-dressed man walking down the street with liquor bottles in their hands, laughing. It was also proceeded by the full article by Rita Skeeter, entitled, "The one that got away" and Hermione gasped as she saw her name being repeated many times in it.
"That woman…" Hermione growled.
"It doesn't matter," Harry said quietly.
Hermione put the paper down on the desk next to Harry's bed.
"Harry, it's obviously a fake. Luna Lovegood could conjure up a more believable picture," she soothed.
"It's not that," Harry breathed. His calmness was starting to scare Hermione yet she sat down on his bed next to him.
"What is it?" she asked, afraid of the answer. Harry breathed through his nose for a few minutes. Then, he turned his head towards Hermione, his eyes full of confusion and innocence.
"Why does everyone always think we're a couple?" he asked. She looked at him for a while, gazing at the small scar on his chin and upper cheek. She shook her head slightly and turned away.
"I don't know," she answered. Harry picked up the piece of paper again.
"Don't you find it interesting that we four," he caressed Ron and Ginny in the picture, "Are the only ones who think you and I aren't well suited?" She gazed at the picture. It had crossed her mind to be quite odd, she admitted. Since their second year, many girls had mentioned to her that she would have been great with Harry. And she would be lying if she was to say she had never fantasized of how they would be. She cleared her throat.
"Yes, I do," she answered truthfully. He put the newspaper back on his desk and turned his gaze back to the floor.
"I was just wondering," he said quietly. They sat there in silence for a while. She rested her head on his shoulder and he glided his arm around her back.
"It's a very empty house when they aren't here, isn't it?" Hermione observed.
"I like it," Harry said.
"As do I." Hermione responded. They sat together in silence once more. This time, she shifted herself closer and held his hand in hers. His head titled slightly and he rested his cheek against her hair.
"Why didn't we go see their game?" Harry asked quietly. Hermione didn't respond. She simply gazed at their intertwined hands. Harry swallowed tensely. She remained silent. He raised his head slightly and breathed in. "You smell nice," he mumbled.
"You do, too," she finally responded. They lingered for a little while longer until she pulled away. "Too nice," she whispered. He looked at her, his body slightly tilted towards her. "This is a mistake," she whispered.
"Mistakes don't feel as good as you do," he countered. She turned her face towards him, a single tear falling. He raised his finger and wiped it away.
"We're lonely," she said, shifting away from his finger.
"It's more than that, Hermione," Harry moved towards her and was surprised when she didn't move away. "I was lonely growing up. I was lonely until Hogwarts. I know what lonely feels like." He cupped her face in his hands. "This is a want, Hermione. This is a need. It's undeniable." She shook her head from his grasp.
"No, Harry, we're lonely. Maybe you didn't feel it because you were a child. This is not what you think it is. This is us longing for Ron and Ginny and trying to replace them with one another. You're not Ron, Harry. And I'm not Ginny." She got up and left, the door closing quite loudly behind her. Harry sighed and rested his head against the window. Outside, Hermione rested her head against his door. This had been the first season Ron and Ginny were away. Tomorrow would make it an entire month. It had been like this every night since they left. He would be silent during dinner. She would come up to comfort him. But this night was different. Even she could not deny that Harry felt exceptionally comfortable. Even she could not deny that Harry made sense in everything he said. Even she could not deny that she was beginning to wish he was Ron.
~*~
"Good morning."
Harry glanced up from the paper to see a very tired Hermione rubbing her eyes.
"Good morning." He sipped his coffee. She paused in the middle of the room, brought her hands above her head and stretched. A little bit of skin revealed itself below her shirt and Harry couldn't help but glance. "Breakfast's on the stove."
She smiled. "Oh, Harry, you didn't-"
"I just don't want to be late again this morning. This ought to speed things up," He couldn't help
but smirk. She smacked his arm and made her way to the stove.
"Prat," she mumbled. Harry laughed.
"Mione, you know we'll get in trouble if we're late again."
"Oh, I know, I know," she sat down at the table with her breakfast, "Merlin, we're saving the world and they can't handle it if we're five minutes late?"
"Well, we weren't five, we were half an hour," he glanced up from his newspaper. She glared at him as she stuffed a pancake into her mouth. He raised his newspaper again. Hermione was definitely not a morning person. It had been something he realized and coped with about two weeks after their first morning together. He usually felt like a father, forcing his teenage daughter to hurry up and get into the car.
He smiled at the thought of being related to Hermione. Oh, that reminded him.
"Oy, Hermione?"
"Say that again," he heard her growl. He chuckled to himself.
"Apologies. Hey, Hermione?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"You were right…about last night." He waited for a response. Then he lowered his newspaper and glanced over the table. She raised his coffee and sipped.
"I know," she said quietly. There was another silence which he broke when he lifted his mug and put it into the sink.
"I'm going to take a shower. You going to be ready?"
"Mhh-hmm," she mumbled as she started to read the section Harry had just put down. He nodded to no one in particular.
"Of course you will."
~*~
"I can't keep covering for you two like this! I'm going to report you to the boss one day!" Terry Boot growled as he erased the initials HP and HG from his notebook.
"Can't thank you enough for this, Terry," Harry smiled.
"Sod off," Terry muttered. Harry and Hermione made their way to their desks.
"You know you're going to get us fired one day," Harry said, opening his folder.
"Oh, hush," she whispered.
"Hey Potter, Granger, see the game last night?" came a voice. Hermione rummaged through her files without looking up.
"Afraid not, Penelope, we're bad luck," she said distractedly.
"Don't you want to know who won?"
"Oh come on," Harry groaned, "It's obvious. We don't need to hear-"
"Your girlfriend won the game?" Penelope examined her cuticles. Hermione's eyes widened. Harry began to smile.
"You're kidding!" Harry nearly yelled.
"Yes, you simply must be!" Hermione joined in. Penelope giggled and rested on their joint desks.
"240-250. It was incredible! O'Brien had the quaffle and was diving towards Ron. Then a bludger came out of nowhere and your-" she poked Harry's chest, "Ginny caught the quaffle and scored four seconds before the snitch was caught!" Hermione squealed as Harry laughed.
"So we actually beat Puddlemere United. I wonder how Wood took it."
"He didn't look so happy but he shook their hands," Penelope responded. Harry smiled and nodded.
"Ginny sure is something," he said dreamily.
"She sure is," Hermione spat out, unable to retain the hatred she unintentionally let in. Harry and Penelope raised their eyebrows towards her.
"Anyways," Penelope struggled to regain the conversation, "Word around is that you two aren't going to be getting much sleep this weekend." Harry and Hermione groaned simultaneously.
"Ron and Ginny are coming back soon! Get your work done and you'll have time for romance. I've got to go. I'll see you two later," Penelope walked off with a dossier in her hand as Harry and Hermione sat back down.
"How about that? Cannons might have a chance for gold this year if they beat Puddlemere," Harry waved his wand as papers began to pile up on his desk, some falling into his wastebasket.
"We missed their game," Hermione whispered. Harry glanced up from his stack of papers. Hermione looked up at him, her own desk filling neatly filling with papers. "We missed their incredible game."
"They'll have others," Harry said. He was about to say something else when a dossier was thrown onto his desk.
"Dolohov's murder Saturday night. Pretty Muggleborn by the name of Allison Muller. He's back," Richard Kirke said in a gruff voice, "I know you two are the ones who want him the most." Harry opened the dossier filled with information on Antonin Dolohov.
"This is the case? The one that's going to keep us up all weekend?" Hermione asked.
"I'm hoping it'll only take you two a week to catch him. Try not to let him slip through our fingers this time and, if possibly, try not to lose them either," Kirke teased. And with that, he turned on his heel and walked back to his office.
"What do you know, a Minister of Magic with a sense of humor," Harry mumbled as he rifled through Dolohov's pictures.
"He's a brilliant man," Hermione countered, taking down notes.
"Oh, he is," Harry admitted. He scrolled down a couple of paragraphs on Dolohov. "Can't believe this bastard's still alive." Hermione stilled her writing and glanced up. Harry looked at her in the eyes, fury in his. "We're going to get him, Hermione. For you."
"And for Ginny?" Hermione asked. Harry blinked once. Twice. A third time.
"OH!" he suddenly exclaimed, "Yes, yes, for Ginny too." Hermione curved her lips in a slight smile. Together, they continued to take notes on Antonin Dolohov.
"You shouldn't put up your hair," Harry suddenly mumbled. Hermione looked up in confusion.
"Why not?" she asked. Harry didn't take his eyes off his notebook.
"Because I can't stop looking at you." Harry picked up a pen, flipped his page and continued to write.
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. You shouldn't put your hair up.