Dedicated

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.

Important A/N: I’ve begun the flashbacks of the Second War. They’re the paragraphs in italics. They occur in the middle of the story. It’s going to be tough and possibly annoying to read back and forth. Therefore, you don’t have to read it until I tell you it’s completely done. You can still understand the plot without reading about the Second War. Your reading adventure, your choice.

He could barely see. There were sacreams of terror and pain surrounding them. He kept running. Running to find more. To hunt more down. To kill more. More, more, more. He had to make them all pay. It wasn’t fair that they were all alive when Professor Flitwick just died. “One!” he shouted out, his wand stunning another Death Eater. “Two!” he heard Hermione yell, her wand killing it. “Three!” Ron shouted behind him. “Four!” he heard Ginny rasp. He kept running. He didn’t need an army. His three best friends were enough. Before leaving the Burrow, they agreed on simple codenames. Every now and then, after seeing friends die, Harry would shout out a countdown to make sure they were still alive. Still by his side. Still worth fighting for. “Dolohov!” Hermione suddenly squealed. Harry turned to her quickly; her arm was extended, her finger shaking and her eyes were filled with obvious fear. Harry turned in the direction of her finger. “Mudblood,” Dolohov snarled with an evil smile, his hand shaking his wand in anticipation. Harry was about to bring up his wand when Ginny suddenly jumped in front of him. “Experiamus!” she cried. Dolohov was blown away with a white puff. A loud growl was heard as he got up. “GO!” Ginny cried, her eyes never leaving him. They obeyed. Together, the trio kept running, killing as many Death Eaters as they could. They had to get to the center of the Forbidden Forest. Where Voldemort was. They lost one. Number Four. But they were still three. “Avada Kedavra!” Ron cried at a nearby Death Eater. Harry was behind him and heard the cry. Not Ron’s cry. Ginny’s. Hermione heard it too. She grabbed Ron’s arm and tugged him to look behind them. Dolohov had his wand pointing at Ginny, a yellow glow shining onto her. She was on her knees, her legs clearly broken. She was screaming in pain. Ron shook Hermione’s arm off. “GINNY!” he yelled. He ran backwards. The trees moved close together suddenly and closed the path and Ron’s only way back. The cries from the battle were muffled. No light came through. They were trapped. “GINNY!” Ron screamed again. Hermione ran towards him and pulled him towards Harry. “Ron, we must go on!” she pleaded. Harry, who had been silent since he had seen Ginny in pain swallowed. “She’s right, Ron!” he yelled, “We’ll get to her later! Voldemort’s so close, Ron!” Ron looked at his two best friends, begging him to leave his sister for dead. But he was a Gryffindor. He shook Hermione’s arm off him once again. “Lumos,” he said gloomily. He walked past Harry and Hermione in silence. They followed.

~*~

“Harry? Harry,” Hermione whispered. She shook his arm and brushed the hair from his face. “Harry,” she cooed. Slowly, his eyes opened. He looked at her and squinted. Hermione reached over and got his glasses.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he put them on, his vision clearing. He was in his room, Hermione by his side. He was still disoriented.

“Another dream?” Hermione asked. He nodded, rubbing his neck.

“The Second War?” Hermione asked again.

“The Forest. We lost Ginny,” Harry sighed. Hermione got up and walked over to the door.

“It must be all our research on Dolohov,” she concluded. Harry sighed again and looked up towards her.

“Yeah, I reckon it-HERMIONE!” Hermione stopped, with her hand on the light switch.

“WHAT?!” she nearly yelled, preparing for the worst. He nearly laughed, got up and walked towards her.

“Um, sorry, I just…I just don’t like the light on in this room.” He reached over and took her hand in his.

“Oh, I see,” she sighed. They stood there for a while, looking at his dark room. “May I ask why?”

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, “I just don’t.” He gazed at his room, his and Ginny’s, and smiled. “I like it like this.” Hermione looked over his room, following his gaze.

“May I…may I see what it looks like with the light on?” she asked. Harry paused and turned his head to hers. “It’s just been so long, I’m not usually in this room a lot.” He nodded.

“I’ll start dinner,” he said as he walked out.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to lea-” The door closed softly. She sighed as she switched on the light switch. She squinted her eyes and let them adjust to the light. She looked around the room. The bed was in the center of the room, pushed up against a window. Ginny’s dresser was on the right, Harry’s on the left. Ginny’s drawers were half open, some clothes trying to set themselves free. Her mirror was full length and charmed to have her reflection to speak back to her. Harry’s mirror was small, not charmed, his dresser half full of clothes. Hermione set her hands on her hips, pouting her lips slightly. It seemed that the room was divided right down the middle. Ginny’s right side of the room was much more feminine and was full of color. Her pillow was very big and her covers were heavy. Harry’s left side of the room was very plain, with nothing he didn’t need. His pillow was small and soft, his covers very light. His side of the room was full of mystery, clearly hiding secrets. Hermione turned off the light and let the darkness envelop the entire room. “What do you know,” she muttered as she observed the room. The room had suddenly become Harry’s side. The window lit the room and filled it with a very soft glow. Everything seemed to be in black and white, Ginny’s colors inexistent. It pained Hermione to admit that the room was much better this way. Much more relaxed and much more…Harry. Although something was missing. She didn’t know what. But something was definitely missing. She turned the light on and shut it off quickly. It wasn’t the main light that was missing. But something was. She sighed as she left his room and closed the door. She then walked across the hall and went into her room. The room was lit by her reading lamp and was slightly smaller than Harry and Ginny’s. Hermione turned the main light on and gasped as she realized perhaps she shouldn’t have. The light obviously pointed out the flaws in the room. It seemed as though their room was just like Harry and Ginny’s. Hermione side of the room was filled with books and boxes of paperwork. Ron’s room was filled with Cannons posters, letters from fans, and much of his Quidditch gear. It all seemed to clash with Hermione’s conservative style. She turned off the light and smiled when it blended together with the red glow of her lamp.

“Supper’s ready, Hermione!” she heard Harry from the kitchen. She turned and made her way down the stairs, Harry already seated and eating his chicken.

“Looks delicious,” she commented as she grabbed a plate and filled it.

“Trying out a new recipe,” Harry said as he ate more. Hermione sat down and pulled her hair back before beginning.

“Did you get the floo history on Dolohov?” Harry asked.

“Traced it back until October. There’s nothing from there.”

“October’s pretty far back, Hermione. Anything on his owls?”

“Remains of his fourth, seventh and tenth. Sixth one is in captivity.”

“And the rest?”

“I don’t know.”

“We have evidence of his wand. Unicorn hair and crow feather.”

“Negative. Hippogriff hair, Dragon scale, horsetail, nothing matches.”

“Any captured Death Eaters?”

“They refuse to say anything.”

“Merlin, Hermione, can’t you do anything?” Hermione suddenly stopped eating. She glanced up with dangerous eyes.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” she said through clenched teeth. Harry suddenly realized what he said as he wiped his lips with a napkin.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, “I’m just so frustrated. We’ve got nothing and I really want to get this guy.”

“No one more than me or Ginny, Harry, but you have to learn to trust and believe me when I say I’m trying my hardest, okay?” she had said it in a mother-like tone but Harry didn’t mind. He didn’t mind the pep talk, either. He was used to Hermione’s confidence. It was what he needed when times got tough.

“I trust you,” he said, putting down his fork, “And I believe in you. If you can’t find info on this guy, no one can.” He smiled for reassurance. She smiled back.

“And together, we’ll get him.” She raised her glass. He clinked it with his own. They drank, never taking their eyes off the other. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought they were flirting.

“Enough business,” Harry said as he put down his glass, “Let’s watch their game after dinner.” Hermione agreed and they finished their meal in a comfortable silence.

~*~

“Wood has it covered! He throws it across to O’Brian, who catches it and flies towards Ron Weasley. Oooh, excellent dodge from the younger Weasley there and OUCH, that must have hurt! O’Brian goes down from a bludger and Smith picks up the quaffle for the Cannons! He flies towards the goalpost-OH!-throws the quaffle to Weasley before going down from the other bludger! Those bludgers seem to be causing the players quite a lot of heartbreak this game! Ginny Weasley flies down on a fly path towards Wood! She throws it-look at the spin on that one!-and IN IT GOES! Cannons lead 90-70! Now would be a good time to catch that snitch and win it for the Cannons, Page!”

Harry and Hermione were snuggled up on the couch, cheering as the magical camera zoomed into Ginny’s proud face. The camera then shifted to Ron, who was clapping and cheering wildly, his fingers signaling three, and then four. The camera shifted again and Ginny repeated the signal. Harry and Hermione smiled.

“What DOES that signal mean? The two have been doing it ever since they went pro and simply refuse to tell! Well, it better be some sort of good luck charm because O’Brian is rushing towards Weasley at a high speed this time! Nothing’s stopping him! Not one! Two! Three chasers! Nor One! Two! Both bludgers! My oh my, the entire Cannons team have literally thrown themselves against O’Brian and he is still coming like a bullet! The quaffle is thrown! Weasley misses by a mile! Cannons continue to lead by 90-80!”

Harry and Hermione groaned simultaneously. Harry glanced at Hermione and chuckled. She laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Harry smiled, “I’m just glad I can watch this with someone as enthusiastic as me.”

“As I,” Hermione corrected him. Harry laughed and tickled her. Hermione laughed and pushed his fingers away. They turned their faces back to the television screen, their smiles wider than they should have been.

“O’Brian is proving he is the Player of the Year as he sinks yet another on Weasley! This is his sixth of the game and twenty third in the season! The game is tied up 90-90! Page and Stratton still seem to be having some trouble with the snitch.”

Suddenly, Harry leaped from the couch.

“THERE!” he yelled, his finger pointing to a spot on the screen. Hermione leapt up as well. “THE SNITCH! I SEE IT! PAGE, IT’S THERE!” Hermione tugged at his arm.

“Harry, dear, they can’t hear you,” she said, stifling a laugh. Harry lowered his arm and laughed along with her.

“It’s just aggravating sometimes,” he sighed as he sat down with a smile. Hermione looked at him sadly.

“Do you regret not playing professionally?” she asked. His smile faded somewhat as he turned to her.

“Sometimes,” he replied truthfully. Then he took her hand in his. “But I’d much rather fight for justice with my best friend.” Hermione smiled. “My best friend, who I trust,” Harry said carefully.

“Whom,” Hermione corrected him. Harry raised his hands dangerously, ready to tickle her once again. Hermione laughed and turned her gaze back to the screen. Harry did the same.

“Smith passes to Quirke, who passes to Weasley, who passes back to Smith! Oooh, down goes Weasley! Smith throws the quaffle! Easily saved by Wood! He tosses the quaffle to O’Brian! O’Brian speeds down the field and passes to Goldstein before getting knocked down by a bludger! Goldstein throws and SCORES ON WEASLEY! But the more important spot; Page and Stratton are flying towards something at high speed! It doesn’t take too long to realize what they’re chasing!”

Harry and Hermione were on their feet at this point, the camera finding the perfect angle to see the snitch inches within Page and Stratton’s grasps. Both players were elbowing each other viciously.

“Page and Stratton BEATING on another for that snitch! It seems the game has stilled as everything is observing them! OOOH! A hard check into the shoulder and Page goes down! Stratton reaches a little more and…and…he catches the snitch! The game is over!! Puddlemere wins! PUDDLEMERE WINS!! That’s the end of that, ladies and gents. After a quick hour and a half, Puddlemere United takes home this one 240-90. What a disappointment for the Cannons who performed extraordinary two nights ago and won the match 240-250. Well, you know what this means, folks. Both teams have one game each and the winner will be decided next Friday, to face the Toyohashi Tengus from Japan!”

Harry shut the television off as Hermione groaned.

“We shouldn’t watch,” she sighed, “We’re bad luck.”

“We really are,” Harry agreed, “Have we EVER seen them win before?” Hermione shook her head sadly. Harry sighed once more and glanced at their clock.

“It’s late,” he said. Hermione looked at the clock.

“Yes, it is,” she said simply.

“Tomorrow’s what, Monday?” Harry asked, yawning. Hermione nodded slowly. “We were supposed to catch Dolohov by tomorrow. We’ve gotten nowhere.” Hermione turned to him; his face was full of disappointment. She moved over to his side of the couch.

“That’s not true,” she said, “We’ve gotten all our information. We can start fishing tomorrow, sledding by tomorrow afternoon and bake a cake by Tuesday.” She waited for Harry to decipher their code as his face was slowly filled with confidence.

“You’re right,” he said with a smile, “We can catch him before Puddlemere wins on Friday.” Hermione laughed and hit his arm playfully.

“They’re going to win!” she said. He laughed and rolled his eyes.

“As long as we don’t watch it,” he countered. She looked at him mischievously.

“Then I suggest we do something else to celebrate and aim for on Friday. Say...dinner? The one with the stronger heartbeat pays,” she said, extending her hand. Harry shook it with a smile.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. I’m just glad I can talk and laugh with someone as enthusiastic about anything as me.

The week had been hectic. Harry and Hermione gathered Unspeakable information from Unspeakable suspects in many Unspeakable places. They wrote down Unspeakable notes on magical notepads and transferred them to one another in Unspeakable ways. Their dinners were soon fast and usually at their respective desks in their rooms. Once it was too late, Harry would move from his moonlit room to Hermione’s. Together, they would lose track of time by her reading lamp as their search for Antonin Dolohov became more frantic.

~*~

“Lumos,” he said gloomily. He walked past Harry and Hermione in silence. They followed. Harry tried not to lose faith. They were still three. They were walking through the Forbidden Forest. It was okay. This was Hogwarts Grounds. Harry gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to lose a war on Hogwarts Grounds. “One,” he said softly. There was no need to shout. “Two,” he heard Hermione shudder. She was scared; he could hear it in her voice. “Three,” Ron gulped. He was nervous. Thinking about Ginny. Harry wondered why he wasn’t scared for Ginny. He had thrown himself into work lately. He had become obsessed with Voldemort. Obsessed with the horcruxes. Obsessed with getting his revenge. He knew he was losing sight of what he was doing. What he was fighting for. But he couldn’t help it; this was his purpose, wasn’t it? Perhaps he was a baby born from love, but he was always destined to be something much greater. “Dementor,” Hermione whispered as a familiar chill surrounded them. Harry and Ron looked ahead. Dementors suddenly appeared from every tree visible. It was an ambush. “Get behind me,” Harry said quickly. They obeyed without a word. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry yelled as a stag emerged from his wand. The Dementors ran towards his shield and were quickly propelled. “Now,” Harry said. Hermione and Ron got up from behind him. “Expecto Patronum!” they screamed in unison. An otter and Jack Russell terrier emerged from their wands. Slowly, the three walked forward and made their way into the forest. Soon, the Dementors began to retreat and they lowered their wands. Suddenly, a Death Eater emerged from behind a Dementor. He raised his wand to Harry. Harry, nearly exhausted from his strong charm was not fast enough. Ron jumped in front of him, ignoring Hermione’s cry. “CRUCIO!” the Death Eater yelled. The curse was exceptionally strong and obviously meant for Harry; Harry and Hermione knew it from the way Ron was roaring in pain. Hermione killed the Death Eater quickly and ran to Ron’s side. “Go...go on without me,” Ron mumbled, holding onto his arm, his tears falling to the ground. Harry tugged Hermione up, his tears no match for hers. There was a ripping sound. The barrier had been breached. Sunlight suddenly invaded the Forest. “They’ll take care of me,” Ron referred to the yelling Aurors in the background, “Go.” Harry and Hermione turned and ran as fast as they could. “One,” Harry panted, his hand out. Hermione took it in hers. “Two.”

~*~

“Our deal was to go out for dinner, Hermione.”

“You know I would like to but we can’t.” Harry lowered his head and groaned. Hermione came into the living room. “We can go out some other day.”

“Why not tonight?” Harry sat down on the couch and motioned her to sit next to him. She sat down.

“It’s been a long week, Harry. Positively exhausting.”

“We deserve a break,” he tried. She shook her head.

“We deserve a good night’s sleep.” She glanced at him when there was no reply. His head was bowed, his bangs in his hair. “Harry?”

“I can’t sleep, Hermione. Ever since we got this case, I’ve been dreaming about the Forest. About the Second War.” He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the cries of the war. Hermione laid her hand on his shoulder.

“I have, too,” she admitted. They looked at one another. She clucked her tongue. “Tell you what; we’ll go out for dessert.”

~*~

At least two dozen Aurors were lost in the deeper part of the Forest with Harry and Hermione. Werewolves had emerged and were vicious in their killing. Harry and Hermione held up as much as they could, watching in horror as Aurors threw themselves upon killing curses and attacks for them. “One,” Harry would keep repeating as they saluted each fallen Auror. “Two,” Hermione would always reply. Soon, the forty-three Aurors that came in a bunch through the barrier had scattered around them, dead. Harry and Hermione panted as they watched the last one die. “Immobulus!” Hermione shouted at the last werewolf. Harry walked slowly towards him, Hermione close behind. “Hello, Fenrir,” he said politely. Greyback was silent. “Imperio,” Harry whispered as Greyback suddenly jolted, growled loudly and then was suddenly emotionless. Harry got very close to him. “Tell your master that I didn’t kill you because I’ll do it later, over his dead body.” With a flick of his Harry’s wrist, Greyback ran into the Forest. “Come on,” Harry panted and wordlessly, Harry and Hermione followed Greyback into the center of the Forbidden Forest.

~*~

Hermione smiled warmly at the thought Harry had just brought up.

“I remember even I was amazed you had so much pity for Greyback,” she ran her finger along her glass of champagne. Harry smirked, drank his last drop and signaled to the bartender to give him another. Hermione drank the rest of hers and asked for another as well. Once they were filled, they clinked their glasses together and sipped.

“It wasn’t pity,” Harry sighed as he rested his glass on the table, “I just wanted to keep him alive for Bill and Professor Lupin to get their piece of him.” Hermione smiled slightly, shook her head and looked at the floor. Harry chuckled. “What?” Hermione looked up, sparkle in her eyes.

“You’ve been through so much,” she said, “And yet you have so much heart. You’ve seen such horrible things and yet you give up your dreams and continue to fight for what’s right. You’re…you’re a good man, Harry.” She lifted her glass, motioned to him and drank. Harry smiled slightly and sipped at his.

“You’ve been there all along, Hermione.” He lifted his glass, motioned to her, downed it and motioned to the bartender once again. Hermione followed.

“This is your fifth,” the bartender said as he was pouring the champagne. They nodded.

“I think we might be getting a bit sloshed,” Hermione giggled as she sipped at her glass again.

“Possibly,” Harry sniggered in response. Hermione suddenly went serious again, her finger running around the rim of the glass.

“Why do you think that is?” she said quietly. He finished his drink and set his glass down.

“Because we want to forget everything we saw after we lost Ron,” he said surprisingly seriously.

~*~

“One,” Harry whispered. “Two,” he heard a clear response. Suddenly, Harry stopped Hermione’s steps behind him with a motion of his finger. He moved forward slowly and glanced over the hill they were standing on. Greyback was beside Voldemort’s side and Harry tried to ignore his burning scar. Greyback stood on his hind legs and whispered something in Voldemort’s ear. He knelt back down on his legs and awaited his response. His response from the Dark Lord was a green flash. Harry heard Hermione whimper. He turned to her. “Mione?” he asked. He nearly gasped. She was no further than an inch from him, her stomach bleeding uncontrollably. “Harry,” she babbled, “I love you.” Her eyes closed suddenly and her head tilted to the side. “Hermione!” Harry yelled hysterically. “Don’t worry,” came a voice. Harry raised his head, his hand gripping his wand so hard, it hurt. Dolohov smiled. “She’s not dead,” sadness could be heard in his voice; “The Dark Lord wants to kill it himself.” Harry got to his feet and raised his wand to Dolohov. “Crucio!” Harry yelled as Dolohov knelt down in pain. Harry turned his back to him. He wasn’t going to kill him. He was going to let him die slowly. “I love you too,” Harry whispered to Hermione before running to the front of the hill. “YOU WON’T TOUCH HER, TOM RIDDLE!” he yelled as loud as he could. Voldemort turned around, Wormtail immediately cowered at his side. Voldemort smiled sinisterly. “DO YOU HEAR ME?” Harry bellowed even louder and raised his wand to him, “YOU WON’T TOUCH HER!”

~*~

Hermione slammed her glass down on the table. Harry raised his eyes to her gaze. They looked at one another as if in a trance. “Why did you tell me you loved me? Right before you passed out?” Harry asked. Hermione lowered her gaze to the floor.

“I thought I was going to die. I wanted you to know I loved you,” she raised her gaze back to his. “But as a friend,” she said too quickly. Harry raised an eyebrow.

“You know, when I said I loved you…I don’t think I meant as a friend,” he said, gazing at his empty glass. Hermione sighed and shook her head.

“That’s the liquor talking again, Harry.” She rested her head on her hand. “This was a mistake. We never should have gone out to get smashed on a lonely night.” Harry brought her hand into his and forced her to look at him.

“Every night is lonely,” Harry said slowly, “Every night, my bed is empty.”

“So is mine, Harry, but they’ll be back tomorrow morning and we can all go out for brunch.” Harry shook his head and took her hand in his.

“Hermione, it won’t make a difference. Everything’s changed.” Hermione shook her head.

“Nothing’s changed, Harry, you’re lonely, you’re facing your past and you’ve got about six glasses of champagne in you.” Harry cupped her head in his hand. He raised his unsteady eyes to her.

“Hermione,” he slurred, “This is different.” She didn’t move away. Instead, she held his head in her hand.

“It’s different because you’re drunk, Harry.”

“IT’S ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS WITH US!” The bar grew silent and all eyes were on them. She found herself unable to look away from his piercing green eyes. “It’s always been like this, I just haven’t noticed it,” he whispered, “They way we understand one another. The way we can have comfortable silences. I never saw it until lately, when we’ve been alone every night.”

“You want Ginny,” Hermione murmured. Harry shook his head again.

“I never wanted Ginny. I…I’ve never really wanted anything. I’ve never wanted anything so much I’d die if I didn’t have it. I’ve never really…wanted anything…until you came along,” he whispered. He leaned his head into hers. She pulled away. As much as she was intrigued and wanted to kiss him back, she was…she was positive it was the liquor in her body taking over her conscience.

“Harry, you’re lonely. You’re lonely, you’re traumatized and most importantly, you’re drunk.”

“If I wasn’t drunk, wouldn’t you kiss me back?” Harry asked, hiccupping. For once, Hermione paused and considered his question. Harry smiled slightly. “It happened that night when Skeeter wrote her article. Things were different. I know you felt it, too.” Hermione had had quite enough. She tore her head and hands away from him.

“You’re drunk, Harry! You don’t know what you’re saying!” she said loudly, uncaring of the staring faces. Harry leapt up from his chair.

“I know exactly what I’m saying! I know you feel it! You can’t deny what’s happening!” he said as loud as she. Hermione raised her finger and poked at him, but no words escaped her mouth. She growled and tried again in vain. Why was he being so stubborn!? She grimaced and pouted as much as she could. But it couldn’t resolve the anger she was withholding.

“FINE!” she lashed out loudly, flinging her arms up. “YOU WANT A KISS, HARRY?! I’LL GIVE YOU A KISS!!” And without another word, she grabbed his head and kissed him. Hard. She kissed him so hard and so passionately, his body slumped against the table and his left hand shook uncontrollably as it rose against the counter to steady them. She had climbed on top of him and rested firmly on his lap. The hooting from the bar spectators grew louder and louder as the kiss deepened. She didn’t mean for it to last so long. In fact, she didn’t mean to kiss him with passion. She meant to peck him on the lips and disapparate bashfully when he pushed her away. But he didn’t push her away. He grabbed her by the hip and head and pulled her closer to him. She was surprised to say the least of what he was doing. And what she was doing in response. His hands were holding her tightly, moving from her back to her hair. Her hands were gripping his shirt tighter and tighter, buttons ripping out.

“Hermione,” he moaned. Her eyes opened slightly. What on earth were they doing? As if a meteor had just crashed onto Earth, she propelled herself away from him. She caught herself in the middle of the bar. Harry was completely relying on the table to keep him up. His shirt was open with not one button to be seen. His hair was in disarray and his chest was heaving as hers was. The hoots and cheers stopped suddenly as all eyes were on Hermione. She panted and panted, trying to get her grip back on reality. Her mind was wandering. Why did kissing Harry feel so good? She felt dizzy all of a sudden. Because it was right. No! Wait, that’s wrong. Kissing Harry was wrong. She was with Ron. And Harry was with her. No, wait, that’s wrong. He was with Ginny. Not Hermione. Ginny. Ginny and Ron. Harry and Hermione. No, wait, that’s wrong, too! Oh, but it sounded so perfect. Harry and Hermione. Harry and Hermione.

“Hermione?” Harry rasped, interrupting her internal dialogue. Hermione raised her head and looked at Harry, tears in her eyes. “I know you felt that.” Hermione sobbed suddenly and wiped at her eye. Then, with another sad look at Harry, she disapparated into her bedroom and passed out on her bed.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. I’ve never wanted anything so much I’d implode if I didn’t have it. Then you came along.

And after an incredible three hour game, Page caught the snitch and did this incredible twirl on her broomstick before being trampled by the happy Chudleys!

The headlines were clear; Ron and Ginny were pulling off miracles when Harry and Hermione didn’t watch their game. Harry sipped his coffee and smiled at the newspaper, caressing Ginny’s face. “She’s so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Who is?” he heard a voice. He brought his head up to face a very hung-over Hermione. He waved his wand and a potion appeared on the table across from his seat.

“Drink it,” he said, folding up the newspaper and tossing it to her. She caught it with one hand, her other brought the murky purple liquid to her mouth. Harry took another section of the newspaper and opened it. Once she was done, Hermione put the potion down and brought a cup of coffee towards her. She sat down and began to read the paper, sipping her coffee at even intervals. There was an uncomfortable silence for once between them and the only noise that could be heard were the frequent flips of the newspaper. Occasionally, Harry would glance up and look at her. She was so concentrated on her paper. Her eyes were scanning the words quickly. Too quickly. He looked closer. Frantically. She was nervous. She never read like that. He looked down at her hands. They were firm on the newspaper and most unquestionably shaking. She was definitely nervous. He looked back at his newspaper. It would happen again and again. At one point, he glanced up, only to see that she had been staring at him. She quickly turned her gaze back to her paper and he followed. Both were completely embarrassed that they were acting this way. Finally, Harry sighed and folded his newspaper. He finished his coffee and brought his hands down in front of him. “Are we going to talk about it?” he asked almost sounding professionally. Hermione sipped her coffee and continued to read.

“What difference would it make? It was a mistake. We were drunk,” she said nonchalantly.

“Yes, it was,” Harry said. Hermione’s eyes widened slightly as she brought the paper down and looked at him. He was very calm, his Adam’s apple still. “But I still want to talk about it,” he said. Hermione put down her mug and folded her arms.

“Alright,” she said. Harry moved his chair forward.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, I…I don’t know what came over me. You were right, I knew you were right. Everything you were saying was right but I didn’t want to believe it. I was…,” he paused, searching for the right word. Hermione bit her lip and wondered why her leg was shaking uncontrollably. “I was drunk,” he said finally. Hermione lowered her gaze to her mug and Harry did the same. Something was wrong. They didn’t know what.

“Well then,” Hermione broke the silence, “I suppose it’s my turn.” She raised her brown eyes to his. “I miss Ron. I’ve missed him every night since he left. I hate that I can’t see him, I hate that he can’t call and I hate that he hasn’t…I miss him. I missed him and I suppose I saw him in you…”she stopped, unable to continue. Harry took her hand in his.

“I understand,” he said quietly, “Hermione, I don’t want to lose your friendship.” Hermione sniffed and mentally told her eyes to stop watering. She took her hand away from his and got up.

“I’m going to take a shower and brush,” she said, “We’ll continue our case on Dolohov before they come back and we can go out for brunch.” Harry sighed. He hated it when she ran from her feelings.

“Hermione-” he tried. But Hermione had run upstairs by the time he had gotten up from his chair. Sighing, he brought their mugs to the sink and snarled softly as he made his way upstairs. Hermione was already in the shower before he reached the door. He took his wand out and casted a charm on his glasses. Then, he turned the knob and made his way into the bathroom. It was a fairly large bathroom, the main one, used by everyone in the house. Harry crept in as silently as he could. Hermione wasn’t humming or singing loudly as she usually would. Instead, he heard whimpers. He sat himself down on the sink and waited. Each second that ticked by made him wonder why he was in here instead of taking out his work, as she had asked him to. Why he followed her up the stairs instead of walking into the living room. Why he sneaked into the bathroom instead of knocking first. Why he was wondering what was behind the shower curtain. He jolted out of his wicked thoughts when the water turned off and he heard her wring her hair. There was a pause.

“Is the charm on?” she asked. Harry smiled.

“You knew,” he said.

“I knew,” he could hear her grin.

“It’s on.” She pulled the curtains back and Harry handed her her towel. Hermione was naked but to Harry’s charmed glasses; it looked as though she was fully clothed, down to her socks and shoes. “Looks a bit silly, as though you’d taken a bath with your clothes on,” he chuckled as she patted herself down. She was silent. “You knew,” he said, referring to his existence in the bathroom.

“I knew,” she repeated, putting an invisible-to-Harry bra on. He remained silent for a second, shifting his glasses to cover her body. “Why did you come in?” she asked. He lowered his gaze to the floor.

“We didn’t finish our conversation,” he said, trying to be polite. She smiled and slipped on her jeans.

“And you thought it would be more comfortable in the bathroom with me half-dressed?” She turned to look at him, her face wicked. Harry smiled and nearly blushed, unable to answer. Hermione brought her wand up and whispered, “Anapneo.” The steam in the room was sucked into Hermione’s wand. She then turned, pointed it at Harry’s glasses and uncharmed them. They stood there after that, her hand still in the air, her wand pointing at him.

“What if I hadn’t charmed them?” he asked. She lowered her wand slowly.

“I trust you,” she said as she walked out the door. Harry got up quickly and ran after her.

“Hermione! Hermione, we need to talk!” he said, chasing after her on the stairs. She spun around, her hair wild and wet.

“What do you want me to say, Harry?” she said, clearly irritated, “That it wasn’t a mistake?”

“No,” Harry responded quickly, “I wanted you…I wanted you…” He paused, surprised by how that phrase sounded so right. I wanted you. I wanted you. I wanted you. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to lose you just because of one stupid act. We can get through this.” Hermione sighed in response.

“I love you, Harry,” she said slowly, “But right now…I can’t act like it didn’t happen.” She turned and continued down the stairs, making her way into the living room.

~*~

“DO YOU HEAR ME?” Harry bellowed even louder and raised his wand to him, “YOU WON’T TOUCH HER!”

“Harry! So nice to see you,” Voldemort smiled evilly, “I assume you’re talking about the Mudblood. Don’t you fret. She’ll be in good hands.” Harry sneered but turned around quickly when he heard laughing from behind him. Dolohov was dragging Hermione’s body by the feet into the woods. “Take your hands off her!” Harry yelled. Dolohov was suddenly thrown back by an invisible force and Harry smiled and admired his non-verbal magic. The celebration was short, however, when he felt a pair of hands grab him by the waist and throw him down the hill. He rolled and rolled, screaming in pain as each large rock slammed into his ribcage. Completely worn out by the time he reached the bottom, Harry didn’t even try to fight back when Wormtail took his wand from him. “IMPERIO!” Harry felt his body rise from the ground. He opened his eyes and gasped as he felt…he no longer felt. He tried to move his head. Nothing. His fingers. Nothing. His feet, his arms, his legs. Nothing. “Turn around and call off your Aurors,” Voldemort whispered. Harry turned around, cursing internally that he was nothing but a voyeur now. He ran back into the forest and bumped into Cutter, the leader of the Australian Aurors. “Harry!” he screamed at the sight of him. “Fall back,” Harry could barely recognize his own voice. NO! He screamed inside his head. Cutter, don’t you dare listen to me! “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyebrows bunched together, “Harry, what’s happened?” Harry grabbed his shirt and brought his face close to his mouth. “GET OUT OF HERE,” he heard himself snarl. Then, he pushed Cutter away him from and ran the other way, back to Voldemort. Even though he couldn’t feel the dirt under his shoes or the tree branches hitting his face, he could hear Cutter telling his troops to fall back. Inside his mind, Harry tried to stay calm. But even he knew he was alone now.

~*~

Hermione stormed into the living room. Harry followed after her, grabbing her arm and flinging her to face him. “Don’t run from away from me!” he yelled, “Who do you think I am, RON?” She turned around quickly and yanked her arm out of his grip.

“What is THAT supposed to mean?” she yelled back.

“It means that you can fight with your boyfriend all you want but you don’t treat me like this, Hermione!” Harry yelled, surprised he was saying such things. Was he drunk right now? Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to her box. It angered him. He grabbed her arm and flung her back to him. “Don’t shut me out, Hermione!” he yelled once again. Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

“Harry, this case is getting to your head! I’m not shutting you out; I just don’t want to talk about this.”

“You’re leaving me out of your life. Don’t leave me alone, Hermione. We have to talk about this!” Hermione turned back around. Why couldn’t he just drop it? He had said it. He said it meant nothing. Nothing. The kiss was nothing. It meant absolutely nothing to him. He had said it. What else was there to say? It was aggravating her now. She didn’t know why. It was like last night. The anger was building. Harry grabbed her arm and brought her to face him once more. She yanked her hand and tried to slap him. He caught her hand in midair. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” he shouted, looking at her palm like it was an extra-terrestrial. She shook her hand out of his.

“STOP TOUCHING ME!” she yelled, “I SAID I DIDN’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!” Harry screwed his eyebrows closer together. It was aggravating him so much. He wanted to talk about last night. It wasn’t normal that best friends kissed. Even if they were drunk. She didn’t want to talk about it. HER. Hermione. She always wanted to talk. To her best friend, that was. He didn’t want to lose their friendship.

“We have to talk,” he said dangerously quietly, “If you let it go right now, we’ll never talk. Talk to me, Hermione. Tell me about last night. Tell me how you felt.” Hermione stared into his blazing eyes. He was angry. He was enraged. So was she. What was she supposed to say? What did he want her to say? That it was also nothing? It meant nothing to her? She didn’t want to say that. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to say that a heated kiss with Harry meant nothing. That fact scared her. She wanted time to herself to think it through. She wanted some alone, quiet time. Alone, quiet time was something Ron never gave her. But Harry always would. Harry would always give her space. But he wasn’t now. And he was mad? She was positively burning.

“Don’t make me say things I don’t want to!” she yelled at him. She turned around and bent down to retrieve some papers from a box. Harry exploded. She was turning her back on him? She was practically refusing him! She was excluding him from her emotions. She wasn’t letting him in. She didn’t want to. A strange sound escaped his mouth as he grabbed her and pushed her roughly against the couch. She squealed as he knelt and lowered himself between her open legs. “What are you doing?” she breathed softly, fluttering her eyelids. He stared at her, suddenly realizing their situation and…position. Hermione’s eyes were wide, now looking into his. Her breath had suddenly chosen to come out in a raggedly slow way. His breathing had quickened as well, his chest starting a faster and faster pace. He lowered his head and got off her, backing up three paces.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I don’t know what came over me.” Hermione smoothed out her shirt and rested more comfortably on the couch.

“It’s alright,” she said, unsure if even she believed the words. Harry ran his fingers through his bangs, his anger fading. He glanced up at Hermione. She was looking at him, an unrecognizable look in her eyes. She wasn’t angry anymore. Harry sighed and let his shoulders hunch forward slightly. There was a silence. Their first comfortable silence of the day.

“Hermione,” he started softly. He gazed at the speck on the carpet floor. He couldn’t continue. There was nothing left to say. The door burst open and Harry and Hermione ran into the arms of the waiting Weasleys.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. You are so incredibly important to me. I don’t want to lose you just because of one stupid email.

He hadn’t realized how truly quiet the place was until Ginny and Ron had come home. After giving Ron a good strong hug, Harry kissed his girlfriend and welcomed her home. She hooked her wrists around his neck, rose on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips. “Look at them,” he heard Ron chuckle. He pulled away from Ginny and turned his head. Hermione was in the same position as Ginny, except with Ron. Harry smiled. They were the perfect couples. Ron and Hermione. Ginny and Harry. He staggered slightly and caused Ginny to lose her balance on his neck. She fell slightly and rested her head on his chest.

“Oh!” she yelped. The four shared a laugh, though it was uncomfortable between Harry and Hermione.

“Welcome home, you two! And congratulations!” Hermione jumped up and down.

“Yes, I do believe they’re in order,” Harry continued, taking Ginny’s luggage from behind her.

“Ah, yes, Wood never saw it coming. Incredible game, wasn’t it?” Ron boasted. There was a silence as Harry and Hermione’s smiles dropped slightly. “You...you did see it, didn’t you?” There was a sudden explosion of “Oh yes!” and “Of course!” that caused the two Weasleys to back away slightly. Hermione chuckled nervously.

“So how long are you two staying? At least a week, I’m hoping.” She asked, anxious to change the subject. Ginny shook her head.

“We’re playing the Japanese team on Tuesday so we’ll be leaving tomorrow night, unfortunately. Smith wants us to get some more practice and try out some new stretching exercises on Monday. There seems to be no point in coming home but we really wanted to, after being away for a month,” Ginny said with a sad smile. Harry groaned and kissed her forehead.

“Can’t you leave…really really early on Monday?” he whined.

“No can do, Harry. You know Smith, he’s like Wood,” Ron smirked. Hermione hit his arm playfully.

“He just takes his work seriously, Ronald,” she said.

“I know!” Ron said, sounding a bit irritated, “But you must admit he’s off his rocker! We’ve trained and trained and nearly blew ourselves to bits with those rotten bludgers last game and he wants us to come in after two days of rest? I bet you he’ll complain if we aren’t in top shape. Anyway, why are you defending him, Hermione? Shouldn’t you be like Harry, wanting me to spend more time at home? ” Hermione threw her head back in surprise.

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“I don’t know. Is there something you want to tell me?” Ron asked, definitely irritated.

“You are unbelievable!” Hermione exclaimed, “You’re not in this house two seconds before questioning my fidelity!”

“Questioning your fidelity?! I wasn’t questioning anything! I was opening a door for you to admit-”

“Opening a door? Oh, that’s rich, I don’t remember the last time you ever opened a door for me, Ron Weasley.”

“What is wrong with you, woman?!”

“WOMAN? How dare you speak to me like that! Really, can’t you fight with proper vocabulary?”

“I don’t even know why I TRY to fight! As if you’re ever going to let me say anything I want!”

“WHAT?!”

The two continued on with their first fight of the day. Harry cringed slightly, distressed to see Hermione so angry in one morning. He felt a hand massage his shoulder. He turned his head.

“Don’t worry,” Ginny whispered, “It’s normal, remember?” She took her luggage from his hand and made her way up the stairs. Harry paused for a second to observe the fighting couple in front of him. He shook his head slightly and followed Ginny up the stairs.

~*~

Inside his mind, Harry tried to stay calm. But even he knew he was alone now. Harry had made his way back to the center, where Voldemort was waiting. With a wave of Voldemort’s wand, Harry backed himself into a tree. He felt ropes tie themselves around his neck, wrists and ankles. He was completely trapped. He couldn’t move and every shaking breath seemed to push his neck closer and closer to the rope. Voldemort circled him slowly and Harry could do nothing but stare straight ahead. “It seems as though you’re all out of arsenal, Harry.” Harry felt something loosen in his body. Voldemort had taken the curse off him. “I don’t need an arsenal to kill you,” Harry growled, his eyes now following Voldemort’s circular path. Voldemort chuckled. “But you do need your wand, don’t you?” he grinned, twirling Harry’s wand around his finger. Harry swallowed nervously at the sight. Without blinking, Voldemort brought it between his second and fourth finger and broke it in half. Harry watched, losing hope, as his wand fell to the ground in two pieces.

~*~

Harry made his way into his room, gasping slightly as he realized she had turned the lights on. The noise caused her to turn around. She was at the window, her legs on the bed, and a duster in her hand.

“Still fighting?” Ginny asked him about Ron and Hermione. Harry could only nod.

“Merlin, those two...”

“What-er-what are you doing?” Harry asked, looking around the bright room.

“Just dusting off these cobwebs,” Ginny answered. Harry bowed his head and rubbed his temple.

“I like the cobwebs,” he admitted quietly.

“Don’t be silly,” she said, brushing off the last one. Harry closed his eyes slightly and watched it fall to the floor. Then, she turned to him and walked towards him slowly, with a silly grin on his face. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Did you miss me?” she asked between kisses.

“Are you serious?” Harry asked, bewildered at the silly-ness of the question. Ginny giggled and kissed him again.

“I’m sorry we didn’t contact in any way but you know Smith.” Harry nodded. She sighed and snuggled closer to him. “So how’s work?” Harry smirked and turned his face away. “Oh, come on,” she whined. He pursed his lips together and kissed her nose.

“Unspeakable, Gin,” he said simply. Then, he tore himself away from her and went to work on putting away her clothes. She stood there, looking at him, her hands on her hips.

“Well, do you want to know how I’m doing at work?” she asked. Harry paused, holding up her shirt. He turned his head to stare at her, his grin showing his confusion. She stared at him for a second before laughing.

“Oh, right,” she said. Harry laughed and turned his attention back to her clothes. There was a long silence as she simply stood there and he, putting shirt after shirt away. “I’m going to…go check on the lovebirds,” she said after a while. She left the room. As soon as the sign was clear, Harry leapt up and turned off the lights.

~*~

“What are you going to do now, Harry?” Voldemort jeered. For the first time in the war, Harry had no idea. He simply stood there, tied against the tree, having nothing at his disposal. “Why don’t you just kill me?” Harry growled, “You’ve got me tied up, just kill me!” Voldemort stopped pacing. He turned his head slowly towards Harry. “I’m evil, remember?” he laughed, almost sounding humane, “I want you to BEG.” Harry sneered. “Never,” he said simply. Voldemort smiled. “I knew you’d say that. So I decided to gather my second-in-command to help me out. You remember Dolohov, don’t you?” Antonin Dolohov emerged from behind a tree. “It’s going to take more than a Crusiatus Curse to rid the world of me, Potter.” Voldemort waved his wand-less hand and Dolohov grabbed his throat in pain. “Shut up,” Voldemort said coldly. He turned his attention back to Harry. “You’re going to die, Harry Potter. Right here. Right now.”

~*~

Ron and Hermione were still fighting when he got back downstairs. “Oh, come on, you two!” he said loudly, at the top of the stairs. The two stopped and turned. Hermione had gone pink and Ron, just plain red. “Honestly,” Harry scoffed, making his way into the kitchen where Ginny was preparing some sandwiches. “Ginny, dear, Hermione wanted to go out for brunch.” It was Ginny’s turn to scoff.

“Honestly, Harry, I think she’s in no such mood to go out. Besides, we should prepare her for tonight.” Ginny took out four plates and placed two buns on each.

“Tonight?”

“Yes, we’re going out tonight. Didn’t Ron tell you?”

“He’s been busy ever since he came home.” Ginny grinned, never taking her eyes off the tomatoes and knife.

“Well, we’re going out tonight-I could have sworn he told you-and…” she paused, looking at him with a smile, “He’s going to pop the question to you-know-who.” Ginny squealed slightly and continued to slice the tomatoes. Harry laughed nervously. No…no, he wouldn’t. It was too soon!

“You-you mean Ron’s going to ask Voldemort to marry him?” He tried to make light of the situation. Ginny threw a tomato at him.

“Don’t joke! This is really important to him!”

“You’re…you’re serious?” Harry didn’t know what to say.

“Of course I’m serious! And I was serious before, this is very important to him for obvious reasons and I’d prefer it if you didn’t laugh.”

“But…but this is really…SOON for them, isn’t it?” Harry tried to understand why he was sounding so desperate. Ginny turned around, the knife in her hand.

“No, I don’t think it is. They’ve known each other for thirteen years; I think it’s enough time, Harry.” Harry was silent, unaware of his panting. Ginny put down the knife, walked towards him and held him by his waist. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly, “I thought you’d be happy for him. This IS Ron, Harry. And it’s Hermione, as well! Both of your best friends. What’s wrong?” Harry continued to pant.

“I-I just think it’s very…soon,” he finished weakly. Ginny smiled and kissed him on his forehead.

“Are you mad they beat us to the punch?” she laughed, making her way back to the tomatoes. Harry’s eyes went wide as he looked at her. She continued to laugh. He was about to say something when Hermione came in.

“Hey, Gin, I was wondering if you wanted to go out for-oh. I…I see you’ve made lunch.” Ginny smiled and finished up the tomatoes.

“Cheaper too, isn’t it?” she asked. Hermione chuckled, unable to deny that fact. Harry had now re-directed his stare from Ginny to Hermione. It was only now that Hermione was aware of it.

“Um…Harry?” she asked timidly.

“Hermione,” he croaked.

“Yes?” she asked. By this time, Ginny had stopped her actions and was looking at Harry as well. Harry stared at his friend. His best friend. He couldn’t even recognize her. At least, he couldn’t recognize her as his best friend. Suddenly, she was Ron’s fiancée. Ron’s wife. Ron’s WIFE. Harry shook his head internally. His wife? Hermione? A bride? No, it wasn’t possible. She wasn’t ready to be tied down. She was young. She wanted to travel the world. She wanted to meet new people. She wanted to learn other sports. She didn’t want a husband. She wasn’t ready for marriage. She had said it many times. He clearly remembered her saying the words that she wasn’t ready and would inform them when she was. She wasn’t ready. Surely Ron knew that…

“Harry?” Hermione asked again, “Are you alright?” Harry blinked. Suddenly, Ginny pushed herself between them.

“He’s fine; he just gets like this sometimes. Come, let’s eat outside today!” Ginny exclaimed. She pushed Hermione out of the kitchen and threw her head back towards Harry. “Don’t ruin the surprise!” she whispered. Harry was left alone in the kitchen. Hermione? Married? He couldn’t put the two words together. They didn’t mesh well together. He looked at his bare left hand. And what was Ginny talking about? Beating them to the punch? Surely Ginny wasn’t expecting a proposal. She wasn’t going to get one soon.

~*~

The dinner had gone horribly. Ron was a complete mess. He was much clumsier than usual, spilling food on both his friends and passing waiters. “I’m so sorry,” he’d say. “Please, put it on my tab.”

“Dear, are you alright?” Hermione would ask.

“I’m fine, it must be the pre-game jitters,” he’d respond, “It was a bit too hot for my fingers, I’m afraid.” By dessert, Harry wondered if Ron even had enough pride left. He certainly wasn’t behaving like he deserved Hermione. “Oh, wait. Please wait,” Ron said as the waiter arrived with their desserts. He got up and tucked in his chair. “I just…I want to do this without ice cream on my shirt,” he joked nervously.

“Ron…” Hermione said, fear in her voice.

“Hermione, p-please, don’t say anything. Please, let me do this,” Ron stammered as he got down on one knee. Other people in the restaurant gasped along with Ginny. Harry clenched his knife and wondered why he had suddenly broken into a sweat.

“Hermione-Granger-will-you-marry-me?” Ron asked quickly, taking out and opening a white box with a small engagement ring inside. Harry wiped his forehead.

“Ron,” Hermione breathed, her eyes on the ring.

“I know it wasn’t a very big speech, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want anything else to go wrong,” Ron smiled awkwardly. The silence in the restaurant was long. Harry dabbed at his forehead again and shifted away from Ginny when she put her hand on his. Hermione was frozen on the spot; her mouth was still half-open. Ron stammered, unsure of what her reaction meant. “I-I know it’s not a very big ring, I’m sorry. I just thought maybe you’d like it anyways if it was bought with love. And it was, Hermione. It was.” There were awws from their surrounding tables but silence from Hermione. Some women cleared their throats and waiters played with their ties nervously.

“He’s right. It was bought with love,” Ginny whispered, attempting to bring out some life from the brunette. And bring some out some life she did. In an instant, Hermione cocked her head up, amazement in her eyes.

“You knew?” she asked Ginny loudly. Ginny was silent, surprised. “You knew!? You’re my best friend, Ginny; you know I’m not ready for marriage!” Harry had a clear view of her eyes; they were filled with disappointment and surprise. “Ginny, were you there when he bought it? Did you say nothing!?” Ginny remained silent. Hermione turned to Ron.

“And YOU!” She yelled this time. “You’re not my best friend, you’re my boyfriend! YOU should know I’m not ready to get married! I’M NOT READY, RON! MERLIN, DON’T YOU EVER LISTEN TO ME!?” The anger and betrayal in her eyes were now echoing through in her voice. The customers in the restaurant had suddenly all gotten very interested in their meals. Harry gulped. Hermione whipped her head towards him. The rage in her eyes turned into something he couldn’t recognize. “And you,” she whispered, only loud enough for the four of them to hear, “You’re not my best friend or my boyfriend, are you?” Harry felt his eyes tighten and his jaw clench. “You’re neither. You’re…you’re Harry. You’re…you’re my Harry. The one I trust. And even you knew, didn’t you?” Harry was silent. This wasn’t happening. Hermione sniffed and let her tears roll down her face.

“Hermione, don’t cry,” he said softly, “Please.”

“How can I not?” she asked brashly and proceeded to point to each of them. “You’re my best friend. I trust you to want me to be happy. You’re my boyfriend. I trust you to think of my needs first. You’re…you’re my Harry! I trust you to prevent me from making mistakes!” She sighed, wiping her eyes. By this time, Ron had gotten back into his seat, Ginny was glued to hers and Harry had leapt out of his. Hermione sniffed and laughed ironically. “Isn’t anyone following procedure anymore?”

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. I just want you to be happy. Even if ‘happy’ is a life without me.

IMPORTANT A/N: I’ve finished the Second War Flashbacks. If you didn’t read them from the beginning, please go back and start at chapter two and read all the italicized paragraphs. They will help you better understand the characters in this chapter.

He had decided to Apparate home instead of risking seeing the press outside. It was quite the scandal. Harry could see the headlines already: GRANGER HAS BREAKDOWN! REJECTS SOULMATE! He sighed. He felt guilty. Guiltier than Ginny who shrugged and mumbled, “She’ll come to her senses,” when Hermione ran to the restaurant bathroom. Ron didn’t chase after her. He was still frozen to his chair, his face stoned.

“She said no, didn’t she?” he asked quietly after a short while.

“Well, she didn’t exactly grab it and jump into your arms,” Ginny replied, starting to eat her ice cream. “Eat something, Ron, you’ll feel better.” Ron shook her head violently.

“I can’t eat right now.” Ginny turned her head to Harry.

“What about you, Harry? Eat something.” Harry laughed harshly.

“Gin, how could you think of eating at a time like this?”

“She’s just going through something, Harry. She’s ready to get married. She loves Ron.”

“Well, obviously, she doesn’t if she didn’t grab the ring and jump into his arms, as you put it.” Ginny dabbed at her ice cream.

“She’s having a rough day. Of course, I wouldn’t know though, would I, you two being Unspeakables and all, I hardly ever know if she’s alright or not.” Harry sighed.

“Should I follow her?” he asked. Ron nodded slowly.

“Better you than me, mate.” But before Harry could throw down his napkin, Hermione had returned, as had the silence in the restaurant.

“Can we leave?” she squeaked.

“Sure,” Harry said quickly, before either Weasley said anything. He raised his hand to signal the bill. The head waiter waved his wand and a piece of paper appeared at the center of the table. Ron reached across to take it but Harry grabbed it.

“Harry-”

“Ron, I’ve got it. You three go home first.” Ron sighed, nodded his head in thanks, took Ginny and Hermione’s hands and Disapparated. Harry turned the paper over and caught his breath. It was quite a large sum and Harry was quite glad he hadn’t let Ron pay for it. He signed the bottom of the slip and watched it fade into the paper. Then he sent it back to the head waiter who nodded. Harry nodded in return before turning to the other restaurant customers. “I’m very sorry for the disruption tonight, ladies and gentlemen. I hope it does not discourage you all to return to this wonderful restaurant.” And before he could take in any reaction, he Disapparated with a loud pop.

~*~

“Hermione’s in the first floor bathroom. We can use the main,” Ginny said simply the moment Harry arrived home. She was on the stairs, already making her way up. Harry took off his coat and put it in the closet.

“How much was the bill?” he heard Ron ask behind him. He spun around and brushed past him, making his way up the stairs.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied.

“Harry, it was expensive. I know it was. You shouldn’t have taken it. It must have coasted so much more because of my clumsiness.” Harry sighed when he reached the top of the stairs. He turned around slowly.

“Ron, you’re a good man to care. But right now, I think Hermione should be more important than money.” Ron gazed at him for a second before sighing himself.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, it’s second nature. Growing up, I don’t think we ever could have even imagined going to a restaurant like that one.” Harry smiled warmly.

“Well, you’ve grown up now.” Harry turned around and entered the main bathroom, where Ginny was already brushing her teeth.

“You’re in a rush tonight, aren’t you?” Harry asked, putting toothpaste on his toothbrush. They exchanged smiles as they brushed. The silence was deafening and Harry nearly let out a sigh of relief when she finished and left for their bedroom. He took extra time to brush his teeth in vertical motions. Then he rinsed his mouth out and gargled with mouthwash. He took out some floss and took his time between each tooth. Ever since Hermione had seen the way he treated his teeth one night, he promised her he would take better care of them. Once he was done, he rinsed his mouth out one more time and wiped his mouth. Then he shut off the light and walked into his bedroom. Ginny was cuddled up on her side of the bed, waiting for him. He smiled and got into bed.

“Good night,” he said, kissing her forehead. She frowned.

“That’s all? We haven’t seen one another in a month and you want to just say goodnight?” Harry stammered.

“Um, well, okay, what do you want to talk about?” Ginny laughed and snuggled closer to him.

“I wasn’t thinking of talking,” she giggled. Harry laughed nervously and wondered why he was suddenly so uncomfortable.

“I-I would just like to talk tonight, though, Gin, to see what’s been up lately with you.”

“I don’t want to talk. I want to catch up the old-fashioned way.”

“I think the old-fashioned way is talking.” Ginny sighed, frustrated, and tore her body away from him.

“Since when have you ever rejected me, Harry? And since when have you been so keen on bloody ‘talking’? Honestly, you sound like…Hermione.” There was a pause as Harry looked into Ginny’s blue eyes.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I’m trying to say that you sound like Hermione."

"Well, I have been around her for the past month. We work together. I must assume a part of her has rubbed off."

"It’s a bit strange, is all I’m saying."

"Are you saying Hermione’s strange?"

"No, absolutely not. Well, then again-"

"Then again what?"

"Then again, have you ever seen her explode like she did tonight?"

"No, no, that’s not fair."

"Not fair?"

"Your brother proposed to her when she already gave him an answer." Ginny scoffed.

"Are you taking her side?"

"What side? There are no sides here, Gin! She said no!"

"You know, to speak the truth, I expected a different reaction from you, Harry."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, I expected you to be happy for your best friend. You were skeptical, to say the least. I expected to you to be discreet. You nearly told Hermione twice during lunch! And now, I expect you to be fawning over me. And yet, you bring the conversation to Hermione!" Harry folded his arms.

"You shouldn’t expect certain things from me, Gin."

"Oh, that’s right. Poor Harry Potter, still traumatized by his past, has horrible mood swings!" Harry jumped off the bed as if it were on fire. Ginny closed her eyes and regretted her words. "Harry, wait, I didn’t-"

"Listen to me. Dolohov took you out of the war very early. I went on for three more hours than you did. I saw MANY more Aurors die! YOUR view of the war is VERY. DIFFERENT. FROM MINE!" Ginny had jumped up from the bed.

"Don’t you raise your voice at me, Harry Potter! No one truly understands what you went through!"

"Hermione does. She was with me until the very end."

"Yes, Hermione understands everything, doesn’t she? Why don’t you just jump into her bed tonight?" Harry bunched up his eyebrows and let a snarl erupt from the back of his throat.

"I shan’t sleep with you tonight, Ginny. Not sexually or physically." And with that, he took his small pillow, blanket and waltzed out of the room. He entered the living room and decided on a couch. He laid down his weary body on the pillow and draped the blanket over his stomach. Then he flung his arm around and covered his eyes with this forearm. Slowly letting out a sigh, he thought back. Not to Ginny’s fight, however. But to his fight with Hermione that very morning. To that conversation with Ginny at lunch. To how he felt when Ron proposed…to how he wanted Hermione to feel when Ron proposed.

~*~

Hermione was already fluffing her pillow when Ron entered the room. He shut the door slowly and sat down on the bed, his back facing Hermione. "Unbelievable," he whispered, "That was probably the most expensive dinner I’ve ever had." He heard Hermione’s exhausted laugh.

"You must be joking," she whispered back, "Now is not the time to joking, Ron."

"I’m not joking."

"Then you’re an idiot. I just rejected your marriage proposal and all you can think about is how much the DINNER-which you didn’t even pay for-COSTED?!"

Hermione shouted at his back. Ron got up and turned to face her. She was lying on the bed, arms propping up her upper body.

"Did you just call me an idiot, Hermione!?" he asked loudly.

"No," she said, "You ARE an idiot! A blind man could see it!"

"You have no right to call me an idiot!"

"And you have no right to propose to me, knowing-"

"I HAVE NO RIGHT TO-"

"LET ME FINISH! You have no right to propose to me full-knowing that I’m not ready! I TOLD YOU, RON! I told you I wasn’t ready!"

"You never said such a thing!"

"YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME!"

"Stop bringing that in! I think I know what my woman wants and what she doesn’t!" Hermione threw her head back in surprise.

"So that’s what this is?"

"What? NO! No, I-I meant-"

"You meant what, Ronald?"

"I MEANT that I know what you want, what you’re ready for-"

"YOU PROPOSED TO ME AFTER I SAID I DIDN’T WANT TO MARRY YOU!" It had shut Ron up. He suddenly shut his mouth and looked around the room, growling and clearly holding in his temper. Hermione sighed and lay back down on the bed. Ron had silently made his way to the empty wall and rested his head on it. Suddenly, he raised his fist and banged it against the wall hard, causing the room to shake. Hermione repressed a gasp.

"Is it the money?" he asked silently, keeping his gaze at the wall. Hermione sighed and closed her eyes.

"No, Ron, it’s not the money."

"Is it the fights?"

"No, I think they’re healthy."

"Is it me?"

"No. You’re wonderful. I love you."

"Then why won’t you marry me?"

"I’m not ready."

"…Is it because I haven’t been home lately?" Pause.

"Partly."

"Is it because I…I don’t listen?"

“Partly."

"Is it because I don’t know what you’re thinking by just looking at you?"

"Partly."

"Is it because I don’t understand you sometimes?"

"…Yes." Ron sighed sadly. He turned around, his eyes tired and a weak smile threatening to fall off. "I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you lately, Hermione. I’m sorry I don’t speak my mind when I should. But I care for you. It’s not something that’s going to change." Hermione smiled and caressed his cheek. She loved him. She did. But she couldn’t marry him. "I’ll…I’ll try to be more like Harry." Hermione gasped slightly.

"What a silly idea. Why would you do that?" she asked, a little angry at the thought of her Ron changing. He grew angry abruptly.

"He’s kind of what you want, Hermione!" he exclaimed, "You want someone who’s home. Someone who understands you and is there for you!"

"Ron, this is ridiculous!"

"NO, IT’S NOT!" Ron suddenly yelled, "I WANT YOU TO BE HAPPY, HERMIONE! I DON’T CARE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO ME!"

"Well, I do! Ron, don’t change for me!"

"It’s too late," he said gruffly, "You don’t want Ron Weasley anyway. You want New, Improved Ron Weasley."

"You’re being stupid. Be realistic." Ron grew sombre.

"Yes, let’s. Tell me the truth, Hermione. If I was less Ron and more Harry wouldn’t you marry me?" It was Hermione’s turn to be silent. "If I was more like Harry, you would marry me, wouldn’t you?" She sighed.

"Yes, Ron," she admitted after a short silence, "If you were more like Harry, I would marry you."

~*~

"You’re going to die, Harry. Right here. Right now." Harry couldn’t help but cringe at the words. He was scared, very scared. He was thinking frantically. He came up with nothing. Without his wand, what could he possibly do? Even if he could magically non-verbally untie the ropes around his wrists and ankles, it would take but a flick of Voldemort’s wand for him to die. Voldemort snapped his fingers and Dolohov gasped in relief, letting go of his neck. "Thank you, my lord," he rasped. "Shut up," Voldemort repeated, "Kill Wormtail and bring me the Mudblood." If Harry hadn’t been so concentrated on untying his ropes, he would have gasped. "You’re stronger than I anticipated, Potter," Voldemort smiled, mistakenly interpreting Harry’s concentration for being emotionless. Harry looked up at the red eyes and before he could say anything, he heard loud whimpers, begging and finally, a scream. Then, there was silence. Harry realized Wormtail was dead.

"You have no shame," he whispered, drawing his attention back to the ropes. "Let’s see how much you have," Voldemort challenged, bringing a worn-out, bleeding Hermione from the shadows. Harry snapped his head back up. "Let her go," he said quickly. Voldemort laughed loudly. "I knew you were still weak. It’s just a matter of pushing the right buttons. Or in this case, using the right spell. CRUCIO!" Hermione screamed out in pain and droned out Harry’s profanity. The spell was held for a long time; Harry couldn’t concentrate on getting rid of the ropes. Kill me instead, he thought to himself, anyone but her. Finally, Voldemort released her. Hermione was panting quickly, her breath struggling with her sobs. "I hate you," Harry said quietly.

Voldemort laughed. "This is quite fun. Don’t you agree, Dolohov?" Dolohov nodded, knowing not to say anything anymore. "I think I’m going to torture you for a while, Harry." Harry looked up quickly, cursing in his mind for losing control on his non-verbal magic yet again. "Yes, I’m going to torture your Mudblood. I think seeing it suffer will be much worse than torturing you." Hermione whimpered. "Do you hear that? It’s afraid. This is going to be funner than I thought." Hermione wheezed. "There no…such word…as funner…you idiotic man." Harry couldn’t help but smirk. Hermione was right. There was no such word as funner. But she was also right to call Voldemort a man. He was mortal. The horcruxes were all destroyed. One Avada Kedavra and he would be finished.

"So it actually has a brain. How interesting. It’s going to be very enjoyable to watch you die. Don’t you agree, Harry?" Harry’s smile faded. "Yes…I’m going to make it suffer. I’ll drive it to the brink of madness and let it sway back and forth on the cliff of sanity. I’ll make it beg to kill you instead." Harry gritted his teeth and lowered his head. "I’ll make it scream, ‘Kill Harry! Kill him! I don’t care anymore! Just kill him!’" Harry laughed despite himself. "She would never do that to me." Dolohov finally spoke up. "The Dark Lord, Mr. Potter, can make people do impossible things. There is a reason as to why his name must not be spoken." Harry felt the ropes around his ankles give way. Harry raised his head dangerously slowly, his eyes shining with anger and tears. "His name is Tom Riddle. He’s a wizard. Nothing more. And he is a coward if he cannot fight me himself."

This challenged intrigued Voldemort as he looked at Harry, observing his tied-up opponent. "Is that so?" he asked slowly, raising his wand to Harry’s forehead. "You know I’ve always hated this scar. This blemish that made you more famous than me." Hermione rose to her knees, observing the two men. “As I," she corrected again. "SHUT UP!" Voldemort snapped. He turned his attention back to Harry. "You’re both aggravating, aren’t you? Forget it, I’ll just kill you right here. Right on the scar." Harry held in a breath, closed his eyes and unleashed his plan. Just as Voldemort started the curse, he brought his hands up, lifted the ropes from his neck and pulled up. Then he pulled his head down as hard as he could, finally freeing himself and losing his glasses in the process. The curse hit the tree and disappeared into the bark. Voldemort growled but Harry was fast as he grabbed the wand from his fingers and held it against his foe. "Avada Kedavra," he whispered, letting the hate flow through his veins, into the wand and out in a green flash. It had happened quickly. In the blink of an eye.

When Voldemort collapsed, lifeless, Harry finally let out his breath. He turned to Hermione, her mouth open, amazed at what had just happened. Dolohov was nowhere to be seen. He ran to her side and fell on her. "Your glasses," he heard her whisper. He felt her hands on his cheeks and her lips trailing butterfly kisses all over his face. Knowing she was alright, he finally let go and fell into a deep sleep. One he would only wake up from two months later.

~*~

Harry opened his eyes and sprung up from the couch. Another dream. Another flashback. He was getting sick of them. He wanted to catch Dolohov. Put an end to the horror. He pulled off his shirt when he felt the sweat on his body. Then he gazed at his hands and sighed when he saw they were shaking. He was still scared. The madness would never end. Even after Dolohov. There would always be another madman marked on terrorizing the world. Always. He stifled a cry at the thought of constantly jeopardizing the lives of his friends. "Hermione," he whispered into the night.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. You = safe. It’s the only way I can sleep at night.

Hey Everyone. Sorry, this isn’t a chapter, just an author’s note. Wow, I really sound like other authors. I hope not too many people have gotten too excited about, “Oooh, maybe she updated twice in one day!” Heheh, NO. No, that’ll never happen, sorry to shoot those ideas down. Although I’m sure not too many people were excited. Anyways, to the actual note and enough ramblings;

Who? Glassesfreak206

What? Pause this story.

How? By clicking the button “Paused.”

Where? On Portkey.

Why? I’m going through a very rough patch with who other than the same *someone special* we’ve all come to know and I’m feeling very drained, emotionally. I don’t really feel like eating or sleeping. Just kind of…sit around and sulk. I’m sorry to say that writing and reading fan fiction is indeed the last thing on my mind. Everyone please keep in mind that no; this is not the end of the story. I still know where I’m going with it and I do want to continue. It’s just that *someone special* is extraordinarily exceptional to me and until our friendship is…actually a friendship, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

But fear not, fearless readers, this is not the end of Dedicated. *Someone special* will always be special and therefore, there will always be more to write.

Until sanity returns,

Glassesfreak206

A/N: Sometimes a pep talk from a concerned friend is all you need to lift your spirits. Thanks, *Jane*, for noticing the invisible girl with the visibly gloomy feelings…about *someone special*.

The smell of coffee woke Harry up. Strong. He could tell it was Hermione’s. He opened his eyes and wiped the sleep out of them. Suddenly feeling the chill of the morning, he took the shirt he had taken off the night before and threw it on. Then he staggered into the kitchen, where Hermione was in her pajamas, and pouring milk into her coffee. "Good morning," he said quietly.

She was still, waiting until she had just the right amount of milk. Then she set it down on the counter. "Good morning," she finally responded. Harry rubbed the back of his head, feeling awkward already. After all, it was just twenty-four hours ago that they almost made out on the couch. He poured himself a cup of coffee, carefully avoiding touching her. She sat down and started her toast. "They’re sleeping in," she said simply.

Harry toasted his bread with his wand and sat down. "They’re tired."

She nodded, looking around the room.

Harry spread the jam into his bread. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

She was quiet, chewing slowly. "Maybe later."

He nodded. "Alright." There was a silence as they chewed.

"Were we loud last night?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Harry glanced up from his toast. "Oh. No, you were…well, we were too busy with our own business." He suddenly realized what they sounded like. He blinked and laughed. Hermione laughed as well. Harry eased up and fell into his chair, shrugging off the awkwardness that no longer existed between them. "No, it’s-um-it’s not like that. We…we had a fight." He ate his last bit of toast and brushed the crumbs off his fingers. Then he sat back in his chair, folding his arms.

Hermione leaned forward on the table slightly, compassion in her eyes. "Oh, I’m sorry. It-It wasn’t about us, was it?"

Harry lifted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. "Why would you think it was about you two?" Hermione stammered and gasped to herself when she realized she had wanted him to say yes. Harry laughed at the sight. "No, it was about, um, it was about how she doesn’t understand me." Harry smiled when Hermione nodded. She was always going to be here, ready to listen.

"My fight was also about that," Hermione admitted with a sigh.

"About how Ginny doesn’t understand me?" Harry joked.

Hermione laughed again. "No! It was about…it was about how Ron doesn’t understand me."

Harry nodded in response. "Is that why you said no?" he asked.

Hermione laughed to herself. "That’s what he asked me, as well."

"What did you say?"

"I said yes."

Harry could see there was more she wanted to say. "Is that the only reason why you said no?"

Hermione smiled at him. He could see right through her. "I said no because he doesn’t know what I’m thinking about by just looking at me. I said no because he doesn’t listen to me. He doesn’t let me finish my sentences. He doesn’t let me think on my own." Hermione was suddenly sad and sipped her coffee.

Harry saw her change in mood. "I’m sorry," he said, "It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it."

"No, no, it’s alright. It’s nice having someone to talk to. Someone who’ll…allow me to talk."

Harry nodded with a smile. “I’m always here."

Hermione smiled. Harry would always be there for her. Her smile faded when she suddenly remembered what she said to Ron last night.

Harry saw it immediately. "What is it?"

Hermione waved her hand. "Nothing, it’s nothing. You’ll think it’s…" Harry was quiet, waiting for her to finish her thought. Hermione laughed and regretted it at once. "Last night," she started again; "Ron asked me, ‘If I was more like Harry…would you marry me?’"

Harry swallowed. "What did you say?"

Hermione shook her head and got up from her seat, taking her cup with her. "It doesn’t matter. I’m not marrying you, I’m marrying Ron."

Harry suddenly clutched her wrist. "Hermione, what did you say?" he demanded.

Hermione shook her head. "It doesn’t matter. Harry, please, let me go."

Harry brought her closer to him. They were inches apart, noses almost touching. "What did you say?" he asked again.

"I said yes," she said, looking at the floor.

Harry sighed when she saw the remorse in her eyes. "You regret saying that," he whispered, letting go of her.

"Of course I am!" she said incredulously, "Harry, he was completely torn up last night! I rejected him in front of an entire restaurant.”

Harry felt his anger build inside his chest. "You rejected him months ago! In front of Ginny and I! You SAID you weren’t ready! Ron’s a git to have never remembered!"

Hermione sighed and bit her lip. "It doesn’t matter," she said calmly, "He doesn’t have to change for me."

Harry laughed cruelly. "He HAS to, Hermione. You just said so. He doesn’t listen to you, he doesn’t understand you. Hermione, he doesn’t deserve you."

Hermione scoffed loudly, unbelieving he was saying such things about his supposed best friend. "And WHO deserves me, Harry? YOU?"

"Yes."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You have QUITE the ego this morning, Harry James."

"Perhaps," he muttered, "But then again, you just admitted you want your husband to be like me." There was a silence as they glared at one another.

Hermione swallowed when she realized he was right. She wanted someone just like Harry. Someone who would give her space. Who was home and was always there for her. Someone who understands her. Someone who respects her and listens to her. She wanted someone Just. Like. Harry.

"It never occurred to you," Harry whispered, "That perhaps being a couple wasn’t for the best?"

Hermione jolted her head up and was suddenly very angry at the man who apparently knew everything. "Has it ever occurred to you," she sneered, "that maybe being with Ginny wasn’t for the best?"

"No," Harry responded quickly. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. She didn’t know why it affected her so much. Harry cleared his throat as well and looked away. He didn’t know why he had responded so quickly. As if to reassure himself. He raised his finger and started again. "Wait, what I meant to say was-"

They were interrupted when Ron yawned loudly and walked into the kitchen. "Morning, Harry," he said, making his way to the coffee. There was a pause as they watched him pour himself a cup.

"What, I don’t get a hello?" Hermione laughed. Ron turned around quickly and stammered, realizing he could not get out of this. Hermione shook her head and sighed exasperatedly. With a meaningful glance at Harry, she left the kitchen. Ron sighed and made himself some cereal.

"I just don’t know what to do," Ron sat down at the table.

Harry sat down again. "That’s alright," he smiled, "You’re both handling a marriage proposal rejection rather well."

Ron scoffed and scooped some more cereal. "You didn’t hear us last night." Ron muttered, "I think it’s finally over."

Something in Harry’s stomach did a leap and someone was screaming in his head. He blocked it out and shook his head. "Come on," he tried, "You say that everyday. You two fight all the time. It’s not over. It never is."

"It should be." Another leap. "She doesn’t love me." A squeal rang in his ears. "I don’t deserve her. I don’t listen to her. I don’t understand her. I don’t know what’s going on inside of her head. I never do. I never have. I’m a horrible boyfriend. No wonder she doesn’t want to marry me." Before Harry could react, Ron took his bowl and threw it at the wall. It smashed loudly and the pieces fell to the ground. Harry gulped and Ron shook with anger. "She doesn’t want to marry me," Ron whispered, as if it was suddenly hitting him. He turned to Harry, anger in his eyes. "She doesn’t want to marry me, Harry," he repeated, willing him to understand, "She doesn’t WANT to marry me! She DOESN’T WANT to marry me!" He pushed Harry out of his way and stormed out of the kitchen.

Harry chased after him and followed him up the stairs. "Ron! Ron, come on."

Ron spun around, furious now. "She doesn’t want me, Harry," Ron said slowly, "She doesn’t WANT ME. She doesn’t want me to be her husband. She wants YOU. Did she tell you that?? She wants me to be more like YOU. If I were more like YOU, Hermione would marry me! Do you realize what that means, Harry? She doesn’t want ME! She wants someone different from me! She wants someone else! She doesn’t want me! Do you know how that feels?!"

Harry stammered, unable to think after he mentioned Hermione’s name.

Ron scoffed loudly. "No, of course not. You’ve already got a fucking bride. She’s WAITING for you to pop the bloody question!" Ron spun back around and stormed upstairs.

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was tired of everyone saying it. He wasn’t going to ask Ginny to marry him. He…he…he wasn’t ready. It was GINNY. Ginny? His wife? No, he just couldn’t picture it. He went back down the stairs and entered the living room, looking through his files again. He glanced at a picture of Dolohov and tried to pry his mind off all the happenings that had occurred in just two weeks. All this talk of marriage had truly shaken his life. Ginny, suddenly desperate to be his wife? Ron, completely obsessed with marrying? Hermione, not ready to be a bride? What truly bothered Harry was how he was feeling about Hermione. He felt the surge of relief when she said no to Ron. He felt as if a weight had been lifted when he heard them fighting last night. He was worried. Very worried. When Ginny and Ron weren’t home, he evidently lusted for Hermione. Convinced he was just lonely, he tried as hard as he could to let it go. But now Ginny and Ron were home, and he found himself wanting Hermione even more.

~*~

"I just want a straight answer!"

Ron was making his way up the stairs when he heard his sister’s cry. He turned in the direction of her and Harry’s bedroom. Slowly creeping towards it, he pushed his ear up against the door.

"Do you want to marry my brother or not?"

"I’m not ready. Will you please just-"

"Why aren’t you ready?!"

"Will you please lower your voice? I’m not ready bec-"

"Because you don’t love him?"

"NO!"

"Then why won’t you marry him?"

"Because I’m not ready! I want to travel, Gin! I want to see the world! I don’t want to be tied down!"

"So being married to my brother is considered being tied down?"

"Being married to anyone is considered being tied down."

"You can travel with a husband, Hermione!"

"It’s not just that, Ginny. He doesn’t understand me! We’ve been apart for so long. We’re practically strangers!"

"One Quidditch season and suddenly you’re strangers? A very strong friendship you have there!"

"It’s different, you don’t understand!"

"I understand! I’m going through the exact same thing with Harry! We’re fine!"

"He hasn’t proposed yet! Ever wonder why?"

"Don’t change the subject! This is about you and my brother!"

"Exactly! Between US! Not you, Ginny! Leave us alone! Let us sort this out ourselves! Worry about your own relationship!"

"What’s that supposed to mean?!"

"It means-"

"No, nevermind, it doesn’t matter! This is about you and Ron! And if you don’t love him, just say so."

"STOP IT! I LOVE RON!"

"THEN MARRY HIM!"

Hermione growled loudly and opened the door. Ron fell down with an ‘oof!’ He heard Hermione sigh angrily. "LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU TWO!" she yelled. "YOU!" she pointed at Ginny, "MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS FOR ONCE!" She pointed at Ron. "AND YOU!" she stammered for a second, "GROW UP!" Then she stormed downstairs, whipped out her wand and casted a charm on the stairs. Slowly, they disappeared. Ron ran to the top of the stairs. He glanced around at the floor. Horrified by what she had done, he screamed at Hermione. She ignored his yell and pointed upstairs again. "Accio Ron and Ginny’s wands!" In an instant, the two wands flew towards her. Hermione took them gently in her hands and set them on the floor. Then she casted a silencio charm and smiled as their screams went unheard.

"Finally," she heard a voice. She turned her head and saw Harry’s tired smile. "It’s been a very busy morning. I was wondering when they would shut up."

Hermione giggled and followed him into the living room. "It was a very mean thing to do," she admitted, sitting down on the couch.

Harry shook his head almost violently. "They have no right to force you into a marriage you’ve already said no to many times."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For listening. It’s…been a while." Hermione blushed. "Did you hear us? Ginny and I?"

Harry lowered his head and nodded.

"I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have made so many assumptions about your relationship."

Harry raised his hand. "No, you were quite right. Ginny and I…we’ve become strangers as well. If she’s expecting a proposal, she’ll have to wait."

Hermione smiled and felt her day brighten.

Harry returned the smile and cleared his throat. He became serious. "Look, I know you might not want to talk about…yesterday…but-"

"It’s alright. I’m ready."

Harry sighed in relief. "Well… you can start."

"No, you."

"No, Hermione, I’m serious…you first."

Hermione took a deep breath and thought. She wanted this to come out truthfully. "When they were gone, I really was lonely. So lonely. You seemed to be there when I needed someone. You were my Harry. I…I’ll admit I did feel something when I was on your bed the day Rita wrote her article. I felt these emotions that I didn’t know I could feel for anyone but Ron. You’ve…you’ve always been there for me, Harry. You’ve always understood me in a way Ron never did. You listen to me. You…you finish my sentences. You’re…you’re Harry." She tried to continue but found she couldn’t.

Harry lowered his head. "And you’re my Hermione," he whispered.

Hermione raised her head. "I’m sorry, Harry. I’ve been very confused-"

"No, don’t you dare be sorry, Hermione! This has nothing to do with you. If anyone, I’m the one who’s been confused. I’ve been lonely. I’ve been drunk. I’ve been hitting on my best friend-making out with her at one point-and then nearly shagging her on a couch! I’ve…I’ve been feeling very different these last few weeks."

Hermione swallowed. "As have I."

"I thought it would-"

"Go away when they came home."

"But when Ron proposed to me, I was"

"I saw you."

"This is what I’m talking about, Hermione! When he proposed, I wanted you to say…" Harry sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “I wanted you to say no.” He looked up and Hermione and waited for a reaction. 1

"When he proposed…” she whispered, “My eyesight shifted to you." She laughed at herself. "Listen to that sentence. When my boyfriend proposed to me, I immediately looked for your reaction."

Harry sighed. "It’s just a phase, Hermione. We’re going through something. It’s not loneliness. But it’s something. I don’t know what it is but it’ll go away."

Hermione nodded. "I know."

Harry sighed again, ran his fingers through his bangs and handed her a file. "In the meantime, let’s talk business. Read it. I think might be onto something."

Hermione smiled and proceeded to read the file. Her eyes lightened and she looked back at Harry with a smile.

"Harry, you did it!" She squealed.

"I-I did?!"

"Yes! This all makes perfect sense! This is incredible! This explains everything! Why we can’t find the floo history and-"

"And the-"

"Yes! And then-"

"And the-"

"Yes! And the-"

"I know!"

"Harry, this is brilliant! Well done!" Harry brimmed with pride and they continued to smile at one another for a little while longer. "We should get going," she said.

Harry nodded and drew his gaze away from her, grabbing his cloak and wand. Hermione did the same. They left the living room when Harry suddenly put his hand on his shoulder. "What about the Weasleys?"

Hermione paused and contemplated. She turned her head to see them at the top of the…non-existent stairs, still screaming. She shook her head in disappointment. "Let’s go," she said, as she left the house. Harry followed.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. Life is sweet. Thank you for being my sugar.

They entered very casually, as if it was their own home. And in a way, it was. The old abandoned shack housed many memories. Late nights and early mornings were spent, finding the last horcruxes. Time had truly made its mark as Harry noticed the walls were much darker and planks of wood were strewn about. The happy glow it once had when Harry had been there years before with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lupin and Tonks were now gone. Instead, this shack was big, dark and very intimidating. How quickly things changed. “Are you scared?” Harry whispered.

“Yes,” Hermione admitted, “We should have brought Ron and-”

“Well, we didn’t.”

“They’ll be angry that we left them there.”

“I don’t care.”

“Ginny’ll have a fit.”

“…I know.”

“Do you care?”

Harry was about to answer when he heard a voice.

“Only two? What a shame. You will be needing all the obtainable help.” Raising their heads, they saw Antonin Dolohov on the second floor, leaning on the stairs rail. His face was skinnier than ever. His arms obviously no longer had any muscles in them. Dark rings were below his eyes and his hair was shriveled, greasy and practically falling out. “Potter, Mudblood, welcome.”

“Good evening,” Hermione sneered.

“Or not?” Harry questioned Hermione’s greeting. “Have you eaten lately, Dolohov?” There was no answer. Harry grimaced. “Look at you. Only evil has kept you alive all these years. You’re nothing but flesh and bones. Look at the size of those black rings. Have you slept?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“I don’t like fighting the wounded. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Stupid boy. Even after all these years, you haven’t learnt. There is no fair or unfair. There is only power. And I have obtained it.”

“At the cost of your body,” Hermione said, amazed someone could be so corrupted.

Dolohov turned his head to her. “Physical pain can always be blocked out if your mind is strong enough.”

Hermione sneered. “That’s impossible. It goes against science. Nature! Common sense!”

Dolohov laughed. “I don’t live by your principles, Mudblood! I live the Dark Lord’s way. I don’t need sleep. Nor food. Nor clothing. In fact, I am strides away from being invincible! I can certainly kill you two overgrown teenagers.”

“Prove it,” Hermione yelled, finally weary of holding back against the man she had hunted down for years. “EXPERILLIAMUS!”

“Hermione, NO!” Harry’s warning came too late as the white puff flew towards Dolohov, rebounded off his magic shield and flew back to her. The spell blew her through the floor and into the basement. From Harry’s perspective, it had looked as though a meteor had landed right on her and she had been forced into the crater. Smoke rose everywhere and the shack shook with the sudden blow. It had been a strong spell, meant to knock Dolohov out. Harry wasted no time in falling to his knees and calling into the dusty hole. “HERMIONE!” There was no reply.

“Very impatient, isn’t it?” Dolohov laughed.

Harry growled and got to his feet. “IT is a she. A human being. Her name is Hermione Granger. And she’s more of a magical being that you’ll ever be.”

Dolohov laughed at this. “It got lucky seven years ago. But its luck runs out today. As does yours.”

Harry raised his wand with both hands, pointing at Dolohov’s heart.

“You must be joking,” Dolohov laughed again, “This shield is far too powerful for the likes of you. I’ve worked on nothing but my magic for the past couple of years, Potter. Don’t you understand? Ever since the Dark Lord’s fall, I’ve devoted my life to dark magic. To bringing him back. Imagine what a reward I will receive to have finally destroyed the boy-who-lived and brought an entire world to its knees for my master. My life has been to kill you. And now I can. A shame that you’ll kill yourself, though.”

Harry gripped his wand tighter but did not reply.

Dolohov saw the frustration in his eyes. “Yes, you know it’s over. What are you going to do? You can’t get through this shield but I can.” He sat down on the steps.

Harry continued his aim on Dolohov’s heart.

“Go ahead,” Dolohov dared him. “I want to see what happens.”

Harry shifted in his shoes slightly, the hate slowly tingling through his spine. He wanted to. He really wanted to. But Dolohov was right. The shield was much too strong for him. He was attempting to buy time.

“You’re pathetic. You can’t get through a simple Gherkin’s Shield. You’re not the boy-who-lived. It’s impossible that you killed the Dark Lord.”

Harry suppressed a growl as he gripped his wand tighter and tighter.

Dolohov smiled. He raised his hand and pointed to the hole in the floor. “They told me that Mudblood was the smartest witch of it’s time.” He chuckled. “Not so smart, I guess.”

“I swear I’ll kill you for that. You can hurt me all you want but now that you touched her…you’re going to die, Dolohov. You’re going to fry.”

Dolohov smiled evilly. “I suppose I touched a nerve.” He paused. “How interesting. It was that Mudblood who was by your side at the end of the Second War, wasn’t it? Awfully important to you, isn’t it? Where are the other two bumbling idiots? I heard the redheaded one got her legs back. A shame. I’ll be sure to break them correctly next time. She’s your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

“Shut up,” Harry said firmly.

Dolohov was surprised by this comment. “What, no accusation? No death threat?” Dolohov rubbed his chin and gasped. Then he pointed to the hole in the ground. “You love it, don’t you?”

Harry tightened his shoulders and jaw. He physically refused to answer the question.

“That’s disgusting. You’re in love with a Mudblood. That’s DISGUSTING!”

“SHUT UP!” Harry yelled, his hand shaking the wand with fear of what he wanted to do to him.

“The Mudblood?!” Dolohov continued, “Just when I thought you could sink no lower!”

Harry’s eyebrows were pressing so tightly it was hurting.

“Fine,” Dolohov said once he took in Harry’s silent response. “I suppose this could help me. I mean, once you’re dead, I could always rape the Mu-”

“AVADA KEDAVRA!” The light was dark green and it flew straight past the shield and into Dolohov’s heart. His death was loud and long. Harry watched him the entire time. “Burn,” he whispered darkly. Then, after viewing Dolohov’s lifeless body fall down the stairs, he turned to the hole in the floor. “Windgardaius Levis.” He waved his wand and quickly, Hermione body levitated to his level. Harry sighed sadly and caressed her hair. Her face was scratched up, her right arm was covered in blood and her clothes were torn up. Her eyes were obviously the worst and Harry knew they would need to be bandaged up. Harry moved some hair off her face and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. Then he waved his wand at the hole. “Accio Hermione’s wand!” Hermione’s wand floated into his left hand, surprisingly still in one piece. Then Harry closed his eyes and tuned into his wand-less magic. In less than a minute, his new owl, Pockster, flew into the run-down shack. Harry placed Hermione’s wand in his pocket and withdrew a snack which he fed to Pockster. “Go to Grimmwauld’s place. Pick up Ron and Ginny’s wands and hand them to them. Then go to St-Mungo’s and look for me. I’ll tell you what room they’ve put Hermione in and you can fly back and tell them, alright?” Pockster nodded. Harry smiled and rubbed his head. “Good boy,” he whispered. Then with a couple more stomach rubs, Pockster flew off. Harry drew his attention back to Hermione. He took her hand and apparated into St-Mungo’s.

~*~

Ron burst through the double doors and pushed a running nurse out of his way. “Room 1753. Where is it!?” he asked loudly to the receptionist. His sister tugged at his arm.

“Ron, calm down!” He didn’t even bother shaking her arm off because the second the receptionist pointed down the hall, he bolted. He ran as fast as his Quidditch legs could run. He ran so fast, he passed the door and had to run back six rooms. Hermione was on the bed, her eyes wrapped in a bandage that ran around her head four times. Her hands and bits of her legs were bandaged as well. Harry was by her side in a chair, nervously biting his nails.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Ron growled at Harry and sat by Hermione’s side. “Hermione, it’s me.” Hermione’s head shook slightly.

“Marry? M…marry…marry…” she whispered. Ron’s eyes opened wider.

“Marry?” he asked, getting excited. “H-Hermione, do you want to marry me after all?” Before Harry could curse Ron into oblivion, which he desperately wanted to, Ginny pulled him outside.

“Marry,” Hermione whispered again, reaching for Ron’s hands. He gave them to her eagerly.

“I’m here,” Ron whispered happily.

“Harry…” Hermione whispered. Ron froze for a second and lowered his gaze to Hermione’s hands rubbing his weakly.

“H…Harry?” he asked coarsely.

“Take care of me...”

~*~

Ginny dragged Harry out and closed the door.

“Gin, Hermione-”

“I CANNOT believe you left us at Grimmwauld’s place. First, my brother gets his heart broken, I get into a fight with my best friend and then YOU run off ONCE AGAIN to save the world!” Harry gaped at her, unable to respond. “Ron and I are stuck upstairs, unable to call for help, waiting for someone to come home. Finally, your owl comes by, scoops up our wands and tosses them to us. Your OWL, Harry?”

Harry exploded at this comment. “Forgive me, Ginny, for running off and saving the world, as you put it! But I was trying to keep us ALL safe! I did what I had to do! Why don’t you understand I NEVER want to be the hero!?” Ginny opened her mouth to speak. “NO!” Harry silenced her. “Let me speak! I never wanted to be the-boy-who-lived! I never wanted to be the savior of the world! But I was! I am! I want to be an Unspeakable and do dangerous tasks if it means I’m helping and ensuring the safety of my loved ones! You KNOW that, Ginny! If you don’t, if you think I’m so insensitive and left because I ENJOY saving the world, then we have many problems, indeed.”

Ginny bowed her head in shame this time.

Harry sighed and lowered his voice when he continued. “As for Hermione, she performed the most incredible Experillamus spell I’ve ever seen. I’ve also never seen her being blown through the floor and falling unconscious in the basement. She was unconscious. Her eyes were battered up and I was worrying about her vision. Forgive me if I thought of her before you two.” Harry paused. “There are some things more important than you right now, Gin. Some things that are worth fighting for.”

Ginny was dead silent.

Harry lowered his head and breathed a sigh of relief, as if satisfied of getting that off his chest.

Slowly, Ginny moved forward and rested her head on his sternum, sniffing.

“Excuse me, Harry Potter?” said a passing doctor.

Harry raised his head and shook Ginny off his chest. The doctor was a tall man, shorter than Ron but taller than Harry, and had wavy brown hair. He was probably in his late twenties and sported a wedding ring tan line. His reading glasses were small and attached around his neck. He had small rings below his eyes and looked very tired. But in all in all, he was quite good looking. “Yes?”

“I’m Doctor Ned Parker.” He switched his clipboard to his left hand, shook Harry’s hand and turned to Ginny. “Hello Ms. Weasley. Big fan of the Cannons. Very nice play last game.”

Ginny blushed and looked away in embarrassment.

Harry rolled his eyes. “So you’re a Cannons fan,” he said rudely, “That’s great. I can’t wait to see what you can do as a doctor.” Ginny hit his arm quite hard and Harry ignored it.

Ned cleared his throat. “Sorry. Um, may I speak to you in private?” Harry nodded and Ginny went back into the room. The two men were alone in the corridors. Doctor Parker put on his glasses and lifted his clipboard. “Mr. Potter, are you aware of the term medical proxy?”

Harry thought for a moment. “I think Hermione mentioned it to me once.”

“It is actually a noun. If you are the medical proxy of an individual, you decide what happens to them, medically, if they are unable to communicate what they want.”

Harry dug his hands into his pockets. “What does any of this-”

“Mr. Potter, do you know who Hermione Jane Granger’s medical proxy is?” Harry thought again.

“I…I don’t think she has one,” he finally said, remembering her mentioning it a couple of years ago.

Doctor Parker nodded. “That’s correct. She does not. However-”

“However…?”

“Well…perhaps you don’t know this, but I was in the hallway when you rushed her into the hospital just a couple of hours ago. Right after you told her you were going to fetch Ronald and Ginerva and rushed away, she opened her eyes. Although the nurses told her to close them, she was searching around frantically for someone. A nurse picked up on the action and told her ‘Harry Potter went to get your friends.’ Hermione then proceeded to say, as loud as she could, ‘He’s my medical proxy.’ Then she passed out.”

Harry was stunned. “I…I don’t understand.”

“Well, it’s quite simple. Although we do prefer things to be written, Ms. Granger seemed to have not filled out anything. Quite strange, really, if she was part of the Second War. But the point of the matter is that…you are her medical proxy.”

Harry shuddered slightly. “There must be some mistake. I…I don’t know anything about medical…ness. Ron must be her medical proxy. He’s her boyfriend.”

Doctor Parker raised an eyebrow. “Firstly, it’s quite alright if you don’t know anything about medical procedures, we will gladly explain them to you and make sure you understand consequences of certain actions. Secondly, I am indeed a big fan of the Cannons and it will be no surprise to you when I say that Mr. Weasley reacts quite differently than you when it comes to…important decisions under pressure.”

Harry was silent, taking in the doctor’s words. He was about to tell the doctor about all the times Ron chose wise decisions in the Second War but was interrupted by Doctor Parker’s laugh.

“You have no choice, either,” he said, “It’s hers. She chose you. So you are her medical proxy. She is not strong enough to name another. I just wanted to tell you.”

Harry stuttered. “Fine,” he sighed finally.

Doctor Parker raised his eyebrow once again. “Listen, Mr. Potter, it’s not a negative thing to be named someone’s medical proxy. In fact, in this case, it’s quite the honor. She trusts you more than her boyfriend!”

Harry raised his hands and nodded quickly. He was flattered and felt loved until he just realized the sudden overwhelming pressure that had just been placed on his shoulders. “Just…just tell me what I have to decide what to do. Or not to do.”

Doctor Parker shrugged. “Nothing so far. She’s not in critical condition and she seems to be in a very weak state of consciousness. By the end of the week, she should be allowed home. I wanted to tell you so that if she was to ever entire code blue, her eyes I’m really worrying about, you would not be shocked to know you are the one who decides…right or left.”

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. “Will she be alright?” he asked for the first time that day.

Ned sighed in his turn. “In truth? Most of the doctors here have never heard of a wizard, let alone a witch, casting such a strong charm against…themselves. W-we truly don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Harry lowered his head and rubbed his eyes.

Doctor Parker raised his hand and patted Harry’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. She’s a fighter. And she’s in good hands.” With that, a pager went off and Ned ran back down the hallway. Slowly, Harry opened the door, only to find Ginny burying her head in her hands and Ron sulking at Hermione’s bedside.

“How’s she doing?” Harry asked.

Ron gripped Hermione’s hands, staring at them. “Fine,” he replied shortly.

Harry sat down next to Ginny and let her rest her head on his shoulders. He put his arm around her and kissed her head. A few minutes passed and Ginny fell asleep.

Ron was now staring at Harry; Harry attempted to return the cold glare. “I heard.” He said simply.

Harry sighed and felt his body tense up. “I would never choose for her to suffer.”

“You better not.”

“Well, I wouldn’t. She’s Hermione. I care for her.”

“More than me, I’m assuming.”

Harry sighed. “Ron…I was here. That’s the only reason why she chose me.”

“Is it? It seems as though you’ve been noticed in a way I haven’t been.”

“…Are you accusing me of something?”

“She chose you, Harry. Not me. Shouldn’t I be worried?”

He sneered. “Don’t you know me better than that?”

“Honestly?” Ron gazed at Hermione and her lips, remembering how she had whispered Harry’s name and not his. He swallowed and blinked a tear away. “I don’t know anyone right now.”

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. Call me, email me, write me, look at me, talk to me, laugh with me; Anything. Just notice me. Please. Please just notice me.

When the sun rose and Harry opened his eyes, Doctor Parker was standing over Hermione, clipboard in hand. What shocked Harry was Ginny, who was sitting in Ron’s seat. “Gin, your game,” he started.

She raised her hands. “It’s alright. Ned here wrote an owl and they’ve called in our back-up. You didn’t seriously think I would play against the Japanese Team when my friend is lying here, did you?”

Harry glanced at the doctor who was smiling sheepishly.

“She’s quite loyal, isn’t she? It’s um, it’s an issue that’s rarely raised on the news,” Ned said.

Harry smiled and turned his gaze to Hermione. “What about Ron?” He asked.

“He’s too important to the team. Bryan isn’t ready yet.” Ginny paused and bit her nail. “Surprisingly, he seemed to be quite keen on leaving.” She raised an eyebrow to Harry. “You wouldn’t know why, would you?”

The doctor turned to Harry. The room seemed to have become very warm very abruptly.

“N-No,” Harry stammered, “I have no idea.” Ginny squinted and Doctor Parker’s eyes moved around nervously. “Why don’t you ask the doctor? Shouldn’t he know?” Harry asked, anxious to drag the attention off him.

Ginny’s mood changed drastically. “I already asked Ned.” She smiled, pride in her voice. “But he said he couldn’t reveal any doctor/patient information.”

Completely oblivious to what she had said after, Harry glared at the doctor. “Ned?”

The doctor stammered. “We are-um-currently-um-attempting to form a-a more relaxed, uh, bond with one another s-seeing as Ms. Granger is not in-”

“Oh, what does it matter, Harry?” Ginny snapped. “It was me who asked if I could call him Ned. Please don’t tell me you’re going to get jealous at a time like this.”

Harry got up from his chair this time. “Jealous?!” he yelled incredulously. “I am not jealous! I simply wanted to know-”

Hermione hadn’t shifted in response to his yells. “Harry?” she whispered hoarsely.

Without another glance at the other two in the room, he rushed to her side, getting on his knees. “I’m here, Hermione, shhh, you’re going to be alright.”

“I’m scared…”

“It’s alright. I’m here.”

“Ron?”

Harry shook his head in shame for his best friend. “No. He went to play.”

“Ginny…”

“They pulled the re-enforcement.” A smile tugged at Harry’s lips. Only Hermione would care about her friends when she was lying on the hospital bed. Hermione sighed long and softly before falling back asleep. Harry caressed her hair. “Rest,” he said simply. Then he got up and faced…Ned. “So should I call you Ned as well?”

The doctor stammered again, intimidated by the shorter man. He fiddled with his glasses. “I-if that’s what you are comfortable with.”

Harry saw the fear in Ned’s eyes. He sighed and cursed his name once again. “Look, don’t be scared of me, please. I’ve done things in the past, I know. But I wouldn’t hurt anyone unless they were…the bad guys. Judging by your occupation, I don’t think you’re a bad guy.”

Ned sighed in relief and lowered slightly. Looking down at his feet, he re-adjusted his glasses. “I’m sorry, Mr. Potter-”

“Harry.”

“I’m sorry….Harry, but you are, after all…I mean, you’re legendary! To be quite honest, I never thought I’d meet any of you four in my life. She’s one of the best chasers in the world, Ronald is the keeper of my favorite team, Hermione’s the most powerful witch of her time and you…you’re….”

Harry winced. “Please. I’m not the boy-who-lived. Not anymore. Voldemort’s-” GASP. “Sorry. The Dark Lord’s gone and I’m just Harry. Just Harry.”

Ginny scoffed. “Yet you still take a job as an Unspeakable. Yet you still hunt down Death Eaters. You run off and nearly get Hermione killed-”

“Ginny, please-”

“Why can’t you be less hypocritical, Harry?” Ginny had gotten up from her seat. The three adults were now standing. “Why can’t you be more like…like…NED here!?”

Ned’s eyes widened at the mention of his name. “Oh-oh dear, I-I do believe I should b-be going now. Good day to you two.” And with a clatter of his clipboard, Ned rushed out of the room.

“How nice, Ginny. Bring the innocent Ned into the fight!”

“What have you got against Ned?”

“Nothing, alright? I just think it’s a bit weird that he’s the doctor and you’re on first name terms.”

Ginny glared at him. “You’re not the boss of me, Harry Potter.” She turned on her heel and opened the door. “Ned!” She called out into the hallway. She seemed to have spotted him as seeing she had run off.

Harry sighed and fell back into his chair. He turned to look at Hermione. “Oh, Hermione,” he sighed. He took her hands and kept them warm in his. “It’s really not working out with Ginny, is it?” He was quiet, as if waiting for an answer. He laughed to no one. “It’s like this with you too, isn’t it? With you and Ron?” Silence. “I know if you were awake, you would deny it. But…” He rubbed his eyes, determined not to cry. “I just don’t see how it’s going to work out with us. We…we have nothing in common anymore. We-we don’t talk. I don’t want to share things at work with her. She doesn’t want to tell me about her games. We’re…we’re strangers.” He gulped and let a tear fall on her bed. He brought his head up to look at her. “It’s over between us, Hermione. It hasn’t happened yet but it will. It’s over. We don’t sleep together. We don’t kiss.” Deep breath. “We don’t talk. We don’t make an effort to talk.” He paused to wipe a tear away. He was silent for a while, just looking at her face; still full of color. He sighed loudly and then said quietly, “I wish you were here. I wish you could hold me and tell me it’ll be alright and that there’s another girl out there for me.” He smiled, remembering when she held him in their seventh year when he felt so alone. “I should be embarrassed, shouldn’t I? Being so weak. Needing a motherly figure to keep my spirits alive.” He looked at her seriously. “But you’ve always been there for me, haven’t you?”

~*~

The week passed by slowly as Ginny and Harry spent less and less time talking to one another. It was true. They had nothing to talk about. Ginny would enter, ask Harry how Hermione was and then leave. Harry spent his whole day in Hermione’s room, having a conversation with himself. He wondered where Ginny would always run off to and stopped worrying when he realized he just didn’t care anymore. Harry saw more and more of Ned Parker as well and they sometimes spoke for hours when he came off his shift. From what Harry could tell, he was a very humble man, just wanting to save lives. A heartbroken Ned divorced his squib wife a couple of years back when he found her cheating on him with his assistant.

Hermione’s eyesight hadn’t improved by the end of the week, however. The bandages were still wrapped around her head. She woke up about once a day and would spend her few moments awake making sure everyone else was alright. Harry grew less and less worried when Ned assured him she was improving. Ron was not doing well in his games and the Cannons were down 2-0 in their series. The poor man couldn’t concentrate but he was costing his team the championship.

~*~

“Good Morning, Hermione.” Hermione shifted slightly.

“Harry?” He smiled and kissed her forehead.

“I can’t tell when you’re awake or not. So you know what today is?”

She smiled. “Saturday.”

Harry smiled and helped her up.

Ned supported her back. “You’re still very weak, Hermione,” Ned commented. “You’re still going to need several days of bed rest when you get home. I’ll come by everyday after my shift and check up on you.”

Hermione smiled and draped her arm over Harry’s shoulder. “Thank you, Ned. That’s very sweet of you.” She said as she got off the bed and into a wheelchair.

Harry felt a surge of jealousy. He glared at Ned. “I didn’t know you made house calls.”

Ned stammered. “Um, well, to tell you the truth, Harry, I’ve grown quite attached to Hermione. Erm, I mean, you three. In addition, there’s no family to come home to every night so I thought, why not?”

Hermione tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “It’s alright, Harry,” she said, sensing his protectiveness.

Harry sighed and gripped the handles of her chair. They slowly made their way out of the room and out of the hospital. Ned followed them the entire way. When they had reached outside, they stopped, awkward and uncertain of this goodbye.

“Well…” Ned started.

“Yeah…” Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ll miss you,” Ginny whispered, keeping her eyes on the ground.

Harry raised his head and looked at her.

Ned smiled sadly. “I’ll come by tonight to check up on all of you.” He said, putting a hand on Ginny’s shoulder. She raised her head and put her hand on his. Then they hugged and pulled apart quickly. Ned turned to Harry and shook his hand firmly. “I’ll see you too, Harry.”

“See you, Ned.”

Ned knelt on his knee and caressed Hermione’s bandage. “I’ll bring by some supplies tonight, Hermione, he said softly. “We should get the bandage off you.”

Hermione smiled. “I would like that,” she joked. Ned smiled in return and with a weak wave, he walked back into the hospital.

Ginny watched him disappear into the building.

“Come on, dear,” Harry said, noticing her far-away look. “Time to go home.” He took her hand in his and disapparated into Grimmwauld’s Place.

~*~

“Merlin, this place is a pigsty!” Ginny said immediately. She whipped out her wand and started cleaning the house, starting with dusting the ceiling.

Harry rose and eyebrow and carefully began to levitate Hermione upstairs.

“Wait,” he heard her say faintly. He put her down and knelt by her side. “I don’t want to sit. Please take me up yourself?” She asked.

Harry nodded, admiring her courage. “Alright, Hermione.” He turned to face her and took her hand in his. Sensing his closeness, Hermione sat forward on her seat. “Get ready,” he whispered. Then slowly, he picked her up with both hands and snuggled her close to him. She put one arm around his back and the other caressed his chest. Harry smiled, breathing in her scent. It felt good, having her in his arms. He felt safe. And most of all, he felt that she was safe. “Hold on.” He took one step upstairs, getting her ready for the impact. She gripped his shirt. He took another. And another. And another. By the time they had reached the top of the stairs, Hermione was used to the motion. He brought her into her room and set her down on her bed.

“Am I in my room?” she asked.

Harry smiled. “Yes.”

“Thank you.”

He sat down on her bed and winced when she shifted in reaction to the sudden weight. “Anytime.” He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. Then he glanced up, looking at the woman who temporarily lost her sight. Harry smiled as he remembered Dolohov was dead. Finished. His reign of terror over her and Ginny was over. At long last remembering Ginny, Harry turned off Hermione’s red lamp and kissed her forehead. “You should get some rest like Ned recommended, Hermione.”

She nodded and felt around for her pillow. Finally finding it, she brought it towards her head and put her covers over her body. “Thank you….for…everyth…” She had already drifted off to sleep.

Harry smiled and walked out the room. Closing the door, he couldn’t help but sneak another glance at her sleeping figure. He was still haunted by Dolohov’s last words.

~*~

Downstairs, Ginny had began cleaning up the living room and Harry took her wrist, stilling her wand actions. “Ginny, we need to talk.”

She took her wrist away from his. “Later, Harry” She continued to clean the room.

Harry, now aggravated, grabbed her wand and threw it aside.

“Harry!”

“Sit. Down.”

She obeyed.

He sat down next to her, trying to ignore the fact that he wanted to make out with Hermione on that very couch.

Ginny put her hand on Harry’s knee and Harry shook it away. She raised an eyebrow. “Is everything alright?”

Harry cleared his throat, unsure of how to…break up with his best friend’s sister. Harry’s eyes widened suddenly. Ron. He had completely forgotten about Ron. Ron, who had gotten his heart broken by Hermione just a week ago. Harry ran his hand through his bangs. Maybe this wasn’t the time.

“Harry?”

Harry raised his head and looked at Ginny. How quickly his feelings had changed. No, he couldn’t do it anymore. It wasn’t fair. He sighed and started his tirade. “I’m sorry, Ginny, I’ve tried. But it’s just not working out between us. We’ve changed, Ginny. We’ve changed a lot. We don’t talk. We don’t understand on another. There are comfortable silences and then there are silences. We’ve had nothing but silence all week.”

Ginny lowered her head in embarrassment.

“You know what worries me the most, Gin? I don’t care. I don’t care about where you go at night. I don’t care if you have lunch or not. I’m not jealous when you flirt with other men. I’m…I’m completely emotion-less when it comes to you now, Gin.” He looked at her, she was avoiding her gaze.

“So am I,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”

She sighed. “I can’t help but feel guilty. I love you, Harry. I really do.”

“I love you too, Ginny.” He took a deep breath. “Like a sister. It’s just not enough. I’m sorry.” Pause. “It’s always been inconsistent with us, hasn’t it? In our first years at Hogwarts, you were the shy type and I barely identified you as anyone but Ron’s sister. Then suddenly, in our sixth year, you were the most popular girl in school. I was completely enthralled by you. In our Second War, your innocence shined through and you couldn’t take the danger at some points. My emotions have always been to the extreme. Suddenly wanting you, suddenly not caring, suddenly annoyed by you. Ginny, my feelings for you have never truly been reliable.”

Ginny sighed. “My feelings for you never been reliable either,” she admitted. “I love you. But…I don’t really know you, Harry. I know Harry Potter. I was in love with Harry Potter. But now he’s gone. And I suppose I just love Harry.”

Harry grinned, happy to see this wasn’t so hard. They understood one another at last. He opened his arms. “Friends?” he offered. She smiled and hugged him. Harry slowly smiled against her shoulder. “I see the way you look at him.”

Ginny pulled away from him, hiding her face.

“Ned Parker? I see the way you look at him. I think that’s when I first knew. When you looked at him…like that…and I didn’t care. I didn’t hate him. I didn’t want to be him. I wasn’t jealous in any way.”

Ginny laughed, readjusting the pillows on the couch. “He’s not interested. He’s much more interested in Hermione.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “H-Hermione?”

“Yes, so much for the professional doctor/patient relationship.”

Harry stammered. No, this wasn’t happening. No, no, no. As much as he…was alright with Ned, he couldn’t imagine him with Hermione. No, it’s impossible.

“It’s quite understandable. They’re good for one another. It’s a shame Hermione’s with Ron.”

Harry jolted up from the couch.

“Harry?”

No, not Ned. Not Hermione. No, not Ned and Hermione. It sounded so horrible. Ned and Hermione. He sneered internally. What the hell kind of name was Ned, anyways? Ned. He couldn’t help but repeat it over and over again. Ned. Ned. Ned. Ned. URGH.

“Harry!”

He shook his head and brought his gaze back to Ginny.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely. “Um…when’s Ron coming home?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I don’t know but I heard Smith replaced him.”

Harry enlarged his eyes. “Wait…tonight’s the game. Is he coming home tonight?” Before Ginny could answer, there was a ring at the door. Harry glanced at Ginny, who flew up and ran to the door.

When she opened it, Harry saw her face drop. “Ron,” she said, disappointed.

Ron showed no reaction to his sister’s greeting as he barged into the house. “Where is she?” he demanded, out of the breath.

“Upstairs,” Ginny sighed, picking up her wand and making cleaning her way into the kitchen. Ron raced upstairs and Harry quickly casted a leg-locking charm. Ron froze, halfway up the stairs. He grunted and pulled at his stiff legs.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized, and uncharmed his legs. “She’s sleeping.”

Ron panted, looking at his closed room door. “Oh.”

“Yeah. So I suppose Smith replaced you.”

Ron massaged his arm. “Yeah. I’ve been crap the last two games. Can’t concentrate when Hermione’s here.”

Harry nodded. He understood completely. He couldn’t even tie his shoes without a wand the last week.

“How is she?”

“She’s alright. The doctor said she’s been improving. Actually, he’s coming by tonight to remove her bandages.”

“Alone?”

“…Yes.”

“Hmm. Sounds like a nice guy.”

Harry tensed up. You have no idea. Harry suddenly realized. Ron. Ron didn’t know Ned…had feelings for Hermione. He studied his friend closely. Ron had clearly gotten a beating from bludgers and had grey rings under his eyes. His girlfriend, who he proposed to, completely rejected him in front of his best friend, sister and restaurant full of strangers. Then she ran off with his incredible best friend and lost her sight. The next day, he had to leave and bring shame to his team. Harry sighed internally. Ron didn’t need more gossip. “Yeah. He is.”

“Bloke have a name?”

“Ned Parker.”

“Ah, the doctor who named you Hermione’s medical proxy?” Ron nearly spat out this sentence. After saying it, he regretted it. “Sorry,” he sighed, “I’m being stupid. I need some sleep. I’m going to take a nap.”

Harry nodded.

Ron nodded in return and walked the rest of the way up the stairs. Harry was stunned and felt fire creep up his sides when Ron opened his bedroom door. “Ron!” he called out.

Ron stilled his actions and kept his hand on the door knob. “What?”

Harry’s mind went reeling. Ron couldn’t get into the same room as Hermione. He just couldn’t. Because then he’d lie next to her. And then he’d cuddle. And she’d cuddle. And they’d cuddle. Harry took the first excuse his mind created; “If Hermione wakes up and feels some man holding her, she might-”

“Ah, yes, well spotted. Alright, I’ll sleep in your and Ginny’s room. That alright?”

“Yeah, that’s alright.” Harry was just glad Ron was now taking steps away from Hermione. “Oh, by the way,” he suddenly remembered, “We broke up.”

Ron stopped walking and shook his head, certain he had heard wrong.

Harry suddenly remembered he just broke up with his best friend’s sister.

“You…you and Gin, you mean?”

Harry gulped. “Yeah.” There was a silence and Harry wondered if Ron was going to pick up the railing and throw it at him.

“About time,” Ron said simply and walked into Harry’s room, closing the door.

~*~

Harry spent the rest of the day trying to keep Ginny the basement and attic of Grimmwauld’s Place.

“Ginny,” he said, chasing after her, “He won’t be coming into our attic!”

Ginny rolled her eyes and continued on her way up the stairs.

“Ginny, Ginny-Gin, wait!” She didn’t listen.

He whipped out his wand and casted a leg-locking spell on her.

She stopped walking, growling. “Harry, let me go!”

Harry turned to face her and took her wand from her.

“Give me back my wand!”

He shook his head. “You’re going absolutely bonkers for this Parker,” he observed, “What do you see in him?”

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms. “He’s not a prat like you.”

Harry laughed. “Ah, Gin…”

“Seriously, Harry, let me go.”

“He’s not entering our attic. He’s coming to check up on Hermione and then he’s going to leave.”

Ginny bowed her head in sadness.

Harry remembered. “Look, Gin, I think you’re wrong. He doesn’t like Hermione. She…He…”

“You didn’t see him the times when you left the room. He was so friendly to her. He tells her things he doesn’t tell us. I know he does. They talk about them all alone when they think we’re asleep.”

Harry felt his blood boil. “What things?” he whispered slowly.

“I don’t know,” Ginny shook her head, “Maybe you’re right. I can’t compete against Hermione.”

Harry fought the urge to affirm this statement. Instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “You forget Ron, Gin. She’s not exactly single.” For the first time that day, Harry was glad for Ron’s existence.

Ginny brightened. “You’re right,” she grinned, “Hermione’s not free. But Ned is.”

Harry smiled, happy to see she was. He uncharmed her legs.

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to make some dinner!” She squealed and ran downstairs.

Harry smiled when he heard dishes clatter. He was so surprised by how well they were both taking the break up. He wondered about their sleeping arrangements and how and where they were going to sleep now. Surely he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as her now. He was about to make his way downstairs when he heard a mumble. Looking around the hallway, his eyesight stopped on Ron and Hermione’s room. He crept in slowly and was surprised to see Hermione, sitting up in her bed. “Hermione,” he whispered quickly and ran to her side.

“Harry?”

“I’m here.” He took her hand in his and smiled when she squeezed it.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. I see the way you look at your friends. And it makes me hate them.

“Hermione,” he whispered quickly and ran to her side.

“Harry?”

“I’m here.” He took her hand in his and smiled when she squeezed it.

“Is it time to get these silly bandages off yet?”

Harry laughed and caressed them. “Almost. Ned’ll be coming over soon.”

“He’s such a nice guy, don’t you think?”

Harry swallowed. He couldn’t deny it, as much as he wanted to. “Yeah. He’s a great guy.”

“So caring. So passionate about his work. Such a gentleman.”

Harry tightened his grip on her hand. “Yeah. Any girl would be lucky to have him.”

“I agree,” she responded, dreadfully quickly.

Harry groaned internally and bowed his head in misery. “What about you and Ron?”

“What about Ron and I?” she asked, a bit confused at his question.

“Well…is everything going to work out?”

She sighed and loosened her grip on his hand. “I don’t know. I really don’t. We’re not on the same road. We haven’t been for a long time. We’re…we’re different people.”

“Opposites attract.” Harry wanted to hit himself for aiding the relationship.

Hermione smiled sadly. “Yes, that’s the justification, isn’t it?”

Harry picked up on the sadness in her voice. Even without looking at her eyes, he knew how she felt. “Hey,” he squeezed her hand, “If he’s making you unhappy-”

“Oh no, no,” Hermione interjected, “Merlin, Harry, don’t you take me for someone smarter? I would never stay in a relationship that was making me unhappy.”

Harry smiled, as much as he didn’t want to.

“It’s just…sometimes…” She paused again and sighed.

Harry remained silent, patiently waiting for her to continue.

“Sometimes I’m skeptical,” she finally breathed out.

“About you and Ron?” he asked.

She nodded her head slightly. “Sometimes I wonder if we should be together. Sometimes I can’t stand him, Harry. Sometimes I just…wish he would disappear.” She paused as if to listen to his response. When there was silence, she continued, “Sometimes I hate him, Harry. Our childish fights aren’t more frequent but they seem to hurt me so much more. He’s on another level. He’s not my best friend anymore. But I just don’t feel it.”

Harry knitted his brows together. “Feel what?”

She sighed again. “I don’t feel the extra love,” she cried, her voice breaking down, “I don’t feel like we’ve changed. I don’t feel like he’s my boyfriend, who respects me more than my best friend. He’s…he’s still Ron.”

Harry remained silent. His mind was spinning faster than ever and he didn’t why. “If he’s making you unhappy, Hermione, don’t be with him,” he whispered. She continued to gaze back at him and he wished he could see her eyes. “I’m serious, Hermione,” he said more forcefully. “You deserve someone who’s going to respect you and care for you and love you for who you are.” There was another silence. Harry felt his collar shrink and the temperature in the room increase. There was something about her being unable to see that made him want to...kiss her. Sober-kiss her. No-regrets-tomorrow-morning-kiss her.

Do it.

Suddenly losing control, he took a deep breath, leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. She gasped when she felt them. On impulse, she shook her head inches away from his. His eyes were half open and he barely registered that she pulled away. But he was lost to those soft, half-open lips. He couldn’t restrain himself as he moved quickly and dove for her lips. He embraced them with such force; she was pushed back off the bed. He caught her back with his left hand and brought his right hand to bring her chin higher up. Their kiss was less passionate and so much more innocent than their first. They kissed slowly and softly, savoring the moment. She couldn’t control her hands, which delicately traced the outline of his biceps. They carefully held onto one another, as if they were going to break. The kiss ended a while later and they reluctantly pulled apart.

“Oh my,” she whispered hoarsely when he took his hands out of her hair.

“…Yeah.” They were silent for a while, staring at one another.

“That was…”

“…Yeah. Merlin’s socks.”

She laughed uneasily. “Oh, Harry…” She sighed and wiped at her lips, as if attempting to wipe away the action.

Harry couldn’t help but flinch at the sight. “Why does this keep happening?” he asked, getting off her bed.

She felt the weight taken off the bed and brushed her hair with her fingers. “We weren’t drunk just now, were we?”

Harry sighed at the question. “No. No, Hermione, we weren’t.” He looked at her, happy she couldn’t see him. For she would see his content face. Yeah, he loved her. It took him thirteen years, one drunken and one sober kiss for him to realize it but he loved her. He couldn’t believe he’d been so blind. Of course he was. He wanted to kiss her. All those nights weren’t loneliness. They were nights without the Weasleys. Without distractions. He wanted Hermione. He always did. He loved her. He loved how grumpy she was in the morning. How she pouted and purred when he woke her up. He loved how she worked. How she bit her nails when she was nervous and twirled her hair when she was anxious. He loved how she taught him the difference between nervous and anxious. He loved how she grinned and smiled and beamed. He loved how she frowned and grimaced. He loved how she thanked him for dinner and asked him what he changed in the recipe. He loved how she cared about him, down to his teeth. He loved how she stayed up late every night, lost in another book by her red lamp.

He loved how she made smoothies for breakfast when he was too sleepy to do anything. He loved how work meant so much to her but she’d choose family and friends over it any day. He loved that she called her parents once a day and the sad look she gave him when he watched her in envy. He loved how she never gave up when she played a sport horribly. He loved how she cared for the Elves and didn’t care that no one else did. He loved her. Everything about her. And he was stupid to have taken so long. “Oh, Hermione,” he sighed, happy to have finally seen it all.

“Harry…that was such a mistake.”

He froze. Oh no. He felt his heart drop down and fall out through his toes. His insides were frozen over and he couldn’t wipe the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look off his face. She…she regretted it.

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, in a way that made him want to jump out the window.

He cleared his throat. “Hermione, I…I don’t re-”

“Sorry if I’m bothering anything. Hermione, you’re up?”

Hermione jolted up in the bed at the voice and sudden intruder of the room.

“Hey Gin,” Harry grumbled.

“Hey, Harry. Um, Ned’s here.” Ginny grinned.

Hermione lowered her shoulders in relief. “Oh. Well, um, Harry and I were in a conversation, do you think we could maybe see him a little while later?”

Ginny shook her head. “He seems pretty nervous and jittery. He really wants to see you right now.”

“Tell him to wait or I’ll give him something to be jittering about!” Harry bellowed. Hermione and Ginny turned their faces to him in fear. He sighed exasperatedly and ran his hand through his bangs. “I mean…blimey, I’ll send him in if he feels like he’s going to burst,” he muttered, pushing Ginny out of his way. He met Ned downstairs, pacing and rearranging his hair every which way, his brown briefcasein his hand. Harry felt a sudden surge of jealousy. That’s great, he thought, he’s just perfect, isn’t he? He’s so clean cut and-

“Oh, Harry!” Ned flashed his ivory white teeth.

“What do you want?” Harry demanded rudely. He didn’t even care that Ned flinched in fear.

Ned rummaged through his briefcase and pulled out his medical kit. “I-um, I’m here to r-remove the b-band-”

“We were in an important conversation. You can’t wait five minutes?”

Ned’s Adam’s Apple quivered as he lost grip of his kit. It fell to the floor with a bang but miraculously stayed closed. Ned stammered as he bent down and reached for the kit. Harry glared at him and he shot back up.

The two men continued to look at one another and were interrupted by Ron, who came out of Harry’s room, his hair a complete mess. “Evening,” he mumbled, unaware of the tension between the other two men.

“What’s happened? I heard a loud clatter!” Ginny yelled as she ran around the corner and faced the three men.

“Ned dropped his kit,” Harry said simply.

“Oh.” Ginny looked at Harry and Ned, confused as to why they were looking at the other so strangely.

“H-hello Ginerva.” Ned said nervously.

“Hello Ned,” Ginny whispered, unable to contain a blush.

Harry resisted rolling his eyes and wondered why she never blushed for him. Suddenly, he felt a surge of rage at her. Her and Ned. She because she was suddenly head over heels in love with this stupid spine-less man. He hated Ned because…his name was Ned. And he was perfect.

“Look, um, I’m sorry to be in such a rush, Harry.” Ned fumbled once again as he picked up his kit, “But I need to talk to Hermione…alone. There are some questions I need to ask her.”

Harry felt his head spinning, his fists uncontrollably shaking. His entire body was shaking and he couldn’t control it.

“Yeah, that’s alright. Please, take your time,” Ron said behind Harry. He walked down the stairs. “Are you staying for dinner, doctor?”

Ned laughed nervously. “Um, well-”

“Oh, you simply must!” Ginny squealed. “I’m making spaghetti. Please stay.”

Ned bowed his head in embarrassment. “A-Alright, if you insist, Ginerva.”

Ginny smiled in response and made her way down the stairs and pulled Ron into the kitchen with her. Harry and Ned were alone once again. Ned cleared his throat and walked up the stairs. “I’m so sorry to have interrupted your conversation with Hermione, Harry.” He fiddled with his tie. “Y-you may re-enter and finish, it’s quite alright.”

Harry seriously considered walking back into her room but decided against it. It didn’t matter. Nothing had changed. He just kissed her. He could always talk to her about it tomorrow. “That’s alright. Just take off her bandages and bring her down for dinner.” Before he could listen to Ned respond, he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.

~*~

It was worse than he thought it would be. Not that it wasn’t great having Hermione back. Her face was still red around the sides because of the tightly wrapped bandages and she squinted throughout the entire dinner. She was talkative, as if she was alive and allowed to use her voice for the first time. Harry was glad to see the happiness in her eyes. She was so beautiful. He never thought of it earlier. But her bushy brown hair was suddenly flowing and chestnut. Her freckles were suddenly a part of her, each one representing the hard work she did outside. He loved her freckles. Down to the small ones on her arms. He loved every bit of her.

But that night, it was horribly silent between the two of them. She never spoke a word to him and he waited for her to start the inexistent conversation. He shook it off, thinking he’d talk to her about it tomorrow. She probably needed more time. He slept on a pull-out couch in the living room, giving Ginny his room. Throughout the night, he wondered if she was thinking of him. Of their kiss. He fell asleep, wondering how Ron and Ned would have reacted to it.

The next morning, Ginny and Ron returned to their team after a victory over the Japanese Team. They left a note on the refrigerator and Harry nodded at it. It was normal that they were gone before he and Hermione got up. But this time, he no longer missed Ginny. That silver lining was short lived, however, when he realized he was still in Hell. Hermione didn’t greet him with a good morning. She ate her cereal in silence. They had small awkward chats. He couldn’t understand why it was so awkward. This was Hermione. No stupid silly little kiss could get in the way of their friendship. He’d approach her everyday, wanting to talk to her about it. But when she turned around, a sudden nervousness took hold of him and he could barely speak a sentence. Her eyes would wander as well, never fully looking him in the eye. He’d sigh off the days, putting it off until tomorrow. The small chat was soon smaller and smaller. They’d communicate only when they had to at work and through Ned at home. There were no good morning’s or good night’s. Just silence.

And one night, when Ned was over once again, he couldn’t stop looking at her. Not for long, of course. But he couldn’t help it. She never once looked at him. She would chat with Ned, laugh with him, smile with him and tell him how her day was. But nothing for him.

“That was such an excellent dinner and an even better dessert.” Ned wiped his lips politely and smiled at Harry.

Harry hardly smiled. “I learnt some things, staying with the Dursleys.”

Ned smiled warmly. “That’s respectable. Here, let me clean the dishes.” Without another word, he happily took the dishes and waltzed into the kitchen.

Harry lifted his eyes to look at Hermione. She was cleaning her hands with her napkin. Over and over again. Her hands were shaking slightly. She knew he was looking at him. He knew she knew he was looking at him. And of course, she knew he knew she knew he was looking at him. But he kept looking. Because he couldn’t stop. She was so beautiful and he clawed desperately at his memory chip, trying to remember every little detail of her face. Hermione cleared her throat quietly and stared at the table. How quickly everything had changed. It felt like a short day but it had been in fact, months.

He squinted his eyes. No, it couldn’t have been. But it had. The time flew by, it was completely unrealistic. What he thought was yesterday was in fact months ago. It was July. Dolohov was killed in April. Harry shook his head again. No. No, it wasn’t possible. The time did not just fly by.

But it had. To Harry, it was all one day. But time flew by him. No, not flew. Soared. No, not soared. Zapped. Dashed away at the speed of light. He couldn’t believe it. Time went by so unrealistically fast. He looked at her again. Her face had completely healed and her eyesight was doing better than ever. Ron and Ginny had beaten twelve other teams. Harry moved into another spare room in Grimmwauld’s Place. Ned was now a family friend. They kidnapped six more Death Eaters. He learnt how to make Beef Wellington. Bill and Fleur’s second baby was born. It was true. It was all true. Four months had passed. His yesterday was 122 days ago. He kissed her 122 days ago. He gasped to himself. Had it been that long? No, it was just yesterday. And he just put it off until tomorrow. That’s all. That was quick, he thought sarcastically. Harry couldn’t stop looking at her. She was so uncomfortable. It was so uncomfortable. It was so incredibly uncomfortable.

He wanted to throw his napkin at her, fall to the floor and bawl as loudly as he could.

What had he done? He changed everything. She couldn’t even look at him anymore. He didn’t know what to do. Should he talk to her? Maybe she wasn’t ready to talk. He was scared. He didn’t want to give her too much space. He didn’t want to lose her. Especially not because of one stupid kiss. He was interrupted by his thoughts when she looked up at him. It was a moment. Those life-changing moments. When you know that nothing’s ever going to be the same again. She looked at him with so much pain in her eyes. So much confusion. So much guilt. And then she looked away. She tore her eyes away from his and looked completely alright with doing so.

His heart disintegrated. Exploded. Vaporized. Shattered. Palpitated. The shards of it went flying into his chest and eyes and his body felt weak. Reality smashed into the car of his soul and the airbag never went off. He finally realized it; He had changed everything. Absolutely everything. Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING would ever be the same again. If he had more self control, perhaps he’d get a smile at the table. Perhaps he’d get a good morning. Perhaps they could talk once more and laugh with one another. Perhaps they’d acknowledge the existence of the other. But no. No, he did something, something he now regretted, dragged it on for months and ruined everything. He had changed everything and it was now impossible for them to ever be friends. No, he didn’t want her romantically anymore. He wanted her back. He wanted their friendship back. He heard a voice in his head, as he would for the next few days: Ruin it with Cho. Ruin it with Ginny. But god, Harry, don’t ruin it with the only one that matters. But it was too late. He had never learnt from his mistakes. And he had indeed, ruined it with everyone, but most with the only one that mattered.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. Plot starting to sound familiar? Wipe that astounded look off your flawless face, replace that kiss with an email and re-read this chapter.

Damn straight; this is the story of us. And it just started.

Warning: Since chapter 11, characters have flown off JK Rowling's page and into my own little world. Angst plays a major role in the changing of the personalities.

Harry’s POV

Pure hell. It was awkward as hell. And with every sound we didn’t make, my heart broke. I had changed everything. And I could never fix it ever again. She’d look at me for two seconds and quickly looked away. She’d look at me when she thought I wasn’t looking. I’d look at her when I thought she wasn’t looking. But we both knew it. I knew that she knew that I could see her looking. And I knew that she knew that I knew that she knew that I was looking. But we kept looking. Sneaking glances and coughing politely. I’d laugh sometimes. I don’t know why. It wasn’t funny. Or maybe I was laughing at how stupid I was. To have messed everything up.

We got quieter. I couldn’t take it. I was going crazy. She was talking more and more with Ron, Ginny and Ned. They’d unintentionally exclude me out. Ron would ask me sometimes how I was. I’d tell him about ‘this girl’. This…*someone special*. He tried to understand, Godric bless him. But he just couldn’t. He was there for the manly hug when I needed it. He bought me the beers and drank them with me. He tried so hard to give me advice. I’d laugh so hard when he did. It was so ironic that Hermione’s boyfriend was trying to fix me up with her. I’d come home drunk and see the pain in her eyes. She hated seeing me beat myself up. She’d talk to me late at night but I’d never register what she said. In the morning, it was as though I’d never gotten drunk. We were still silent.

I wrote her a note and left it on her table.

I need more time. I’m not going to let you slip away. I’m going to fight for you. I’m going to make it work. Because some things are worth fighting for.

I didn’t even know what I was talking about. Fight for what? I didn’t know. I just had to reassure her that I wasn’t going to let something like this ruin our friendship. She could do whatever she wanted to do. And what she did was reply with the exact same message on my desk the next morning.

You’re right. Some things are worth fighting for.

I thought things would have changed then. I was stupid. Things didn’t change. Things got worse. We were hypocrites. Or maybe she wasn’t. I would often think that maybe she was trying and I was just ruining everything. Maybe I shouldn’t have even said anything. I was going crazy. No one understood what I was going through. I had trouble concentrating on spells. My non-verbal magic was on the fritz. I’d lose sleep, wondering if she was thinking of me. When she was reading at her desk, I wondered if she really was reading and not sneaking glances at me like I was. I was completely crazy. Ron and Ginny saw it and when they asked Hermione, she told them it was personal and that they shouldn’t pry. She got closer and closer to Ned. Ron did, as well. Ginny would go out with friends but when she came back, she’d join in. They made their own twisted little friendship circle. It made me sick. Then I’d take a step back and wonder if I was obsessed.

What is an obsession, anyways? When does an obsession become an obsession? With pictures? With tears? With endless thoughts? How many thoughts a day does it take for it to become unhealthy? Are all obsessions unhealthy? What makes an obsession unhealthy? Or maybe I wasn’t obsessed. Maybe it was normal. You know, those teenage phases all those books talk about. About a confusing time that happens to every teenager. Maybe I skipped one when I was young. Maybe that was what was happening to me. Maybe it wasn’t an obsession at all. Maybe it was all in my head. But healthily. Did that make sense? I had no idea.

She was leaving to see her parents for two weeks. Two bleeding weeks. I chose to stay at home with Ginny and continue my research on Harris, the Death Eater we were chasing. She was planning on leaving first thing in the morning, around four o’clock. I had just gotten out of the bathroom when I saw her in the hall. She was in her pajamas, on her way to bed. I approached her. She saw me. I saw she saw me. She knew that I saw her see me. And then Ron interrupted before a conversation even began. She looked away. I tried to answer Ron’s question as best as I could. But once it was answered, it was as though my courage had dissolved. I couldn’t look at her anymore. I walked away. I went downstairs. Anywhere. Anywhere but there. I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a snack. Then I went back upstairs.

She was there. Hugging Ginny goodbye. Or maybe me? Had she come back to see if I was in my room or had she just forgotten to hug Ginny? I pretended to lose grip on my bowl. I bend down and slowly cleaned up the carpet with my wand. I heard their conversation. I heard her wish Ginny good luck on her games and that she’d be watching. Then I heard her walk away. For good. I turned around and she was gone. She had gone into her room-with Ron-and I hadn’t said anything. Maybe she was waiting for me but got frustrated. Maybe worse. Maybe she didn’t care whether or not I said anything. I racked my brains for the next few days. I should have chased after her, screaming her name desperately. I should have turned her around. I should have grabbed her and never let her go.

But I didn’t. She was gone. And I hadn’t even said goodbye. So I came home to an empty house three days later, gloomier than you should be at the start of a long weekend. And I wrote her a letter.

I’ve been asking myself lately what is it that I’m scared of exactly? What could I possibly be afraid of? You? No, that’s impossible. I’m scared for you, Hermione.

I’m scared the world will never really know you. I’m scared you don’t know what I see. I’m scared you don’t see what I see. Do you see what I see? …No, you probably don’t. Because I bet you don’t hold your breath when you see yourself with your hair up. It’s not like this with my Ginny, Ron and Ned. I don’t worry about them. I don’t worry about losing them. I should. They have just as much chance as anyone else. So why worry about you and only you? What makes you so different? What makes you so special? I like you a lot and it scares me sometimes. Because the more you like, the more there is to lose. But this still isn’t different from my any of my other friends. What makes you so different?

It’s because I’d die if I lost you. And that’s what scares me. That scares the hell out of me. I like you so much it scares me. I can’t do it. I can’t get closer. I can’t find more about you that I’ll end up liking. I want nothing to do with you. But I want to know everything about you. But I don’t. I don’t want to look at you one more time because I might start staring. I don’t want to say goodbye because I might start crying. I don’t want to hug you because I might not let go. And that might scare you. I know it scares me.

I’m getting sick of myself. I don’t know what I want anymore. And if I do, I don’t know if I can fight for it anymore. What kind of a person am I if I can’t even fight for you? What kind of a person am I if I can’t change? Even for someone like you? There’s something about you that makes me want to change myself for the better. Just to be a better person. To be a happier and better person to like myself more.

You can stop the world from spinning with a smile. I want to deserve that. I want to be a better person and deserve a world-stopping smile. I’m still growing into who I want to be. But it’s because of you. You do that. Just by being yourself. That can’t be bad. You can’t be bad. You can’t possibly be bad for me if you’re already doing that. So I don’t care anymore. I’m changing myself for the better. I’m going in and I’m not looking back. I’m changing. For you.

Because you don’t hide your freckles with makeup.

I read it over and over and over again. Sometimes I’d fall asleep next to it. I changed some words occasionally but I wanted to keep the general idea there. She was special. She was different. Different. She was smart. Had priorities. Had a family. She was fun to talk to. She could talk. That made her different. She could talk. She didn’t answer things shortly. She used correct punctuation, making long paragraphs at times. She was smart. So smart. Not just academically. Smart in a way that no girl at school ever was. We could talk for hours, about nothing, really. She could use sarcasm. She could tease. She could be serious. And all through this, she was still a shy, nice, girl-next-door girl with her own insecurities. And yet I looked past all that and perhaps saw something. Or perhaps rather what I wanted to see. But she was special. And after losing so many people in the Second War, I wasn’t ready to let go of Special.

So when she came back, I left some reports on her desk. The top ones were the location of Harris. Under them was my letter. I was scribbling some notes and couldn’t help but look up. She took the files and smiled her “Gotcha” smile. Then she saw the letter. She quietly put it in her purse and I saw her reading it on her lunch break. I couldn’t keep watching her read it. I didn’t want to see her reaction. We went home in silence that night.

She never responded back. Sometimes I’d nervously ask her if she was alright. She’d say, “With the letter you gave me?” I’d stumble. I didn’t want to talk about it unless she brought it up. I didn’t want to hear her say she didn’t feel the same way. So I’d say no and dash away. I’d always run away.

~*~

I was so into the problem Hermione and I had that I barely remembered to say; Ginny and Ned got together. Yes, that was quite a shock. Turned out he had the hots for Ginny. He merely hung around and got closer to Hermione so she could give him pointers on what her best friend loved in a man. They declared it over dinner and we all clapped loudly. I was happy for Ginny, really I was. But when I saw Ron put his arm around Hermione and kiss her cheek, it all faded away. Ginny and Ned left early to go catch a movie. Ron, Hermione and I played a board game. They paired up. They were cheating to help one another; I could tell from their secret smiles. I couldn’t take it. I said I was tired and went up to my room. I nearly killed myself when I tripped over a stack of papers and landed on my bed. My new room was still dark. I took advantage of the mood, crossed my legs on my bed and stared off into the shadows.

I was happy for Ginny. Really, I was. But I couldn’t help by envy her happiness. Then there was Ron and Hermione. I felt such a clash of emotions. I loved Hermione. She meant everything to me. That feeling scared me and I brushed away the “STALKER!!” thoughts. I just wanted to see her happy. As long as she was happy. It was alright if she didn’t want me. I just wanted her to be happy. I knew I was opening myself up to getting hurt. But I didn’t care and gasped when I realized that was the truth. I just wanted her to be happy. Closing my eyes, I started to breathe very slowly through my nose.

But I wanted her. Oh, I wanted her so badly. I felt like I was going to explode if I didn’t have her. If I couldn’t smile at her and talk to her. If I couldn’t say good morning to her. I wanted her so much. I wanted her to talk to me. To feel like I was there for her. I wanted her to want me.

I so badly wanted her to want me badly.

In the end, I guess I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. I wanted…I wanted what she wanted. If she wanted to end it, I’d end it. If she wanted to keep fighting, I’d keep trying. But I just didn’t want her to get hurt. I was scared she was hurting already. I was scared I’d hurt her already. Too much. If I hurt her, I’d never forgive myself. I’d end it in a second.

~*~

I went back downstairs and saw her alone, readjusting pieces on the board. She was sitting. All alone. Alone, for Merlin’s socks. I was so close. So close I could cry when I think of it. I was so close to sitting next to her. But before I even walked down the flight of stairs, Ron came back into the room with lemonade; her favorite. She drank it happily. He smiled, pushed a curl of hair out of her way and kissed her tenderly. They had a talk a couple of months back and he promised he’d change for her. He did. People change for her. She’s worth changing for. She dropped her drink, held his cheek steady and kissed him back. Oh god.

They were happy. Smiling. Talking. Laughing. I ran to my room. Because if I didn’t, I would have killed Ron. Oh fuck, I thought to myself, I can’t even do that! I can’t even let her go. I can’t. I couldn’t. It was impossible. The feelings I felt for Ron. I hated him. I hated him so much. I hated him. I wanted to burn him alive. I wanted to perform a never-ending Crusiatus curse on him. I wanted to toss him off a building, point and laugh. I wanted to kill him. I hated him so much. I loathed him. It made me want to rip myself to shreds. Ron was such a good guy. He was my best friend. So brave. So generous. Such a good heart. Such a good man. And I hated him with every last nerve in my body. I was a horrible person. The things I wanted to do to him…he’d never speak to me again. But I couldn’t stop my thoughts. I hated him so much. In fact, I hated Ginny as well. I hated Ned. I hated that they could all talk to her. I hated them.

I envied them.

I wanted her to see me the way she saw them. I wanted her to talk to me. Have lunch with me. Laugh with me. Joke with me. Tell me how her day was. When I stepped into a room, I wanted her to turn her head and look at me. I wanted her to want to know what was going on in my life. I wanted her to watch her favorite movie with me. I wanted her to make some tea for me. I wanted her to go to Diagon Alley with me. I wanted her to ask me how she looked in the morning. ME. ME, goddamn it, ME. Not them, ME.

~*~

After fixing the mirror I broke, I stared at myself through the glass. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let her go. Fuck everything I just said. I wasn’t going to ask her what she wanted. Some things are worth fighting for. I wasn’t going to let her go. Because I couldn’t. Because I wouldn’t be able to handle it. It would kill me. Kill me.

To see her everyday.

To see her with her friends.

To see her smile and laugh.

To know

That she was happier without me.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. You meet Special once in a lifetime. You don’t let Special go. You just don’t.

I was in too deep. I’d gotten too involved in a one-sided friendship. But I couldn’t let go. It’d hurt too much. It was like hanging onto a rope and my hands were burning. Do I dare let go, dive into the fire and burn? Or do I stay? And wait for something to happen? My hands hurt. They hurt so much. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on. Why should I? My hands hurt. Who was around? Who was going to save me? Would she? Would she care? Would she fight? Maybe she’d fight. Maybe she’d tell me we can do this. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d agree. Maybe she’d tickle me and watch me burn in the fire. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d be down there, too. Burning. Crying. Feeling pain.

I felt horrible. I didn’t want to see her suffer. I didn’t care anymore. I just didn’t want anything to happen to her. I didn’t care about what happened to me. I didn’t want her to hurt anymore. But if she wasn’t even hurting, that’d hurt me even more. Maybe she just didn’t care. Maybe she really didn’t. Maybe she’d been sitting on the edge, waiting for me to fall so she could walk away. Maybe I was horrible for thinking those thoughts. She’s not like that. She would never be like that. She’d sympathize. But I didn’t want that either. I didn’t want pity love. I wanted just plain love. The love that we’d never have. So do I let go? Or do I hold on?

And she was so happy with Ron. He began showering her with gifts and kisses. He just wanted her happy. He loved her. He made her happy. He had matured. He was perfect now. I wanted to hit myself. He wasn’t perfect. No one’s perfect. But he had Hermione. So he must have been perfect. It put a strain on our friendship. It was so hard to concentrate. It was so hard to look at him when all I wanted to do was wring his neck and wipe that happy look off his face. That made me feel horrible. I disgusted myself. I didn’t deserve Hermione. I was a horrible person. Who hates their best friend over a girl? Not good friends. But I did. I hated him. I hated him because he had her. He had her and I didn’t. And I’d wonder. I’d wonder, what does he have that I don’t have? It was ironic. That growing up, he had probably asked himself that question regarding me. And now it was I, jealous of everything he had. Loving him as a brother. Hating him, envying him, wanting to be him with everything I was.

Did she think of me? Maybe she didn’t. When she heard my name being spoken, what did she think? Maybe she didn’t. Maybe I was nothing special. I was scared that I was nothing special. I wanted to be special. That made me sound shallow but I did. In fact, I didn’t even know what I wanted anymore. I just…wanted her. It was so simple. I didn’t want to be Ron. I didn’t want more courage. I didn’t want more time. I just wanted her. And I couldn’t. And it sucked so much. I wasn’t emo. I was frustrated. It was like walking in the desert for years and not being strong enough to reach the glass of water. I felt like crying but no tears come out. I was so jealous and miserable sometimes. The change she’d made in me had become so negative so fast. I just wanted her. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t have her. I would try so hard to talk to her but it was just too hard. It was like I had forgotten how to talk to her. I was making her into a horrible person. Why? I didn’t even have an answer. Now I really didn’t know what to do. I just didn’t. I was so sick of it. Of not knowing what to do. I just…I wanted to sit down and cry. But I couldn’t. I had to be strong. But I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t know anymore. I lost so much sleep and she saved me so many times in battle when I was exhausted.

That’s when the re-occurring nightmares started.

~*~

We were in our office. I was sitting at my desk, on my chair. She crossed her legs and sat on my desk. "I can’t stand you, Harry." She said it with as much non-chalant-ness as if someone had asked her, "Paper or plastic?". Her eyes were blank. They showed no emotion. Suddenly, the office turned into our kitchen. She was sitting across the table from me. Ron was sitting next to her. He put his arm around her. "I’m so happy without you." Again, an emotion-less face for me. Then she snuggled up to Ron’s shoulder and smiled at him.

~*~

I woke up nearly screaming. It took me several minutes to remember that wasn’t real. I hated that feeling. When you wake up and try to remember what’s real and what isn’t. It happened every night, for the next few months. The same dream, more or less.

~*~

We were in our office. She was reading a book. Ernie came up to her and gave her flowers. She took them in her hands and smelt them. Then she raised her head and looked at me. "I can’t stand you, Harry. I hate you."

~*~

I was in the Hogwarts Owelry. Pockster handed me a pink letter. It was a howler. "Hello, Harry." Her voice was sweet and innocent. "I can’t stand you." ~*~

Ron and Ginny were getting out of their bus. Still in their Quidditch Uniforms. People were shouting questions to them. Hermione suddenly appeared next to Ron. "Is it true you hate Harry Potter?" someone asked. She smiled happily and wrapped her arms around Ron’s waist. "Yes. I can’t stand him."

~*~

We were back at Hogwarts, in the Great Hall. I was playing wizard’s chess with Malfoy. Suddenly, he turned into Hermione. She took her king and threw it at me. "I can’t stand you, Harry."

~*~

I was making breakfast. Ham and eggs. Ginny came into the kitchen dressed in her Quidditch Robes. She came up to me and kissed me. When she leaned away, she had suddenly turned into Hermione. She smiled happily. "I hate you, Harry."

~*~

I couldn’t separate reality from dreams anymore. The same dream haunted me every night. I lost so much sleep. I didn’t want to sleep some nights. I knew she’d be back. She was always there. Always.

I had to talk to her. I had to tell her. Not about my dreams. But about how I felt. I wanted her. I wanted her back. I ran everything into the ground right when everything was looking up. How could I do that? I didn’t know. I got up and went downstairs. It must have been five-five thirty in the morning. I looked around the grey kitchen. Something was wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it but I started cooking breakfast. Wandless. It’d been years since I had made a meal without magic. But that day, I decided to. The smell must have woken everyone up. Ron and Ginny came down, scratching their heads. They thanked me for the meal. I glanced at the clock. Merlin, it was already seven o’clock. Hermione came down when halfway through our meal. She took a plate, filled it with pancakes and sat down next to Ron. She smiled at me and thanked me. I smiled nervously and looked away, trying to forget the same dream that woke me up so early to make breakfast.

~*~

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I can’t believe you thought you deserved me!!"

~*~

The three of them had engaged in a quiet conversation about the semi-finals against the Canadian team. Ron was just about to tell us about the new wrist guard he bought when his food fell out of his mouth. As did mine. Hermione’s fork fell out of her hand.

There was Ned, half-dressed, walking into the kitchen. He stopped at the doorway, staring as us, as if suddenly remembering we lived here as well. I could hear his labored breathing.

"R-Ron." He started, his eyes the size of saucers.

But Ron didn’t answer. He got up from his chair and Ned bolted for the front door. Ginny ran after Ron. Hermione simply sat at her chair, her head bowed, stifling her laughter. If you listened closely, you could hear the three screaming at one another in the street.

I looked at Hermione; she was turned pink, her smile brightening the room. "You knew."

She laughed again, still looking at her breakfast. "I helped sneak him in last night."

I couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t the best thing to do. She probably knew Ron would kill him the next day. Actually, she probably told him Ron was alright with it, knowing full well they’d get into a fight the next day. I should have been mad at her. But I wasn’t. I just loved her more. She was so spunky. Ready to break the rules for her friends. I loved it. I loved everything about her. It seemed as though everything she did and didn’t do was perfect. Of course, she wasn’t perfect. But…she was.

"You’re not worried?" I asked.

She showed a confused face. "Why would I be worried?"

"Ron’ll be mad at you."

She laughed. "He won’t."

She said it with such certainty I couldn’t say anything back. I bent down and ate some more breakfast. As I was chewing, I brought my head back up and looked at her. She was doing the same thing. We ate in silence, chewing at one another. She’d smile after she took a sip of milk. I’d smile back. We were smliing at one another. Not normal smiles. Specials smiles. Smiles we weren’t really supposed to give to one another. But we didn’t care. It was as though the past few months were normal. As if we usually did speak on a daily basis. We kept smiling. Smiling, smiling, smiling.

She mumbled another thank you as she cleaned her dish. Before I could respond, she was upstairs. We spent the rest of the day working in our own rooms. Ron and Ginny came back home around eight, hand in hand. I supposed they were alright, now. I smiled to myself. It was Ned. Come on. He was without a doubt, one of the sweetest guys I’d ever met. He was definitely always there for Hermione. They were such good friends. I envied it. I used to be him.

~*~

The day dragged on but even at midnight, Ron and Ginny were practicing in the backyard and I could hear Ned cheering them on. I was getting ready for bed when I decided I needed more water, I took my glass and made my way across the hall. I stopped on the way to glance in Hermione’s room. She was crying. She was sitting on her bed and crying. She was crying. I couldn’t get over it. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen her cry. I felt a surge of emotions rush through me. I hope it’s Ron. I hope he messed everything up between them. I hope he told her he hates her. I hope they’ve broken up. God, I hope he’s fucked it all to hell and broken her heart. But the softer side won over me. Oh god, she was crying. She was whimpering. It was the most depressing sight I think I had ever seen. She was so incredibly beautiful. It wasn’t fair. She was crying and judging by the way she was clutching her pillows, her heart was breaking. I wanted to walk in. I wanted to knock on her door and walk in. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to hold her and tell her it was going to be alright, whatever it was that was upsetting her. So I did.

For the first time in months, something came over me and I walked into her room. I sat down next to her and put my arm around her. She shook slightly when she felt the weight but welcomed it. We sat there for a while, I listened to her cry, wanting to kiss her tears away. Wanting to hold her closer. Wanting to love her. But I didn’t. I knew I was pushing my luck with my arm around her. What would Ron say if he were to come in?

"I shouldn’t be here," I said once she finished crying.

She wiped a tear away and stilled her shoulders. "No, you shouldn’t." But she didn’t push me away.

That scared me. It made me feel like I was betraying Ron, my hand on her shoulder. I looked at my arm. Such a simple act of kindness could be seen as an act of betrayal. And I coudln’t do that. Not to Ron. No matter how much I wanted Hermione, no matter how much she might want me, Ron was my best friend. I took my arm away and wondered why she sighed sadly. Perhaps because she wanted it to stay there?

"Don’t cry," I said softly. Then I got up and left the room.

"I’m so confused," I heard her say to herself as I made my way down the stairs. I shook off my curiosity and went into the kitchen. After filling up a glass of water, I left and bumped into Ginny and Ned, holding hands once again. They smiled at me and wished me good night. Then they left. I guess they were staying at his place that night.

Ron came in as they were leaving. "Good night!" he whispered. Ginny turned around and nodded. Then they disappeared into the night. Ron and I were alone.

"How was the practice?" I asked.

"Not bad," Ron said, "Bit disturbing that she takes so many water breaks to snog Ned, though."

I laughed and Ron smiled.

"Well, as long as she’s happy, I suppose," He sighed. I nodded. Ron was so accepting. There was a comfortable silence as I sipped my water. "Hey Harry…"

"Yeah?"

"Have I been a good boyfriend today?"

I knitted my brows together. Ron had been a good boyfriend for months. Ever since Hermione and he had that talk after our kiss. I didn’t want to say it but I couldn’t deny it.

"You’ve been great, Ron."

He mumbled, "Hmm," and bit his lower lip. Then he clucked his tongue and grinned. "I guess she’s just a bit on edge, right? Turning twenty-five, and all. These women and their emotions." He slapped me on my back and jogged upstairs.

Cue heart attack. Oh god. Oh god. Oh GOD. Oh….oh GOD. Oh….OH…OH MY GOD. I had completely forgotten. Oh GOD. OH GOD, I forgot her birthday. I dropped my glass and barely registered it crashing to the floor. Oh CHRIST. I wanted to play the blame game. Ginny, Ned and Ron hadn’t made it such a big deal. I don’t even know what they got her! Then I remembered her saying something.

"It doesn’t matter what we do for my birthday, boys. I just want us all alive and well after this war. After that, you two could forget my birthday for all I care."

We didn’t celebrate birthdays. It just lost its tradition. After defeating Voldemort and all of us alive and unharmed, nothing could top that. But she was crying. She was fucking crying and it was because of me. It could have been anything else but at that moment, I certainly hadn’d added any happiness in her day. I didn’t do anything for her. I didn’t even wish her a happy birthday. I forgot. I bloody forgot. Oh GOD. How was I supposed to get out of this one?

~*~

It was three o’clock in the morning. I hadn’t slept all night. I had to get this just right. The paper had ripped so many times. I was shaking with nervousness. I didn’t want to mess this up again. But I didn’t. After a little bit of tape, I had successfully made an origami swan. I brought it up to analyze all the details. Yes, it was perfect. Unlike the last seventeen. This one was definitely perfect. I turned it upside down and scribbled hastily. To Hermione. Happy Birthday. Then I paused. I didn’t know what to write. Love Harry? Your friend Harry? From Harry? I thought for a couple of minutes and then decided on one. To Hermione. Happy Birthday. Harry. I knew it was perfect. And although she knew I didn’t know origami and would eventually figure out that I just spent the last five hours learning it for her, I knew she’d love it. And that was all that mattered.

~*~

It didn’t seem like Ron knew about her crying. She must have cleaned herself up quickly. Breakfast was quick as Ron and Ginny went outside again to practice. Hermione was taking her time to eat her breakfast. I had finished and couldn’t help but glance at the swan, sitting on my lap, hiding from society. I licked my lips and took it into my hand. It was more perfect than last night. But when I glanced up, I knew, in comparison, it was hideous. "Hermione?" It came out as a squeak.

She stilled her motions and lay her fork down on her plate. She raised her head and looked at me.

I died. Those eyes killed me. They were so…

"Yes?"

Beautiful. It was the only word I could think of. I had never truly understood what the word beautiful meant. There was hot. There was stunning. Attractive. But Hermione was…beautiful. I placed the swan on the table in front of her. I couldn’t think of what else to say. What would I say if she said something? Maybe she didn’t like it. Suddenly, the swan seemed miniscule as opposed to delicate. Cheap, as opposed to thoughtful. I got up from my seat, unwanting to see her reaction.

"Thank you," I heard her say so softly as I rushed out.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. There’s hot. There’s stunning. Attractive. Gorgeous. Striking. Beautiful. And then there’s exceptional. You learn origami for exceptional.

It was a long wait. She never said anything after I gave her the swan. The next few months were pretty bad. The Death Eater attacks were weaker. It was easier. We started talking a little bit more when we were in company. She gave me looks. I have her looks. Looks only we understood.

"I miss you."

The looks said it all. We didn’t need words to say how we felt. At least, that’s what I wanted to believe. It most probably wasn’t true. But we kept looking at one another and I simply refused to believe those were bad omens. We chatted sometimes. Sometimes when we were with company, sometimes when we were alone. When we didn’t, we spent most of the time glancing at one another. At first I thought these were bad signs. And then I thought that perhaps they weren’t. As horribly as I had messed everything up, as horribly as it was, she looked at me differently. She noticed me when I walked into a room. Maybe not in a good way. But she was. I had put my feelings out to be known. I wanted her to know how I felt so I told her things. And maybe she didn’t feel the same way, I don’t know. But she knew I knew. And that was how I knew for a fact that somehow, the thought of us together had entered her mind. When she was with Ron, I knew the thought of us must have entered her mind. I knew she must have spent at least one night, the night I gave her the note, thinking of us.

And just when I had convinced myself of that, she broke up with Ron. And I just had to be there.

~*~

"What are you saying?" Ron was sitting on the lounge chair, his hands pressed against his forehead. He was hiccuping and tears would slowly fall from his face.

She sniffed in response. She and I were sitting on the couch. "Please, Ron. Try to understand."

He swallowed, containing his anger. "I just…I just don’t."

"It’s not you, Ron. You’re incredible. You’re an amazing boyfriend and such a good man. It’s me. I don’t deserve you."

Ron closed his eyes in agony and let the tears fall. "I…."

She held up a hand, looking at the floor. "Please, Ron, don’t make this harder than it has to be."

Ron laughed harshly. "You’re the one who’s making this complicated. Why can’t we just be happy? We were fine! I asked you what I could do to make you happy! And you told me to mature! To grow up! I did!"

She nodded. "Yes, you did. And I love you for that."

The words hit me hard and I nearly died.

Ron panted, unable to think of what else to say. "You love me," he repeated her sentence and nearly scoffed when she nodded. "You see, the thing is, Hermione," He took a deep breath and sniffed, "I’m in love with you."

I flinched. I wanted to leave but I couldn’t. So I shifted further away from Hermione and remained silent.

"What do you have to say about that?" He asked patiently.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. I turned to Hermione, who had her eyes shut hard and shaking her head.

"I…"

Ron waited, knowing he wasn’t going to get the answer he so desperately needed.

Hermione broke down in loud sobs. "I’m so sorry," she cried, "I loved you. I was in love with you. I was so in love with you."

Ron cringed at her words. "Say it," he begged her, "Please say you’re in love with me."

She shook her head and bawled louder. "I want to," she said between cries, "I want to. I want to."

He growled, pulling at our throw pillow. "That’s all you’ve got!?" He demanded fiercely, tears flowing from his eyes. " ‘I’m sorry’? ‘You’re not my type?’ Is that all you can say?!"

Hermione shook at his anger. "I’m sorry," she repeated again, gasping for air.

"What about my looks?" Ron spat out, getting up from the lounge chair. "My money?"

"Stop," Hermione wept, "You know this isn’t true."

Ron shook his head. "My humor? My family?"

Hermione shook her head. "Stop," she said as firmly as she could.

"It’s something, Hermione. Something about me that you can’t stand!"

I flinched again, remembering my dream from last night.

~*~

"God, I can’t stand you, Harry. Why won’t you just leave me alone? Don’t you see I’m happy without you?"

~*~

I turned to Hermione, trying to picture her saying those words to me. But I couldn’t. Not when she was crying. When she was crying, I couldn’t picture her mad. I couldn’t picture her hating me. I couldn’t think. So I didn’t move. Uncomfortable as I was.

"Ron, please, don’t do this. I love you, I just.."

"SHUT UP," Ron suddenly shouted, his tears flying around his head. He stomped the ground fiercely. "WHAT IS IT?! IS IT MY NERVOUS HABITS? MY HORRIBLE JOKES? WHAT IS IT!?"

Hermione sniffed and wiped at her face. "Ron…"

He shook his head and looked away. "Just go," he said, surprisingly softly, "Just go."

So she did. She got up and left. That very day, she disapparated home for the weekend. I wanted to say goodbye. I knocked on her door. But she was already gone. The swan was still intact and perfect, above her bed.

~*~

I took Ron out. I knew he didn’t want to stay home. We never made it to Hogsmead. He started crying. I started crying. So we came home crying.

"Oh BLIMEY," Ron gasped, falling on the couch.

I fell on the lounge chair. It was strange that only hours before, Hermione had rejected him.

"Oh blimey," Ron repeated.

I brought my bangs down over my head and let them cover a bit of my eyes. It brought a sad feeling over me. It felt good, strangely. As if someone understood the emotions running through my veins. They were broken up. They were finally broken up. She was single. She was finally single. And yet, she was Ron’s ex now. She was Ron’s ex-girlfriend. It was just a disaster.

She’s my best friend.

She hasn’t spoken to me in seven months.

She’s Ron’s ex-girlfriend.

"Oh Ron," I moaned, uncertain of whether or not I should strangle him or thank him.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Is everything alright?" he asked, tripping on his words.

I stared at him. Only Ron. Only Ron would still care about me on the same day as the love of his life rejects him completely. Normally, I wouldn’t have said anything. But I was a bit drunk. And Hermione was a bit single.

"It’s about that girl, isn’t it?" Ron asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes.

I completely lost control of myself. "Yeah, yes it is."

Ron stayed quiet for a while but finally sighed. "Can I give you some advice?"

My ears tingled and I looked at him. "Go ahead."

He sighed again and draped an arm over his eyes. "Girls are a waste of time."

I couldn’t help but chuckle. "Not this one."

"Oh, Harry," he groaned and shook his head, moving his arm in time with it, "Harry, Harry, Harry, they’ll be the death of you. Just look at Hermione. She’s absolutely insane. And she’s driven me insane as well."

I laughed to myself. Here we were, talking about the same girl. Yet obviously having two different points of views.

"I did everything for her," he whispered.

I nodded. It was true. He was good to her. I wondered why Hermione broke it off.

He sniffed and lay down on the couch. He sighed a long sigh. "Good Godric, is it really over? Eight-year relationship…out the window?"

The number rang in my ears. Eight years. And she just cut it off. Just like that. As if it was nothing.

~*~

"I couldn’t care less about you." Her eyes were blank. "I hate you, Harry." She said it as if it was nothing.

~*~

I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

Ron noticed it and bowed his head. "I’m sorry; I’m completely dumping on you."

I raised my hand to stop him. "No. No, Ron. Your problems are much bigger than mine right now."

He sighed sadly. "I just can’t believe it’s over."

I couldn’t believe it either. But I was definitely happier than Ron at the moment. We sat for a while, listening to the crickets outside. It took me a while to realize the silence was uncomfortable.

I glanced up to look at Ron.

He was looking at me with pain in his eyes. "It’s Hermione, isn’t it?" He asked softly.

I wanted to deny it. I wanted to tell him he was hurting and wasn’t thinking correctly. But I had enough of hiding. And he knew. I could see it. He knew. So I sighed. "Yes."

He nodded slowly and glanced at his hands. "You know," he laughed for a second, "I think I’ve always known."

I stayed quiet. It was Ron’s time to talk.

"I think I’ve always known. You…you’re just better suited, aren’t you? That Skeeter wrote so many articles and I never wanted to believe them. But it was always there, wasn’t it? It never really went away. She rejected my proposal. Wanted me to act more like you. And then…"

I froze. Did he know about the kiss?

"I just knew. The way she acted with me after she got her eyesight back. It was as though she had opened her eyes to a different world." He paused and pointed at me. "You gave her the note?"

I nodded, a bit embarrassed.

"Yeah, she spoke about that. Had a hard time replying to it. I never got to read it. She didn’t let me. She doesn’t let me read her things. She…she doesn’t let me in. I never knew what her note said. But she stayed up all night trying to write something back."

I couldn’t say anything. Her note. Her little tiny note took her all night?

Ron bit his lower lip. "She thought about you," he whispered in pain. It was killing him to admit she loved someone else. "She thought so much about you. She was always distracted. When I suggested she talk to you about it, she’d clam up." He breathed in for a second. "She always clams up to me. But never to this…secret admirer. Never to this…stupid ponce who sent her love notes. I thought…I thought it was just a phase. A silly fangirl phase." He breathed in again and let a tear slide. "And then the swan." He started crying again.

I held my breath and let a tear fall. He was hurting. He was hurting so much. His heart was breaking. He loved Hermione. And…Hermione loved me. "We never meant to hurt y-"

"That fucking swan!" he cursed quietly. "I saw the way she looked at it. At night. She’d turn it upside down and read something on the bottom and smile. She smiled in that way she smiled at the note. She smiled and I knew…" He closed his eyes, wishing it was a nightmare, "She was in love with him." He paused, letting his eyes wander to Harry’s feet. "With you."

I sighed and swallowed. "You hate me." I almost laughed at the irony.

He scoffed. "Of course I hate you. I hated the idea of you. I hated how she thought of you and tried to distract herself with me." He breathed in, letting his eyes widen. "And now I know you’re real, now I know who you are, yes, I hate you."

I swallowed again. He had a right to hate me. I had a right to hate him. "I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, Ron."

"I’m your best friend, Harry. Your best mate. Your first man."

The words hit me deep. He was right. All my jealousy, all my horrible thoughts of what I wanted to do to him flew out the window. I was filled with guilt. "We let a girl come between us."

"Yeah, we did. And here I thought we were stronger than that."

I glanced up quickly. "Ron, we’re still friends, aren’t we?"

He was quiet, cracking his knuckles with a vengeance.

I swallowed hard and fought tears. "Ron?" I asked hoarsely.

"You hurt me, Harry" He whispered, letting some tears escape. He looked at me, the hate in his eyes were gone. "You hurt me. Both of you. Hiding all of this from me. Hiding your feelings for one another from me. You hurt me."

The three words rang in my ears until I could think no more.

He laughed and wiped at his eyes. "When I was with her, she’d think of you. She’d always pretend she was fine and happy with me. But I knew it was a lie. The little tiny things people didn’t notice. And especially at night. She’d turn her back to me, sometimes hold the swan and cry herself to sleep when she thought I was asleep."

I shuddered. The thought of her in so much pain pained me.

Ron thought for a moment. "Then when I was with you, you’d think of her. You never really tried to pretend you were alright. You’d always think about her, 24/7. I thought you were obsessed. I thought to myself, ‘Honestly, unless it’s Hermione, no girl is worth all this’." He stopped and laughed. "Well, I guess she was worth it after all, wasn’t she?" he whispered.

We were quiet again, listening to the crickets. I’d give anything to make them shut up. I was trying to think. Hermione was in love with me. Hermione thought about me. All those nights when I’d lose sleep, wondering if she was thinking of me, she was crying herself to sleep. All those times when I thought she was happy with Ron, she was thinking of me. All those times I hated Ron, he hated me back. I sighed a long heavy sigh. "I’m so sorry, Ron."

He nodded. "You couldn’t help it."

I shook my head. "It’s no excuse. I’ve been stupid these past months. I should have told you-"

He put his hand up. "I understand," he said, "It’s hard to talk to me when…I’m dating her." He grinned his Ron grin and I couldn’t help but smile back. There was another silence as we nestled into the comfort of our friendship.

"Do you forgive me?" I asked quietly.

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating the question. "Yes." He said after a wait. "Yes, I do."

I smiled in relief. I couldn’t lose Ron as a friend. I needed him.

He smiled back. "You never wronged me, Harry. You never tried to carry on with her when she was with me." He paused, admiring his friend. "You wanted her but you stayed back, knowing she was mine. I thank you for that. It says a lot about our friendship."

I nodded. I had never thought of it. There was another silence as we looked at one another for a little while longer. "You…" I started. He looked up at me. I smiled back, admiring him. "You’ve truly matured over the years, haven’t you, Ron?"

He smiled and laughed. "I have. I’m a bit late but I have."

I smiled again. I seemed to be doing a lot of smiling. I put my hand out to shake his hand. He looked at it and scoffed. Then he got up from his seat, walked up to me and pulled me into a hug.

"I forgive you," he said again.

"Thank you." I whispered, wondering if I deserved it.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. I lied. I want you to be happy. But I’d prefer it if I were included in happy.

Hey everyone. Oh, faithful readers. That feels great. Hehe, having faithful readers who would actually want to read your fic. I don’t think some people really know how important readers are. To actually be chosen. Of all the fics, I’ve been chosen. People actually care enough to read and/or review MY story. It’s one of the reasons why I do review all my reviews. Because it’s extra that someone cares enough to review and tell me their opinion. You spend time on me, I spend time on you.

Anyways, moving on from my mini-rant, yes, I’ve decided to pause the story once again. Many reasons, this time, however. Stop reading here if you don’t care.

Reason #1: The actual story has been paused between myself and *someone special*. School has unfortunately taken its toll on us. We’re very busy and putting our friendship on hold. At least that’s what I’m doing. I don’t know even want to think about why she’s not talking to me.

Reason #2: School is so incredibly busy this year. It’s taken me by complete surprise. I didn’t know it would be so crazy. But it is. I’m a very lazy person as well so that doesn’t go very well, does it?

Reason #3: Radiation. Yes, you read that right. I’m spending a lot of time on the computer for work(homework) and leisure(msn), sometimes 10 hours a day. I don’t want to spend all that much time staring at a screen. The radiation is very bad for me.

Reason #4: Emotional Breakdown. Yeah, everything’s going wrong in life right now. I went through an emotional breakdown last year. That wasn’t fun. Nope, no siree, that was not fun at all. So I’m…trying to avoid it this year. Hence, trying to keep as little things on my plate as possible. Right now; it’s School, Family and Friends.

Alright, snaps to you, you got so far. Thanks for reading. So yes, officially pausing the story. Have ABSOLUTELY no idea when I’ll update. Hoping hoping hoping before Christmas. Hopefully Reason #1 will improve, without risking Reason #4 and affecting #3 or making Reason #2 worse. Thanks again for reading. Don’t forget: *Someone special* will always be special and therefore, there will always be more to write.

Glassesfreak206

P.S. Someone notices you. Someone somewhere notices you the second you walk into a room. Find them. Because they’re waiting for you. Waiting for you to turn your head, say hello, and make their day the way you’ve made every single one of theirs. Find them.

A/N: Greetings all. From the center of my never-ending reeling mind, I want to thank all those who have stuck by the angst-filled chapters and have continued to read. Things have finally started looking up.

Ron and I were still good friends. It took me a while to get used to it, after everything I felt for him. We woke up and greeted one another. It was a bit awkward but compared to what I felt with Hermione, I welcomed it with open arms.

Speaking of open arms, I could feel his hugs were stronger. Tighter. He was here for me. It made me love him. He was a good friend. A good man. I loved him.

He was very concentrated. He trained hard; the semi-finals were in a short month. He trained with Ginny almost everyday. It was tough what with the weather and all but they managed. I spoke with Ned a bit more. It seemed as if not seeing Hermione was putting my life back on track. And because life is ironic; just when I was regaining control over everything, she came back.

~*~ 3^rd Prs POV ~*~

The doorbell almost went unanswered. The party inside was raging, the music blasting and threatening to leave the house. But somehow, Ginny heard it. Excusing herself from the conversation with Ned’s parents, she walked over to the door and opened it.

“Ginny!” Hermione squealed, throwing herself into her arms.

“Hermione!” Ginny laughed in response, shutting the door with her foot. “Happy Christmas.” They separated.

“Happy Christmas, Gin.”

“Welcome back.”

“Thank you, it’s good to be back.”

“I’ll take your coat for you.”

“Thank you. I’ll be in the living room. I trust everyone’s there?”

“And then some.” Ginny laughed and rolled her eyes, walking off with Hermione’s coat.

Hermione smiled at her friend and started towards the living room. She didn’t mean to but her eyesight was scanning for Harry. But he wasn’t in the room. Sighing in either relief or disappointment, she scanned the rest of the room. Weasleys over Weasleys. Old friends and new friends. Listening carefully, you could hear a mixture of English, French and Bulgarian. She smiled and winked at Viktor who raised his glass and mouthed “Happy Christmas” before turning back to his wife. Neville and Fred seemed to have noticed her as well and nodded in acknowledgement. Bill’s first son, Ansel, spotted her from across the room and shouted out, “Herminny!” before falling down and rolling on the floor. Bill and Fleur picked him up and tickled his stomach before waving to her. She waved back and blew a kiss to which Ansel beamed at. Hermione smiled, satisfied, and began looking for her other best friend. She saw him chatting with Page, Smith, Ginny and Ned. She walked over to Ron and tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around, confused for a second but lit up when he saw her. “Hermione,” he sighed in happiness, taking her into his arms and holding her.

She felt his regret and need for her. She felt it in his hug and wish he didn’t. He still loved her. She knew it. He knew it. “I’m so sorry,” she said in a voice so low it was amazing they could hear it over the music.

He nodded sadly. “It’s alright.” He swallowed.

She felt her eyes tear slightly. “Is it?”

“No,” he responded truthfully. “But it will be.”

She nodded and hugged him again. “I love you,” she said.

He kissed her forehead. “I love you, too.”

~*~

That’s how he found them. He had just walked into the living room, about to tell everyone about the incredible dinner they had prepared. But the minute he saw them snuggling, obviously whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears, he lost his voice. He simply stood there, in his sauce-covered apron, one oven mitt still on, and a banana-colored chef’s hat Ansel had made him. He didn’t know how long he had stood there but he registered Mrs. Parker’s tap on his shoulder.

“Harry, dear,” she said, concerned. “Have you forgotten what to say?”

“Huh?” he blubbered, his eyes still focused on Ron and Hermione.

“Oh, nevermind,” Mrs. Parker laughed, “I’ll do it.” Turning her attention to the room, she cleared her throat and bellowed. “ATTENTION EVERYONE! DINNER IS SERVED!”

There was an uproar so loud it was even louder than the music. Mrs. Parker shushed everyone down. “Now before we begin, we’d like to just pay some respects to the chefs.” She paused. “Thanks for the appetizer to Mrs. Krum. The soup to Mrs. Delacour. The main course by Mrs. Weasley and myself. And the dessert by our Harry here!”

There was another cheer and Harry felt his face burn. Slowly, the crowd began to fall into the dining room. Harry stood at the door, waiting for everyone to go in. “Happy Christmas,” he said to each guest individually. Finally, they were all in aside from Ned and Hermione. They were slowly making their way across the room, Ned was talking very quickly. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“I’ll meet you inside, love.”

He could barely make out Mrs. Parker’s words and nodded weakly. Ned and Hermione had approached him. Hermione’s head still turned to face Ned’s.

“And the duck says, ‘I didn’t know it was that deep!’” Ned had just finished a joke and Hermione laughed. Ned laughed sheepishly. He turned to Harry and nodded, making his way into the dining room. He turned when Hermione didn’t follow him. “Are you alright, Hermione?”

Hermione was now staring at Harry, returning his glare. “I’ll meet you inside,” she said, never taking her eyes off Harry.

Ned shrugged and took a seat.

“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” he said coolly, surprised at how calm he sounded.

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” she said in the same tone of voice. They continued to look at one another.

He opened his mouth to speak. “I.” It was all he could say. What could he say? How could he say it? How was he supposed to say it? …What did he want to say?

She read his mind. “Is there something you’d like to say?” There was a hint of timidity in her voice that he rarely heard Hermione Granger use. There was a soft blush spreading on her cheeks and she was fighting a nervous laugh.

“I suppose if I wanted to say it enough, I’d say it.”

She nodded solemnly. As if she was going through the same thing. She stared at him. He stared at her. They were communicating through their eyes. They spoke.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Harry?” She asked again.

“Yes.”

“What would that be?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because.”

She paused. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She whispered only they could hear it.

He felt relief flow through his body. He didn’t even know he wanted to hear that. He gulped. “I know.”

She nodded weakly. They were silent. She was waiting for that awkward moment when they’d mumble “I love you” and rush away. But that never happened. Just more awkward.

“Is there something you’d like to hear, Hermione?” He interrupted her thoughts.

She glanced up into his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“It seems like you want to hear something.”

It was her turn to gulp. What did she want to hear? What did she want him to say?

“Is there something you want to hear me say, Hermione?”

She didn’t even think. “Yes.”

His head nearly snapped back in surprise. “I see.”

I see indeed, she thought.

He inched closer, closing the gap between them. She felt his feet touch hers. He breathed. “What do you want me to say?” His voice was still calm.

She kept hers calm as well. “I don’t want to hear you say what I want to hear just because I said what I want to hear you say.”

“What if it’s what I want to say?”

She scanned his face and then his lips. Letting out a slow breath, she murmured, “I don’t think I’ll ever hear you say what I want to hear you say.”

“I want to say a lot of things, Hermione.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Say something.”

He opened his mouth. “I.” That was it. He stopped himself again. And he didn’t know why. All he knew was that if he didn’t get another kiss from her, he’d die.

“Say something, Harry.” She whispered again.

It was too much. He was so uncomfortable. He wanted to run away. He couldn’t do it. He thought he could but he couldn’t. He made the slightly move to walk away. He felt her hand on his arm before he saw it.

“Don’t run away.”

It was more of a plea than a command. More of a request than a demand.

“Please,” she whispered softly, “Don’t run away.”

He sighed and looked into her eyes. Those beautiful eyes. “I...” He saw her eyes glimmer with hope. She wanted him to say something. “Tell me what to say.”

She paused for a second, letting her eyes wander around his face once more. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me what you want to hear me say.”

She swallowed and let her tongue wet her lips.

“I’ll say whatever you want me to say.”

She closed her eyes for a second, shook her head and denied his offer. “I want you to mean it.”

It was his head’s fault. His bloody head’s fault that he was tilting closer and closer to her. His brain’s warning signs went unheard. “I’ll mean it,” he whined like a child, “I swear I’ll mean it.”

She closed her eyes again and swallowed, trying to control her breathing. When she opened them, something had changed in her eyes. “I broke up with Ron.”

For you. He heard her voice finish the sentence in his head. He sighed, leaning away from her. “Hermione.”

“This is so…strange, Harry.” She said it in a childish way. As if she was whining as well.

“I know,” he said.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” How could she even ask him such a question? It was as if everything that had happened in the last six months meant nothing. Every thought, every sleepless night meant nothing. But it was true. Even at that moment, Harry couldn’t remember any sleepless night. Any annoying thought. Any awkward moment. He couldn’t remember anything. He couldn’t think. He could hear his heart beating and see into her eyes. But he couldn’t think. All he knew was that she was here. Right here. Home. Safe and sound. And her lips were inches away.

“Oy! Harry! Hermione! Come on, we’re not going to start without you!”

They simultaneously let out a low groan and nodded weakly to Seamus. Seamus nodded and went back into the dining room. There was another silence as they stood there, observing one another. She considered skipping dinner. It was just food, after all. But he cleared his throat and walked away.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. Tell me what to say. I already mean it.

The diner went by slowly. The night, really. And after dessert, everyone left. And after everyone left, they went to bed. And after everyone went to bed, they woke up the next morning. And so the days went on, and on and on. As if nothing had happened. Ron and Hermione were back to their bickering selves but luckily for Harry, there were no make-up kisses. Just storming away and then coming back and hugging. It was nice. It was routine. Everyone was used to it. Everyday, Harry spent a little bit more time with Hermione. Alone or in a group, it was obvious they were both trying hard to kill this strange feeling between them.

Everyday, Harry aimed for one moment. One moment a day. One conversation, one exchange, one joke. One eye-contacting moment a day. And to his surprise, it was easy. It was very easy. He was often frustrated that he had even waited so long to do something that came so naturally.

Yet still unwilling to let go of the past, he knew they had to talk. About the strange moment, which he couldn’t even remember what it was. About everything.

~*~

It was the dead of the night. About one, or two, he didn’t bother to check the time. After a long day of chasing down yet another Death Eater and getting nowhere once again, Harry decided he had had a bad day. He tossed and turned, uncertain of what exactly was bothering him. Finally, he threw his covers aside and made his way downstairs, remembering Hermione’s common suggestion of a warm glass of milk to help fall asleep.

He tip-toed his way past Ginny’s room, then Ron’s, then Hermione’s. He nearly laughed when he realized their sleeping arrangements had changed so much in a little less than a year. He crept down the stairs and paused when he saw the kitchen light already on. He considered going back upstairs and putting on pajama pants and not entering and shocking a friend in his blue boxers.

Nah.

~*~

She had just poured herself a warm glass of milk when she nearly threw it at Harry, who had just entered unceremoniously into the kitchen.

“Hello,” he said simply.

“Hello,” she responded.

He stood there for a while, digging his toes into the ground. “Couldn’t sleep?”

She shook as she brought the glass of milk to her lips. “No, I couldn’t.”

He nodded, keeping his gaze on the floor. “Me neither.”

She smiled shyly. “Came to get some milk?”

He raised his head and smiled back. “Yeah.”

She took another sip and nodded, understanding. Then she stepped aside and waved her arm at the refrigerator, inviting him to come and get it.

He walked slowly towards the fridge and opened it, pausing to let the cool air surround him. He heard her inhale behind him. He smiled as he reached for the milk. She loved the smell of a clean fridge, strangely. He took the milk carton out and set it on the table, kicking the fridge door closed. Hermione passed him a glass and he murmured a faint ‘thank you.’

They were silent as he poured some milk, put the carton back in the fridge and charmed it warm. Then they stood in a comfortable silence as they took small sips. They never once took their eyes off one another.

“Tough day,” Hermione said once their glasses were drained and washed. She leaned against the sink, resting her weight on her spread-out hands.

“Very tough,” Harry responded, sitting on top of the kitchen table. She pushed the tip of her toes into the floor, waiting for him to say something. He did the same. “They seem tired,” he tried, referring to the Weasleys. They had miraculously defeated the Portuguese team and were facing the Bulgarians in the finals. Viktor Krum had aged over the years but was still regarded as one of the best seekers in the world. Ron and Ginny were rarely at home, as they spent every spare moment eating, sleeping and practicing.

Hermione nodded. “They’ve been practicing very hard.”

Harry nodded. “I miss them,” he admitted, after a short pause.

Hermione smiled sadly. “I miss them, too.” Although that wasn’t the complete truth as she was quite glad she suddenly had much more time to spend with Harry. She missed him. He missed her. They missed each other. But they never said it. Only with looks. Like the look he was giving her right now.

I miss you.

They never said the three words. It was a mutual understanding that they needed one another and were dying a little bit inside every second that they were apart.

“Although,” Harry said, interrupting Hermione’s thoughts, “I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed getting to know you again.” He paused, looking up at her through his glasses.

A bashful smile spread across her face and she closed her eyes, looking away. She brought a hand to her hair and brushed it down, as the curls threatened to fly away. “Harry...” she said in a half-amused tone.

He felt like he crossed a line. “Sorry,” he said quickly.

“No, no,” she said, almost as fast, as if the last thing she wanted was for him to take back the comment. “It’s just…” she paused again, searching for the right words, “Some people wouldn’t agree with your opinions of me.”

He didn’t even think. “Why, are some people blind?” Then he blinked and let his jaw drop. “Oh wow,” he managed to sputter out. He didn’t even bother to look at her face, although he could hear her giggle. “Sorry,” he said again, “I’m being very-”

“Blunt,” she finished. Giggle. “It’s alright. I like it.”

Slowly, he brought his head back up to look at her. He observed her for a while, spotting the bruises on her arms. Eager the change the subject, he pointed at them. “You took quite a tumble today, are you alright?” he asked.

It was as though she suddenly remembered the fall and massaged her arms. “I’ve been through worse,” she said, almost ashamed of that fact.

Harry nodded, fully knowing what horrible things have happened to her in the past. She had gone through the Crusiatus curse four times and broken her legs six times. Hermione was quite the fighter. “I worry about you,” he said suddenly, caught up in his memories.

She nodded, as if she was waiting for him to say it. “I know.” Pause. “I worry about you, too.”

He smiled, happy someone did. Too often did he wonder if someone would miss Harry, and not Harry Potter. Of course, this was Hermione, and she learnt how to worry for him when she was merely eleven years old. And even then, she had faith in him.

You’ll be okay, Harry. You’re a great wizard.

She noticed the faraway look in his eyes. “Harry?”

He shook his head and brought himself back to reality. He looked at her and smiled, as if seeing her for the first time. “We’ve always worried about one another, haven’t we?” he asked.

She smiled. “Yes, we do. It’s what we do, Harry and Hermione. We worry about one another.”

“Is it?” he asked suddenly. He sprung up from his stance and took a step forward. The motion was so quick, so abrupt, so sudden, she shook. He wasn’t even sure why he did that. It just felt right. It felt like he was meant to do this. So he did it.

“It seems like Harry and Hermione are supposed to a lot of things,” he said quickly, detecting spite in his own voice. He was wondering what was happening. But he couldn’t stop it. As if the past year was suddenly building up to this moment. “It seems like Harry and Hermione are supposed to worry about one another. They’re supposed to comfort one another.” He took another step forward, closing the distance between them.

Her breathing sped up. She tried to move away but she found she couldn’t. Not now. Not when it felt like they were meant to do this; build their tension up until this moment.

He took another step forward, pushing himself between her legs, which were open, for some strange reason. She couldn’t remember why. “I don’t understand,” she hiccupped, embarrassed that she sounded like a child.

He brought his face closer to hers, breathing onto her face. He smelt like mint. So did she. The used the same toothpaste, you see.

“We’re always doing things, and it’s because we’re Harry and Hermione,” he said.

She looked at him quizzically, finding it hard to concentrate on what he was saying when she wanted to say and do other things. They exhaled in unison, somehow pushing their foreheads together.

“We hold hands, we worry, we hug. We do things and it’s because we’re Harry and Hermione. Nothing else. We comfort one another but it means nothing because we’re Harry and Hermione and that’s what we do. We hold hands and encourage one another but that’s natural and obvious because we’re Harry and Hermione. ” He was rambling on and on. She saw his lips moving but heard nothing.

He felt the same way. He was saying something. Something. He wasn’t quite sure what. He wondered if he was making sense.

“What are you trying to say?” she breathed, fighting to keep her eyes open.

And before he could answer, before he could even think of an answer, he leaned forward and they pushed their lips against one another. It only lasted a moment. Maybe ten seconds. But probably less. However long the stolen, gentle embrace lasted, it ended abruptly.

As quickly and unexpectedly as it went away, the familiar awkward chill ran through their bodies and they separated quickly. As if they had just made out with a complete stranger, they separated; Harry pushing himself back to the table, Hermione off the sink and to the kitchen door. She turned, presenting her back to him. Both caressed their lips, trying to remember what just happened.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, perhaps the kitchen was too dimly lit. Whichever the reason was, Harry and Hermione wondered if what just happened, happened.

“What just happened?” Harry asked slowly.

“I-I don’t know.” Hermione said, truly shocked.

The two stared at the floor, upset that they were once again on simple-sentence-terms.

“I have to go,” she sighed.

He shook his head in disappointment in both of them. “Why do you always have to go?” he asked with a tired, sad smile.

The question shook her. Was he mad at her? Was he mad at her? She turned around, trying to hide her outrage.

“Why do I always have to go?” She growled, dangerously low. “I don’t. I never do.” She paused, uncertain if she should say it. But he asked. So she responded. “It’s you who never runs after me.”

He opened his mouth and uttered a soft “Uh” and closed it once more.

They looked at one another for a while and she wondered what he would say next. But he didn’t say anything. She sighed to herself. She dropped my head in disappointment then lifted it again in hope. But he just kept staring at her, astonishment in his face. She shook my head, frustrated. She turned and left.

He ran after her. “Tell me what you want to say!” He whispered fiercely, remembering the Weasleys were asleep.

She turned around, angry once more. “Tell me how you feel!”

He sighed and sighed, unable to think of anything. They stood there, looking at one another. Then…

“I feel good.”

He said it loud and clear, uncaring of who was hearing. “I feel good when I’m around you. I feel accepted. I feel loved. I feel like I belong somewhere. I feel like I belong to a home.”

She stood there, floored.

He sighed, ignoring the awkward feeling creeping up on him. “I feel good,” he finished weakly.

She snapped out of her trance. “What are you trying to say?” She asked delicately.

He stammered. It would be the first time he’d say it sober. And he’d never said it before. “W-what I’m trying to say…is…” He paused and took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say, Hermione, is that I care for you.”

“Harry-”

“I love you.”

Uh.

Uh.

Whoa.

…

WHOA.

WHAT?

What was that? He blinked and blinked and she blinked and blinked. And they stood there blinking. Good Godric in a bathrobe, I did not just say that. But he did. He didn’t plan on saying it. He wasn’t emotionally ready to say it. But he did. He said it without second thought. Just like that. A phrase that meant so much rolled off his tongue so easily.

“I love you.” He repeated it. Yes. Yes, it definitely felt right.

He didn’t know what time it was when they finally stopped staring at one another and went back to bed without another word.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. I like worrying about you. Someone sue me.

Author’s Note: *Sigh*. It’s finally over. Thank you to each and every one of you, for sticking with this fic. Through the fluff and angst, you’ve made it to the end.

He loved her. He loved so her so much, he couldn’t believe it. He loved her so much, he thought he didn’t.

The morning came awkwardly, but they were both used to that. What they weren’t used to was all the things they wanted to say. All the important things. They ate breakfast in silence, looking at one another from across the table. She smiled at him when he passed her the milk. He smiled at her when their hands accidentally touched. The next couple of days continued on like so. Some months passed by. Ron and Ginny had been eliminated in the semi-finals and took well to sulking around the house. Ned came by the house more and more often, earning himself a whole half of Ginny’s room. Harry and Ron had become good friends with him and Hermione would often have long discussions with him when neither could sleep. They were expecting a proposal from him any time soon.

Harry and Hermione had begun to calm down on their trips out. Death Eaters grew scarce and Hermione started studying to be a Healer. Harry would stay on as an Auror and would try for Minister of Magic in a few years. Life had settled down and developed. Much like their friendship between Harry and Hermione, things had changed. And finally, one night, the entire year and a half blew up.

It was late at night, once again. It seemed as though everything happened at night. Usually in the darkness. In the shadows. Where no one could see them. They weren’t hiding. They were just eating dinner with everyone. Ron was out for desert with his latest girlfriend, Erin. Ginny and Ned had gone back to his place. Harry was washing the dishes. Hermione had been watching him all night. It was awkward, listening to the scrubbing and flow of the water.

"You scared me.”

He lifted his head up, unsure if she had said what he thought she said. He turned off the water and put down the plate. Usually, it was “I miss you.” It had always been “I miss you.” It wasn’t supposed to be anything else.

“You scared me,” she repeated.

He felt his face burn up. He didn’t know why. It just angered him. He scared her? How could he scare her? That was ridiculous. "That's ridiculous," he said coldly. He spun around and leaned on the sink.

She was resting on the door frame.

He folded his arms. "I need to talk to you to scare you, Hermione.I spoke to you, what,once every three months through some stupid note?"

"Exactly!" she said back. The conversation was turning into a fight and he knew it. "Youscared me,Harry! Do you even know what you wrote?"

He glared. "I wrote them, Hermione. Of course I know what I wrote. Did they scare you?"

She remained silent, holding her head inher hand.

He was flabbergasted. He was insulted. Scaring her was the absolute last thing he meant to do. "Did they scare you, Hermione? Did they make you lose sleep? Did you fear me?" He meant to ask them softly. He meant to ask them nicely, concerned for her. But they came out harsh.

"Never," she spat back, "You'd never hurt me."

"But I'd scare you." He repeated it, unable to understand how he could do something he didn’t mean to.

"But you’d never hurt me."

"But I scared you."

"Yes, you did."

A chill ran over his body. It didn’t matter whether he meant to or not. The fact was she was scared. And because of him. His anger melted away. Confusion took over. "Should I say I'm sorry?"

She licked her lips, looking away. "I don't know,” she said softly. “It's a bit too late for that, Harry."

He sighed, feeling agitated once more. "Maybe if we had SPOKEN a littleearlier about this-"

"Well, we haven't."

There was a tone in her voice that caught Harry off guard. "Do you blame me?" He asked slowly.

She breathed for a moment. "I blame both of us." She bit her lower lip worriedly. "Don't you?"

"Yes, of course," he said quickly. There was a silence as they observed their nails. He felt the awkwardness creep up upon him. Without a second thought, he began speaking. "I'm sorry I scared you. I'm sorry I've been such a prat. I-" He stopped, gathering his thoughts, finally settling on what he was really sorry for. “I'm sorry I haven't been strong enough to fight for you." He glanced up and saw her looking at him, tears in her eyes.

She shook her head. "It's not you, Harry." She walked into the kitchen, touching random objects. She was shaking.

"No,” he said, ready to make sure she wouldn’t take blame. “You said I scared you."

"Stop!" she cried, picking up a teapot. She shook it at him, the cold tea spilt all over his shirt. "You never did anything wrong! It was me! It was all me! I was so scared! I was so scared to lose everything I almost lost during the War; I pushed all my thoughts away! I was acting stupid!"

Harry's shirt was soaked and the teapot was now empty.

She looked at his shirt, then at the pot. She sighed, unbelieving what she just did. She placed the teapot down on the counter, sighing. "I’ve gone and messed everything up, haven’t I?"

He shook his head and began to wring his shirt free of the tea. "No. No, Hermione, come on."

"No!" she shouted at him, eyes watering, "I’ve ruined everything! Ruined my friendship with Ron, ruined my friendship with you-"

"Stop," he said quickly, "Don’t you dare. We’re both to blame for what’s happened between us."

"Who are you kidding, Harry?" she asked. "I’ve chosen to ignore you all these months. I’ve ruined…." She sniffed and said loudly, "absolutely everything." She put a hand to her eyes and cried for a little while longer.

Harry walked over to her and took her in his arms, without thinking twice.

She fell onto his shoulder, ignoring the cold feel of the tea pushed up against her stomach, and cried. "I never meant to hurt you," she squeaked, "Please forgive me. Please. Please, Harry. Please forgive me."

There was no doubt in his mind. "I forgive you, Hermione. I forgive you. You’re the one who’s always been here for me."

She scoffed and ripped her body away from his, crying over the sink. "You’re wrong. You’re so wrong, and you’re stupid to want me back. I…I don’t deserve you, Harry."

He couldn’t believe it. She was saying absolutely everything he felt.

"Hermione," he said firmly. "You are…"

She turned around, sniffing.Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Her tears covered her face in a sheet of water.Her shirt had a small circular wet spot from his tea-covered shirt. Lines were present around her eyes because of her squinting to prevent more tears to escape her eyes. Her lower lip was trembling to quickly, it was nearly a blur. If she had wornmakeup, they would have formed together to make long black lines below her eyes.

He sighed at the sight, losing track of what he was going to say. "You’re beautiful." He finished, unable to think of anything else.

She shook her head and turned around, rolling her eyes.

He walked over to her, took her arm and spun her around. Then he kissed her. He kissed her as hard as he could. He kissed her and put all his emotion into it. His jealousy for Ron. His envy for Ginny. His desire to be Ned. His love for Hermione. He spilt it all onto his lips, wanting her to understand. But he couldn’t think when she was kissing him back with the same energy. The kiss wasn’t an intense kiss like their first one. It wasn’t a delicate kiss like their second. It was meaningful. A kiss of emotion. A kiss of love. A kiss of complete and utter adoration.

"I love you," he cried slightly when they leaned away and rested their foreheads against each other. "I love you." It rolled off his tongue so easily. He felt his chest twist with each time he said it. But he loved that feeling. "I love you." He started to laugh. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you, Hermione. I…I love you. I can’t even describe what I feel for you, Hermione Granger." He looked into her eyes.

She looked back into his. "I love you." She said just as easily. "I’m so sorry."

He tried to say something but she shushed him with a kiss.

"I love you. I felt it when you kissed me. But I was with Ron. I was with your best friend, Harry. And I loved him. I loved Ron so much. But…" she licked her lips and sighed in embarrassment, "Never the way I love you.”

He smiled and they stared at one another for another short while, savoring the sweet moment they had been waiting for months.

She broke the silence with a whisper. “You scared me."

He sighed in shame. "I’m sorry. I was being so stupid. I was so blinded. I can’t believe some of the things I’ve done. I stop thinking of them and pretend someone else did it when I think back."

She stayed silent, swallowing his words. "I loved you. And I hated what I was doing to you. I tried to take…" She licked her lips and let a tear fall. "I tried to take the easy road." She started crying again. "I don’t deserve you."

Harry kissed her tears away, whispering "I love you" after each.

"I love you," she said, gripping his waist tighter. "I tried to make it work with Ron but I realized it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to him, to me and especially not to you."

He nodded, understanding it all too well. But there was one more thing he wanted to know. "And my letters?" His voice cracked as he said it.

She blushed when he mentioned them. "No one’s ever said such things about me. Or to me. I…" She bowed her head and smiled, as if remembering each and every one of his words. "I tried to respond many times, Harry. But I couldn’t. It was so hard. I didn’t know what to say."

He nodded and swallowed tightly. He understood. Well, no, he didn’t. But he was trying to put himself into her shoes and feel how she felt.

She bit her lower tongue and gripped his waist. "Do you forgive me?"

He sighed seriously. "I love you." He said. He waited for a while, making sure she knew that. "I love you and I always have. And after everything that’s happened and what will, I’ll always love you." It was his turn to bite his lower lip. "But a lot’s happened. And I can’t say things will go back to normal after tomorrow morning."

She nodded, understanding.

He smiled. She always understood. She looked at him with sad and comprehending eyes. "You don’t forgive me?"

He was surprised at how at ease he was with her, inches away. "No." he said truthfully. "But I will. We need to give it time."

She nodded, understanding. "I feel the same way. You scared me, Harry. Your sudden intensity. I was so overwhelmed. You…"

He sighed.

"You scared me."

He nodded his head and closed his eyes. "I’m so-"

She silenced him with a kiss. "Shh. Don’t. We’re both sorry. We need time to forgive. I understand. You understand. That’s all we need."

He smiled. "So where do we go from here?"

She thought for a moment. Then she smiled and took his hands in hers. "We won’t. We’ll continue being best friends. We’ll cuddle. We’ll make eye contact. We’ll talk. We’ll tease. We’ll laugh. We’ll love one another."

He moved their hands from side to side, as if a little boy. He smiled bashfully. "So we’ll just be best friends?"

She smiled, a twinkle in her eye. "Yes. Nothing but."

He kissed her cheeks, her forehead and her nose. They weren’t going to be lovers. They might consider it later on. But for tonight, for tomorrow, for as long as they could, they would be close best friends. They would love and trust one another, slowly re-building their friendship.

“You smell like Green Tea,” she giggled a few moments later.

He laughed and hugged her tighter. “So do you.” He sighed contently for the first time in months. "I love you, Hermione Granger."

She grasped some of his bangs and covered his scar. "I love you too, Harry."

<?>~1 Year Later~<?>

He stood there, looking into Hermione’s eyes. Ron kept on poking his arm, flashing a paper at him. He finally registered what it was and shook his head, pushing Ron’s hand away. Hermione was confused. He smiled and her worries disappeared. He took her hands in his, kissing them.

“I don’t need a paper anymore.” He said confidently.

She smiled sweetly.

He smiled back, always happy to see her happy. “I don’t need anymore papers. I don’t need anymore glances. No more glances of ‘I miss you.’ I’m ready to say what I feel now. Because of you.” He paused, trying to think of what she was, really. He smiled when he thought of it. “You are a treasure. You are…gold. People who are lucky enough to know you, have you in any way, should never, ever, let go.”

He sighed, happy he would never let her go.

“You’re oxygen.” He continued, not even thinking anymore. “You are oxygen. You are essential to life.” He took a hand out of hers and put it on his chest. “I cannot breathe without you. I don’t just want you, I need you. It hurts when I look at you. I can’t look at you because it hurts. When I think about you, it hurts. It hurts so much; I think I’m going to burst.”

He felt something tickle his eye. “I love you.” He whispered. “I love you and it still hurts because I feel even more than that. I love you. I love you. I love you and I don’t care what questions that raises. I love you. You are exceptional.”

She was crying.

“Exceptional,” he repeated, making sure she would understand. “I swear that no one,” he paused. “No one. Will ever see that the way I do.”

And with that, he slipped the golden band around her ring finger and pulled her into a kiss. They barely heard the applause.

~*~END~*~

Dedication: This chapter and entire fic is dedicated to *someone special* out there.
I want you, I need you,
I miss you, I love you.
And even after three years,

I still choose you.