Title: I Believed Her
Author: Electric_blue
Rating: NC-17
Chapter Rating: PG
Warnings: M/F, angst, dark themes, character death
Disclaimer: You know I don't own this, why do I even have to put a disclaimer?
Author's Note: So you've stumbled upon this story... I promise there will be some happy moments littered through out, but you're in for a lot angst and uncertainty, too. Forgive me for what I've done in this chapter. It's sad, but had to be done.
Also, it seems to me that some people are confused as to when this is taking place. The first portion of this is taking place now - about ten years from the time Harry first discovered he was a wizard, so about four years after what should have been his final years at Hogwarts. The second portion is him recalling something about three years before. The rest of the story will mostly take place in this flashback time frame, sometimes with a portion of Harry's introspection which you see here. I probably should have explained that in the first place... but this is why anything you are led to believe happened in the beginning has not also happened yet in the flashback. Harry still has three years to catch up on with you. It's sort of a Moulin Rouge type deal...
Lastly, I am already getting reviews complaining about this being depressing. Well, yes. I don't write fluff, though I do have something strange worked out for this story to where it might not be such a sad ending. I'm one of those people who likes to put characters through hell to see if they can weather it, and then bring them back better for it. We'll see. I hope you can appreciate this story for what it is - which is certainly not a happy little fluff piece. With all that being said, I give you:
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I Believed Her
Prologue
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"A wise God shrouds the future in obscure darkness."
-Horace
Blood. Screaming. Pain. Anguish. How is a person supposed to be able to keep doing this?
It is human nature - wizard or otherwise - to romanticize war. This is done so that the people who are not a part of the fighting will never know the horror of it all. They will only know the bravery involved. The cunning. The strategy. The heroism. They will look upon those who are fighting on the side they hold to be their own as warriors fighting to restore peace - to keep them safe. They look at us as heroes. Hero. What is a hero anyway? Someone who rides in on a white horse to save the day? To save the good guys from a horrible fate? I've been called a hero - a champion - so many times that it's lost all meaning to me. I'm starting to think it's just a word used to describe something that could never really exist. There is no wondrous being capable of saving the good guys from their horrible fate... because, in the end... nothing can do that. In the end - in war... the good guys die, too.
Ron... it's been three years now.
It becomes harder and harder to differentiate between the side I'm fighting for, and the side I'm fighting against... In battle, there is no good side or bad side. There is only people fighting to stay alive. It is only when someone has died that the sides become relevant - discernible - again. We realize that we are battling to the death in these troubled times, and it's either kill or be killed. Even then, however, I wonder... is murder ever justifiable? By killing those who threaten us, are we any better than them? Blood stains my hands the same as any death eater. If I can think of no better way to win this war other than death and destruction - am I any different? I have lost sight of what I am fighting for. I have lost sight of everything. I find it hard to call myself a good man when I have done so many terrible things. Like I said, there is blood on my hands and it will never wash away. The raging ambiguity towards myself and this fight that tears apart at my very soul is enough to make me wish I had never been born.
We are so close to ending this war. So close to victory... and all I can think is; I want no part of it. Ten years of fighting. Every one whom I had loved - gone. I have nothing left to fight for... There was a time I could have pushed myself to fight through my pain and disillusionment just because it was the right thing to do. The honorable thing. I'm Harry bloody Potter... it's what people expect from me. I just don't have that in me anymore.
Not since I lost... her.
She was the light amongst all this darkness - proof that there was still good in this world... and my last reason for fighting. How was it possible that I had loved her to the point where it unhinged my very being? She was my world - my life.
Hermione…
She's gone now... and she's taken everything that was left of the hero Harry Potter with her.
*** THREE YEARS BEFORE…
Ron was dead.
Death is such an odd thing... especially in the wizarding world. There is so much more mystery surrounding it. Would Ron show up one day smiling and transparent? Was he truly dead in the first place? Perhaps a faulty spell had been cast on him. Perhaps it hadn't been a spell meant to kill him. Perhaps he was stuck in limbo - waiting for us to rescue him. These are the possibilities that must have been running through everyone's mind... and all of them lead to the idea that we would see Ron again or that he wasn't truly dead. A hope like that, especially when deep down everyone knew he truly was gone, was just heart breaking.
I remember the day so clearly. Not the day he died, not the day of his funeral - those memories I manage to block out quite effectively with spells or alcohol - but the day after his funeral...
I sat quietly on the old dirty sofa in the den of Number 12 Grimmauld Place... thinking that the name Grim had never quite fit this place as much as at that moment. The thought that Ron would never walk through the doors of the old home was soul shattering, and I could think of no better a place to have one's soul shattered than the very place I sat...
Ginny Weasly sitting across from me.
"Ron's..." I clenched my jaw, unable to form the words - unable to believe them, even though I was quite incapable of keeping them from replaying in my mind over and over again...
Ron's dead, Ron's dead, Ron's dead, Ron's dead, Ron's dead, Ron's dead, Ron's--
"I know." Ginny interrupted my thoughts with a deep sorrow laced through her voice
"Then why are you saying this to me? Why now?" I asked, not meeting her eyes. I kept my gaze cast safely on the old wooden floor - my gaze that threatened to turn to liquid at any moment. She was breaking up with me. Leaving me. It seemed a very unimportant thing to be so horribly heart broken over in light of my best mate's death... but I couldn't help it. The next few months were going to be hard on us all - harder than they had already been - and this was the time we needed each other. We had to stick together, not fall apart. I needed Ginny... and she needed me. I didn't understand why she was doing this to me. To us.
"Because I can't..." She stopped and I could hear her swallow... I could almost imagine her clenching her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see the effects her words were having on me... though I would not look up. I had faced Voldemort more times than I could count on one hand and had lived through innumerable battles and attempts on my life from some of the most cruel wizards and witches that ever walked the earth - but I was too frightened to meet the eyes of the woman whom I had loved so deeply for two years. I was frightened that I would see resolve etched on her beautiful face. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle that... because then I would have to accept that it was really over between us.
"I can't put things off anymore." She continued. "I used to think that we had all the time in the world to do what needed to be done and to say what needed to be said... but we don't." She paused. "Harry, we just don't." My heart constricted painfully as it occurred to me that she was pleading for me to understand.
"What are you saying?" I risked a glance up at her - and saw briefly the stricken expression that had settled over her features. The beautiful red hair that I had loved so much was bunched up in a tight braid - tied with a long black ribbon. A black ribbon for Ron. I think, maybe, that was what caused my voice to break as my next words left my mouth. "That you've been meaning to do this for a while?"
"Harry... no. God no." She took a deep breath. "I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for you to be ready for me."
At this, I finally looked up at her - meeting her eyes, really meeting them, for the first time that night... and I saw it. Resolve. Why I even kept speaking after that was beyond me - i knew it was a lost cause. Maybe it wasn't in me to give her up with out fighting for her.
"I love you, Ginny. I'm ready for you now. What do you want from me? I'll give you anything."
She gazed at me sadly.
"Harry, you can't give me what I want." She responded solemnly. "Even when we're together, you're always off some place else. The war will always come first--"
"When the war is over--"
"We could all be dead." She said shrilly, cutting me off. I had nothing to say. "Who knows if we will even win this war? Who knows if you'll be around tomorrow to make good on your promises of paradise - and who knows if I'll be around to accept it?" She shook her head and her eyes glazed over with tears that I knew were not for me. "All we have is now... the next moment isn't guaranteed to us."
I took a deep, quite unsteady breath.
"Do you still love me?"
Ginny was quiet for a few moments, and then she nodded.
"This isn't a question of love. I know you love me, Harry... and I'll always love you - but I have to get away from here." She paused. "I have to live my life. Too many people are counting on you now. Especially now."
And that was the story of my life, wasn't it? I could never have what I wanted because there was always evil to fight, and I was always being counted upon.
I sat there silently - having nothing more to say. I lost track of the time... minutes, hours, hours upon hours. Who knew how long I sat there. Ginny left at some point - maybe she's said something to me, but I wasn't listening. I couldn't listen to her anymore, no matter what she had to say. All I knew was that it was quite possibly the last time I would see her - the woman I believed to be the love of my life was - ironically - walking out of my life.
A small part of me, even in my grief, knew that Ginny was right. Life was much too short for me to ask her to put it on hold and wait for me... and that is what she had been doing. Waiting. I could never really give her what she needed. Not until the war was over... and, just like she had said, who knew if any of us would even be alive?
So lost in thought and agony was I, that I never noticed Hermione take the seat Ginny had previously occupied. Not until she spoke.
"All right, Harry?" Her words penetrated through the thick haze of disorientation that threatened to engulf me, and I looked over at her. I did not know how it was possible to feel anything other than utter sorrow, but the sight of her soothed some of my over wrought nerves. I was so grateful that she was still there... one of the last people in the world whom I shared a connection with. I wanted to pull her to me and embrace her tightly until neither of us could breathe, but my weak heart would not allow it... and so I only said:
"I'm glad you're here."
Hermione smiled wanly - though it still held a trace of her usual warmth.
"I'm not going anywhere." She responded, reaching over and placing her soft hand over mine. Somehow, I was able to believe her... and for a few moments, things seemed almost all right again. The warmth in her eyes was almost like a promise - telling me that things would not be like this forever. The sun would come up the next day as always, and she would still be there. She would always be there...
Why... God, why had I believed her?
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