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: I just wanted to thank everyone who has reviewed! I try to respond to everyone personally, but sometimes time will not allow it - especially since I'm back in school. Just know that I appreciate all your feedback, no matter what you say :-) I hope you enjoy Chapter 1!
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I Believed Her
Picking Up The Pieces
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"How calm, how beautiful comes on The stilly hour, when storms are gone! When warring winds have died away, And clouds, beneath the glancing ray, Melt off, and leave the land and sea Sleeping in bright tranquility. "
- Thomas Moore
"--I said, Harry?"
I looked up to see the weathered face of Remus Lupin with a furrow in my forehead. He, along with about a dozen other order members, stared at me expectantly from their seats at the long mahogany table. Suddenly I realized how very cold it was in the small and drafty room of the house that we used for such official gatherings as these, and I shivered a little. The shiver, however, was due more to being brought back to such a cold reality from my thoughts rather than realizing I was in a cold room. I looked around at everyone seated at the table for a confused few moments, and then looked at Remus. I took a deep breath and swallowed.
"I'm sorry... wh-what did you say?" I asked a bit hesitantly. Remus sighed, and I was not all together unaware of the annoyed shifting of seats that followed my response.
"I asked if you heard anything I just said."
I glanced around again.
"Er... yes." I lied. Truth be told, I had taken to zoning out in to my own world at these meetings for the past few weeks. It wasn't something I did on purpose, of course... but I found that it was so much harder to keep my thoughts focused. They would say things like, "Well, if we'd have been here during the time of the attack, we most assuredly would have been able to save Ron, you see..." or "We must learn from Ron's death and not sweep it under the carpet and pretend as though it had never happened"... As it turned out, however, that's exactly what I wanted to do; pretend it never happened. So when they said things like this, when they tried to treat his death as though it was something we could use to our advantage, that was it for me. I couldn't listen anymore. Couldn't even try.
Remus looked at me wearily.
"Harry, I'm sorry," he started with a slow shake of his head. "... I know this must be hard for you, but it's important that you stay here with us right now. You know you are integral to this fight and you need to have all your wits about you."
"I know." I responded shallowly.
"You know?" Moody asked - aggravation very obvious in his voice as well as his harsh features. I kept my eyes on Remus as he looked over at him and held a hand out to calm him before his annoyance got out of hand.
"Now, Moody, Harry is just--"
"I know what Harry is just." Moody interrupted Remus angrily as he stood up. I looked over at him and met his good eye. The other swept over the room madly. "You've lost a friend, boy..." He said to me. "And we're all sorry for it... but, Harry, dammit.... we've all lost friends. We've all been through hell in this war. We've all suffered."
I could see Arthur Weasley shift uncomfortably in his seat from the corner of my eye. Mr. Weasley's behavior since his son's death had been admirable. While it was still very obvious that he was not himself - that he was certainly grief stricken - he did not let it get in the way of what needed to be done. He showed up to these meetings, and he put his whole self in to them - setting Ron aside. I'm sure it must have been hard for him, but he did it.
It was something I could not do.
"Alastor," Remus started reasonably. "I will ask that you please sit--"
"Let him talk." Kingsley Shacklebolt interrupted, my eyes shot to him in an instant. "Harry needs to hear this, Remus." My anger was now beginning to rise at this unexpected and hostile intervention. At first, when Moody had spoken up, I had been quite a bit too numb to think much of it... but now the pleasant numbness was wearing off and I was feeling the full effects of these words.
We've all suffered?
I needed to hear this?
A mumble of agreement murmured from most of the remaining people in attendance who had not yet spoken up sent a pulse of fresh anger surging through me.
Which was fine, really. Anger was so much more satisfying an emotion than sorrow.
"Why are you all suddenly attacking Harry?" Tonks asked sternly as she stood as well. "What has he done beside show some heart and grieve after his best friend's death?" Moody turned his eye on her with a jolt.
"This is ridiculous, really." Arthur said from his seat before Moody could get in another word. I turned my head to look at him, wondering what he meant. In his eyes was the deep sadness that was always there when he was about to speak of Ron... and I knew he was not going to chastise me. "Harry was one of my son's best friend's in the world. Saved each others' lives more times than I can count. Risked them for each other, too. The fact that Harry can't seem to get over this, to me, speaks to just how deeply he felt for him." He stood. "And I'll have no part of telling him it's not right."
He turned to me then.
"Thank you for caring so deeply about my son, Harry. I know what kind of friend you were to him, and I'll never forget it." He said. I swallowed and then nodded - my anger melting away... and he walked away from the table, and out of the room.
"That was over a month ago!" Moody rasped harshly. "In war we don't have the luxury of an extended grieving period. Why must we continue to make special allowances for Harry Potter? Surely we've all gotten over all this `boy-who-lived' tripe!"
It was then, when the room erupted in to a full blown war zone, that I decided to leave as well. It was strange that the argument had been started over me, but in the end they hadn't even noticed "the-boy-who-lived" leave the room.
I found Mr. Weasley in the foyer as he wrapped his scarf around his neck, and cleared my throat. He looked over at me just as he was reaching for the door. We stood there silently for a few moments before he spoke.
"I meant what I said." He said to me with a nod.
"I know... Thank you, Sir." Was all I could think to say in response. He grabbed the door knob, opened the door, and was gone. I stood where I was absorbed in thoughts of Ron and unfortunately of his sister, and then turned to head up to my room - but ended up halting abruptly.
Hermione stood in front of me with a nearly apologetic expression on her face.
"I heard..." She started as she gestured back toward the room the meeting had been taking place in. "I was in the library, and..." She shrugged, trailing off.
I managed a small smile and a shrug of my own. I felt the usual comfort and easiness that accompanied the site of Hermione fall over me... She was the only person who understood exactly what I was going through, and I was grateful for it. I was grateful for her.
"What are you gonna' do?" I asked nonchalantly.
"Harry..." She took a step toward me, and the scent of cucumber melon lotion floated around me. That seemed to be her favorite lately. She had gone through a cherry vanilla phase and I found that this new scent fit her better. At any rate, I preferred it. Sometimes I would be sitting next to her in the library and have a very strong impulse to pull her in for a hug just so I could breathe that scent of hers in. It never really occurred to me back then that it was an odd impulse. I never thought about it. "They had no right to say those things to you." She finished.
I shrugged again, not really knowing what to say.
"I've dealt with this kind of stuff my whole wizarding life. You were there for most of it, so you know."
Hermione shook her head in displeasure.
"You should never have had to deal with it, and you should not have to deal with it now. You've done more than most those wizards in there..." And she continued on, though after that I was only vaguely aware of what she was saying, because I had realized something at that moment. This woman standing in front of me was the one person who could be credited with keeping me together - sane - for the past few weeks. No, that wasn't true. It had been years that Hermione had been looking out for me and caring for me. She'd been there since the beginning. She was amazing and wonderful, and always had been. "... How dare they speak to you as though you were nothing more than a ch--"
"I love you, Hermione." It seemed natural to say this to her, and I wondered why it had never occurred to me to tell her this before. She was my best friend, and there was no other word for how I felt for her. She deserved to hear it. Ginny had been right in that we didn't have all the time in the world to say what needed to be said and to do what needed to be done.
"Harry, I..." She swallowed - looking quite touched. "Thank you, Harry."
I closed the space between us and wrapped my arms around her tightly, and she held me just as tightly back. We stayed there like that for a very long time, I'm not really sure how long. It didn't matter, really. All I knew was that hugging Hermione and breathing her in was the most important thing I could have been doing at that moment... and it could have been a life time.
Finally we pulled away from each other and wordlessly made our way back to the order meeting... together.
******
I sat breathing heavy and huddled up against the dirty wall in a dark room that wasn't my own. Number 12 had so many rooms that went empty... and I didn't want to be in mine just then. I just went to the floor at the very top of the stairs, and then to the room at the very end of the hallway. It was very possible that no one had stepped foot in here in over a hundred years, and so every breath I took contained equal parts dust as it did air.
Yet there was still enough dust to cling to my tear and sweat slicked face.
My bloodied hands worked furiously with an old and ragged piece of cloth to cleanse themselves and had been doing so for at least a half an hour. I banged my head against the wall again and again, disturbing the dust more and more. I was covered in it, but I didn't care. Dust seemed so very trivial when a person was already caked on with layers of blood and mud as though they had just bathed in it. Tears ran uninhibitedly down my face, clearing clean paths of skin only to be covered a moment later by the dust that hung so heavy in the air.
Why me?
I had never asked to be "the-boy-who-lived". I never asked to have some sodding connection with Voldemort. I never asked for fame or this damned hero worship. I was just a boy and I had been thrown in to a war that everyone expected me to know how to win. They expected me to have all the answers... and I didn't. I just didn't. I felt that they actually believed me to be made from something other than flesh and bone - something indestructible. Harry Potter could do anything... that's what they thought. They'd confused by ability to do what was right even when it was the hardest thing with bravery. I wasn't brave, I was scared. Horrified.
All this war and death... God, I just wanted it to be over. When would I be able to live my life and be... just Harry?
The door opened from the outside and light, dim though it was, poured in to the dark little room from the hallway. I looked over at it and saw Hermione silhouetted against the light.
I looked at her only for a moment and then looked away - scrubbing at my hands with the cloth even harder than before. I wanted it off - the blood, the pain, the death. I wanted it off, and I wanted it off now... So I scrubbed until it hurt, and then I scrubbed more.
The door closed again, and I could hear the floor creak as Hermione made her way towards me in the dark. Slowly she kneeled in front of me - the smell of cucumber melon wafting toward me along with more dust. Not even that smell could calm me this time.
"... Harry." She said softly.
"Why did he have to die, Hermione?" I nearly yelled at her. I hadn't even been aware that I had been thinking about Ron, but it had been so hard to keep my thoughts clear lately. I wasn't surprised.
"Sometimes, things happen that way..." She responded sadly. I shook my head furiously.
"I could have saved him!" I yelled again. "I should have. I was able to save him all those times before... I failed him. I let him die..." I broke off in to tears, yet still I scrubbed madly at my hands. I felt as though my heart was being crushed my the weight in my chest.
"No, Harry." Her words were firm and definitive. I swallowed.
"Hermione--"
"No." She repeated... and then placed her soft hands over mine. I looked down at them as, prying them apart, she took the cloth from me. "Your hands are clean, Harry." She whispered. For a few moments I was still... and then I buried my face in my newly unoccupied hands and cried. I didn't care that Hermione could hear me... It was hard to care about anything just then.
A moment later, I was in Hermione's arms - the scent of cucumber melon as strong as ever - crying on to her shoulder and holding her as though my life depended on it. A small hand ran soothingly through my hair. God, this woman was everything to me. She was the one person who was supposed to be there for me and care for me who hadn't left me. My parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, Ginny... Ron. They were all gone, and all that remained in my life was Hermione.
******
I walked out from my bathroom - rubbing my head with a towel to dry my hair. I was now thankfully devoid of sweat and mud. Hermione sat waiting for me at my desk. She had helped me back to my room and had drawn me a shower as I had been a bit too out of it to do anything myself. I looked at her and took a deep breath, throwing the towel over the nearby armchair.
"Better?" She asked as she stood up. I nodded.
"What were you doing here?" I asked quietly. I could see her swallow.
"I didn't want you to be alone after..." She shrugged. "I didn't want you to be alone." It struck me, just as it always did, just what a good friend the woman standing in front of me was.
"How did you know where I'd be? It could have been any of a dozen rooms I was hiding in."
Hermione looked down.
"I heard... there was a banging noise. I just followed it." She looked back up at me and I felt a little ashamed for what I had been doing. We both knew that hurting myself wasn't going to do anyone any good and wouldn't make anything better. "Is your... is your head all right?"
I rubbed the back of my head at that question, realizing it was a bit sore - but nothing to owl home about.
"It's fine. Don't worry about it." I said, dropping my hand back down to my side. "... Will your parents miss you?"
"My parents understand what's going on in the wizarding world. They don't ask me too many questions when I leave."
I nodded, and then went to sit at the edge of my bed. Running a hand through my hair, I looked up at Hermione who was still standing near my desk.
"I'm glad you were here." I said. "I don't know how long I would have sat up there... I'd probably have rubbed the skin off my bones by now.'"
Hermione flinched a little... and then walked towards the bed, and sat next to me. For a moment I thought she would take my hand or put her arms around me, but she didn't.
"You know you never have to bear these things by yourself, Harry." She started. "You never have to shut yourself up in a dark room like that again. You're not alone. I'm here."
I met her eyes then - and saw nothing but sincerity in the honey brown pools. I couldn't help but feel touched. I gave her a small smile and she returned it - tucking some of my wet hair behind my ear.
"I know." I said, taking her hand that was still raised from having touched my hair. Bringing it to my lips, I kissed it softly and then held it in my lap with both of mine. She covered them with her free hand. There was more warmth in that gesture than any I could think of giving or receiving my whole life prior.
"How many times have you put me back together now, Hermione? I think I've lost count." I said with a small laugh. Hermione laughed a little as well.
"Well what are best friends for if not for picking up broken Harry Potter pieces and gluing them back together?"
"I suppose that's true."
Hermione put her head on my shoulder, and I found myself breathing her in again as I rested my chin in her hair.
"Everything's going to be okay." She said. I closed my eyes allowing myself to be comforted by her warmth and scent.
"I know." I responded quietly. "If you say it, then I believe it."
"Oh really?" She giggled a bit. "I'm also the Queen of England, did you know?" I smiled.
"God save the Queen."
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Hermione sighed and pulled away from me. I watched her as she stood. Placing her hands on either side of my face she pulled me to her and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. I held on to her wrists for a moment, and then let her go as she stood straight.
"You should rest now." She said. "I'd imagine you're quiet tired after today, and tomorrow will probably be wrought with order meetings and whatnot."
I took a deep breath, and then nodded. She smiled at me warmly, and then turned to leave.
I grabbed her hand before she could go.
Hermione turned back to me with a somewhat confused look on her face.
"Harry?" She asked. I rubbed a small circle over her hand with my thumb and then let it go.
"Will you be... going home tonight?" I didn't know why I felt a bit nervous asking that question... I just knew how I felt when she was near, and I didn't want to lose that feeling. I didn't think I could handle it just then. Hermione looked confused for only a second longer, and then the smile returned to her face.
"I'll be here." I could have breathed a sigh of relief at those words, but managed not to be quite that pathetic.
"Good night, Hermione." I said.
"Good night, Harry."
That night, I slept better than I had in years.
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