Just Hold Me

Just Hold Me

Harry sat in the common room, eyes closed, a small line of drool dangling down his chin. The grandfather clock chimed it was midnight, causing him to jump in his chair. Sneezing, he looked around at the empty room. The fire was blazing low in the grate, the ashes glowing brightly. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Lazily, he got up, walking up the steps to his dorm room.

Creaking the door open quietly, he stepped in. Making sure everyone else was asleep he tiptoed into his bed, collapsing onto the soft mattress. Within moments, he was out like a light, not flinching when the door opened once more to admit a small, feminine figure, not even when she lightly called out his name.

The opening in the curtain of Harry’s four poster bed let in a speck of the sun’s rising rays. They barely reached the tip of his nose, but the warmth gradually rose to his eyes. Covering his eyes with his arm, he rolled over, grumbling.

Soon, the rest of the boys in his dorm were mulling about, dipping in and out of the shower; they caused enough ruckus to stir Harry out of bed.

"Look, he’s up! Told you he wasn’t dead Neville," Seamus boomed, causing Harry to stumble as he picked up a fresh school robe. Ron clamored over, helping Harry pick up some of his things.

"About time, you practically slept all morning. It’s almost noon," Ron chuckled, beaming at his friend. Harry smiled at him half-heartedly. Finally, I manage to sleep and they give me a hard time about it, he thought bitterly, grabbing his undergarments, leaving his glasses on his nightstand.

Marching into the showers, he turned on the hot water faucet, letting it stream down on his body in warm pellets. While raking his hands through his dark hair, she popped into his head again. Reaching for the soap, he threw it across the stall in frustration, listening to its drop echo above the running water.

Why her? Huh? WHY? You could have anyone else, but you just had to choose her, didn’t you? You just wanted to make yourself more miserable then you already are! Don’t you have enough sitting on your shoulders? He inwardly cursed, shutting off the water. Haphazardly, he reached around for his clothes, his hand finally falling on them. He dressed, pulling on his red turtleneck and chalk gray pants, throwing his robe on top.

Peeking his head around the corner, his blurred vision revealed no one was left in the common room. That’s right, he would have left to meet her by now, Harry sighed, stumbling over to his nightstand. Picking up his glasses, he cleaned the lenses with his shirt, placing them on his face.

Everything immediately zoomed into focus. Bumbling out of the dorm room and down the steps, he paused to see if they were in the common room. Noticing it was empty, save for a few first years, he dashed out of the portrait of the fat lady. Instead of turning left once he was down the stairs that led to the Great Hall, he turned right.

His feet took him out to the Quidditch pitch, his hand digging around in the broom shed for his firebolt. When his hand closed in on the shiny handle, nothing could have stopped him from mounting and soaring up into the air.

The wind licked the ends of his robes, flicking them out in a unruly fashion. His mind slowly cleared. Her face wasn’t plastered in his mind kissing his best friend, nor was the knowledge that Voldemort would come for him this year. It was his final year at Hogwarts, and he had a feeling nothing would stop the Dark Lord.

He pulled his hands from his broom, reaching up to the sky. All that was keeping him on was his faith that he could stay there. Almost tumbling over upon seeing a speck of black on the field below, he grasped the handle, steering his broom down to the ground.

His heart skipped a beat upon seeing the familiar Gryffindor robes, but sank upon regarding long crimson hair. "Hey Ginny," he sighed, landing with a soft thud. He descended off his broom, holding it tightly in his right hand. She beamed up at him.

"Thought I might warn you, lunch is almost over. You should run in and grab a bite before they stop serving," she warned, smiling warmly up at him. He returned her smile.

"No thanks, I can just slip down to the kitchens later if I want something… I’m kind of busy at the moment," he sighed. She nodded her head, running back to the castle. Wonder who she’s rushing back to this week, Harry thought nonchalantly; speeding back up into the air.

The sun beat down on his back, telling him that it was late in the afternoon. His stomach grumbled loudly, churning about. Figuring he better eat something before his stomach ate him, he landed on the ground by the broom shed, shoving his firebolt inside.

He jogged up the steps, opening the doors to the Main Hall. Not really caring if Filch caught him, he sprinted down to the kitchens, tickling the pear. He grasped the doorknob, opening the portrait slowly.

A fuzz of colors struck Harry in the chest, bouncing off of him, falling lightly on the cobble stone floor.

"Harry Potter!" it squeaked, standing back up. Harry laughed upon seeing the tennis ball like eyes staring up at him.

"Dobby, I was wondering if you could get me a sandwich, I missed lunch…" Harry trailed off upon seeing Dobby’s beaming face.

"Oh, yes sir!" And with that, the little house elf had retreated to the back of the kitchen, soon returning with a tray of sandwiches.

"I only wanted one-" Harry began, but was cut off.

"Dobby did not know what kind of sandwich Mr. Harry Potter likes, so Dobby gets them all!" the little house elf beamed, shoving the tray of sandwiches at Harry.

He picked up one, which looked like peanut butter and jelly, but tried to restrain a face when he found that it was not peanut butter and jelly, but something much more foul. Picking a few off of the tray, Harry muttered his thanks, wobbling up to the Gryffindor common room.

He stopped at the portrait of the fat lady, munching on a piece of pumpkin pie shoved in between two pieces of bread, managing to mutter the password between bites of the sandwich. The portrait swung open, letting him inside the common room.

He turned his head, cheeks full of pie sandwich, when he heard an annoyed huff. He spotted Ron sitting across the common room, his arms folded. Harry could have sworn steam was coming out of his ears. Nearby was Ginny, trying to soothe her brother.

Swallowing the last bite of his sandwich, Harry approached his friend, putting his hand on Ron’s shoulder. "What’s the matter?" he asked quietly, kneeling down on the floor.

"It’s her again, bloody her!" Ron growled. Harry fought back a bitter pang of resentment, sighing.

"What did she do?" Harry asked, looking into Ron’s icy blue eyes.

"Nothing," the redhead muttered.

"Nothing?" Harry echoed, a confused look masking his face.

"That’s exactly the point! She NEVER does anything with me… she doesn’t even want to kiss me anymore for Merlin’s sake!" Ron growled, looking intently into the fire.

Harry sighed. "Do you want me to go talk to her?"

"Whatever," Ron sighed, shooting daggers at anyone who so much as looked at him.

Taking that as a yes, Harry stumbled out of the portrait again, knowing exactly where she would be. Soon enough, he found himself at the door of the library. Stepping quietly inside, he looked to see if Madame Pince was anywhere close. Relieved that she wasn’t, he headed to the back of the library where a soft hiccuping could be heard.

"Hermione?" he called quietly, his own heart skipping a beat when he saw her tiny frame huddled over a pile of books. Her golden sweater hung loosely about her shoulders, her red skirt fanning out around her chair. She turned her head quickly to him, her bushy brown hair flying about her head in a humorous fashion.

"Came to yell at me I suppose, though it doesn’t come as a shock. You always choose Ron’s side," she huffed, her teary, chocolate eyes looking up into his.

"No, no, that’s not it at all!" Harry exclaimed, stepping timidly towards her. A look of relief, and something he couldn’t describe, filled her eyes. She smiled up at him, standing up shakily.

"Oh Harry…" she whispered, throwing herself upon him, her arms wrapping themselves about his back. She began sliding down until she was like a ladder leaning up against wall, but it didn’t seem to matter to her. She just clung to him as if he were her only hope.

Oh gods, Harry thought, looking down, shocked, at the top of her head. Awkwardly, he pulled his arms around her back, pulling her up so her head was level with his chest. She burrowed her head close to his heart. His breath became quick and ragged, surely this is a dream…he thought to himself, her scent surrounding him, intoxicating him. He pulled away slightly, afraid that she could feel his heart beating wildly inside his chest.

Everything he had dreamed of for months was coming true; her face was looking at him just as he had wished her to in his mind, she was close to him, their bodies melting together just as he dreamt they would. Harry looked around, biting his lip to see if this was real. A sharp blast of pain shot through his lip, confirming the truth. He was benefiting from his friend’s loss.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but was cut off by her. "Don’t say anything, just hold me, at least for a little while. I just want to remember how you smell like pumpkin pie, how your hands are so warm against my back. Just let me have this memory,"

"You want to remember this?" he asked, looking down at the top of her head quizzically. He could feel her smile into his chest, feel her nod her head slowly.

"Just hold me Harry, just hold me," and he did.