Find Me

Glassesfreak206

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 19/09/2006
Last Updated: 19/09/2006
Status: completed

ONE-SHOT. He made you cry again.

Chapters

1. Find Me

1. Find Me

A/N: Re-post from Make My Day. Minor changes. A lot added in the middle and end. Apologies for the re-post. The grammatical errors were driving me bonkers.

He made you cry again.

I hate it when he does that. I don’t tell him that because he’ll feel like I’ve turned against him. I have, in a way. By feeling this way about you. By feeling this way about you, I’ve betrayed him in a way he could never imagine. Do you know what scares me even more? Sometimes I don’t care. Sometimes I don’t care about his feelings. I don’t care about what happens to him when he hurts you. When he makes you cry. I can’t stand to see you cry. I can’t stand that he’s alright with making you cry.

I make my way up to your room, careful not to wake anyone. Although I’m sure your spat will have woken everyone up. Ginny seems to be asleep in her room. I pass by her room and tell Lupin and Tonks I’m comforting you. They nod as if they were expecting it and close their door. I pass by Ron’s room. He’s inside, pacing. I wonder if he’s feeling bad about making you cry. But I know he’s not. He never is. I sneer at his back and continue on my way to your room.

This cabin is very small. I liked it. It was perfect for my research. For our research. I wish I could say Ginny and Ron as well but I can’t. Because they haven’t really helped. Bless them, they try but they’re not helpful. I hate it when Ginny whines and wants me to hold her after I’ve just fought four Death Eaters at once. I hate it when Ron makes you cry after you did everything you could to keep him safe. I hate them in general sometimes. It makes me hate myself. I need love. I need friendship to help pull me through. But then again, that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?

I knock on your door and say it’s me. You say I can come in without missing a beat. You always open the door for me. You always let me in. I never need to doubt it. I’m not like Ron. When we have fights, I come in to apologize. I come in to see if you’re alright. Ron doesn’t. He never does. He waits until the next morning to gruffly ask if you’re alright. And if you’re not, he tells me you’re off your rocker. But he doesn’t understand you’re always on your rocker. Always. It’s him who doesn’t even have a rocker.

It makes me mad when I think about how much he likes you. He doesn’t deserve you. No one really does. Except maybe Krum. But you didn’t like Krum, did you? No, you were too captivated by Ron at that time. Why did you like Krum? Was he funny? Did he make you laugh like Ron? Did he understand you like me? The bloke couldn’t even pronounce your name; much less have a conversation with you. So why did you like him? For his looks? I tried giving myself a haircut like his. Do you remember? You asked me if I was off my rocker.

I sit down on your bed and wait for you to talk. I always wait for you to talk. I always let you talk. Sometimes we don’t talk at all. That’s how we work. Harry and Hermione. We communicate without words. We always have. I get mad when you don’t see how we’ve always been. How we could be. We’re perfect for one another. I’ve never felt perfect for someone else. You make me feel complete. You make me feel accepted. And loved. I think I make you feel like that as well. It’s what I try to do. I would give up my life for you and it’s not because I might have to one day. It scares me when I think about how much you mean to me. It scares me when I remember you’re my best friend. I’m not supposed to feel like this about you.

You shift closer to me on the bed and tell me what Ron called you. I grit my teeth. My best friend has absolutely no manners sometimes. I wonder why you take it. I realize it’s because you’re nice. You’re too nice. You shouldn’t take it from him. You deserve better than him. You should do what you did in our sixth year and launch birds at him. But because of what he called you tonight, you should have thrown your rocker at him.

You deserve so much better. You deserve a man. Not a child. I want to make you understand that as I hug you. I’m enjoying this hug too much. I’m your best friend but I love how you feel pressed up against me. I love the smell of your hair. I love the feel of your fingertips against my back. I love the way you whisper my name.

I love everything about you. I always have. You have in return. You love me because of who I am. I love you for it. God, that feels good to think. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I know I shouldn’t. You’re Ron’s girl. Permanently branded out of order. A refreshment bar in the middle of the desert. I wish I had money. Good Godric, what I wouldn’t give for money.

You pull away from my arms and wipe your eyes. You have such beautiful eyes. Melted milk chocolate. I love them and drown in them when you aren’t looking. When no one’s looking, really. I’m not supposed to look at you the way I do. I’m not supposed to fantasize of us being together. But I do. I feel bad but I never pull away from them. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Ginny caught me looking at you one night. I think she knows. It wouldn’t surprise me. You’d have to be off your rocker to not notice that I notice you.

You ask me if you think I’m pretty. My jaw drops. What a stupid question. For being the smartest woman I’ve ever met, you have such low self esteem. You have gotten so beautiful over the years. I tell you this. You scoff and turn away, letting a tear fall from your eye. It doesn’t make sense that you still look beautiful when you cry. You have such a faraway look in your eyes. I don’t know if I should comfort you or paint a picture.

You start ranting, telling me about how you much you hate him. I can’t control my imagination when you get mad. I love the passion in your voice. I love the fire in your eyes. I listen to every word you spit out, unfortunately agreeing with them. I put my arm around you and tell you how right you are. I tell you you deserve so much more. You smile sadly and agree. I want to tell you so much more.

But you continue. You say something that makes me blink continuously. You say something that makes me feel like the more horrible person the world. You tell me you don’t love him anymore. And that you never did. I can’t say anything now. I don’t know what to say. You smile at my reaction and tell me you were a foolish teenager with uncontrollable urges when you had a crush on him. Merlin, you just said urges. That’s the-did you just shift closer to me? You’re so warm. My hand drops lower on your body and I can’t help but edge it closer to your chest.

This is bad. I know it’s bad. You’re making me want to tell you things. Things I shouldn’t tell you. You’re making me want to do things to you. Things I shouldn’t do. You’re so close; I can feel your breath on my cheek. I don’t want to be a rebound, I tell you. You laugh at this and I let it rush through my body. Your teeth are perfect. So white and straight. I know they would still be perfect if your parents weren’t dentists. You take care of yourself. And it’s what makes me want to take care of you.

You take my chin and bring out noses together. I can’t think. This is a dream. I know it’s a dream. A beautiful dream. The most realistic dream I’ve ever had of you. You feel so soft and delicate. I want to kiss you. I want to feel your lips press against mine. I look at your lips and feel a sweat drop fall on the side of my face. They’re a great shade of red. I love them. Are you wearing lip balm? It looks like your lemonade flavored one. I know it’s your favorite drink. I want to taste it. If only you knew what I want to do when you put it on in the morning. I can’t control myself. Oh god, I can’t stop. SCREW RON.

….

I think a few minutes have gone by because now I’m on top of you, kissing you wildly. How did this happen? Did I kiss you first? Did you kiss me and pull me on top of you? I wonder if it was a smooth motion. Were we clumsy? Maybe I wasn’t very romantic in our first kiss. Our first kiss….you taste so good. Like velvet. I don’t know what velvet tastes like but then again; it can’t possibly taste as good as you do. So scratch that, you don’t taste like velvet. Oh, but you feel so good. I can feel your chest against mine. Your hands are caressing my back in a frenzied fashion. It feels incredible. You feel incredible. You feel just like I thought you would.

This can’t be happening. We can’t possibly be making out on your bed. What day is it? This is an important date. I need to remember it. I wonder how many other guys have kissed you the way I am. I wonder how many other guys have felt the way I am in response to what you’re doing. I wonder how many guys you’ve done this with. I wonder if Ron touched you where I am. But judging by the way you’re reacting to me, I know no one has. No one’s ever done this with you. To you. I’m your first making-out-er.

Merlin, is that your tongue? That feels incredible. You feel incredible. I can feel how uncertain you are by your touches. I wonder if I’m as tentative as you. I wonder if I’m fumbling with my hands and hurting you with my groping. But you’re moaning and I think that’s a good sign. Oh good, because I can’t keep my hands off you. Argh, I’ve got to stop thinking. Thinking isn’t sexy. Unless you’re doing it. Alright, starting from now, I’m going to stop thinking about consequences. I’m going to stop thinking about what’ll happen if someone walks in.

…

What happened? I think another few minutes have gone by. Because now we’re lying on the bed, holding one another. I like your ceiling. Did you paint it yourself? It seems like a color you would choose. Is that your hand on my chest? You feel so good, cuddled up next to me. I like your shirt. I wonder what kind of fabric softener you use. Did you send it to your mother? I feel so disconnected from-oh god, is that reality? It’s coming right at us. Do you see it?

“Wow.”

Yes, I suppose you did. It doesn’t feel very good, does it? This is bad. This is very bad.

“I don’t regret it.”

…No. No-n-no, that didn’t happen. No, you didn’t say that. This can’t be real. You cannot possibly not regret that. I don’t. But you do. You do. I know you do. You didn’t enjoy it. You’re worried about Ron and Ginny and Voldemort. You’re worried about how Voldemort is going to hunt you down and kill you. You’re worried about how Ron and Ginny will never talk to us again. You’re worried. You regret that. I know you do.

You turn around and face me. I turn to face you.

“It scares me when I think about how much I’ve always wanted to do that.”

I can’t say anything but look at you, disbelieving what you’re saying. You can’t possibly be saying this. Did your eyes just shift to my lips? I feel your fingers caress them. You smile and kiss me so incredibly softly, so incredibly lovingly, so incredibly incredible, I can’t say anything. I can’t think. For the first time in a long time, I can’t think a single thought.

And now, at long last, I don’t need to. After years of noticing the bushy-haired know-it-all, I’ve finally been noticed in return.

Dedication: This fic is dedicated to everyone. 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.