Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: A challenge by shardraco, continued by mathiasgranger. This is for both of them. Forget the World, part 2.
Double Drive - Million People
How could I be so happy
And still feel so messed up inside
I've broken all the records
For the unhappiest man alive
And spending time with you is like
Having a needle in my eye
So how could I be so happy
And still feel so messed up inside
Maybe I was wrong for thinking
There was something there for me
And maybe it's not about the truth
Cause the truth couldn't set me free
And maybe there's a million people
Who could feel the way that I do
But it doesn't eatter to me now
I still got a thing for you
How could I keep on laughing
Just to know we didn't try
To put out all the bridges
But instead we stoke them and feed the fire
And over my shoulder's the smoke
And the gloom that hangs in the air
So how could I keep on laughing
When I know the bridge isn't there
Maybe I was wrong for thinking
There was something there for me
And maybe it's not about the truth
Cause the truth couldn't set me free
And maybe there's a million people
Who could feel the way that I do
But it doesn't matter to me now
I still got a thing for you
It's been three years.
Three bloody years since I left her. And I'm still kicking myself in the arse for it.
I didn't understand. The war was over, Tom was dead, the Wizarding world was safe once more. I was so happy; on the outside, at least. I smiled like a puppet for the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler as they snapped photos and recorded interviews. I accepted my Order of Merlin - First Class without any fuss. I played posterboy for the Ministry because, well, there wasn't really any reason not to anymore. I'd won. They had no reason to argue with me anymore.
And yet, on the inside, I was miserable. Depressed. I wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and stay there until I felt happy and whole again. I knew it would be pointless. The moment I closed my eyes in that miserable hole I knew I'd see her face again.
I always did.
<><><><><>
I had just taken care of Rodolphus Lestrange when I saw something that made my heart nearly stop.
Ron was being foolish again, like that was any great surprise. For all the brilliance he had in chess strategy, I swear he didn't have the common sense to think one step ahead in his own life. He had just taken down a Death Eater rather brilliantly but rather than focus on the other ones around him he'd gone straight to Hermione.
And put his arm around her.
And kissed her cheek.
And whispered things that I was sure would turn my stomach into her ear.
It was funny, I thought as I watched him take off from her and straight into the path of Walden MacNair; that I could pinpoint the exact moment when I'd begun to loathe him. Sure, he was still my best mate, but there were those times when I wanted nothing more than to punch him in the gut. It had been exactly three weeks ago, when he'd begun actively pursuing Hermione. As far as I could tell she was blissfully ignorant of his awkward attempts, but it didn't make me hate him any less.
I was torn between saving him from MacNair and joining the Death Eater when I knew I had to do the right thing even if I'd kick myself in the arse for it later. I turned my wand on the large man and began throwing every hex and curse I could think of at him while Ron recovered from having dodged that nasty green light so many times. I saw Hermione out of the corner of my eye, watching as I saved Ron yet again. I was really beginning to wish I didn't have that ruddy saving-people-thing.
Then it felt like someone had shoved a hot poker through my scar, whipped it around my skull a bit, and was trying to extract my brain through that blasted bane of my existence. It was Riddle, the bastard, and it was his piss-poor way of calling me out for our duel. I began to crawl away as I heard Ron Stun the Death Eater, when Hermione came rushing up to me.
I could feel the blood beginning to trickle into my eye, and I didn't want it to get any worse. It was time.
"Hermione, I have to go," I wheezed, wishing desperately that my feet weren't failing me as I tried to stand. It was killing me to look at her, to know that if I died and didn't make it, she would be Ron's girl.
"I know," she answered me, but it looked like she was holding back. I took her hands in mine and wrapped them around my neck, savouring the delicious feeling of her cool skin on my blazing hot neck. I touched my forehead to hers, temporarily forgetting she'd look like she'd been massacred when I moved.
"I'll be back, Hermione. I promise." How could I not? If I didn't come back, Ron would eventually wear her down. She was too nice to say no, and I was too far gone on her not to try. I wanted desperately to tell her how I felt, how I wanted nothing more than to come back to her, but I couldn't.
"You'd better, or who else will put up with me?" she said, trying to lighten the mood.
It wasn't working-I knew exactly who else would put up with her, and quite willingly, too. Ron. "R-Err… Look, I promise you that you'll have to put up with me forever, alright? I'm coming back." Damned mouth nearly betrayed me.
I turned away from her, knowing if I didn't I'd quite happily stay in her arms until Voldemort came after me himself. Every step away from her felt like another signature on my death warrant; I wanted nothing more than to run back to her at that moment.
"Harry!"
I turned around and found her staring at me, the hurt in her eyes all too obvious, and for a brief moment I allowed myself to believe that she returned my feelings. I closed the few remaining feet between us and pressed my lips to hers. She was shocked at first, but then she was kissing me back. I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven, but I knew that if I didn't stop, Voldemort would come find me and kill her right in front of my eyes.
I pulled away from her, squeezing her hand in an attempt at reassurance.
"I promise," I panted.
And then I took off.
<><><><><>
Sometimes, I wish I had stayed behind with her, that I'd whisked us away to a tropical island where a Voldemort was a particularly vile shot that got you pissed in no time rather than a megalomaniac wizard hell-bent on killing me.
I feel like I've been slowly dying from the inside out these three years. Maybe I was wrong when I thought she was kissing me back. Of course she wasn't. Who would want to kiss a murderer?
It can't be about the truth either, or she would've told me what was going on before I left. Even now, the truth can't set me free. Not until I see her face.
I'd be willing to bet that there's a million people on this Earth who feel the way I do right now, but that doesn't really matter to me right now. It's been three bloody years, and I still have a thing for her.
No, not a thing. It's more than a thing. I've been in love with her as long as I can remember, and was too bloody thick to realize it until it was too late. What I wouldn't give to see her face right now…
How could I keep going on pretending my laughter was real? We didn't even try to bridge the gap that was widening between us. Instead we were feeding the fire, falling further and further apart, and the damned smoke from that blasted fire was looming over my shoulder, reminding me that I'd failed. I couldn't make you love me, I knew that from the start. But how could you not see it?
I must've been wrong in thinking there was something there for me. Maybe you were Ron's all along, and that was another thing I was too thick to realize.
Maybe.
<><><><><>
It was over, the bastard was done and gone. The Portkey activated the moment I brought it to his cold, dead fingers, and I found myself rolling onto the grass with Riddle's corpse following me. Well, at least this time the Ministry couldn't claim there was no proof.
I wanted to lay there until someone else levitated me to a bed, and then sleep for a month. I was exhausted. And then I heard her voice. Her sweet, lovely voice.
"Harry!"
I raised my head just the tiniest bit until she was in my line of vision, just in time to see Ron triumphantly punch the air as he shouted that I'd won, and then kiss her.
The fucking prick.
There I was lying half-dead on the grass, barely breathing, and he was kissing her. If I'd had the energy I would've hexed him where he stood, but I couldn't take it anymore.
My head rolled back onto the ground and I shamefully did the only thing I had the energy left to do-cry.
I vaguely registered that Hermione was calling for me, but I couldn't find the will to care. She was Ron's now. He'd marked his territory, there was no hope for me. I wished Riddle had taken me with him.
"Harry James Potter, you get up right this instant or I'll-"
I definitely heard her that time, but I couldn't stop the tears before she saw them. She came closer and said in the most heartbroken voice I've ever heard, "Oh Merlin, Harry, hold on… It'll be okay."
She was waving her arm around madly at something I couldn't see, and I wished she'd just stop and hold me. I needed to feel her touch. I wasn't sure if I was even alive anymore.
"GO GET MADAME POMFREY FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN!"
Well that answers that. She was waving at Ron.
Prick.
"Oh, Harry…" I could die happy just hearing her say my name over and over, and yet I still couldn't stop crying. My head was in her lap and she was running her fingers through my hair. It felt delicious until she poured a potion down my throat and I nearly choked on it. Her cool fingers soothed my burning neck once more as I swallowed.
"H-mi-nee…"
Bloody hell, I sound like Viktor sodding Krum. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, that I wish I'd said it sooner, but my tongue felt like a lead weight in my mouth and it just wasn't cooperating.
"Shh, Harry. Not now. Madame Pomfrey's coming, you're going to be okay."
Next thing I knew I was being levitated onto a stretcher and away from Hermione. I waved my hand wildly until it came in contact with hers, and grabbed it tightly. "Forever…" I whispered, her hand slipping from mine.
Madame Pomfrey continued to take me to the hospital wing, and I was disappointed in her medical abilities when she didn't hear my heart shatter.
Forever. Three syllables, one simple word that held so much promise.
And then Ron took it all away.
<><><><><>
Three years to the day since I left. I really couldn't take it anymore. It was hell seeing them like that. Hermione pulled further and further away from me, and I couldn't blame her. I was a murderer - who could love me now? I hid away in the uppermost room of Grimmauld Place, which turned out had a rather dark collection of books stored away in it. It was the closest I could get to that hole I'd wanted earlier, so I stuck with it.
Every time I ventured outside the safety of the room I was greeted with some form of Ron attempting to woo Hermione. It was making me sick. I saw him try to kiss her once. She didn't even smack him or anything for it, just sighed and said "Oh, Ron," in that disappointed tone of hers. I didn't understand it, but the sight was enough to remind me of what my last meal tasted like. It was like I was a voodoo doll and the powers that be kept stabbing needles into my eyes and heart every time I left that room.
So I stopped leaving.
I summoned food and drink to me, and only left if I desperately needed the loo, and only if I was blindfolded and one hundred percent positive neither Ron nor Hermione were nearby.
There wasn't much for entertainment in that room, so I started reading the books that had been left there by various Black family members. I found a rather interesting one, referring to magical tattoos and their various properties. Most likely it was used by someone studying up on the Dark Mark, I really wouldn't be surprised, but it was rather interesting to see how the tattoos were applied.
Strictly academically speaking, of course.
Well, up until I did it on myself.
It was rather neat, the spellwork that went into a magical tattoo. I used a nearly flesh-coloured ink charm, so it wouldn't really be recognizable, and charmed it to be readable only upon the touch of my wand. Any other time, it resembled some vague runes that made no sense whatsoever. But when I touched it with my wand, the lines flew apart and rearranged themselves.
Hermione.
It was the only way I could have her, and I was determined to enjoy it. I spent many long hours staring at her name tattooed onto my inner forearm, imagining how she'd react if she found out. Probably hang me up by my toes or something equally silly for it. And then she'd soften and realize why I'd done it.
I love her.
The books provided me with an odd sense of comfort-probably because books and Hermione went hand in hand, and it was another way of having her close to me.
Then one night I couldn't take it anymore.
I had ventured to the loo, and had to unfortunately pass by Ron's bedroom to get to it. The bleeding moron had forgotten to cast a Silencing charm, and I could hear him moaning her name from within the walls. I didn't hear any response from her and knew that he must be wanking, but the sound of Ron's ecstasy was enough to make me vomit and flee the bathroom.
I locked myself in my room for an hour before I left it again, with all of my possessions and those books shrunken and stored in my pocket. I went down the stairs, and saw Hermione sitting on the sofa.
"I'm leaving," I said abruptly, not wanting to change my mind.
She stared at me, not saying a word.
"I should be happy," I continued, hoping she wouldn't argue with me. "Tom's gone; the world is safe, everyone else is happy. But I still feel so… messed up inside." Messed up was putting it mildly. It was like a rampaging Hungarian Horntail had taken over.
"I can help you," she said.
"You? Help me?" Was she insane? How was Ron trying to snog her every five seconds helping? She didn't even try to bloody fend him off! Ever since the battle she hadn't confided anything in me, hadn't even told me she cared. Well, she had, but not the way I wanted. I'd given up. She couldn't help me. "Hermione, you're half the problem! Every moment I spend with you is like having a needle permanently embedded in my eye. I can't take it anymore. It hurts… so much…"
Oh, she had no idea just how much. I stood up straight, trying to convey the finality of the moment by looking her directly in the eye.
"I'm leaving." I turned and headed for the door, but her hands were on my arm and turning me around to face her.
"You're not going anywhere, Harry James!"
James… it had been too long since she'd been mad enough to use my middle name. She looked so beautiful just then, but I couldn't let myself fall for it. I'd had enough. I was in love with her, Ron was in love with her, and things were just too complicated. I wanted to go back to my hole, but it wasn't safe anymore. Merlin she looked beautiful…
I couldn't help myself, I kissed her. And then I left. Disapparated without even ending the kiss.
And here it is, three years later. Six months ago I cracked, I started using Legilimency to check up on her in her dreams, see how she was. And then I cracked again. I would join in her dreams, talking to her like I was really there. One night I accidentally Apparated directly to her because I'd wanted her so badly. And after that I was hooked. Whenever I could, I'd Apparate next to her and spend the night utilizing my Legilimency skills to visit her in her dreams.
What I wouldn't have given to have her know I was really there.
This morning I'd had it. I'd deprived myself of her for three years, and it had been too long. I had to go back and tell her. Had to tell her I loved her. I Apparated just outside the parlour of Grimmauld place, where I heard her talking to Ron.
"..and sometimes…" she was saying as she paused to take a deep breath, "sometimes it's like I can still smell him there. Like fresh grass, and sweat and parchment."
Oh sweet Merlin, she remembers. And she sounds… wistful? Like she wished it were real?
There was silence for far too long and I crept as close to the doorframe as I could without being seen. Moments pass, and I can practically hear the gears in Ron's brain shifting.
"It's him…" He sounds like he can't believe it. It's me what?! What the sodding hell did I do? Do they smell that I'm here or something?
"I miss him, Ron."
Oh Hermione, I miss you too… more than I know.
"So do I," splutters Ron, still sounding shocked.
"Three years," mumbles Hermione, "Who knew…"
Sod those million people who felt as miserable as I did. She misses me. I can only hope that means she feels something for me.
"Who knew what?" I ask, stepping into the parlour.
Both their heads snap up, almost comically.
"Harry!"
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