Walking Away

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything Harry Potter related.  The entire franchise belongs to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and anybody else she may have given up some rights to.  There, now I can’t be held liable.

Author’s Note:  I was challenged to write this fic by my good friend and beta, Nitya.  She provided me with an icon (sorry I can’t provide you with the url to show it to you) of the post Yule Ball scene in the GoF movie where Hermione was crying as Harry and Ron walked away.  The icon, of course, crops Ron out, leaving just Harry walking away – hence the title of this particular ficlet.  I hope you enjoy it, and if you don’t, it’s all Nitya’s fault. =P

Walking Away

They were supposed to be celebrating.  Everyone.  Anyone who was left.  McGonagall had opened Hogwarts for the Order to celebrate the triumph over Lord Voldemort. 

Or, that is, Harry’s triumph.

It had, after all, been Harry who had defeated Voldemort.  How he did it was a mystery to everyone and Harry certainly wasn’t telling – not even his best friends.

It frustrated Hermione, Harry keeping secrets from her like that.  He could always tell her anything.  Yet he wouldn’t tell her that.

She, Harry, Ron, and the rest of the surviving members of the Order were sharing a formal feast with everyone who had returned to Hogwarts.  Once the feast was over, the tables had been cleared away so that everyone could chat.  Occasionally, one of the Order members would raise a glass and loudly toast one of their fallen members.  Dumbledore had been toasted to the most at nearly a dozen times.

Hermione had spotted him in his dark dress robes sneaking out of the Hall.  Curious and over-protective of him, a trait that had been developing slowly since their first year, Hermione followed him silently.  He was staring at the great oak front doors when she joined him in the entrance hall.

“Some party,” he mumbled, not looking over his shoulder to see her.

“Harry—”

“It’s not the same, Hermione,” he said quietly.  “Nothing is the same anymore.”

“Nothing’s been the same since that night he came back,” she said simply.

“No,” he agreed.  “The losses…”

“Yes, I know,” Hermione said sadly.  “There have so many.”

“Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks, Hagrid, Neville…” Harry murmured, listing them off one by one.

“Ginny,” she whispered, finishing off the list.

“Yes.”  He sighed.  “Ginny.”

She stepped closer to him.  “Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault she died,” he said.  “I wish like hell she had never followed us.  I told her not to.”

“She was always very headstrong, Harry,” she said gently.

“Yeah, I know.”  He stood there for a moment before turning around and facing her.  “I’m leaving, Hermione.”

She looked up at him and saw the determination in his eyes, arousing her own fear and dread.  “Why?”

“Because I have to,” he told her.  “I can’t – I can’t face anyone anymore.”

This sparked irritation in her.  “Why not?”

“Because…I can’t.  Not after what I’ve done, what I’ve become.”

“What you’ve become?” she repeated.  “What have you become?”

“Someone I’m afraid no one will recognize, not even me.”

“Where are you going to go?”

He shook his head.  “I can’t tell you, Hermione.  I won’t.  I know you – you’ll just come after me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” she asked fiercely, closing the distance between them.  “Harry – I went to hell and back with you.  Whatever path you’re going down now…I’m willing to go with you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Try me.”

He gave her a small smile.  He seemed to do this every time she showed her devotion to him.  “I don’t want you to come with me, Hermione.  I don’t want that life for you.  You should go back in the Great Hall and be with Ron.”

Now she was angry.  “Ron?  I don’t want to ‘be with’ Ron.  I don’t love Ron.”

His eyes widened.  Dammit, had she just said what she thought she’d said?

“Hermione—”

“What happened?” she asked, cutting him off.  “What happened that night between you and Voldemort?”

He stiffened.  Would he answer her?  Just when she was beginning to think that he wouldn’t, he spoke.

“Dumbledore said that my ability to love be the key to stopping Voldemort.  He said that love would be my greatest weapon.  But he was wrong.”  He looked at her square in the eye.  “I used my hate.  I hated him for Sirius and Dumbledore, Hagrid, Lupin, and Ginny.  My parents.  I hated him.  So I killed him.  I managed to disarm him and then, I pointed my wand at him and used the Killing Curse.  My hate was strong enough to kill him.”

She gulped.  “Oh, Harry…”

“Do you see now why I don’t want you following me?” he asked her severely.  “I don’t want you to follow my path…the path of a murderer.”

She shook her head slowly, although she felt tears spring into her eyes.  “You’re not a murderer.”

As if he had snapped, Harry took three long strides and grabbed her by the upper arms.  “I am, don’t you get it?  I killed a man.  If that doesn’t make me a murderer, what does it make me?”

“A savior,” she said, hating the fact that her voice was unsteady.  Her whole body was trembling.  “A hero.”

“Yeah,” he muttered.  “Some hero.”  He released her and headed back towards the doors.  “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“No,” she pleaded.  “Don’t, please.  I beg of you.”

He turned around, his eyes full of sorrow.  “I’m sorry, Hermione, but there’s nothing you can do or say to make me change my mind.”

She took a frantic step toward him, her mind panicking.  If he left and she never saw him again, then she could never tell him…

“I love you.”

He froze before her.  His eyes...they looked…wild.  She had never seen that look in his eyes before.  What exactly had she done?  What had she unleashed?

Swiftly, he closed the gap between and, reaching out, crushed his lips onto hers in a kiss unlike any that Hermione had received.  It was fierce, passionate, and untamed.  Hermione felt as though her legs were going to buckle from underneath her.

When it ended, he stepped back and looked into her eyes.  In his, she saw regret.  “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said again.  “I can’t stay.”

He turned and left her then, but this time, he did not turn back, nor did she give him any reason to.  Wiping the tears from her eyes, Hermione turned away, unwilling to watch him go.

That was the last time she had ever seen him.  She tried for years to find him, but all of her efforts were in vain.  He eluded her, although one night she felt as though someone was watching her.  Every time she looked, though, no one was there.

To honor him, she became an Auror, yet it seemed as though whenever she was on the trail of some dark wizard, somebody always got to him first.  It was during those times that she knew that Harry was still out here, and that he was still watching out for her.