The Reason
A/N: Hello there! This was originally posted in FF.net, but I love this site so much (and I finally got accepted!) that I decided to put it here, too.
This story for some reason just popped into my mind, and the only way for my soul to be at peace was to write it down. I'm feeling quite sad and frustrated, but this cheered me up. This is a one shot, by the way. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Nah, I don't own anything, save for the plot...
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On that beautiful summer night, the atmosphere was simply festive. It was hard to believe that outside that garden, four Horcruxes and Voldemort awaited. It seemed surreal that after this night, the last vestiges of peace they may have possessed would disappear. Uncertainty choked her every thought. Would they be alright? Would many people die, and suffer? Would this War be over at last?
Would he survive?
Yes. Yes, he would survive. She was willing to exchange her life for his safety.
Hermione sighed as she narrowed her eyes at the lights hanging everywhere, looking around with a smile. The wedding had been very beautiful, very emotive, very... Weasley-ish, and the reception was no different. Alcohol to get a herd of thestrals drunk, food to make a dragon feel fat, and of course various assortments from the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Loud, happy music played by a band she didn't know floated in the air; people of all kinds and seizes were dancing to the beat. Ron was wearing a tux, as his brothers, and Ginny was wearing a lavender maid of honour dress. Hermione was also wearing a formal dress, and her hair was perfectly curled for the occasion- Molly had told her that since "she was coming with Ron" she had to look dazzling.
Coming with Ron...
As she sighed, Hermione walked over the abandoned chairs near the fairy infested trees and heavily sat down on one of them, crossing her legs as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand. Her eyes found Ron laughing with Charlie on the other side of the garden and her brow furrowed. When she had arrived to the Burrow Ron had openly gaped at her, and had told her "Wow Hermione, you look hot!" She had blushed and forced a smile at the comment. For some reason, she had not felt the very least flattered by Ron's bluntness. In fact, she found herself wondering what Harry would have said on her appearance.
Hermione had made many mistakes during her sixth year, she knew. She had been wrong in not trusting Harry about Draco; she had been wrong in treating him like trash because he had archived higher notes than her, she had been wrong about Ron... But her biggest mistake had been, actually, letting Harry go. Beaming when he kissed Ginny... Back then, she couldn't have known what that sensation in the pit of her stomach had been. She had thought it was happiness.
How very wrong she had been.
So she went for Ron. At the end of their fifth year, Hermione knew that she would have to keep an eye on her feelings towards Harry. They were going out of control, and nothing went out of control in her life; not if she could help it- Her feelings were no exception. So Hermione had suppressed any kind of `more than friendly' feelings towards her emerald eyed friend and carried on with her life. How could she have known that the suppression of those feelings would have resulted in her disastrous sixth year? Trying to detach herself from Harry, to gain a little distance, had equalled in becoming someone Draco Malfoy would have been proud of.
And, of course, there was Ron. Ron... Hermione had tried to truly love him, honestly, she had... And that had also been a fiasco. Ron was nice person, yes, and he had loved her since their third year, but that didn't mean that he could make her happy. His taunts had gotten hurtful over the years, hurtful to the point that lately she felt very uncomfortable around him. Ron was too hyper, too loud... And, if she dare say it, quite immature. Hermione still found it unbelievable that he was envious of Harry for being famous. That insecurity complex, combined with his jealousy and possessiveness, made Hermione recoil from him. Giving their friendship a chance to become something more had apparently made all the flaws in their relationship dance in front of her clearly, so clearly that it became unthinkable for Hermione to regard Ron as something more than a friend.
Hermione sighed sadly again and rubbed her eyes with her free hand, her eyes once again sweeping the garden, and they fell on Ginny. Over the summer, Hermione had had plenty of time to analyze her feelings and probe them. On Dumbledore's funeral, she had heard the conversation between Harry and Ginny, and knew that they were near the break up... Ron was hugging her as she cried, and Hermione had been quite ashamed of herself when the tears of grief mixed with tears of aching and longing for Harry. She had been so confused. In the span of two minutes, Hermione had wished that it was Harry holding her, instead of Ron... And she hadn't liked that sudden urge; it reminded her of those feelings she had prohibited herself to acknowledge. Well, she had been right about Harry and Ginny: they had broken up. Ginny had cried, had been mad, and had been depressed... While Hermione had found herself with a strange sense of vindication.
And as Harry left the train station to return to his aunt and uncle, Hermione should have known. As the days passed without a single letter from him, and anxiety consumed her, Hermione should have guessed. She had been on the verge of paying him a very early visit on the Dursley's... How was he doing? Was he alright? How was he feeling? Was he having a rough time accepting Dumbledore's death? Despite all those obvious anvils, it was not before Harry actually called Hermione to her house that she `realized' she was in love with him.
Yes, she loved him. She loved him so much that it hurt her... Oh, how she missed him even when they were inches apart.
"Hermione," someone said next to her ear, and her train of thought was broken. She blinked quickly and her head turned to see Ron there, smiling at her. His cheeks were red.
"Hey," she replied softly, returning the smile.
"Want to dance?" He offered, stretching his hand toward her. Hermione gazed at his hand and for a moment wanted to tell Ron that she didn't love him, that she wanted to dance with Harry; and incidentally, where was Harry? She had not seen him since the wedding ceremony.
"Sure," she agreed quietly, and Ron grabbed her hand to drag her towards the crowd that danced nearby. As she tried to look carefree and not dance mechanically, her eyes searched for a mop of untidy black hair among the sea of red and brown and blonde, but there was none. What if he had left without any warning? Harry wouldn't do that, right? Hermione bit her lip as Ron spun her around, and as she glanced at the empty part of the garden, her heart skipped a beat. Harry was there, leaning against a tree, staring at them dance with his hands in his pockets and an impassive face. When he noticed her gaze, he looked away hastily.
"This is great, isn't it?" Ron suddenly asked her, slightly leaning over. Hermione stepped away from him on reflex.
"Yeah, it is," she replied. "Ron, goodness, how much have you drank? You could set off a fire alarm with that breath!" She added. Ron grinned widely, spinning her around again.
"That's the idea... It's a wedding, Hermione! Lighten up!" He exclaimed. She rolled her eyes and pried herself off from Ron's drunken grip, glancing in direction of Harry, who didn't look away this time.
"I'm thirsty... I'll be right back, okay?" She told him. Ron nodded and kissed her cheek, making her flinch. Forcing yet another smile Hermione whipped around and started walking towards her other best friend, shuddering. Harry stared back at her as she neared him, still inexpressive, unmoving... Unnerving. A smile found the way to her face as she stood in front of him.
"Having a nice time?" Harry asked, nodding in direction of the Weasley/ Delacour congregation.
"Not really," Hermione honestly replied, shrugging. "Too many things inside my head..."
"I know what you mean," he replied with a smirk, breaking the eye contact.
"And what about you?" Harry shrugged one shoulder and gave a non committal jerk of the head, but didn't reply. Hermione sighed and leaned against the tree bark, next to Harry, and closed her eyes for a second. "I'm sorry, Harry," she blurted out, blushing as she stared down at her shoes.
"Whatever for?" He wanted to know, raising his eyebrows. Hermione's brow furrowed.
"For our sixth year," she answered, looking up at him. "I was horrible to you. To everyone, really, but... Mostly to you." She whispered the last part, ashamed, and looked away from those hypnotic green eyes.
"Well, like I was any better," came the surprising reply. Hermione sharply gazed up at Harry, frowning slightly.
"What do you mean?" She questioned curiously. He kicked a small pebble before answering, avoiding her eyes.
"The Draco thing, the Half Blood Prince... I should have listened to you," he started barely above a whisper. "Just like I should have listened to you about Sirius," he added angrily. Hermione's heart went out to him at these comments, but she suppressed the need to hug him. She had to remember that Harry did not return her feelings.
"Oh, Harry... It wasn't your fault. Voldemort is not stupid, as you must know..." she trailed off; Harry smiled.
"Yes, I've noticed," he retorted. A silence fell upon them, and Hermione found herself staring up at the other set of fairies adorning the tree leaves; she didn't know what to tell him next. "Are you dating Ron?" His voice quivered slightly, with a note of urgency in it.
"No." It sounded harsher than expected, she noticed.
"But I thought... With all your bickering and stuff..." he trailed off. Hermione snorted at this.
"If I were to act by that kind of thing, I'd be married to Malfoy and carrying his babies," she told him. "Unresolved sexual tension, my bum. That `if you fight you're in love' argument would've been fine if we were ten years old," she added. Harry smirked.
"Ron never seemed to grow out of it, didn't he?" Hermione raised her eyebrows at this, surprised.
"I think that this is the second time in two years that I've heard you take my side when it comes to Ron," she commented, blushing crimson and glancing down.
"I agree with you most of the time, you know. My pride coming in the way doesn't have anything to with it," Harry said softly.
"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione whispered, gazing at him. He shrugged.
"I'm leaving tonight. After this," He said. Hermione widened her eyes at his confession, feeling as though the ground under her feet had been removed.
"Harry- You can't- Weren't you going to tell us?" Hermione hissed, feeling wounded.
"Of course I was. It's just... Ron is drunk, first of all, and you seemed to be having a good time with him, and I didn't want to upset you-"
"Well, I'm coming with you," Hermione cut him off, straightening her back. Harry frowned and turned away, running his fingers through his hair.
"You don't have to," he muttered. Hermione grabbed his shoulders to turn him around, pushing him against the tree roughly. She had fire in her eyes.
"Don't you dare say that, Harry Potter. Don't you dare! I'm coming with you, and nothing's going to stop me!" She told him loudly. Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but no sound came out of it. "You mean more to me than Death Eaters, and Horcruxes, and Voldemort- I neglected you for a whole year, and I'm not about to make that mistake again! I'm not going to leave you alone, not now, not ne-"
And that was when Harry interrupted her with a kiss.
It wasn't soft, it wasn't gentle, and it wasn't sweet. It was a rough kiss, filled with urgency and need; a kiss of one so desperate, looking for reassurance and safety... Harry cupped her cheeks to bring her closer, and she didn't refuse. She might be surprised by his action, but she still knew that she certainly didn't object to it. And yet, before she could begin enjoying the kiss, it ended. Slowly, Hermione opened her eyes and saw Harry's wide, scared eyes; he removed his hands as quickly as if her skin had burnt them.
"I'm sorry-" he breathed, stepping away from her.
"Harry-"
"I'm so sorry," he repeated, whipping around and walking away quickly. Hermione scowled and followed him, but the closer she got the faster he walked; away from the party, away from the lights and the warmth, and into the darkness.
"Harry James Potter, stop!" Hermione ordered, managing to grab his sleeve. As if hit by a Petrificus Totalus he halted and waited, his back still to her. In one swift movement Hermione moved to face him, but Harry wouldn't meet her eyes. "Harry, look at me."
"I can't," he croaked. Before Hermione could utter a response, he jerked away from her. "I- Hermione, I can't let you- I won't allow you to get involved in this."
"Well, it's too late. It was too late from the moment you saved me from the troll," she replied. He shook his head.
"This is different," he said barely above a whisper.
"Is it, Harry? Pray tell, what is the difference? I won't allow you to push me away. It would be a waste of time that we don't have!" Hermione told him, stepping closer to him. Harry glared at her.
"You don't get it, do you?"
"What?"
"Why I broke up with Ginny."
Hermione blinked at this, and Harry smirked again at her silence.
"Well, I believe she didn't want to leave you alone, either," Hermione bitterly said.
"You're wrong," Harry said. "At first she didn't want to, yes. Then she just... accepted it, shall we say?"
"I don't understand," Hermione said, her brow furrowing. "What does this have to do with-"
"It was you," Harry growled.
"Excuse me?"
"She isn't you. She didn't force me to see that she'd never leave- She didn't try to- to coax me out of my playing the hero role!" Harry told her, blushing at the mention of his greatest flaw. Hermione suddenly felt like crying. Of course- Harry still loved Ginny, and he was just frustrated because she wouldn't be going with him on the Horcrux hunt. She should've known. That kiss had not meant anything.
"I see." Hermione managed to say, trying to seem calm and collected. The searing pain across her chest was, needless to say, not helping.
"No, you don't see," Harry said in a low voice. "Don't you get it, Hermione? I was expecting her to be like you. I expected her to show the same loyalty as you do, even if I'm not worthy of it... I wanted her to be you." Harry grabbed Hermione's shoulders, squeezing them. "I couldn't see it back then. I needed her to be you; I was waiting to see in Ginny what you are. That's why I broke up with her, you're the reason- Because she wasn't my Hermione," he whispered, boring his eyes into hers. Now it was Hermione's time to look like a fish, searching for the words inside her head, but her brain had apparently decided to lock down at his confession. This couldn't be real, this had to be a dream- There was no other logical explanation as to why this was happening to her.
"I-"
"I want- I need you, Hermione," Harry cut her off, his voice shaking. "I know that it's probably too late, but I don't care. I may be dead tomorrow, so you might as well know how I feel about you..." he trailed off, swallowing. "And I don't care if you don't feel the same way; I completely understand. Just don't- don't... Don't shun away from me, please."
Somewhere along those lines, Hermione's eyes had blurred with tears. She would be never able to describe how she was feeling right now- she felt as though she had just swallowed the sun, or had fallen asleep on a cloud; maybe, simply because she felt so immensely elated, she found herself crying on Harry's chest uncontrollably.
"Oh Harry, you idiot," Hermione sobbed, gazing at him and grabbing his cheeks softly, as if she feared that he would fade into thin air, "It's never too late." Harry gulped, and a shy smile began to tug at the corner of his lips.
"Does this mean... Do you..." His voice was thick with emotion. Hermione nodded; her lower lip shaking as she smiled.
"Yes, Harry... I do." It was amazing how hard it was for her to speak, how hard it was to convey and put down in words everything she was feeling...
"I- I'm so- Hermione..." He seemed to be having the same problem as her, so she spared him the torture of trying to explain his feelings through his voice with a kiss.
It wasn't soft, it wasn't gentle, and it wasn't sweet. It was a passionate kiss, dripping comfort and faithfulness; a kiss of one so devoted, offering love and a safe shelter for the rainy days to come.
The kiss deepened quickly...
Meanwhile, in the very heart of London, down in the Department of Mysteries, the door that was locked at all times, which contained that force that it was as once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature, suddenly unlocked itself with a discreet dry sound.
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A/N: Well, there it is. I hope that you liked it as much as I liked writing it, or at least found it enjoyable... I have my doubts about the ending, but, to me, it just seemed to fit. This story was originally intended as a one shot, but I'm trying to make it a long fic- tell me if you want me to continue or not. I hope that you'll let me know what you thought of my story by reviewing! Pretty please?
Bye, and thanks for reading!
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