When The World Ends

When The World Ends

“Harry?” She whispers hesitantly, opening the door.

He doesn't respond and she walks further into the room. The light from the hallway behind her, drifting into the darkened room. She stops in front of him and then sits down on the floor next to him, her shoulder brushing against his as she does.

“You okay?” She asks after a moment.

“Fine.” He says.

After a beat. “Liar.”

He looks at her, taken back. “What?”

Turning her head. “Liar.” She says again. “I know you're not fine.”

She could always tell when something was bothering him and he supposes that it wasn't too difficult to figure it out now, considering the impending doom looming over him.

Sighing. “You're right, I'm not. I'm scared. I'm absolutely terrified, Hermione.” He confesses, almost relieved to say the words out loud.

She huffs. “Well, who wouldn't be? You're only eighteen years old and you're supposed to save the world! Of course you're scared.”

He gives her a look, his green eyes narrowing behind his thin rimmed glasses. “If this is supposed to make me feel better, it's not. I'm not sure if this is one of your better pep talks.” He says skeptically.

A small smile tugs at her lips. “It's okay to be scared, Harry.” She says gently. “You want to know why?”

He nods mutely.

Reaching over and taking one of his hands in hers, squeezing it tight. “Because you're not alone.” He squeezes back gratefully.

“Well when you put it like that...” Feeling his apprehension lessen a bit.

She leans her head on his shoulder and sighs. “Whatever happens, it's not just you against Voldemort. It's us. You, me, and Ron. Like it's always been. Like it will always be.”

Nodding, he rests his cheek atop her head, her hair soft against his stubbled chin. The scent of her shampoo, familiar and comforting. Instantly, settling his nerves and bringing him peace.

“That's good. Because I don't think I could do this without you.” He says honestly.

She lifts her head from his shoulder and looks at him. “And you won't have to.” She smiles and he notices how her eyes practically dance in the dark. “But Harry, don't forget. You are a great wizard. And I know you can do this.”

He looks down. “How can you be so sure?”

She shrugs. “I just am. And I'm always right.” She declares airily.

He chuckles. “Well, I can't argue with that.” He teases.

She gasps dramatically. “Harry James Potter, are you insinuating that I'm a know-it-all?” Trying and failing to hide her smirk.

He grins widely. “Perhaps.” And then touching his forehead to hers. “But I don't care. You're still my best friend and the smartest witch I know.”

His green eyes glittering, meeting hers. He feels the familiar flutter of his heart as he looks at her. And he doesn't ignore it like he has done a hundred times before. He doesn't squelch it like he's grown accustomed to doing. He can't deny it anymore. He can't pretend it's not real, what he feels. More importantly, he doesn't want to.

He looks into her eyes, noting the flecks of gold and copper. He sees the fear hidden beneath the outward determination. There is sadness and doubt and worry. He sees all this and then his heart stops, catching a glimpse of something else. Something that wasn't there before. Her eyes widen slightly and then dart away from his, pulling back.

“What is it?” He asks, peering at her in the darkness. Strands of her hair slip free from their tie, obscuring his view of her face.

She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

She glances at him and then takes a deep breath. “Harry, let's just go back down.” She says wearily, beginning to stand up.

“No.” His hand grabbing her arm to stop her. She looks at him and his heart quickens. “Tell me what's wrong.”

“It's nothing. It was just a thought. It was silly and now it's gone.” She says, waving her hand in a dismissive manner.

“What kind of thought?” He presses.

She looks up at him and then back down, taking a shaky breath. “I'm a horrible person.” She says softly.

Concerned. “No, you're not.”

She nods. “Yes, I am. But I can't help it. Sometimes I just wish...” Trailing off.

“What?” He whispers, almost inaudible.

She looks up at him. “I wish that things were different. I wish it was you instead of Ron.”

Unable to believe it. “You do?” His heart ready to explode out of his chest, it was beating so fast.

She nods a little. “See, I'm a horrible person.” Ducking her head down, covering her face with her hands.

He leans in. “You're not horrible.” He says quietly then reaches for her hands, pulling them away from her face.

Her brown eyes swimming with unshed tears, guilty and ashamed. Making him feel all kinds of things he had convinced himself he wasn't supposed to feel. No, not for her. Never for her.

“I wish it were different too.” He confesses.

Staring back at him. “What?” She breathes.

He sighs. “You and Ron, it just seemed inevitable. Right from the start, everyone thought you two would get together the way you two bickered all the time. And then it happened and I wanted to be happy for both of you. I tried.” Looking down. “Ron is like a brother to me and I could see how much he cared for you.” He pauses, looking at her. “But inside, it was killing me to see you with him. Every look, every touch, every second was agony to watch.” Even thinking about it now, it made his stomach ache.

Tears slip down her cheek. “Harry...”

He rushes on. “I wanted to tell you so many times. So many times, I wished I had said something, but I thought you loved Ron.” He swallows nervously. “Don't you?”

She takes a breath. “I thought so, at least in the beginning. But then as time went on I realized that what I felt for Ron wasn't love. Well, at least not the kind of love that you should feel for your boyfriend. The kind of love Ron feels for me.” She says quietly, sadly. “And then you started dating Ginny and I don't know, it hurt so much. I couldn't say anything and I didn't want to hurt Ron, so I just...” She looks down, shrugging her shoulders helplessly.

He stares at her in disbelief. “I only started dating Ginny because I thought you didn't see me as anything but your friend.” Sighing. “She liked me and I guess, I liked her too.” He dips his head, catching her gaze. “I care about her, but I don't love her.”

She looks at him and then shakes her head sadly. “Well, isn't this a fine mess we've made.” Ruefully.

He takes a breath, looking down at their hands, entwined together. “I know.”

Hesitantly. “And now it's too late.” She whispers tearfully.

His heart aching, breaking as she says the words. Hating it, but at the same time, knowing it's true. No, they couldn't hurt Ron or Ginny like that. They wouldn't, he resolves.

His gaze drifts up, meeting with hers. Her brown eyes glistening. Tear tracks on her cheek, visible in the semi-darkness. The slight tremble of her chin and quiver of her bottom lip, drawing his attention to her mouth.

And then in a move so sudden it causes her breath to hitch, he presses his mouth to hers. Everything becomes still and quiet. Everything stops.

When the world ends, it isn't with the knowledge of what's to come. It isn't with slow and careful progression towards the inevitable. When the world ends, it's with an earth shattering revelation. It's with a climactic rush to completion.

When the world ends, it isn't with a thunderous roar. It isn't with an outcry of fury. When the world ends, it's with a soundless whimper. It's with a breathless gasp.

His lips move against hers, slow and unhurried. His hand finding it's way into her hair, causing more strands to slip free. Her hand rests against his cheek, a gesture that makes his heart falter inside his chest. Slow and unhurried becomes deep and desperate. And she's kissing him back with equal fervor and abandon.

There is the seductive slide of her tongue against his own, stealing his breath and stilling his heart. His fingers slipping down her spine, causing her to arch into him. Her fingers curling behind his neck, pulling him closer. Her soft breasts push up against his hard chest and a low groan erupts from deep in his throat.

Slowly, he lowers her to the carpeted floor, his body hovering over hers. His lips sliding over her chin and along jaw and then down her neck. His hand finding it's way under her shirt, caressing the soft skin of her flat stomach.

“Harry...” She breathes.

And he stops.

Pulling back, he stares down at her. Dark and delirious brown eyes stare back at him. Her cheeks flushed, tinted pink and her lips, swollen and parted. Her hair tangled and messy, completely undone now and spilled out over the floor. Beautiful and breathtaking.

She searches his eyes and then with a trembling hand, reaches up and pulls his glasses off, setting them carefully aside on the floor beside them. She touches his face, trailing her fingers across his forehead, tracing his scar. He closes his eyes to her light touch.

“If tomorrow never comes. If the world ends. If all we ever have is this. It would be enough for me.” She whispers.

He opens his eyes, looking down at her, realizing what she was saying. “Are you sure?” He whispers back.

She smiles. “I've never been so sure of anything in my life. I want this. I want you. I love you, Harry. I want you to know that.”

“Hermione...” He rests his forehead atop hers. His eyes gazing into hers. “I love you, too.” He says before covering her mouth with his.

It's more than a kiss. It's a pledge. A promise. A vow. From his heart to hers. From now until the end of the world. And for all of time after that.

When the world ends, all that's left is an echo of what once was.

The End.

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