The Required Person

Lisa David Normal Lisa David 61 14 1999-07-15T02:28:00Z 1999-07-20T00:40:00Z 3 1974 11257 Sunlight 93 22 13824 9.2720

Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs not to me…although we have a few good guesses on who it does belong to…*wink* All hail the great Joanne Kathleen Rowling!

I own this idea, but I can’t promise that it isn’t done before.

A/N: I had this plot bunny for a while, and when I see all the post-OotP R/Hr threads bashing my beloved ship, I just have an urge to write something. This is what I got, and it’s a very different piece than my other fics/ficlets archived at FFN or Portkey. For one thing, it’s not very fluffy, but I think that it’s more realistic in that sense. It’s also in Harry’s PoV, which I have never tried before, because I can incorporate a lot more emotions this way. I hope you like it.

The Required Person

By: Katrina

Dedicated to all the Pumpkinites out there!

No matter what, we alone sail the one true ship, the HMS Pumpkin Pie!

Warning: Contains MAJOR OotP spoilers—the person who dies, and assorted minor spoilers. Read at your own risk!

I never realized how much I really needed her till it is too late.

It was not at all like what everyone else thought, that there was always something between her and me, that because we were best friends of the opposite gender, we were always attracted to each other, and we will get together and all that.

No, not at all. In fact, not until recently did I stop finding her annoying. She probably annoys me more than Ron, and that’s saying something. But that’s also what makes her Hermione. Her and her library books, her knowledge, her continuous rants of knowledge that send Ron and me into exasperated stupor. Her S.P.E.W. campaigns, her D.A. idea (that actually worked), her “Wonky Faint”…. Despite the many times she’s been there for me, helping me, I’m ashamed to say that I’ve always found her a boring person to be with, someone that has few things that’s really in common with me.

But my fifth year had changed everything. The year that my world was forcefully turned upside down, the year that so many things which I’ve valued were utterly destroyed. At the end, I found myself desolate, and isolated from everyone else because of a stupid prophecy that Trelawney had the nerve to make. And then I realized how truly important she really was to me; all the times she was with me, and how little I’ve treasured it, all of these came back to me, filling me up with regret and guilt. She went through heaven and hell in the Department of Mystery with me, for me, more so than anyone else because she probably knew that she was doing the wrong thing, yet she stuck it through and almost died because I was just too thick to believe that I could be wrong. During the summer that followed, I literally ached for her, her hugs, her kisses on the cheek, her pinching my arm, and her large eyes as she listens to me attentively. I want to be able to speak to her again, to tell her my problems.

Because this time, I wouldn’t turn her away. I would let her into the deepest recess of my heart, and pour out my soul to her.

Because I know I can trust her, and that if there ever is a balm for the pains, Hermione Granger is the one for Harry Potter.

It’s just that things usually disappear when you realize that they’re important, and Hermione happens to be no exception. She positively disappeared this year, off to some place even Ron and I don’t know. Ginny’s lips are determinedly sealed. Once, I had run into Luna in the hallways, and what she said chilled me. “Do you think she’s running away from you?” she’d said, before turning away.

Do I?

As a matter of fact, yes, I do. A lot.

I’ve hurt her so many times that of course I have no right to expect her to be just there, taking my pent-up anger.

Hermione is never one to take anything from anyone. She isn’t strong-natured for nothing, and her stubbornness can match up to mine.

But that’s what I like about her.

Just not now!

I tried talking to Ron. He doesn’t understand. I tried talking to Ginny. She hasn’t seen enough of death, of suffering, of everything Hermione and I have seen; and she doesn’t remember that much of when Voldemort took over her mind. And Luna? She’ll be great, if she’ll leave off random and silly topics for a few seconds. And Neville? He’s suffered the way I did, and I don’t want to pick on his wounds when mine are fully exposed to the outside world.

So I face my fears and hurt alone by wandering through the school corridors, alone. Away from everyone else. And when it’s way past curfew, I sit alone in the dark common room, watch the flickering embers die, so reminiscent of life when it nears its end, whether it wants to or not. And again and again I see vividly the image of Sirius falling through the veil, his shocked face, and I now see his mouth opening up, as if to say some last words to me.

I never did hear it. The sounds of the duels are too loud.

And…face it, Harry. You never even try to listen, so sure that Sirius will appear on the other side.

The broken pieces of that mirror, I carry around with me at all times now. I’ve fixed it, and when I thought nobody’s looking, I’d always take it out and whisper his name. The reflection always remains mine, and I feel like I’m hopelessly obsessed with something that isn’t real, but I do it. Once, I saw her face in the mirror. She was standing very far behind me, several large books obscuring most of her body, but that head of chestnut hair was unmistakable. And as she turned to leave, not knowing that I’d seen her, I thought I saw a sparkle trailing out of her eyes.

Quidditch is no longer my outlet. The Firebolt reminds me of Sirius. The stands reminds me of Sirius. The trees…the laughter…practically everything, including Ron’s rumpled hair that leads to my dad which again leads to my godfather. Ginny and Alicia, the new Captain, had forcefully given me back my position, the one I’ve craved all of last year. I tried to resign so many times that McGonagall tells me that I’m going mad…well, she didn’t say it, but she insinuated it. She asks if I’d seen Dumbledore yet, and I mumbled a reply. The truth is, the last person I want to see is my headmaster. Haven’t I been enough trouble to him already? And him, crying, all because I was a complete jerk, throwing his instruments like that. Heck, I’m surprised I’m not in Stonewall right now.

I know it’s past curfew now, and the shadows are becoming more and more like Mrs. Norris. I draw my Invisibility Cloak closer around me, and sets to go back to the common room like usual, when I notice that something has appeared out of the blues.

The door to the Room of Requirement.

Wow, I haven’t seen it since I disbanded my “Dumbledore’s Army”. I didn’t realize that something has been required, but I walk over there, and rest my hand against the door, my heart thumping. Sirius is in there. Because he’s required, and this room gives me what’s required. Because I need him, and this room gives me who I need.

Right?

I push open the door, expecting to see Sirius sitting on the floor of my old D.A. classroom, but it isn’t the room I had known. The place is a very bare place, with heavy curtains, and little light. The ceiling is just like that of the Great Hall. I guess a pretty good place for a chat with my ‘dead’ godfather. “Sirius!” I call, walking straight toward the black curtain directly across. “Sirius!” I push back the curtains, hoping to see his face, whether human or ghost, but no…it’s just a stupid wall…it’s not my godfather…

I feel so empty that I feel like crying out loud right then and there. I need someone to talk to so badly…. I slump against the wall and close my eyes. You don’t deserve anyone to talk to, I tell myself. You are a complete jackass. This room is here for you to mourn.

The disappointment is bitter. I steady myself and start to leave. I have two Astronomy charts and three essays to finish, plus a Quidditch practice tomorrow…. Just as I reach the door, I hear something that stop my heart and send a rushing warmth through my body. Her voice.

“Harry?”

She is there, in the corner, looking surprised that I am there. Her hair looks wet, as if she’d just showered not too long ago, and she’s wearing her pajamas. But how can she know that I’m there? I’m under the cloak. I hold my breath and watch her. She is looking directly at me, with a smile at her lips and a frown at her brows.

“I know you’re there,” she says. “I can feel it.”

I take off my hood, and then the cloak completely. “Yeah, I’m here,” I say, and feel embarrassed. “Sorry to disturb you.” I suddenly grow angry. This is the place she hides in to avoid me? She sure goes through great efforts. The usual Hermione standards. “Sorry to forget that you’re hiding from me!” I add loudly.

I turn to leave again, but she comes toward me in a few long strides and yank my arm back so hard that I could nearly see it lifting out of its socket. “Is that what you think?” she asks breathlessly. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t what?” I retort, playing dumb, but inside I do feel hurt. Luna’s right, my brain’s practically screaming at me.

“That I’m avoiding you? That I’m scared of you? That that’s why I’m here?” she presses on, her voice growing higher-pitched as it always does when she’s under pressure by the second. “Is it?”

I am mad. I whip around, nearly sending her stumbling backwards, and glare at her. “So what if it is? Are you so afraid of the truth? Just tell me, will you? I can take it. You aren’t the only one, you know!” My breaths are coming fast. “Everyone is. Lupin…he won’t even look at me, I having killed his best friend. Dumbledore…he avoids me too, you’ve got yourself another companion. And Ron…and Ginny…and everyone-”

“But not me,” she whispers.

“Who are you playing?”

“I’m not playing anyone. If I want to avoid you, I would’ve done so a long time ago. You know that you look a lot scarier in fourth year, when you’re so worked up about the tournament. Why did I stay by you and take all the jeers and sneers? Answer me! And fifth year, when you’re a certified maniac? Why do you think I stayed with you? Answer me!” I stay silent. “So tell me why I’d avoid you now, because I’m interested too!”

“Then why are you here?”

She pauses. I grow reckless and open my mouth to speak again, when she looks up. “Why am I here?” she asks. “Because I’m waiting for you to come.”

Of all things I expect, that is not among the lengthy list. I stare at her, but she stares right back. Her warm chocolate-colored eyes are dark, cold, and hurt, but they still carry the sincerity I’ve always seen in them, the sincerity that I know I’ll always see. “I mean it,” she says briskly. “I’m waiting for you to realize that you need to talk to me, that you need me to talk to me, that you’d think to look for me here. And I tell you, I waited very long.”

You’d think that by now I would’ve stopped being the git, but I am still as clueless and confused as ever. “You can wait in the common room,” I venture.

“Harry…I’m tired of being taken for granted. I really am. It kills me to avoid you like this, but I have to, or else I’ll go mad that no matter how much I care for you, and how much I want you to realize that, you never will. Oh, God, what am I saying…I’m asking too much of you…” Her eyes are now shining with tears and she bits her lips. I hate to see her so sad and forlorn because of me.

“Hermione, I just realized how much you mean to me,” I tell her earnestly. “When you aren’t there for me, it’s as if a part of my life is missing, that my best friend who has always been there whether I know it or not is gone, that I know that I must get her back.” Is it really me talking? I’ve never heard myself speaking so emotionally to a girl, not after Cho Chang, but then again, speaking the truth is never hard for me. And, as I see her face light up, and her eyes soften, my courage surge, and I know for once that I’m doing the right thing. “I know now, Hermione, and I’m so sorry.”

A tear falls out of her eyes. “But you know now, and that’s all that matters.” Her voice sounds choked. Moved. She lay her hand gently on my arm, a gesture that we’re both familiar with, but I gesture that I crave horribly when she’s ‘gone’. “Let’s go back to the common room. You yourself have a bit of explaining to do for me. Fill me in on everything that has happened when I was unconscious in the Department of Mystery, and when I was in the hospital wing with everyone else.” She narrows her eyes threateningly, which brings a smile to my lips. “And this time, tell me everything.”

I don’t know what to feel. After everything I’ve just accused her of, she just dismisses it without demanding anything but my apology, and is willing to be my full confidant again. I feel so strong a gratitude toward her that I embrace her. I’ve never initiated such a close contact before, but I’ve never felt such an urge to be so close to Hermione Granger. She embraces me back, and I hear her crying on my shoulder. Not loud, babbling tears; soft ones, so soft that they’re almost nonexistent, but I can feel the tears rolling down and wetting my robes, and this is as different a sensation from having Cho in my arms as can be.

I feel my eyes misting up, and wonder why I haven’t come here sooner.

And I wonder why I haven’t realized that Hermione Granger isn’t only my best friend, my surrogate sister, but the required person in my heart.

La Fin

A/N: And the rest is up to your imagination, although it’s quite obvious what’s going to happen! =) It doesn’t have my usual snogs, but I find it better-suiting this way. I hope it’s worthy of an H/Hr ficlet! Please review and tell me what you think—I crave them as much as Harry craves Hermione!

~Katrina