Chapter Two
Author Note: Quite simply, I couldn't leave it as it was.
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Nineteen Days Later…
The advent of autumn had brought with it a chill uncommon to the time of year. Though still only October the temperature was cold enough to demand long sleeves and jackets and houses up and down Britain were cranking up their thermostats early. Mornings were often characterised by a glistening frost and the birdsong of the high summer had long since died away. The Winter promised to be particularly cold, especially for Harry Potter, though his own bleak mid-Winter would, he suspect, have little to do with the falling temperatures and the panic over global warming that was being associated with them.
He pondered the prospect as he stared out of the shattered window of an upstairs bedroom in the ruined house his parents had once called home. Shards of glass still littered the floor and the small, jagged rock that caused them lay quietly against the back wall. Harry looked out over the narrow lane leading towards the village square; only the pub was open now, its brightly lit windows standing out amidst the fast descending darkness. Harry half thought about going in there; he had a handful of loose Muggle coins in his pocket that would change quite nicely into a pint of beer, aiding his desire to drown the sorrows threatening to drown him. But wallowing would not do and Hermione certainly wouldn't approve.
Tightness gripped his chest at the thought of her. He stared wistfully out into the night as he remembered their parting words, the look of despair haunting her eyes, reflecting the image in his own. She could be anywhere now; she was probably curled up, warm and cosy, with a steaming mug of something hot in front of the roaring fire in the hearth at Grimmauld Place, basking in its glow as the cold night drew in. The thought of her, so content and in such comfort, made Harry smile as he drew back from the window.
He looked around the room, wondering for the hundredth time why he had come back to this place. The answer was obvious and no matter how many times and in what myriad of ways he tried to ignore it, the truth still lingered on, droning away in the silence of solitude. The one thought, the one focus of all his musings, stared back at him from all four walls, from the street outside, from the sign in the garden, from all the things that they, and only they, had shared together. It had been then, in those precious, beautiful moments, stolen from the way they both knew things had to be, that Harry had finally realised what he had been looking for all his life. And that short time was all he would ever have if it.
Oh, the damnable misery of the thing! It scalded Harry on his insides, where he couldn't reach to sooth them. His inner torment mirrored the blankness of his external situation, for that was how he saw himself now; enclosed, trapped, unable to move to do anything right. Hermione was out of reach, gone, a truth realised too late. Then there was Ginny, an empty truth and promises of a hollow everything. The frustration swelled in Harry's chest and he kicked out at the air as if determined to vent on life, on his destiny itself.
Common sense, in Hermione's voice, calmed Harry and brought him reason. It was all very well to feel sorry for himself, but he knew that there really was no other way. He and Hermione had said it all; there was no way they could betray Ron like that, no way that they could break his very essence by being together. They both loved him too much. Harry felt that same corrosive hatred bubble up on his dark side that he'd felt for Ron back in the old tent all those months ago. It wasn't his fault, but now he had everything while Harry played for scraps of nothing. He lay down on the mouldy bed in the corner, dreaming longingly of snatched moments with Hermione; they were together on Buckbeak, they were laughing at the image of Pince and Filch with a love potion, her arms were around him after Dumbledore died…
Dumbledore. The thought came to Harry with an unexpected jolt. I counted on Miss Granger to slow you up. He closed his eyes as a shiver of sorrow flooded him. He had known; he'd known all along. But by the time he was ready to tell some truth's Hermione was already lost. Was it his influence that swayed the Sorting Hat to ease Hermione away from Ravenclaw just so she and Harry would meet? Did Dumbledore know that she was going to be that important? Harry wouldn't have put it past the old man and the more he thought on it the more likely it became. The Philosopher's Stone - she was there till the end; she found out about the basilisk; she helped save Buckbeak, and then saved Harry when he locked himself in the Hippogriff's room; there was too much sense for it all to be coincidence. Why didn't you tell me, Dumbledore?
At some stage during these maddening thoughts, Harry must have drifted off into an uneasy sleep. He was woken by a soft tapping nearby, a constant drumming that gnawed into his skull. Groggy and half-awake, Harry roused himself and made for the source of the noise fully prepared to curse into smithereens the foolish entity who dared disturb his despair.
It appeared to be coming from downstairs and Harry was halfway there when the cause of the rapping revealed itself. The door, which was only loosely closed and nowhere near securely fastened, came away from the makeshift bolt Harry had fashioned for it. A flash of light blasted through the gaps in the rotting frame and Harry vaulted the final few stairs to meet the intruder, only to be enveloped by an expanse of bushy hair as they collided.
Harry was so overwhelmed by the surge of emotion he felt upon seeing Hermione that he couldn't think clearly for several minutes and speech was a concept suddenly alien to him. For her part, Hermione simply held Harry close, breathing slowly and seeming to emanate tangible waves of contentment that set about soothing the hurt Harry had been feeling.
Hermione spoke suddenly. "I'm so sorry, Harry, but I just couldn't stay away any longer. I just couldn't."
Harry's response was to cling onto her tighter still as though she were some apparition on the verge of fading away. He had no thought beyond that of holding Hermione; the feel of her, the warmth of her, her scent so intoxicating yet so familiar and comforting.
"Come on, lets go upstairs," said Harry.
They walked up arm-in-arm, both unwilling to let go of the other. Harry guided Hermione into the bedroom; the flickering light from the little fire still burning in the centre of the room fell onto her face, showing her to be tired and lined. Harry felt an acidic loathing for himself rise in his throat; how dare he let her get into a state such as this?
"How did you know I'd be here?" asked Harry, sitting on the edge of the grubby bed.
"You may be an enigma to everyone else, Harry, but I can read you like book," said Hermione. Harry couldn't help but smirk at the truth of this. "I knew this was where you'd be. I spoke to Kingsley at work and he said he hadn't seen you. It didn't take me long to find out that nobody had seen you in ages. They're thinking about declaring you officially missing, actually."
For a fleeting, beautiful moment Harry thought this would be a perfect thing; him missing and Hermione as the chief in charge of finding him. The time they could have together! Reality interrupted this dangerous chain of thought like a blunt instrument.
"Ron suspects something," said Hermione. "You disappear and I fall into near depression. I've been excusing it away as worry over where you are, but that wont last. He's slow on the uptake but he's not completely stupid."
"You fell into near depression?" Harry asked dismally. And he was just thinking that he couldn't possibly feel any worse.
"I haven't stopped crying since you left," said Hermione. "Your words stayed with me like they'd scorched my ears. I tried to do what we'd agreed at first; I went back to Ron, tried to console myself with him. But everything just felt empty and wrong. I knew after a few days that it wasn't going to work. There is no way I can be with Ron, not now I know how you feel about me."
"Have you said anything to him?"
"Oh yeah!" cried Hermione incredulously. "`By the way Ron, me and Harry kissed and have stronger feelings for each other than you and me.' I'd have to be crazy to say something like that."
"Then why are you here?" said Harry. "Why have you come?"
"Because I can't handle the despair anymore," said Hermione. "I've missed you so much that it actually hurts. I swear I've got bruises over it. A-Aren't you happy that I'm here?"
"No, I'm not," said Harry, standing up. "This can't happen, Hermione, we agreed on that. I left Grimmauld Place to get away from you, to stop thinking about you."
"And has it worked?" said Hermione taking a step closer to him.
"Well - no, it's worse," said Harry. "But there isn't anything we can do about it. Ron would never forgive us."
"Oh, why does it always have to be about Ron? Don't you think we've stepped on eggshells for him long enough?"
"You tell me!" said Harry, his voice rising. "You're the one going out with him."
"You're the one knocking around with his sister!" said Hermione angrily. They were so close Harry could see her pupils dilating in the firelight. "If she wasn't so irresistible…"
"She isn't what I want, as you well know," said Harry, wounded. "But you're the one turning into little Miss Molly for Ron."
Harry felt Hermione slap him before he could even react. She fumed at him, her hot breath tickling his face. His cheek was tingling from the slap and starting to burn a little as Hermione suddenly flung her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. He responded, meeting her intensity with passion of his own. For a moment they were simply lost in the moment, Harry unable to form a cohesive thought aside from that of Hermione's embrace. Then she broke away, breathing heavily.
"Now don't you dare tell me this isn't what you want," Hermione panted. "Not after a kiss like that."
"I never said that, and I never would" said Harry, drained by it all. "It's the only thing I want, but we can't have it. You won't do it and neither will I. There's just no way without hurting everyone closest to us."
"Including me and you!"
"Me and you more than most!" said Harry hotly. "It's a straight choice between you and me being hurt, but still being friends, or incurring the hatred of the Weasleys. They've been like a family to me since the beginning but seven years of friendship will count for nothing if I steal you from Ron. They've lost enough."
"And what about you?" cried Hermione shrilly. "Is there anything you haven't lost? Your parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, not to mention all those years of abuse by your Aunt and Uncle. What difference is that to what the Weasley's have lost? There's no good reason why you should have to suffer again for someone else."
"Alright then - leave Ron," said Harry. "We'll turn our backs on everything we know and run away together."
Hermione fell silent and turned away. The fire crackled and outside an owl hooted somewhere.
"You see, it isn't as easy as all that," said Harry. He moved to Hermione, who was looking through the window, and put his hands on her shoulders, his head against the back of hers. "This has never been about just you and me. If it was there'd be no problem, but it isn't. It's you, me and everyone else that's meant more to us than just friends. Would you really betray them like that?"
"For you, I already have," said Hermione. She turned to face Harry. "I'm here, we've kissed, my heart belongs to you. The only one I'm betraying is me. But I'm not like you, I'm not noble. I don't want to hurt Ron but I don't want to give you up either. I'm Ron's girlfriend but I don't feel guilty about being here with you. What does that say about me?"
"It says that you're a no-good, dirty tramp," Harry teased. "Or that your heart belongs one place and your head another."
"No, that's not right," said Hermione, turning so that their faces were an inch apart. "All of me belongs in the same place - and that place is right here. Look, Harry, I'm offering to do what we both want. I'm prepared to deal with all that will come from the Weasleys. The only question is whether you can. Do you love me enough to be happy with just me and turn Ron and Ginny and the rest away?"
Harry looked at Hermione. Up close she looked so scared, so vulnerable but she really meant what she was saying. She was ready to sacrifice the life they'd known for a new one together. It was a gesture so powerful that he couldn't get his head around it.
"I think it's about time you stopped doing things for other people and got something you really wanted," said Hermione. "The whole of the Wizarding World knows that you've earned a little bit of selfishness."
"You seem to have thought a lot about this," said Harry.
"It's all I've thought about," said Hermione. "It'll be the hardest thing we've ever had to do, and that's saying something. But I'm willing to do it because giving each other up is harder, and we both know this because of what we've suffered by being apart. Even Luna said I look terrible."
"Luna? What does she know about it?"
"Oh…pretty much everything," said Hermione. "I've been hiding out a lot at Hogwarts. The new term's not long started there, you know, and I've been using the Library as cover for avoiding Ron. Luna's been very kind, she knows what I'm going through."
"You told her!" said Harry in disbelief.
"She sort of guessed," said Hermione. "She just came out and said `It's about Harry, isn't it?' one day. She said she'd always thought there was something between us and was surprised that we'd never given it a shot."
Harry felt a powerful rush of affection for Luna. "Smart girl, that one. There's more to her than meets the eye."
"You're not wrong," said Hermione. "I'd never have thought she was so perceptive. Then I realised that she's in exactly the same boat as me. I feel awful for having given her such a hard time."
"What do you mean, `in the same boat'?"
"She with Dean Thomas now, isn't she," Hermione explained. "But she doesn't really want to be. An owl came from him when we were in the library one afternoon. I could tell from the look on her face that her heart isn't really in it. She must like someone else."
"I never thought I'd see the day when you and Luna would bond," said Harry. "Did she give you any advice?"
"Just to be true to myself," said Hermione. "She said one of the things about being different is that you learn to be happy as long as you like yourself. She knows people call her names and poke fun but she's happy who she is and lets them get on with it. It was all the spur I needed to come here. As long as we're together I'll be happy. I can take whatever flak comes with that."
"And if you can, I can," said Harry finally. The decision was made now and the glow on Hermione's face told Harry instantly that it was the right one. "The only thing now is how we break it to them."
"One obstacle at a time, Harry," said Hermione gently, stroking a stray hair back from his face. "Besides, we have more important things to attend to."
"Like what?"
She leaned in and kissed him again, her hands roving. They tumbled backwards, locked together, onto the mouldy bed. All their problems could wait until the morning; for now, there was just tonight.
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