No Regrets

Amethyst

Rating: R
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 09/08/2007
Last Updated: 09/08/2007
Status: completed

Set after OotP, how Harry should have been at the beginning of HBP, and how Hermione should have reacted.

Chapters

1. No Regrets

1. No Regrets

No Regrets

Disclaimer: Not mine…and how that frustrates me.

~

“Harry?” she called tentatively, stepping into the dark room. He’d been a mess when Dumbledore had brought him to the Burrow for the summer, with telltale dark circles under his eyes, his skin sallow and pale – nothing near the slight tan he usually had in the summer from doing his relatives’ outdoor chores.

She knew he’d been having nightmares again, when he slept at all. One couldn’t live through something like that, couldn’t see the sudden and unwarranted death of a loved one without suffering some trauma. He’d hardly left the room they’d given him for the summer, the twins’ old room, had hardly eaten, even though Hermione knew he loved Mrs. Weasley’s food.

No one seemed to know what to do for him, nor was anyone brave enough to face him. Except for her. Harry needed help, and so Hermione would do the helping, the thing she did best.

“Go away, Hermione,” he said softly, not angrily, just…dead. Monotonous. She winced but didn’t back away. Instead, she shut the door behind her and stepped forward.

“No, Harry,” she said, approaching the bed which she could just make out in the moonlight. Harry lay on his side, fully clothed and on top of the covers, his back to her, facing the wall. “Not until you talk to me.”

“What’s there to say?” he muttered.

Hermione perched on the edge of the bed behind him, reaching out to place a hand on his upper arm. To her relief, he didn’t throw her off. “Whatever needs saying, Harry. Whatever you’re sad or angry about. You won’t heal until you do.”

Harry sat up abruptly, almost knocking her over in the process. “Fine. I am angry. I’m angry at Dumbledore for not telling me anything. I’m angry at Snape for being absolutely useless. I’m angry at Sirius for coming after us. I’m angry at Kreacher for betraying him. I’m angry at myself for not listening to you. I’m angry I forgot that damned mirror that could have saved his life. And I’m bloody pissed that I’ve lost the only family I had left, and it’s all my fault!”

He sat hunched over his drawn up knees, bringing up his hands to cover his face. Tears in her eyes, Hermione tugged them down, forcing him to look at her.

“Harry, you’re forgetting the one person you should be angry with.”

“Who?” he mumbled. “I’m the only idiot here.”

Hermione shook her head firmly. “No, Harry. What about Voldemort?” she said, enunciating the name clearly. “He took your parents away, Harry. He made your childhood hell. He’s plagued you all through school when you should have finally been safe and happy. He killed Cedric, which I know you still blame yourself for, too. He’s at fault for what happened last year, too – he’s the one that invaded your mind. He tricked you into thinking someone you loved was in danger, and his follower killed Sirius. And it’s Fudge’s bloody fault we couldn’t find out what was going on before it was too late!”

Harry laughed suddenly, and Hermione stared at him, wondering if he was going into some kind of nervous breakdown. “What – what’s funny, Harry?”

He continued chuckling weakly, shaking his head as he tried to speak and burst into laughter again. “It’s just…you…you swore, Hermione…the way you said it…” He fell back onto the bed, laughing in earnest.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but his laughter was infectious, and soon she was wiping tears of mirth from her own eyes as well.

“Really, though, Harry,” she managed some time later, searching for his hand in the darkness. He met her halfway, his fingers intertwining with hers, and his warmth washed over her. “Do you hear what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “And you’re right, as usual. It’s just…how do I move on from this, Hermione? He…he was my only family. What’s left now? What’s there to fight for?”

She gripped his hand tighter. “There’s everything to fight for. There’s goodness and friendship and…and love. I’m still here…and Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys. You know they would adopt you in a heartbeat. You’re not alone – you never will be, I promise you.”

“Maybe I should be alone, though,” Harry said, so sadly that she didn’t take it as she might have – as a subtle hint that he didn’t want her around.

“What do you mean, Harry?”

He sighed and closed his eyes. “’Neither can live while the other survives,’” he said, as though reciting. “That’s what the prophecy says about me and Voldemort, Hermione. I have to kill him. I don’t have the slightest idea how, and if he ever finds out what that prophecy said, he’ll come after me, and everyone around me will be in danger…he’s not exactly concerned about the innocent bystanders – “

“Shush, Harry,” she interrupted with gentle firmness. “If you’re the one destined to defeat him, there’s no way any of us are abandoning you. You’re going to need our help. You can’t research to save your life – you’ll never manage it without me. Besides, this isn’t your fight alone, Harry. Voldemort threatens us all, anyone who stands on the side of justice and equality and peace…no one with any principles at all could stand back and let someone else take care of that fight. I’ll be right there beside you.”

Harry sat up again and looked down at their joined hands. He was close enough now that she could feel the heat of his body there next to hers, almost invisible in the darkness. The feel of his calloused palm against hers was the only reassurance that he was really there.

“I don’t want to lose you, too,” he said with unusual candor, leaning closer. “I – when you got hit – I panicked – I couldn’t think…I’m afraid of that happening again.”

Hermione felt her heart stutter oddly at the thought – Harry had panicked, over her…but not over Ginny or Ron or even Sirius…

She disentangled her fingers in order to place a hand on either side of his face. She could feel the slightest trace of facial hair coming in, and she almost smiled to herself. Harry was growing up.

“You won’t lose me. I’ll do everything I can to insure that, Harry,” she said, leaning in to get a better look into his eyes. He looked at her strangely, as if he’d never really seen her before, like she was some stranger on the street whom he’d just taken a fancy to –

Hermione gulped as she realized that was exactly how he looked at her – like someone he fancied. Heat flooded her face and traveled down her body, and she couldn’t bring herself to move her hands or look away from his eyes. She was little more than a mouse trapped in the gaze of a snake, and she didn’t want to escape.

And then he’d closed the distance between them and his lips were upon hers, incredibly warm, yielding softly as he increased the pressure. Her body pressed closer to his, not waiting for her mind to catch up, and he drew her onto his lap, straddling his hips. His chest seemed very solid as he pulled her against him.

His tongue traced hotly across her lower lip, and she opened her mouth to meet his tongue with her own, sliding warm and wet against each other. The sensations shot straight through her, down to where their bodies created a subtle, maddening friction, and she groaned, kissing him harder. She wanted more of him…all of him.

She’d been suppressing these feelings for years, tamping down the jealousy she felt when he started paying attention to Cho, faking her enthusiasm for Ginny Weasley’s new plan to win him over, ignoring all the blatant signs that she wanted him for herself and herself alone. She wanted Harry to be happy, above all things, but if he wanted her like this, she didn’t have it in her to back away, wasn’t willing to take only friendship anymore.

She pulled away to catch her breath and felt his own chest heaving as his tightened his grip on her waist. “Don’t leave,” he pleaded. “I – I know you didn’t want that – I won’t do it again, it was selfish…”

“No,” she breathed, clutching at the moment before he destroyed it. “Don’t say that. I did want it.”

“But you don’t fancy me,” Harry said, as if it were a certainty, a fact. “Don’t do this because you feel sorry for me, Hermione.”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “Up until two minutes ago you’d never given the slightest indication that you thought of me that way. You’re not the only one who can hide your feelings, Harry.”

“I didn’t figure them out until a few minutes ago,” Harry replied, looking up sorrowfully at her. “I assumed I was too late.”

“No,” she countered, “I’ve always had this feeling about you, Harry, like I was meant to know you…like my future was tied up with yours. And now I know why.”

Harry groaned. “This feels wrong. Getting close to you, when it can only hurt you. Even if they don’t get to you, Hermione, I may not make it…this could end badly.”

“And if I let you push me away now, it would be the biggest regret of my life,” Hermione told him, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Just kiss me again, Harry – no regrets.”

“Okay,” he said, bringing his lips up to hers again.

His kisses were sweet and decadent, like ice cream melting on her tongue. They were an addiction. She could only reach for more, just as he did, peeling away clothes to reach more and more skin. His shirtless body against hers was exquisite, and even better when his hand stroked up her back to unclasp her bra. Every time he hesitated, she begged him not to stop…she’d made the promise to herself when she’d asked it of him – no regrets. She would not wake up in her own bed in the morning wishing she’d stayed in his. That was unacceptable.

And this…this was the most alive she’d ever felt, with his hands on her skin, trailing fire over her naked body. Feeling him and his heavy gasps of breath against her ear…she wanted to give him everything, and take everything in return…all of her for all of him. It was hardly an even trade, but it was the best she could offer.

Her certainty, her love, her fate was sealed by the way he said her name when he entered her…a mix of awe and wonderment, tenderness and affection, and pure want. His voice was thick with desire and painful pleasure, just as she was feeling. He was her world in that moment, her breath and life. And he brought her to the sweetest ecstasy she had ever known.

As they lay together in the afterglow, he tucked his body around hers, almost protectively, and whispered uncertainly in her ear, “No regrets?”

She smiled. “None. You?”

She felt him smile against her skin as he kissed her in the hollow behind her ear. “Only that it’s over.”