Disclaimer: See Part 1.
Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing the first part; I'm glad you enjoyed it so much! In this one, there's more fluff but with a dash of angst too. Enjoy!
Everything to Him
Part 2: Confessing
He didn't mean for it to happen; he never would have meant for it to happen. Never would have meant to do that to Ron.
But at that moment, he could not have acted any differently.
Ron was gone; he had left a couple days ago with Mr. Weasley, who had come by to say that the Order had heard where Nagini might be and were going to try to capture Nagini-and see if Nagini really was a horcrux. But it was too dangerous for Harry to go too; Harry needed to be kept safe as the last, final weapon-not that anyone phrased it that way, but Harry knew that was what they meant. He was the last weapon, the one with the power to defeat Voldemort-and they needed to keep him safe.
He hadn't wanted Ron to go but Mr. Weasley had insisted and Ron had agreed (and it would, Harry knew, also allow Ron to spend a precious, stolen few hours with his family-and that had really been why Harry agreed to it. He felt badly enough over taking Ron away from his family, knew how much Mrs. Weasley worried; he wasn't going to deny them this.)
He'd only realized belatedly that Ron leaving also meant that he was alone with Hermione. He wouldn't have to see Ron and Hermione together but he'd be alone with Hermione-and for once in his life, he didn't want to be alone with her.
He was only her best friend, was used to only being her best friend-but it didn't make it easier when he wanted more.
He couldn't sleep, had been staring blindly out the window at the rain lashing against it. He started a little when he heard a soft sound and she slipped out of her room, joining him in the front room of the small cabin they were using as their hide-out this week.
"Can't you sleep, Harry?" she asked in a whisper as she settled onto the floor beside him.
"No. Can't you?"
"I had a nightmare," she admitted with a small shiver.
He looked at her-really looked at her-noting the faint traces of tear stains on her cheeks and the shadows under her eyes with a pang, his heart clenching. "I'm sorry," was all he could manage to say.
"It's not your fault."
"What--" he hesitated for a moment and then asked, very softly, "what are your nightmares about?"
"You."
The simple word seemed to stab at his heart and he sucked in his breath. He knew what she meant; it was the same as what made her-something happening to her-his nightmare. God, she cared about him so much, even as her best friend-how had he never realized before now the depths of her loyalty and her friendship? He felt a surge of almost painful warmth in his chest as a dangerous tenderness filled his heart.
"I didn't know I was that scary," he said in a lame attempt at humor to try to disguise his reaction.
She let out a huff of breath that was almost a laugh but didn't quite make it. "Oh Harry…" She paused and then admitted, very softly, "I'm scared of something happening to you, of you being hurt…" She didn't say aloud, of you dying, but he knew it was what she meant, and felt the shudder go through her just at the words.
And even though he knew it was a stupid thing to do, given everything, he couldn't help it. He had to comfort her, somehow, some way… He put one arm around her shoulder and felt her relax against him.
And he knew he was an idiot.
He was an idiot to have done this, an idiot to touch Hermione in any way when he'd spent the better part of the last couple months trying not to notice her like that and when he was still filled with an emotion he'd never felt before-but it was that same emotion that had compelled him to put his arm around her in the first place.
He wished he could tell her he would be fine, wished he could promise that they would all be fine-but he couldn't. It would be a lie and she would know it was a lie.
He felt rather than heard her soft sigh-just as he felt the warmth of her body pressed against his side.
He turned his head irresistibly and brushed his lips against her hair, his eyes closing automatically as he did so. God… her hair did feel as soft as it looked…
He heard her slight hitch of breath-he shouldn't have done that-and he felt her head move so she could look at him.
He met her eyes almost unwillingly, afraid she would see all he felt but unable to keep from looking at her.
Her eyes were soft, shining with an emotion he couldn't read, was afraid to try to read-and she looked so unutterably beautiful that his breath stuttered, stalled in his chest.
And even though he knew he shouldn't-he couldn't-she was his best friend and he was betraying Ron-at that moment, as he stared at her, he could not stop himself. All the emotion, all the longing, all he'd felt for her for weeks now, seemed to coalesce inside him. The tug of attraction, of desire, of caring, was as inexorable as gravity and he could no more resist it than he could stop his own heart from beating.
Slowly, very slowly, he bent his head and touched his lips to hers-lightly, tentatively as if he couldn't believe he was doing this. He felt her breath flutter against his cheek and then stop.
He started to draw back-reluctantly but he knew he had to, he shouldn't have kissed her at all-but she leaned forward almost imperceptibly, keeping her lips against his.
And something inside him gave way at the feel of her soft lips against his, and he lingered, prolonging the light touch of his lips to hers. (He knew he shouldn't be doing this but he couldn't help it. Just once, he decided hazily, just once, he wanted to kiss her…) Her lips were soft, so soft and so sweet, and it was… incredible and so much more than any other kiss had ever been-just as she was so much more than any other girl he knew. More because of the sweetness of her, more because of the warmth from her body, the warmth from where their lips touched radiating outwards and spreading heat through his entire body, more because he knew it was her…
He felt himself falling, any thoughts in his mind evaporating into wisps of smoke, and with a last struggle and effort, he managed to pull away, ending their kiss. He felt the loss of her lips against his as an almost physical blow-ridiculously-and felt an odd twist in his chest at the thought that he would never have that again, never be able to do that again.
He really was an idiot. It was going to be so much harder to deny his feelings, so much harder to hide his feelings, now that he knew what it felt like to kiss her, now that he'd felt the softness of her lips against his…
"I'm sorry," he blurted out in a strangled whisper. "I shouldn't have done that. I-I know you're with Ron and- and everything. I shouldn't have done it; I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… And it won't happen again, I promise." It couldn't happen again.
"What if--" she hesitated and then finished in a rush, a slight flush coloring her cheeks, "what if I want it to happen again?"
His lungs forgot how to function. He couldn't breathe, couldn't blink, couldn't think. He could only stare at her, uncertain, shocked, half-convinced he'd imagined it, afraid to hope… "Hermione, I…" he breathed but then trailed off, not knowing what to say
"Did you really want to kiss me? It wasn't just… just because I was there or- or because you miss Ginny and I was convenient or…"
He cut her words off with another kiss, just a light, quick brush of his lips against hers, because he couldn't help it, because the vulnerability he could hear in her tone and see in her eyes was hurting him, because he wanted to. "Hermione, no, it's you. I wanted-want-to kiss you…" There, he'd said it. The truth he'd been trying to deny, trying to forget, for weeks now but no longer-even if he knew he shouldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't deny it anymore.
"Really?"
"Yes," he said simply.
"Oh, Harry…" she sighed and she was the one to lean in and kiss him this time. Her lips touched, brushed his, lingered, and he gave in to the sweetness of it, the warmth of her, the temptation of her, and responded with a little more pressure, his tongue tentatively touching the seam of her lips that softened, parted with a slight flutter of a sigh.
His free hand moved of its own volition to touch her cheek, brushing her skin with his fingertips-her skin did feel as soft and smooth as it looked, he noted vaguely, as he cupped her cheek in his palm.
Warmth was spiraling up inside his body, tugging at him with a force that was stronger, deeper, somehow, than even attraction, deeper than anything he'd felt before. Tiny tendrils of desire were curling around him, enveloping him in a mesh of emotions and attraction in a world that was rapidly narrowing down to include only him and her, the feel of her, the warmth of her, the taste of her…
And then his conscience belatedly caught up to his body, breaking through the fog of his brain with its pointed prodding-Ron-and why he couldn't do this, they couldn't do this. He tore his mouth from hers with an act of will that seemed to require every shred of determination in him. "We can't do this," he managed to gasp, looking everywhere but at her lips, pink and moist and a little swollen from his lips. "What about Ron?"
A stricken expression crossed her face, extinguishing the light in her eyes so quickly and effectively it hurt him to see it. "Oh God, Ron… I'm a terrible person. You must think I'm such a--"
"Hermione!" he cut her off, his tone firm and yet gentle. "I could never think that of you. I just… I need to know what this is," he finished awkwardly-and then thought how- nice, how right- it was to be able to say something so inane and trust that Hermione would understand what he meant. (And that really was what made her more; it was in how she understood him, always had understood him…)
Her face seemed to crumple as her body sagged, tears filling her eyes and he flinched to see it. "I care about Ron. I do," she said in something approaching a wail. "But-but, Harry, you're… you and I-I always cared about you, fancied you first--"
He sucked in his breath sharply at that admission, feeling something like regret tug at his heart. He really had been blind; how could he not have noticed Hermione before now?
"But I thought you didn't care about me like that, never would care and Ron did and I do care for him too…" she trailed off, looking down at where her hands were twisting in her lap.
"I do care," Harry blurted out. "I do care about you like that, more than just as my best friend. I want you to be more than that…"
"Oh, Harry…" The tears spilled over out of her eyes even as she managed a tremulous smile for him before she threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. "I want that too. I always wanted it…" she half-wailed, her voice muffled by his shoulder.
He closed his arms around her, wondering how it was possible to feel such a rush of joy and, at the same time, feel so torn with guilt and apprehension and sadness at how Ron would react. He'd never known it was possible to feel so much, so many conflicting emotions, never known happiness could be, at the same time, so painful, so poignant. He'd never known-until now, until her…
And he was also, suddenly, excruciatingly aware with every nerve in his body of the warmth of her body, aware of every inch of her upper body pressed against his… He could feel her breasts pressed against his chest! (Even though he'd noticed them, somehow, actually feeling them was shocking.) And he could only wonder, a little dazedly, just how he could have hugged her so many times before and never noticed, never been aware of her like this…)
"I don't want to hurt Ron," he finally murmured-but he didn't release his grip on her, still held her.
She sniffled a little. "Neither do I-but, Harry," she drew back just enough to meet his eyes, "I can't be with Ron, knowing you care. I do care about Ron, but… but, Harry, it's you…"
And somehow, that statement, as incoherent as it might have been, was the most poignant thing he'd ever heard.
"We'll have to tell him."
"I'll tell him," she said at the same moment.
At any other time, Harry might have smiled at this-but not then, not with the thought of how Ron would react hanging over their heads.
"He's going to hate me," he said bleakly.
She didn't contradict him, didn't assure him that, of course, Ron would understand, wouldn't be angry. She knew that there was no guarantee of that and any such assurance would be a lie-and, oddly, that touched him, too, in a way he would never have expected. Her honesty-that she wouldn't lie to him about something important, about something like this, even to comfort him-meant something. She was the only person who had dared to call him on his 'saving people thing' in their 5th year, the only person who had challenged him in that year when he'd been angry at everyone-and she'd been right… He couldn't explain it but at that moment, he knew, understood, that no matter how badly Ron might react, he couldn't change this, wouldn't change this. He needed her-it wasn't only because he wanted to kiss her; it was more than that. She really was everything… his best friend, the person he trusted the most, the person who challenged him and made him better, the person he relied on-and she was the girl he noticed, wanted too…
He wanted to tell her something of this, wanted to tell her he needed her, but he couldn't find the words, couldn't think of anything to say or how to describe what he felt. So he settled for simply breathing her name, "Hermione…" and somehow, he couldn't help but think, maybe she would understand…
He lifted his hand again to touch her cheek, his fingers brushing her skin in the lightest of caresses.
Her eyes fluttered closed at his touch, as if to savor it, her lips parting slightly on a soft sigh, and he couldn't resist, leaned in to kiss her again…
And it was perfect. It was something about the softness of her lips, something about the taste of her, something about the way he could feel her breath against his cheek, something about knowing that it was her…
The kiss ended slowly, his lips lingering on hers, lightly tracing the outline of her lips with his, before finally, he drew away.
She settled in against him, leaning against him with a soft sigh of contentment, as he slipped his arm around her again, brushing his lips against her hair, much as he had earlier except now, this embrace felt more comfortable, more natural, closer somehow, than it had before.
"I didn't think you ever really looked at me as a girl," she finally broke the silence by saying quietly, idly.
"I didn't," he blurted out automatically.
She let out a brief huff of laughter in surprise at his honesty.
He moved his head just enough to meet her eyes. "I didn't," he repeated softly, "not until a couple months ago. I was blind; I don't know how I didn't see it, didn't see you… But I started to notice and I couldn't stop noticing, even when I didn't want to notice you like that."
The ghost of a smile curved her lips, brightened her eyes.
"You're so… beautiful," he blurted out with something like a sigh.
She blushed, her eyes almost seeming to glow as if she was illuminated from within-and his breath caught, his entire soul seeming to still, with an odd mixture of admiration and desire and reverence. She was beautiful-and she cared about him too…
His hand lifted of its own volition to touch her cheek, cupping it in his palm, as he closed the distance between them and kissed her again. And the vague thought flitted through his mind that he didn't know when or how but she had become everything he'd ever wanted…
~*~
Ron came back two days later.
He looked tired but jubilant in a restrained sort of way, as well, as he produced something out of his knapsack with a small flourish. "One piece of You-Know-Who's soul, just for you."
Harry stared, his throat suddenly closing, at the small golden cup which Ron placed on the table. Hufflepuff's cup. Ron had found it, with the help of his family, but he had found it.
And he was about to take Ron's girlfriend.
He swallowed, wondering if it was possible for his heart to physically crack from the weight of guilt settling on it. "Nagini wasn't there?"
"She was but not because she's a horcrux but because she was guarding this. Bill suggested a really complex series of curses and hexes that managed to neutralize her for several hours and we went and searched the entire place."
"Thanks," was all Harry could say, wretchedly.
"So, how did you guys spend your time while I was gone?" Ron asked curiously.
Hermione glanced at Harry and spoke up, a slight tremor in her voice, "Ron, we have to talk. I-I have to tell you something."
Maybe it was her tone and her expression that alerted Ron; maybe it was some instinct that told him, some sort of sixth sense to prepare him for heartbreak. Harry didn't know, would never know, how Ron guessed, but he watched as Ron's smile faded to be replaced with a stricken expression that seemed to stab at Harry's chest.
God, he felt as if he'd just killed something innocent and helpless, to see the light vanish from Ron's expression and his eyes as quickly as if it had been extinguished.
"Ron, I…" Hermione began.
"Don't tell me," Ron interrupted sharply in a voice that wasn't his own. "It's him-you and him-isn't it?"
Harry flinched at Ron's tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen, didn't mean to care-but I couldn't help it and it just… happened…"
Ron ignored Harry as if looking at him would be too painful, focused instead on Hermione, his face pale and tears beginning to show in his eyes. "I thought… I thought you really cared about me."
Hermione let out a muffled sob. "Ron, I do! I swear I do; I haven't been pretending these past few months. I do care…"
"Then-why?" All the confusion and all the hurt he felt rang in his voice in that single word.
Harry flinched at the sound and sensed, rather than saw, Hermione's slight shudder.
"Because… I love him…"
The words were soft, hardly above a whisper, but they were filled with so much suppressed emotion, her voice nearly quivered with it. And for the effect they had, they might as well have been shouted.
Harry's lungs seized-his heart seemed to stop, clenching--as he turned to gape at her, momentarily forgetting about Ron's hurt in his utter shock. She-she loved him?
Ron sucked in his breath sharply, paling even more if that was possible, until his freckles stood out starkly against the pallor of his skin. He stared at Hermione for a long, painful moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, raw with emotion. "I… I knew you loved him. I think… I think I always knew, somehow. But I thought-I hoped-that now, finally, you were over him, that it was me you cared about…"
His brief pause was punctuated by Hermione's sob.
"But I think… I always knew… you would choose him."
"I'm so sorry, Ron. It's not a choice; it's just… the way things are… I'm sorry…" Hermione sounded wretched, her voice oddly muffled from suppressed sobs.
Ron turned away, his throat working. "Yeah," was all he said but the single word contained so much hurt and so much resignation it was more heartrending than anything else could have been.
He didn't look at Harry, didn't look at Hermione again either, only headed towards the door of his room.
Harry stepped forward, not knowing what he wanted to say but feeling as if he had to say something. "Ron, I'm sorry… I--"
"Don't!" Ron cut him off sharply. "Don't say anything! I don't want to hear it! She chose you-but don't, for Merlin's sake, expect me to like you right now!"
Hermione saw the way Harry flinched, the stricken look in his eyes going straight to her heart, and yet, oddly, comforting her as well. Because in that moment, in the way he looked at Ron's rejection, she knew everything she wanted, needed, to know.
She knew how much Ron and his friendship meant to Harry; Ron had been his first friend, had been the thing he would miss the most in their 4th year. And even though she'd told herself it was silly, in some tiny, unacknowledged corner of her heart she'd wondered if he cared as much about her and her friendship-entirely aside from anything beyond friendship. She had wondered if she were only his second, the back-up friend so to speak. But in that moment, once and for all, she knew that wasn't true and it soothed, healed, that tiny corner of her heart that had wondered.
He hadn't said that he loved her, hadn't told her anything about his feelings other than that he cared about her as more than just a friend (which she had felt in his kiss)-but at that moment, she knew that he did love her.
She was suddenly filled with an incredible, poignant rush of happiness. He did love her-and after she had given up on his ever seeing her as anything other than his best friend, he did love her… And it was the most precious knowledge she'd ever had.
She moved to where he was still standing, staring at Ron's closed door with an almost haunted expression, and slipped her hand into his.
He turned to look at her as his hand tightened around hers.
She moved in close to him, putting her arm around him in a hug and feeling his arm go around her as well. It was only a hug of mutual comfort, could have been a hug between two purely platonic friends, but it meant more than that.
Neither of them said anything more for a time as they simply held each other. Simply held each other, in silence-and it was, somehow, all they needed.
~To be continued…
A/N 2: That one mention of the horcruxes is all the actual 'plot' you'll find in this fic and I included it solely because I wanted to get Ron out of the way. You see my priorities… ;-) Fluff and smut to come!