Do forgive me...I had a ridiculously busy week and simply hadn't had time to post this.
Again, I wonder if anyone can tell me whether re-uploading a chapter erases already existing data (like reviews)?
Anyway, enjoy!
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Chapter Three: Broken
Hermione felt as if her breathing was slowly coming to a halt. Her eyes were wide with mingled shock and fear at those words, and her legs, numb from the shock, didn't seem to want to move. She stood there, trying to process the situation, and watched as the dull murmur of conversation came to a shuddering halt. Everyone turned to stare at the woman, who was looking all the more distressed and afraid with each passing moment.
Death Eaters had broken in.
And she'd actually seen them! The two men that had entered Stratovac's office after she'd left it, and the one that had bumped into her just moments ago…
Snape, her mind seemed to whisper. She'd know those eyes anywhere-those were the eyes that had watched Harry for seven years, pure hatred and resentment evident. Those eyes were the ones that had gleamed with silent scorn as he'd ridiculed Harry, Ron, and her in class for six years straight; from before they even knew who he really was and what he'd done.
And she hadn't known who he was right then. She'd just let him wriggle away from her grasp. He'd been so close-she could have snatched those papers from his hands and cursed him without much effort…but she hadn't.
Hermione stood, listening as people turned to their companions and whispered hysterically at those words, all wanting to not believe it. They didn't want to accept that they were in danger, and much less that the people they had come here for might be as well.
And then the woman spoke again.
"P-please…he's hurt-he needs h-help right away!" she said, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as she gestured for someone to come.
Five healers shoved their way through the crowd towards her. Hermione herself started walking, to her own surprise, towards the woman. As she neared her, she turned to the crowd and called imploringly, "Someone contact the Ministry-now. And the rest of you, be prepared to defend yourselves if necessary. Hide. Leave, if you think that's what you should do. Just don't let them get out or harm you."
Her voice sounded so brave, as if she were completely composed and this was nothing to her.
But it was. Her face was completely pale, and her hands were shaking. She was so afraid…so afraid of what this meant and what would happen next…
But she knew she had to be strong, for herself and for all of these people. For Ron.
For…Harry? Harry's grinning face burst clear into his mind. For a moment, she was taken back to those times when he used to make her melt; when the mere mention of him made her feel stronger and more confident. She would have done anything for him, no matter what the consequences were.
At that moment, she realized that that hadn't changed at all. He still made her feel stronger in times like these, and she would still risk her life for him, no questions asked.
Turning to the woman, she said, "I'll be back in a moment. I have to get some…help."
"They-they're still in there, those people…searching-you can't go!"
She frowned, "Searching where?"
"Behind Stratovac's office-in the Hall of Records."
Hermione's legs began moving on their own accord, first in a brisk walk, before breaking into a run. She felt no fear now, only a rush of adrenaline and worry that could only be experienced in times like these, and although she felt nowhere near safe, she didn't feel nearly as threatened by the Death Eaters now. She was ready for them.
She ran as fast as she could towards Mr. Stratovac's office, and without thinking, burst through the door madly, drawing her wand at the last second.
The normally immaculate room was now completely obscured by a cloud of dust. She could see the dim figures of two men searching madly through the records, trying different Accio's to get what they needed. At the sound of the door crashing open, they whirled to face her, sending two Avada Kedavras towards her. Using a Protego shield, Hermione cast a Disillusionment charm on herself and slowly felt down to her knees, careful to not make any noise. She crawled quietly, her wand poking out of her sleeve, and Stunned one of them effortlessly. The other one, realizing what she'd done, Dissillussioned himself as well.
"Good job, Granger, but it's worth nothing. We have what we came for already."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. Whoever it was knew her well enough to know who she was at a distance, so she must have known him personally. But it wasn't so easy to tell-Malfoy had stopped being a Death Eater long before Voldemort's downfall; Snape had apparently left already…
He caught her attention again as a stack of yellowing parchment flew up in the air and came to a halt as he caught them. She shot to her feet, muttering a curse, but he seemed to block it. She narrowed her eyes, trying a nonverbal hex, but it didn't work either. She heard a soft laugh, before he spoke again.
"Do me a favor, Granger-tell Potter that appearances can be deceiving. What might have seemed like an end is anything but."
And then Hermione felt something collide with her; a strong force, causing her to fall back to the floor. Her wand slipped from her hand, while her vision grew blurrier and blurrier, before everything became dark and still.
Absolutely still…
-- FLASHBACK
She was dying.
The pain in her side kept growing and growing, spreading agony through her being. She could barely breathe as she struggled to move her hand towards the wound. Her eyes watered as she cried out in pain, but she kept on moving because she knew if she didn't do anything she would die in a few short minutes.
And even as this thought crossed her mind, she knew that what might normally seem as a few short minutes would seem like an eternity in this state. Every second that passed made the pain worse; more unbearable to her…every moment made her more anxious for help; for someone or something that would make this pain end…
She couldn't take it. She would very well die if it meant being able to breathe freely…if it meant that the bleeding and the pain would stop and everything would be alright…
Her vision was obscuring quickly. She could make out the dim figures of people battling nearby…hear people's screams of triumph or fear…perceive the rotten smell of flesh, blood and grass that was heavy among the battlefield…
And she could feel herself slipping away…so very far away…
Until…
A wand poked her side painfully as someone came toppling down beside her. She gasped, more tears sliding down her face as she whimpered. She could hear the person's ragged breathing as he or she moved closer to her and said, "Occludo," it was a man's voice. She knew this voice quite well, she did. It had such a nice ring to it, too…so soft and calming…she liked this voice…
"R-Ron?" she managed to say, and as she did so the pain in her side seemed to lessen.
The wand came in contact with her throat next, "Respiro," he said, and it was as if her throat had been cleaned out and fixed so that she could breathe perfectly again. She took a great big gulp of air and savored the way it felt, happy that she was going to be alright after all.
"Harry," she said, and this time it wasn't a question. Something told her that it was him, because he always seemed to be the one to save her, over and over again.
Even with her eyes closed, she could feel him coming closer, until his lips came in contact with her forehead gently, "Shhh…" he said as she tried to wrap her arms around him, "save your strength, Hermione. It's fine now-it's over. He's-he's gone," his voice was quivering as he said it, as though he couldn't yet believe it himself. She could almost see his face, hopeful yet painfully disbelieving, as he said those words.
"Everything's fine, love…you'll-we'll be alright…"
She nodded weakly, barely conscious as he stroked her face with the side of his hand. She was still crying, too, and as he noticed this he wiped the tears away, mumbling something to her.
And as she felt her consciousness slipping completely away from her, she felt a searing pain on her side, before everything became dark.
-- END FLASHBACK
Hermione awoke to the alluring scent of warm tea. She took in a long, deep breath as she sat up, blinking lazily. As she opened her eyes, however, the frowned, taking in her surroundings-where was she? This…this wasn't her room. She didn't remember these sheets on her bed, and…no, those weren't her curtains. Her curtains were a nice, ivory shade, whereas these were an utterly plain dark blue. And that wasn't the type of tea she always bought-that was…
Oh, damn.
That was Harry's favorite tea.
Now why would she be lying in a bed with a rather painful bump on her head, in a room that had ugly curtains and smelled of Harry's favorite tea?
Oh, no.
This was his room, which was in his flat, which as far as she knew, was in the middle of nowhere.
How did I get here? What happened? I was-I was in St. Mungo's just a few minutes ago…in Stratovac's office…something about some papers?
As the scent of tea began to grow stronger, a familiar voice became audible. It was humming a soft tune; a tune Hermione remembered very well. It brought forth all those memories she'd hopelessly been trying to push into the back of her mind for the past few days. She seemed to fully realize that she was in Harry's bedroom, and that whether she liked it or not, the time for the uncomfortable discussion about their past had come. It was time to face the reality of their memories-of their lives and what had become of them.
And she just wasn't ready.
Wait. No, of course she was. It was all behind them, wasn't it? All in the past. Her feelings for him were nothing but a fond memory of her teenage years. She cared for him, probably more than she herself was aware of-but as a friend.
So, in theory, this would be uncomfortable, but she was ready for it.
Harry seemed to have stopped just outside the doorway. She could hear him clearing his throat and saying something in a low voice, as if he were practicing what to say. Her mouth relaxed into a grin at this; he seemed so very much younger all of a sudden. And as an image of an eighteen-year-old Harry popped into his mind, she felt as if she could really do this. As if really, this was as easy as breathing was to her.
But an invisible force seemed to grab hold of her. In the millisecond it took Harry to muster up the courage to enter the room, she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes tightly. Her breathing seemed calm and steady, but she could feel her heart thumping in her chest as he came closer. Heck, she could hear the blood pounding in her head as she fought to keep a straight face.
After he'd set the teacups neatly on the bedside table, he seemed to sit on the edge of the bed. He observed her for a few minutes, before reaching up to stroke her cheek. As she had not been expecting such a thing, Hermione could not suppress the involuntary shiver that coursed through her at this.
Harry chuckled lightly, "You never were very good at lying," he said softly, "Good morning."
She didn't open her eyes. She suddenly felt so very close to tears-God, now it really was crashing down on her…all those feelings; everything that had happened. The sensations his touch had once evoked inside her-the emotions his voice had once stirred… it wasn't easy to forget. Because how can you forget your first-and only-love? How can you ignore the intensity of those feelings you've only experienced once, for one brief shining moment, in your life?
-- FLASHBACK
"No."
He couldn't believe how much emotion a single word could carry. If was as if that one word suddenly took on a thousand different meanings, and it spoke for itself. He could sense her sorrow, her obvious disappointment, her anger…all as if he were feeling it himself. And it hurt, to know that he was hurting her so just because he was trying to do the right thing. It made him want to throw everything away and just…forget. To live by his desires, as if there were no right or wrong.
It wasn't that she was wrong. There wasn't anything in the world more right for him. He loved her with all his heart-with all his soul and essence. He would die a thousand times for her without thinking it twice. She meant everything to him-he suffered if she suffered, he was happy if she was…she brought meaning to his life. Without her, he would be a wreck. He would have gone mad under all the pressure without her to bring him back to reality.
So why? Why was it so hard for him to let himself go?
"Hermione…you can't-you really don't know how much I hate saying it, but-"
"Don't talk to me like that," her tone was sharp, angry. Her eyes were narrowed, puffy, and brimming with tears. Her cheeks were a dangerous shade of crimson, and her frame was very, very tense. Her hands were curled into fists at her sides, pale from the strength she was exerting.
He closed his eyes, sighing, "Like what?"
"Like you didn't know this would happen. Like you never imagined that somehow, we might end up in this situation," she hissed, taking a step closer to him, so that they were approximately two feet apart. He tried to step back, but found that he was pressed to the wall, with nowhere to go. She shook her head slowly, "When Ron first entered the hospital-those first few weeks that you started caring for me-I was completely screwed up. You knew that. So you took care of me, like a good friend," she sighed. And it was a long sigh, weary and full of pent-up emotion. His arms itched to wind themselves around her…he longed to comfort her and kiss her…and end her sorrow…
"Too good a friend, Harry. I fell in love with you over time. You treated me so well, and you cared for me as if you loved me too. It was-inevitable that I began to feel something more for you. But you knew your place, didn't you? You knew I was Ron's girlfriend, so you kept us friends. You were stoic as I cried because I was confused and told you it was because of Ron. And you didn't push further, because you knew the real reason why I cried and didn't know how to handle it.
"Oh, but Harry…I feel, honestly, as if you've been toying with my feelings. I know you haven't done it on purpose-but you have. Do you know what it's like to feel loved, as if you couldn't get any higher, and then the next day be pushed away and met by a mask of propriety and formality? Do you know how truly horrible that feels? Do you know how horrible it feels to have it happen much, much more than once?" here a tear slid down from her eye and down her cheek, until it fell from her face and to the floor in a small, insignificant drop. And Harry stared at that tear, and at the next one, feeling as if everything was coming back to haunt him. He knew what she was talking about-all those times he'd thought he'd given her the wrong idea about them, and so tried to keep his distance from now on.
But it never lasted. A day, maybe two, and they'd be back at the park laughing and falling more in love with each other. Because what was so wrong about falling in love? Why should they deny themselves the happiness that was rightfully theirs?
He felt so guilty; so horribly aware of all the pain he'd caused her in his attempts to do the right thing. And he felt himself giving in now…taking in the sadness of each word and making it his, so that he couldn't take it anymore and just had to…
"I wouldn't…tell you this if I wasn't absolutely sure I had to. I tried to go on and just…forget. But I can't, Harry. I love you-in a way I never imagined I could and never felt before. I could search a lifetime, and I would never succeed in finding someone I could love this way, to the point that I would give anything for them-even my life. I can't, Harry."
He was silent. She walked forward slowly, closing the distance between them. She traced his cheek with her finger, until the tip of her finger reached his lips. Their eyes locked, and they knew they didn't have to say anything. They knew it would be pointless for Harry to say no again. So they both leant forward, eyes flickering to a close. It was elation like they had never experienced before-this extreme feeling of completion and bliss now that they had each other and nothing could separate them.
Because nothing else mattered. Nothing but the person before them, their passion, their romance…
-- END FLASHBACK
"Why is it such a good morning?" she didn't bother keeping the apprehension from her voice as she spoke, eyes still closed, his hand still on her cheek.
She could almost feel his grin sliding off his face. He took back his hand, and seemed to stand up and walk around as he said, "Well, it's been pretty eventful, hasn't it?" his tone wasn't so cheery now. He sounded grim, "Ron getting landed in the hospital, Death Eaters in St. Mungo's, you…here."
She opened her eyes at this, and saw him for the first time. He had mild dark circles under his eyes as he looked at her from the window he had been opening, to her right. His hair was messier than usual and his clothes were dirty and frayed. She suddenly felt a surge of concern towards him-he had a bruise under his left eye and looked extremely tired. But her concern was surpassed by her nervousness-this was the first time they had been alone in two years. Since…that. And judging by the way she felt and the way he was looking at her, neither had quite gotten over things.
"Me…here," she said softly, running her hand over the sheets, "How did that happen?" she asked, more as a way of delaying the inevitable rather than out of genuine interest.
"Someone in St. Mungo's called the Ministry, who they sent the Aurors there to investigate. Then they found you and contacted me. Didn't know who else to call."
"To everyone else, it's as if nothing happened between you and I. To them, our friendship is the same it was when we left Hogwarts. It's normal that they turn to that conclusion."
"I didn't say it wasn't."
She winced at his remark, sighing, "This isn't-I should just go," she said uncertainly, moving slowly to a sitting position. Her legs dangled from the edge of the bed as she faced away from him, gazing silently at her hands in her lap. Biting her lip in an effort not to cry, she stood up from the bed and grabbed her purse, which was sitting on the bedside table. She made to walk towards the door but stopped halfway, and without looking at Harry, she whispered, "Ironic…"
He didn't answer her. She shook her head, still looking at the floor, "I actually managed to convince myself that nothing had changed between you and I. That we were still friends, even after you left-after everything happened," she looked at him now, her face grief-stricken, "But that isn't true, is it? We're not the same anymore. What we had…it's gone, isn't it?"
He didn't say anything. His face was inscrutable as he gazed at her from the window, silent.
"But…why? Was our relationship really that wrong, Harry?"
And with those words, the ice was broken finally.
-- FLASHBACK
"Harry, please! I'm trying to work."
"Harry-" her voice was so full of happiness, so joyful…and he found himself adoring that voice even more than he already did, "-come on…we have-work to-get done!" She attempted to push him away with her hand, but she was laughing so hard…her petite frame was shaking, her face red as she fought to take in air…and she looked so unbearably happy.
He loved that. A mischievous look in his eyes, he continued to tickle her and nuzzle his face in her neck playfully. He grabbed a gentle hold of her waist, pulling her closer and placing butterfly kisses all along her jaw line, finally reaching her lips. At that point, Hermione had succumbed to his game, her arms locked around his neck as she kissed him back ardently, still laughing. Then their laughter died down, and their kisses became more passionate, harder to stop. He was literally going crazy-her soft touch on his skin…the way her breath tickled him when she spoke softly to him…the soft lavender scent of her hair. He didn't want this moment to end-this moment of bliss when they were together and nothing felt wrong…everything was right and perfectly okay.
"Oh, I'm so happy-Harry, Hermione-you won't believe-"
They sprung apart, whirling to face the source of sound. Their eyes came to rest at the fireplace, where Molly Weasley's stunned face sat, gazing at them with round eyes. Her eyes went from their lips, to their frayed clothes and messy hair…to their visibly shocked expressions and their obvious breathlessness. She blinked once, opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it, staring at them. They stayed that way for a minute or two; them staring at her and vice versa, until finally she managed to speak.
"Well, I…I'm sorry for interrupting. I just…" she seemed embarrassed as the looked away from them, biting her lip, "I wanted to tell you two, that the Healers think they might have finally gotten a response from Ronnie, after all the treatments. It-it's not sure…but they said there was hope."
Her voice was so tentative…it hurt to hear her give them the news in such a way. It was as if she was trying to keep herself from getting her hopes up in case the Healers were wrong. Listening to her, Harry truly felt guilty for being here with Hermione while Mrs. Weasley was agonizing over her son. It was…unfair, that she should be suffering while he was laughing and kissing Hermione.
So he nodded and said, "See you in a few minutes, Mrs. Weasley."
She looked at him, as if surprised by what he said. Perhaps she had thought he was going to stay here and wait for more news before actually going. Either way, she seemed eternally grateful as she smiled-really smiled-at Harry and said, "Molly, dear. How many times will I tell you?" With a small pop, she was gone.
And so was he.
-- END FLASHBACK
His gaze changed drastically at her words. His expression hardened, and all the pain, resentment, and confusion that he had felt over the years burst to the surface. He was looking at her as if he had only just realized that she really was there; that it wasn't a dream. As if he had only just realized that the time to face their past had come.
"What does it matter now?" he asked, his voice low, "We can't do anything about it. The best we can do is try to forget about it-"
"Oh, Harry, don't be so naïve. We've tried that already. Or do you have another reason for avoiding each other for so long?" she added pointedly, shaking her head, "It doesn't work. It won't work. And-and it's because it meant something to us."
"Of course it did, Hermione. It meant more than you can imagine. I loved you. And I don't use that term loosely-when I say 'loved', I mean it."
She was silent for a moment, "So did I," she said quietly.
"And I know it would have worked out, too. But you know it was complicated. We both had to make some hard decisions, and…this is what we chose."
"And haven't you ever wondered if we chose wrong?" Hermione asked, frowning. He seemed so calm, so matter-of-fact about all of this. It was as if he didn't care, as if he had really managed to put it all behind him…
But he surprised her. At her words he smiled, a sort of pained smile that reflected the sadness and regret this decision seemed to have caused him. He looked at the floor and then at her, still smiling in that odd way, "Too many times to remember, Hermione. But I can't do anything about it now, can I?"
Hermione suddenly felt an impulse to throw her arms around him-like she used to do-and tell him that he could change everything. She wanted to tell him that she would be with him forever and that it was just a silly mistake, that it was fine…that it didn't matter at all. For a brief moment, she felt as if she could forget about her world-about Ron, her job-and allow herself this one true desire.
But it was just for a moment. She lowered her gaze to the floor, feeling the tears sliding slowly down her cheeks. She vaguely remembered all those times when, upon seeing a hint of a tear in his eyes, he would bring her into his chest and hold her there until she stopped crying. Now he just stood there watching her, because he knew it wasn't his place to comfort her anymore.
And such a realization hurt them both more than they knew.
She looked up, taking a deep breath and saying, regret evident in her voice, "No…we can't."
And the she Apparated out of his flat.