Breathe

[First and foremost, I'd like to dedicate this to MyForeverHarry, whose kind words are at least half the reason I find myself coming back to the Portkey every so often. What you'll read below is something a tad different from what I normally write, mainly in the writing style, but I hope you like it nonetheless. It's been awhile since I've played with these characters, so I fear I'm terribly rusty. :)

Secondly, I'll just say that this takes place after Harry as defeated Voldemort. I'm ignoring the entirety of Deathly Hallows, mainly because I really don't feel like reading it again. Can you blame me?

And, lastly, please read and review! And thanks to all of my friends here at Portkey - I don't know how much longer I'll be posting here, but I hope you'll continue to read as long as I do.

Breathe

by: Azure

She finds him standing in the sun.

He is standing tall on the Quidditch Pitch, arms crossed behind his head, looking as if he doesn't have the slightest clue of what to do with his broad smile. He is standing quietly, the whisper of his breath stolen away by the wind, and he is standing alone, one dark speck against that thin line where the green of the pitch gives way to the brilliant blue sky.

She found him first. This is not surprising. She is Hermione Granger, and this is what Hermione Granger does: she finds Harry when he needs her. She sighs and sets her book aside, checking only to see that she has bookmarked her page, and then she goes to him.

This is how things work.

Harry's smile is a pleasant twist, however. This is a deviation from a darker norm, and she isn't entirely sure how to approach this. She smiles at the thought. Much has changed in this last month, and even Hermione Granger doesn't quite know what to make of it all.

And so she waits. She moves to sit beside him, looking too up into the remarkable blue, and waits very patiently for him to speak.

She doesn't wait long.

"I'm not sure what to think," he says lightly, without looking at her. He's smiling, still, a shining smile that's almost as bright as the sun. "Everything changed."

"For the better," she says, with a smile to match.

"For the better," he says, and one hand scratches lazily at the back of his head. "It's kind of weird, still. I don't think it's really hit yet."

I don't know when it will, she thinks. And that's fine - I'll find you when it does.

The right side of his mouth quirks upward. "I can hear you thinking even from up here." He seems completely unsurprised.

She wraps a small hand around his leg and tugs, pulling the black robes towards her. "Sit down, then. That's hardly fair." She tugs again and suddenly he comes tumbling down - and she shrieks and laughs and quickly lets go, dodging smartly to the side so as to not be taken down with him.

He's laying beside her, then, arms still crossed behind his head, but his eyes - those beautiful green things - are suddenly on her. His smile continues to blind her.

"Everything changed. What the hell am I supposed to do?" The humor in his voice doesn't seem overly troubled by the question. "I've been thinking about this for a week now. What am I going to do?"

"Well, you'll likely think about it for another week," she says, very sincerely. "Then you'll disappear once again, and I'll have to set down my book - a very good book, mind you - to find you standing next to the lake."

Silence.

And then he begins to laugh, the sound of it reaching out to her across the warm wind. His shoulders relax and his chest shakes and suddenly this is Harry - this is Harry, she thinks, this is someone she hasn't really seen in such a long time, and she has to move quickly to brush the tears from her eyes.

"A week? And why the lake?" He's chuckling still, but his eyes are wide and curious and green.

"You'll be saying goodbye," she says. "To the squid, to the lake - to the school, I suppose, once you've realized the world is waiting for you." She holds his gaze all the while, not in the slightest bit surprised to find that one of his hands is firmly clasped in her own.

"Yeah," he says, at length. "It is, isn't it?" His smile is unchanged.

"It is."

"A year ago, I think I would have called you a liar," he says, his hand gripping hers just a tiny bit tighter. "A year ago, I don't think I would have expected to be here now."

It occurs to her much too late that she's crying again. This time, though, she simply closes her eyes, letting the sun guide the tears down her cheeks.

He's still talking. "But everything changed. I'm here, now, and only one question remains: what am I going to do now?" He chuckles again. "I've got a week, though, to figure it out." There's a slight pause. "And I've got you."

It occurs to her that she's no longer holding his hand at the exact moment she feels his fingers touch lightly on her face. Her eyes fly open and then she sees him - she sees this new Harry, this new mix of black and green and happy so close to her face, and she feels his warm lips touch so softly against the one last tear on her cheek.

Her stomach is rolling and diving and then suddenly he's gone, leaning back and hoisting himself to his feet. Her cheeks burn a raging red and she reaches out to him and she realizes, belatedly, that she has completely forgotten how to breathe.

"See you in a week, then," he says, and with that broad smile he leaves her sitting in the sun.

-->

[Second chapter!

I'll be sticking with the slice-of-life approach for the entire story, so my apologies to any readers expecting a fabulously complicated plot. And I'll also be experimenting with different writing styles (no drastic changes, of course) as I go, but I hope you'll enjoy the story, nonetheless, for however many chapters that follow.

And feel free to leave a review, of course. :) ]

Breathe

by: Azure

He can taste the summer rain on his lips.

He kicks back and falls into the grass and waits in silence, his eyes lost somewhere up in the skies. The stars are out tonight, a thousand drops of white in the warm water washing over his glasses, and he can't help but feel like this is the first time he's seen them in years - like this is the first time he's stopped to let the strong wind run along his skin.

And perhaps it is. Perhaps this is the first time he took a step back, opening his eyes and his ears to the night falling all around him. There's a rumble and a thunder out over Hogsmeade, the gentle call of a coming storm, and even so Harry Potter waits quietly at midnight, his eyes open wide to the scattered stars.

He thinks this is nice. He also thinks that there's a much better word for it, something better suited for the scene, but he really can't bring himself to care.

That's Hermione's thing, he thinks, and that's the end of that.

He wonders where she is. It's been two long nights since he last saw her, since he left her sitting quietly in the sun, and he's been busy and she's been busy and that's nothing new but still he thinks everything has changed.

For the better, she had said.

Harry smiles at the thought.

"You look happy."

He is not surprised in the slightest when Hermione lowers herself into the grass beside him. This is what he expected, he thinks. This is what he was waiting for when the wind brought him here, when his feet carried him to the now-silent Shrieking Shack just a step outside Hogsmeade. It's a lovely great mystery as to how exactly she does it, but the girl is remarkably good at finding him.

"Must be the gorgeous weather," he replies, smiling as the rain trails slowly down his face.

"A tad wet," she says, raising a small hand to tug the damp hair away from her face. "But I agree."

"Good."

"Good," she says, with a quiet giggle.

He can't help but chuckle. Everything's changed, he thinks, and still it's such a simple and plain thing to lay with Hermione in the rain. He sneaks a glance at her from the corner of his eye; she's resting quietly, her eyes trained on the stars, and her pink lips are parted slightly with wonder or amazement or something else that's completely distracting.

"Yes?" Her voice is gentle and warm.

Harry blinks, finding with some surprise that her had eyes had fallen at some point to rest squarely on him.

"Oh, nothing," he says, giving her a broad smile. He thinks it might not be such a good idea to tell her he was staring at her mouth.

Her eyebrows arch upwards and she gives him a trademark Hermione look and then that's it - Harry sighs, grumbling to himself, knowing he has already lost the battle.

"You ruined my dramatic exit," he says, with great seriousness. "I don't think I'm supposed to see you for another five days."

Hermione simply shrugs, a delicate smile settling on her lips. "You couldn't last that long, Harry."

He ponders this as she shifts slightly in the wet grass. "You might be right," he says, at length. It occurs to him then that he can't stop looking at her. "How'd you find me, anyways?"

She gives him an exaggerated wink. "Magic."

"Of course," he says, with an equally extravagant roll of his eyes. "You are the brightest witch of our generation, as I recall."

She swats at him a second later, her moist fingers slapping lightly against his own. "Oh, shush," she says, not even bothering to blush the usual red. "You're not hard to find, Harry."

"That still doesn't answer the question."

"Magic," she says again, her eyes beginning to gradually slip shut as she snuggles back into the grass. "It's magic."

"Yeah," he says, and closes his own eyes as the summer wind brushes lightly over his skin. "I guess so."

He rests in silence for a long moment, wondering just how something so new and strange could be so quickly reduced to one small word.

Magic, he thinks. She might be right.

He cracks his eyes back open when he hears soft breathing at his side. Hermione had moved, slightly, to ease closer to him, so that now their shoulders are touching and her head is much closer to his own.

Harry blinks. His stomach is doing strange things and he's having trouble breathing and this is it, he thinks - this is how everything has changed. This is how things are different, he knows, and it's a wonderful change even if he doesn't have the damnedest clue of what it means.

He doesn't know if he can ask, either.

"For the better, right?" he says at last, his voice reaching out to her across the wind.

Hermione simply nods, her eyes still shut tight.

"Right," he says, with a nod of his own. "Good."

For the better.

A second passes before she gives him a tired smile. "This is nice," she says, and still those brown eyes are hidden under long lashes.

Harry blinks again. He can feel the laughter rocking around inside him, threatening to spill out through his lips, but he fights it back and settles for a broad smile instead.

He still doesn't know what this is. He doesn't even know what he's going to do - but he can still taste the summer rain on his lips and he can still feel Hermione quiet and warm right beside him, so he supposes that's a pretty good start.

-->