Looking Deep

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the HP characters nor do I own what happened on this page of the seventh book (page 254). It belongs to JK Rowling. :D

Author’s note: I wanted to write this a while ago, but I lost some inspiration for it. Hence if it’s not really good, please do forgive me, I haven’t been writing in a while due to exams. This is just my take on why Hermione decided to stay with Harry and let Ron leave on his own.

Also if anyone has a better idea for the title, please send me a message! :D my brain is not functioning after so long. :D

This is for my dear Maxine, whom I have missed when she went to climb a mountain. :D thankfully she is now back and can read my fanfics! :D

"What are you doing?" Ron's voice was sharp and hard, something she had never heard before, that made her flinch just at his simple demand.

"What do you mean?" She didn't really need to ask what he meant, she knew. But she willed him silent to shut up, to not say anything that would make things worse than they already were. Merlin, how had things escalated to such an extent? How could she make things back to where they were?

"Are you staying or what?"

The question hung in the air and now, she knew there was no turning back. She bit her lip, looked down at the floor and tried to get a hold on her mind, her thoughts which seemed to be moving at a thousand miles an hour, flying so fast she couldn't grab on to them. A million answers, ways to salvage the situation were on her tongue and she wasn't even remotely sure which answer she was going to give, it almost felt as if she were somehow detached from her mind...

Harry.

The thought seemed to stop her heart, the train wreck that was her mind and almost immediately, she turned her gaze to him.

He was standing there, his hands stiff by his side and his eyes flitting back from both Ron and her. His frame was rigid with anger and she could see his jaw so tightly clenched she could almost feel, the hot anger that seemed to be coursing through his body running through her own bones, and she could almost feel her heart aching in pain for him, about how terrible it was for him to have to had dealt with all this uncertainty, these troubles and now have to put up with two of the closest people turning traitor on him.

She bit down on her lip so hard she could taste the blood and slowly turned her eyes to Ron.

He, too was watching her, waiting for her response and at times, turning back to glare at Harry. The both of them looked so alike, was her vague thought, as Ron's tall and lanky build seemed to tremble with anger and hate, his features twisted in such corrosive fury that even she felt so afraid of him. But she knew, she knew that this wasn't just about going back to the Burrow with him. It was about her ultimate decision, Harry or Ron.

She'd known all along that Ron always felt inferior to Harry even though he tried not to show it, that he'd always resented having to play second fiddle to both his brothers and now his best friend. She knew of Ron's desire to have something Harry didn't-- namely her. She knew that he liked her, liked her more than a friend and Ron was in some sense proud of that, because it meant that he could finally be better than Harry in some sense. This wasn't just about leaving Harry. This was about finally validating him, about showing that Ron would be better than Harry if she left with him once and for all.

Merlin, how could she do that to both of her best friends? How could she pick without breaking either one of their hearts, their friendships that had lasted so long?

"I---" She began, and something in her started to appeal to Ron's sense of reason, his rationale, that he would take back all that he said and that they could go back to being the way they were before. "Yes-- Yes, I'm staying," The words came out as a stutter to her, but she knew that all along that really had been her decision as soon as they left her lips. But still she knew, just how much that would hurt Ron and she struggled to make him see, see just why she made that choice without breaking his heart and what was left of his pride.

"Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help----"

Almost as soon as she'd tried to defend her decision, as soon as her words had fell off her tongue, Ron's air of anger seemed to dissipate like a breath of air on the wind and all that was left was just hurt, bitterness that she could almost taste somehow, rising at the back of her throat and she could feel the tears rising up, ready to fall down her cheeks.

"I get it," Ron's voice was dead, hollow and the sound of it made her flinch, as in the background the storm lulled briefly, before the rain continued to sluice down the tent and dread seemed to uncoil in her gut and spread all throughout her body like a poison, choking and suffocating her, as a frantic need to explain, to try and lessen Ron's overwhelming hurt jumped to her lips. "You choose him."

It was more than a statement. It was an admission of defeat and everything she had been feeling seemed to rise to its climax and choke her completely, closing up her throat and leaving her powerless to say anything, to do anything but protest feebly, "Ron, no--please--" and watch and call as he stormed into the night. "come back, come back!"

Her Shield Charm blocked her from moving and when she finally did remove it, running out after Ron to somehow, make him see, make him understand, remove his hurt into the rain, he was gone.

"Ron!" She screamed. "Ron!"

His name ripped itself from her throat, leaving it raw and scraped, and it hung among the shadows of the trees, among the wet pattering of the raindrops on the blades of grass among her feet. And finally as she stumbled back towards the tent, her own heart seeming to somehow thrash and stop as the realization-- that he was gone, that she had chosen Harry, that he would not come back-- hit her hard.

She awoke, the sudden disorientated feeling of suddenly waking up hitting her hard as what happened that night came back to her, fast and furious, in a huge tidal wave until she felt the familiar prickle of tears and she shut her eyes against the hot tears that threatened to spill. Ron was really gone. He wouldn't be coming back.

She moved slightly and felt a wooly sort of material fall away from her face and the lamp that they usually kept burning in the night shone brightly in the otherwise darkness of the tent and she blinked and she realized that she was in one of the armchairs in the tent, in some sort of cocoon made out of the blankets that they had brought along. She remembered herself crawling into the chair after looking for Ron in the woods briefly after he had stormed out, completely drenched and Harry throwing the blankets over her and how she had cried herself to sleep, her tears silently dripping down her face.

She kicked off the rest of the blankets quietly and stood, feeling a crick in her neck and the need to stretch, which she did, having slept in such an uncomfortable position for such a long time. She looked around the tent, messy but yet so familiar with all her books piled up in a corner of the tent, the detectors for any attacks on them propped up near the entrance of the tent and the dishes piled up in the sink in the small washing up area they had and something, an emotion she couldn’t put a name to welled up in her heart.

She decided to make herself a cup of tea and moved towards the small stove that was placed in another corner of the tent. Pulling out the saucepan and the container with the tea leaves, she let her mind wander.

Why had she decided to stick with Harry? Was it really because she said that they had promised to stay with Harry? Or was it just because of a more unconscious decision all along-- that she would never leave him, that she would never abandon him, not now, not ever?

She shook her head, almost as if hoping to stop her thoughts in the direction they were going. That's just silly, she chided herself, I stayed with Harry because he's my friend, because I want to help him. I promised. She turned on the tap to pour some water into the saucepan but her thoughts continued on relentlessly in the direction they had taken.

You stayed with Harry and broke the heart of Ron, the one you loved, the small voice in her mind, seemed to have the air of knowing something she didn't, almost gleeful and proud. Are you telling me that just because you promised Harry you would stay and help him, you would gladly break up with Ron, reject him?

"That's stupid." She said out loud, surprising even herself at the sudden sound of her voice in the silence of the tent. "I never even said I was dating Ron, let alone breaking up with him." She turned off the tap with unnecessary force and slammed the saucepan on the stove, slopping some water onto the stove, feeling irritated with the insistent voice in her mind. "I never even said I loved Ron."

The words, once out of her mouth, had an instantaneous effect.

She slapped her hands to her mouth, almost as if hoping that she could somehow grab the words back from where they were hanging in the air and stuff them back into her mouth. Merlin, why did she say that? And for the first time that night, that small voice in her head was silent and somehow she got the vague mental picture that of someone smiling self-satisfactorily, which only served to intensify her feelings of irritation.

She turned the fire on the stove to heat up the water, pressing her lips against each other in some kind of self-righteous anger, moving on to scoop some tea leaves into a cup, as if hoping that her actions would somehow settled her turbulent feelings. "No, I like Ron." She said out loud, as if hoping to somehow convince herself of her feelings and nodded vigorously as if to confirm it to some imaginary person. "I do. Why wouldn't I? I have always, since fourth--"

Her ramblings were cut short when she heard Harry stirring in one of the bunks, his brow creased as he rolled over, rubbing his forearms in a vigorous manner, to warm himself up. She cut her eyes to the blankets which were lying askew on the floor and realized that Harry must have given her his blanket as well when he'd thrown the bundle of blankets on her just now. Suddenly, she felt the cold of the night air seep into her bones as well and shivered almost involuntarily as she walked over to the armchair and picked up two blankets from the floor and draping one of them around her shoulder, she moved over to where Harry was sleeping on the top bunk.

Her hands stilled from where she had been getting ready to spread the blanket over his sleeping form as she watched him.

He was sleeping rather deeply, she surmised, from the graceful rise and fall of his chest as he breathed evenly. There was an almost relaxed air around him now as he slept, almost like the air that he had had around him, unassuming and relaxed when she had met him on the train on the first time and she could only feel a pang as her eyes raked over his features, which had been just so tensed just now when he had been arguing with Ron, so angry, so hurt that Ron couldn't provide that sense of comfort for him when he too was facing so many questions with no answers either.

Almost as if she was in a dream, she lifted her hand to touch his face, for what reason she didn't know, to touch the side of his face, his stubble, prickly against her fingertips which grazed his jaw, and finally to push away a strand of raven black hair which had fallen in front of his eyes.

Just looking at his care-worn face, the deep purple circles under his eyes that indicated how many nights he had spent struggling with nightmares, glimpses into Voldermort's mind and with the uncertainty of the days to come, the faintest lines of what might look like worry lines and the unshaven picture of his face made her heart ache for him, for how he had been forced to undergo such torture, such uncertainty, such pain at having to have to face off against the Dark Lord who had killed his parents with the hopes of the entire wizarding world on his shoulders, how he had been made to grow up so quickly and so quietly she had barely noticed it either.

She blinked away the tears forming in the corner of her eyes and she knew, in her heart, she had made the right decision and gently, she spread the blanket over his frame, tucking in corners of it, underneath his body such that the blanket would keep him warm against the cold of night.

As she turned away the faintest hint of a smile on her face, the voice in her head spoke up again, with again an almost pleased air. You love him.

That thought stilled her footsteps, as nothing had. Instant denial sprung to her lips, in defense. I don't love Harry, she protested furiously in her mind. I like Ron, remember? Turning on her heel, she strode towards the stove where the water was boiling merrily and flicked the dial on the stove to turn off the fire, resolving to ignore whatever that little voice said next. Consternation at not being able to keep her own thoughts under rein flooded her body. Merlin, she liked Ron, not Harry! She poured the water into the cup and carried it over to the small table beside the armchair where she settled herself, waiting for it to cool down before she took a first sip.

There was a long silence before that voice piped up once more, but it seemed to speak almost gently and encouragingly. Look at him and tell me you don't love him.

She slowly let her gaze fall on his face once again which had now turned towards the light of the lamp and could not help but let a smile tug at her lips at how peaceful he really looked, just sleeping like that. She hadn't seen that expression of calm on his face in such a long time and she suddenly felt warmth spreading throughout her being, a rush of tenderness for him. I love him.

That thought shocked her once more, like how she would feel if someone had dumped a pail of icy cold water on her but somehow she found herself unable to protest or deny it, her ability to defend herself somehow paralyzed. She bit down on her lip once more, still watching him, unable to tear her eyes away from his face. I love him. I love him.

And somehow, it didn't feel strange or foreign like it had the first time. It felt-- normal, natural and somehow, right.

She let her head fall onto the armrest of the chair with a bump, letting out a small, muffled groan as she did so. Merlin, now she had just made everything more complicated. How was she going to face Harry tomorrow? What was she going to tell Ron without completely ruining their friendship?

She had the sudden feeling that she had just dug herself into an entirely deeper hole than she had bargained for.

Alrighty so that’s the end of it. I have a feeling, I too, like Hermione have unconsciously made this into a two shot! :S oops. I really need more inspiration and a NEW BETA! so if anyone wants to help me out please please do! reviews as always are welcomed. hearts!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the events that happened here, they were and still are all by JK Rowling.

Author’s note: I hope you guys like this second part of the story. It feels odd after not writing for so long that I really hope my writing has not deproved!

This is for my dear sister, Tessa. Hugs! :D

It was official.

She, Hermione Jean Granger, was a terrible and awful coward.

After her little epiphany last night, she had tossed and turned constantly, thinking of how she was going to get out of this mess, how she had come to this stage. Everything seemed all so complicated and so... unsure. It had nearly even come to the stage where she hoped Ron would come back, hoping that the familiar sight of him might somehow change her mind, remind her why she had first fallen for him and hence banishing any other thoughts that she had ever thought of Harry as more than a friend last night.

And now, it was the next day.

She awoke early, (not that she'd had much sleep either, what with all her thoughts about how this would change her life completely) her nerves completely shot and her eyes all red and puffy, having been up crying the most of the night about why this could have happened to her and at the hopelessness of it all.

She had bustled around the kitchen, getting breakfast ready, as if hoping that the routine action would somehow jolt her back to normality, that somehow its familiarity would make her see-- see that last night, whatever she had thought about Harry was just an thought of her emotionally over fraught mind.

But just when she had laid breakfast down on the table and was just about getting ready to convince herself that she had somehow been so tired and frustrated that her affection of Harry was merely a hallucination, she heard him stir and the rustle of the bed sheets informed her that he was getting up and more out of habit than anything else, she turned around to look at him.

His hair was sticking out in various angles, his bleary emerald eyes dulled with the lack of sleep. Although it was considerably cold out here, he was wearing a simple white shirt and pajama bottoms, which were also rather wrinkled from his sleep. Just looking at him, made her heart skip a few beats; even in his rather bed-rumpled appearance, he looked---good.

The thought of Harry looking good even when he had just woken up made a sudden flush of heat rise to her cheeks and horrified at herself, she whirled away, avoiding his emerald eyes which she could feel looking at her back, trying to arrange the meager cutlery on the table so as to make herself look busy. It was only until she heard the flipping of the tent flap and the sound of his footsteps going out of the tent to wash up no doubt, did she look around and breath a small sigh of relief.

She knew almost immediately at that moment that she could not, was unable to convince herself that whatever new found feelings she felt for Harry was not a hallucination and would never be.

And now here she was, eating breakfast with Harry, in complete and utter silence so thick it felt like the porridge that she'd cooked on the first night they were camping. She avoided meeting his eyes-- afraid that somehow the sight of him would make it harder for her to keep these new feelings to herself, but throughout the entire meal, she could feel his gaze burning into her, and she felt as though he were trying to communicate with her through his looks. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen, I didn't mean for Ron to leave.

How she wished too that Ron were here. She felt a pang of guilt as she thought of the redhead. The guilt at breaking his heart and causing him to lose whatever was left of his pride was still there, but a new guilt had resurfaced-- a guilt that she had somehow fallen for his best friend (she could only imagine Ron's anger and hurt if he found out about her feelings for Harry) and that the only reason she wanted him back was so as to help her recover her previous feelings for him, that he could somehow restore the normality of her life, that she wouldn't be forced to grapple with these new feelings on her own.

She continued to steadfastly avoid his gaze throughout the most of breakfast, and was preoccupied with her own thoughts that she barely noticed what she was eating, barely noticed what she was doing.

It was only when Harry stood up from the table, his chair leg making a long, harsh scraping noise on the floor, that another thought came to her, so quickly and so abruptly that she let out a short gasp, inaudible to everyone except her.

What about Ginny?

She thought about the young girl, who was something like a younger sister to her. Ginny had seen Hermione as some sort of confidant since 2nd year, and Hermione was more than grateful to help her, she had even advised Ginny to act normal around Harry, who might then notice her, rather than acting like one of Harry's numerous fan girls who did nothing but gape at him and whisper together excitedly when they saw him walking past.

And when Harry had kissed Ginny in 6th year, she had been thrilled for the younger girl, whom she knew had fulfilled her long time fantasy and thrilled for her best friend as well, because she knew that Ginny would be wonderful for him as well. But now, now that she had fallen in love with Harry, how would Ginny take it?

She knew Harry and Ginny still liked each other, that they had only broken up because of Harry's need to distance himself from anyone who was close to him so as to protect them and she was more than clear that Harry thought of Ginny even on this hunt for the Hoxcruxes, from the way he sometimes pulled out the Marauders Map to gaze at it, searching for one particular dot with the name 'Ginny Weasley'.

She let her spoon drop into the bowl again and stood from the table, her mind still in a whirl. Merlin, how could she do this? How could she bear to break the heart of yet another Weasley, especially one who was like a younger sister to her?

Merlin, how she wished Ron had never left, that this stupid fight had never taken place, that she didn't need to be the only one struggling with this on her own.

She did the dishes in silence and lugged out a couple of shirts and jeans that needed to be washed by the riverside. Settling herself on a rock nearby, she began to soak the clothes, her heart giving a painful little twist whenever she came across a jersey of Ron's, a pair of his old jeans, and scrubbed the clothes with a force so vigorous, she began to splash her own clothes as well.

Why? Why had everything become so complicated? She couldn't like Harry, he was with Ginny and she was with Ron. If she went together with Harry, the Weasleys would hate her, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley the most ardently (all of sudden the thought of Mrs. Weasley's unpleasant face when she had read in the Witch Weekly that Harry and Hermione were dating, in fourth year, rose in her mind and she could not help but sigh) and she would lose everything she had with Ron.

But what if Harry didn't like her in the first place?

He had always been her best friend, guaranteed, from how he had in first year, even though she was such a bossy know-it-all (she still was one now) he had come after her to protect her from the troll, although he didn't even know how. But she knew all too well, he still loved Ginny, that he wouldn't love her, not while he loved Ginny.

She couldn't prevent a small scowl from tugging at the corner of her lips as a mental picture of Ginny resurfaced in her mind, of her long dark auburn hair that everybody always said was so much like Harry's mother's, that was always straight and shiny, unlike her own which was so bushy sometimes it was all she could do to prevent herself from severing it all off. She thought of Ginny's pale and smooth complexion and her bright sparkling blue eyes and thought with a hint of envy, if she had Ginny's looks, she probably would have been able to get someone like Harry too.

As soon as the thought passed through her mind, she frowned at herself in consternation and shook her head furiously. Why was she even thinking about this? It didn't matter how she looked, Harry would never fall for her.

And somehow, that thought made her heart fall slightly, her shoulders droop.

She continued to scrub at the clothes furiously, looking up every now and then, hoping that somehow every crack, every noise she heard coming from the woods would be Ron, coming back to them, that he would pop out of the woods with a big smile on his face, that the sight of him would somehow restore her feelings for him once again and take away those feelings she suddenly had for Harry.

She continued to harbor that hope, dawdling alongside the river unlike what she would have usually done but with every minute that ticked by, she realized that with a sinking heart, he would not be coming back, and that they had to move.

But she resolved, in her heart of hearts that this had gone on too long. She would not fall for Harry any deeper than she already had. She would stop this nonsense from proceeding any further because if she were really to get together with Harry, she would break the hearts of so many that were ear to her and she didn’t want that to happen, not now. She didn't want to lose Ron or Ginny, or even the Weasleys who had almost been like an extended family of hers.

She would give him up. It was as simple as that.

~~~***~~~~

How wrong she had been to underestimate her feelings for Harry.

Merlin, she had just thought--- just thought for a moment--- that her feelings for Harry were only somewhat shallow, something that she could get over in a heartbeat. How utterly, completely wrong she was. They went even deeper than she could have possibly imagined, so deeply rooted in her being until she didn’t even know they had been there until she’d tried to weed it out.

It had been alright, bearable even, when the both of them, as if by some unspoken accord had begun to clear up the campsite and take down all their protective enchantments still in utter silence. But when the both of them stood atop a small crest that had been overlooking their earlier campsite and Harry had taken her hand to Disparate, she had just lost whatever that was left of her self-resolve.

She knew that it was a platonic action, something she also did with both of them frequently, holding both their hands sometimes without any conscious reason. But this time, it felt so different. When his fingers had interlaced with hers, she nearly jumped, she could almost feel her nerves spark to life inside her. His fingers felt strong, they felt safe and reassuring as they held her hand in a clasp, as if telling her without words that everything would be alright.

And as she had spun around in a pirouette action numbly almost, one thought had flashed through her mind in that split second that they were Appparating.

I don't want to let you go.

It was then that she really knew, she knew that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted to, she would never be able to forget her feelings for Harry, treat them as something non-existent.

And it was at that moment when they appeared atop the heather covered hill that she had just lost it.

She let go off his hand immediately and walked a few steps on unsteady legs before sinking down onto a large rock and started to sob. Merlin, she was so scared. Scared of what this would mean, what this would bring somehow. She had never lost control over anything in her life. Only now, she had just lost control of her emotions, she wouldn't be able to forget Harry and there was absolutely nothing she could do to prevent herself from falling from him even more.

She was so afraid; she had never felt so vulnerable in all her life. Merlin help me, she found herself pleading silently, I can’t do this.

Sobs racked her body as they seemed to tear themselves from her throat and she could feel him looking at her, watching her and she silently willed him not to come over, not to touch her shoulder and ask her what was wrong because she knew, she just knew that she would fall apart completely.

She let herself cry as she heard him in the background, muttering the enchantments that would protect them tonight when they set up camp. She sobbed, for Ron leaving, for her spiraling into such a situation where she no longer had control over her own heart.

What was she going to do?

Oh dear, I just did it again didn’t I? I have a feeling I made this into more than a one shot or a two shot. Help. Anyone?

Reviews are as always welcomed with a hug. :D