A/N - Guh, sorry for the longer wait on this one guys, break is over and I'm back at school again (joy) so I sadly won't be updating as often. Ideally I'd live to have a chapter up every week and a half or something, but don't hold me to that xD I'm dreadful at keeping deadlines.
Thank you to all my wonderful feedback, I was really motivated with all the wonderful reviews I received. Please keep them coming, its great to see how my fics are received by the people who know best!
PS - In this it mentions Hermione using a mobile phone, and I know you might consider this unlikely in the wizarding world, but really, when has it ever been said that it ISN'T used? In any case, it seemed practical, given that a mobile would probably be more efficient than flooing or what have you. ANYWHO, that's the reason its there. …xD
Please enjoy! :)
It was cold and dark tonight. The blackness of the night stretched aimlessly over Harry's now invisible front lawn. He gazed at his glassy window, watching as the sky lit up before his eyes, the clouds crashing menacingly above him.
Rain. Typical.
The late night movie played enthusiastically in the background and illuminated the four walls with its colours, altering every few seconds deftly. Its sound carried about the house, rebounding off the walls until it reached Harry's ears. Within the kitchen the audio emitting from the other room seemed muffled as he attempted to catch what the characters were saying.
The familiar chime of his microwave sounded and he removed the container of leftover food, stabbing a fork into its contents as he returned to his movie.
The entertainment was doing its job, if not for a brief hour or two. It had succeeded in moving Harry's thoughts elsewhere and away from Hermione, for that he was grateful. Reminders of her rich, vanilla scented skin continued to probe his mind whenever there was a deadline task before him. It had been a stressful day.
He adjusted his position on the couch and groaned, pitying himself for his aches and pains. Auror training might get him where he wanted to be but it didn't mean it was easy, and his fresh rows of spell induced bruises were a clear display of this.
Harry never thought he, Ron and Hermione would all end up in ministry jobs, especially considering their colourful history but here they were. He, Harry, was obviously training to be an Auror. There wasn't much else he had ever expected himself to do and in any case, he preferred the stay in the loop with Ministry doings.
Ron worked with the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Quidditch division, with no surprised looks from anyone. It hadn't taken long for even Ron to realize that as much as he dreamed of becoming a star Quidditch player, there was only so far he could go. It wasn't a stopper in the works though, Ron was content with applying for a position near his love of the sport. Being the right hand man at Harry Potter's side in the war against You-know-who had finally worked in his favor and the department had snatched him up without delay. He now worked with merchandise and advertising, which suited him just fine. It allowed his star stuck personality to shine through and Harry enjoyed watching Ron hastily ask for autographs from his favourite players at every game and conference.
Hermione was long a member of the Department of International Magical Co-operation and of course did a wonderful job. Her no fuss, initiative nature proved to be an impermeable asset to the division, not to mention how quickly she had picked up over hundreds of wizard and creature languages alike. To the Ministry, Hermione was like a dream come true. However good she was at her job, it had the major flaw of no distinct work hours so she was often up all night discussing international artifacts in French or Chinese. Harry had once caught her debating heatedly into her mobile phone in what sounded like mermish. A fight with Hermione Granger in a language that was derived mostly from wails and shrieks did not appeal to Harry at all. But, she seemed to like it and it certainly kept her busy.
Harry was glad that they were all still as close as they were in Hogwarts. Nothing had changed, the `crew' were still together, though perhaps not as regularly as they had been used to. He even saw Ginny and Neville occasionally. Harry often missed Hogwarts, wished he could still call its stone walls and familiar long passageways home but he had no complaints, his small dwelling near town gave him the independence he had always craved.
He was thrown back into reality when an explosion erupted dramatically on his television screen, and for a while he sat in silence and contentedly watched the movie, eating vaguely from his plastic container.
It was then that Hedwig chose to appear from out of the night sky and tap nattily on the window with her beak, a shining white against the dark background. Harry heaved himself off the lounge and lifted the pane's handle firmly, listening as the unprotected space howled with rain and wind before he muffled it by closing the window smartly. Hedwig soared over his head and perched on the coffee table, shaking her feathers about so Harry was splattered with rain.
`Watch it!' he laughed, shielding himself from her complimentary shower. She stared unblinkingly at him in an indignant sort of fashion, as if blaming him for the outside weather. A few letters were dropped on the table for him and without another thought she waddled over to his leftover lasagna and began helping herself. Harry rifled through his mail, bypassing a few Quidditch catalogues and tearing open a letter with the handwriting of Ginny. He sat there for a few minutes reading her note and smiling at her dry humored description of the days events, but frowned when it came to phrases like `worried', `Ron not himself', `Hermione on edge' and `couldn't you do something?'.
So other people were noticing it too. It seemed that Ron and Hermione hadn't been as good at hiding their problems as they had thought. It didn't take a genius too see something was up, they weren't being entirely discreet. It comforted him to know that at least he wasn't being paranoid.
Thunder rumbled menacingly above him as he finished Ginny's letter and he saw Hedwig flinch at the noise. A sudden crack erupted from outside and Harry paused to listen, frozen solid, a fork still poised in his hand. That hadn't been lightning; he knew the sound of apparition in an instant, but who on earth would be visiting at this time of night in the pouring rain?
Harry slowly pushed himself from his sofa and proceeded towards his front door cautiously, drawing his wand. Sure enough, he heard the crunch of feet on gravel, and then on steps.Suspicion seeped through his limbs and though his head told him there was nothing to fear his heart pounded, reading for a fight. Years of death eaters would have that affect on anyone. By the time he had reached his door the harsh rapping of knuckles on wood rattled his ears drums, and he turned the glossy handle without further ado.
As his door swung open, he found himself face to face with Hermione.
Harry lowered his wand immediately as her eyes flickered upward from the floor to meet his gaze. His heart plummeted when he saw the streaked mascara lines under her eyes and the water dripping off her saturated wet figure. He surveyed her closely, waiting for some sign that this had been Ron's doing. At that very moment, he wanted to hurt Ron. He wanted to punish him for ever, ever, making Hermione akin to this; he didn't give a damn about the consequences. He felt angry at himself that she had had to go through this without his help. He hadn't saved her, for that he would never forgive himself. Screw Luna's words of advice, if his interference kept Hermione safe then he would do it without blinking from now on. Harry was a fast learner, he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
She looked so incredibly small.
Harry had singled her out as many things, but small was never one of them. Hermione usually acted about as small as a tiger waiting for its chance to strike.
But she looked tiny at the moment.
A quivering, quiet voice that seemed to be using all its strength to keep calm spoke from her mouth in a way that was so unlike her Harry was momentarily stunned.
`May I come in?'
Harry stuffed his wand into his pocket and Hermione instantly shuffled towards his body, clutching him around the waist. As he felt her head bury into his chest he sighed and held her close. She began to cry silently and he averted his eyes to prevent seeing the violent shake of her shoulders. There was nothing worse than seeing Hermione cry, it gave him a bleeding, stinging sensation in the pit of his stomach. Without hesitation he lifted her from their place in the doorway, shutting the door carelessly with his foot and carrying her swiftly over to the couch. He gently sat down and allowed her to cry into his shirt, her fingers curling around bits of material desperately.
He was the best friend; this was what he was there for.
At that moment, Harry wasn't thinking about what he wanted with Hermione. In fact, he completely forgot about that aspect altogether. It didn't matter. Right that second, he was just Harry, she was just Hermione. They were just best friends who didn't need to ask, they already knew. It was a reassurance to him to know that if he hadn't saved her the pain she had just been though, he could at least try to save her now.
They sat there for a long time. It was only when Hermione was reduced to merely sitting in his lap and staring at the wall in front of her eyes did he decide it was safe to speak.
`Listen,' he began, shifting so that he could peek down at her face. He gazed at the soft creases in her nose as she crinkled it in distaste. Apparently she had been under the impression that if she lay still enough he would forget her presence. `I was just making myself a hot chocolate when you came, you want one?'
Hermione looked up into his face for a moment and gave a small sigh before nodding approvingly. `I would love one.' She said, crawling off him and taking refuge with a cushion that lay abandoned on the floor.
Harry smiled at her before silently retreated to the kitchen. He was very tense, it seemed like a wrong move would scare her away, she looked so fragile. He didn't know when her emotions might snap at a time like this. She was like a skittish animal to him, flinched whenever he spoke, and this was foreign territory. He couldn't say he had ever had a sobbing woman take refuge on his couch before, much less Hermione.
Hermione.
The brains, the conscience. The sensible, practical, strong one.
Perhaps he would play this one by ear. Dangerous, yes, but he thought he knew Hermione well enough to test her emotions without too much difficulty. Or at least he thought he did.
The sound of his footsteps on the carpeted floor made her jump but he gave her a reassuring smile and handed her the steaming mug. She took it graciously though drew it close to her chest, as if it was a comforting friend. Taking a long sip she let her lids shut lazily and sighed in contentment, opening her eyes to incline her head thankfully to him. Harry had barely sat down when the mug was out of her hands and into his. She opened her mouth to protest but Harry cut her off.
`You can have this after you go get changed out of those wet clothes.' He commented, looking critically over the soaked clothing that clung to her small figure. Hermione whimpered and made a grasping movement towards the drink in Harry's hand before succumbing to his gaze and trudging out of sight. He could hear the heavy thumps of her feet ascending the stairs and the door of his room closing with a snap.
With a heaving intake of breath he returned to the kitchen and reheated second helpings of leftover lasagna, hearing Hermione coming down the stairs as he returned. She clutched her sides, hugging herself absentmindedly as she descended. Jumping onto the couch once again she snatched her mug from the side table and paused before patting the seat next to her expectantly. Harry joined her and watched as she immediately curled up on his lap once again and ravaged the container he had given her until there was nothing left.
Once the food had been eaten and drinks devoured, Harry couldn't wait any longer. The pressure was building inside his head, practically screaming at him to bombard her with questions. Luckily he was intelligent enough not to act upon these bursts of emotions.
He straightened his back against the chairs's soft support and felt Hermione tense underneath him. Knowing what was coming, she quietly retreated to the opposite side of the squashy couch and wrapped her slender hands around her knees protectively, a small apprehensive look on her face.
Harry took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, wondering with a panic what on earth he was going to say. This situation had never come up before. He was never awkward around Hermione; this was unfamiliar terrain to him. It was terrifying. The best he could come up with was a pathetically tentative; `…you wanna tell me what happened?'
Hermione squeezed her legs and shuffled her feet uncomfortably, but answered his question after a considerably long pause.
`He wanted to get married' she said quietly, determinately not looking at him.
Harry started at her for a moment, not quite believing what she had said. He seemed to stop in suspended animation for a few seconds and he could have sworn it was the closest he had ever come to his world coming to an end. Recollecting his thoughts, he quickly recovered from his internal distraught to turn his attention back to her petrified face. When she appeared to be too preoccupied with picking a thread from the couch he decided he had to be the first one to speak, and eventually a voice protruded from his mouth in a strangled sort of attempt at normal speech.
`He wanted…you…get married?'
Hermione's eyes came to a sudden realization and she lifted her palms hastily. `Oh, he didn't propose!' she said, looking horrified. `No, good lord no, nothing like that.'
Harry's shoulders lowered slowly, comprehending her words with an enormous internal sigh of relief.
Relief.
He could have gotten up and spun Hermione around the couch in a triumphant war dance to release the mountain of relief that had washed over him. Letting go of the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, Harry was quick to hide the sudden jubilation at the thought that all hope wasn't yet lost. He waited with baited breath for her to continue, anxious for words to form in her mouth that would tell him she was through crying over Ronald Weasley.
`We were just…talking' she began, inching her feet closer to the rest of her body. `It was just normal chatter, the first time we'd been alone together in a while, really.' Hermione paused to recollect her thoughts, a regretful look in her pained eyes. `It was going so well…'
Harry listening to her story with a pitying air, the discomfort clearly showing as she wrung her hands together.
`But then, God I don't know, he mentioned something about `when we're married' and…and...' She was now staring fixatedly at her mug unseeingly, in raptures at her retelling, as if she had thought it over million of times in her head.
`I'd never pictured us married before. It sounded so…ridiculous. I know it seems like I'm over thinking it but when it comes down to it what girl doesn't picture a wedding or children or something with their boyfriend at some point? I've never done that Harry; I've never looked ahead that far.'
Harry remained determinately silent, sure that if he made a comment he would live to regret it. He had quite a number of opinions about the subject, but there was a time and a place for everything. Hermione didn't seem to mind, she ploughed on with her story without encouragement.
`Then, of course, he got all defensive and you can imagine what happened after that.'
She brandished her hands uselessly as if the added effect would emphasize her point, but he could see the glaze of water welling up slowly within her eyes, the emotion of her tale as a painful reminder.
`He wants to spend the rest of his life with me, Harry. That's what he wants.'
`But do you?' Harry asked hastily instantly regretting the question that came out of his mouth far too quickly for a casual enquiry.
Hermione didn't answer; she just let the tears roll down her cheeks as if they were nothing but a usual occurrence, her hands in her lap. She didn't even seem bothered that Harry was watching, a fact that she usually despised above all things. Her pride wasn't getting in the way this time.
He looked at her shaking figure and for that moment he was sure that if Hermione looked up and saw the crinkles of sadness around his emerald eyes she would see right though him, and realize everything he had been trying to keep from her. Harry had always been an open book to her, she could recite what was on his mind in a split second after looking into his face, but the years of Ron had clouded the very emotions Harry didn't want her to see. He was grateful for that much. It bought him some time.
`You love him,' Harry said gently, wishing that he could steal her pain away and have her rid of such horrible memories, ones she didn't deserve.
`I thought I did.' She said quietly, as if confessing a long feared opinion. They held each other's gaze but Harry won without effort and he watched helplessly as Hermione crumbled before his eyes.
As she returned to his side of the couch in comfort, Harry watched as the sky lit up once again, setting the heavens on fire. The growling weather above him temporarily drowned out the sound of her sobs but he could still feel her quick, uneven intakes of breath underneath his chin. He let the tears flow, let her ruin his shirt with her stains of water, sure that he had never wanted to protect her from the world more than in that instant. No matter how tightly he wrapped himself around her, they both knew that neither would sleep tonight.
Hope you enjoyed it! Please review if you did, I love to hear feedback!
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