Disclaimer: Never was mine, never will be,
AN: Harry's POV, with a flashback. I hope this starts to explain what's been going on between them.
Chapter 4: The Chance
Ron and Hermione had cancelled on our dinner plans a month ago. I couldn't help but wonder if what had-or rather, hadn't-happened at the Ministry between Hermione and I might have had something to do with that. Now, when Rose and Hugo came over for play dates it was Ron who dropped them off. He just thought Hermione was trying to keep him busy. I knew better.
I felt like a terrible person. I had thought I was over her.
I looked over at Ginny from my seat on the couch and took in her rounded belly that contained our third child. Albus if it was a boy, Dora if it was a girl. Gin smiled at me when she caught me staring. "The baby's kicking a lot today," she beamed, a hand lingering on her stomach.
I forced a smile, willing it to reach my eyes. "Better be careful today then, right?" I teased. "Can't have you going into labor while I'm off at Hogwarts, can we?"
"Oh, Harry." She dismissed me with a wave. "We're not due for months yet! I'll be fine."
"I know," I replied. Getting up, I placed a kiss on her cheek and went upstairs to finish getting ready.
I make an annual appearance in Neville Longbottom's Herbology classroom, putting on the show of a dumb celebrity and always ultimately getting swallowed by one of his carnivorous plants. The idea had been Ron's at first, but my first performance-dressing in a suit and tie with sunglasses, rudely interrupting the class with cocky comments, and provoking the Weeping Willoughby by poking it incessantly-proved such a hit that I've been terrifying students about the dangers of not paying attention ever since.
Obviously, Ginny doesn't find this pastime nearly as hilarious as I do, but some part of her (the one most related to Fred and George, no doubt) turns a blind eye to the dangers. And considering the fact that there's two separate herbologists and a mediwizard hiding behind the Fernacious Ferns each year, I don't think she has much to worry over.
The thought of once again inducing a chorus of terrified screams as I was devoured alive made me smile, and I wondered if this was something my father would have approved of. Sighing, I uncomfortably adjusted my tie. Blasted muggle thing, I thought, vaguely wondering if a noose would be cozier.
But thinking of my parents and old school friends pained me, especially now that I was so uncomfortable around Hermione. I focused instead on getting dressed, tightening my shoelaces and romping downstairs to fetch my robes. Shrugging them on, I silently hoped for my best female friend to pick up Rose and Hugo tonight. Maybe then I'd finally get a chance alone with her. It was time to talk.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was the fall of seventh year and Hermione was unbelievably angry with me. Even though she had agreed to go for a walk with me, I could tell I wasn't forgiven just by the crease at her brow and the defiant fold of her arms across her chest.
I sighed.
We walked down by the lake in silence, our crunching footsteps the only sound as we slowly made our way across a lawn of fallen leaves. I reflected on that past year sadly-the stupid Phoenix book, her relationship with Ron, going into hiding, beating Voldemort, and then returning to school. There were so many things in our past, and I had been such a bloody prat about such a ridiculous thing.
I sighed again. Hermione looked at me, brow raised expectantly as I floundered for words.
"I…wanted to apologize for what I said the other day," I finally whispered, finding strength in the setting sun. "Ron has every right to take you to Hogsmeade. I just…I don't know," I faltered. I looked to her in exasperation, my eyes tracing the warm orange sun on her delicate features.
Almost imperceptibly, her eyes softened in the fading light. She smiled shyly up at me, tugging me to a stop with a single pull on the hem of my robes. We sat on the moss facing the lake, feeling the heavy breeze as it brought in the coming storm. Then, after so much silence, she spoke.
"I know, Harry." Her voice was so soft I hardly heard her. I looked up, curious and confused, to meet the most gentle pair of brown eyes I had ever known. "I know," she repeated, reaching a hand to caress my cheek.
My heart leapt against my will, my eyes fluttering closed. I sucked in a breath I didn't know I needed. She was leaning closer to me, her nose pressed against mine. Her breath tickled my lips, her warm scent enveloping me. This was what I had wanted-needed-for so long.
Why was she doing this? I didn't know. I didn't care.
But then, as I leaned in to touch my lips to hers, my voice cracked and escaped my throat, betraying me.
"Ron," I coughed hoarsely, and she pulled away, a frown marring those beautiful features. "Ron's going to propose, Hermione."
She looked at me in shock. "Ron's going to what?"
"He's had the ring for weeks. I swear, Hermione, I didn't want to tell you. I swear that this had nothing to do with the Hogsmeade thing. I just-"
"Please, Harry." Her voice was flat, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Please just go." She brought her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs like a child.
"Hermione," I whispered. "I-"
"Just go!" she yelled, hands over her ears. A single tear fought its way down her cheek.
I couldn't walk away, not from her or from the cleft that had divided us. In one swift movement I closed the distance between us. She stared morosely back at me as my hand cupped the back of her neck, pulling her face to mine. I willed every ounce of feeling I had for her to flow free as I looked urgently at her, trying to blink back the pain.
"Tell him `no,'" I whispered, letting my hands entangle themselves in her wild curls. She rested her forehead against mine, releasing a shuddering breath and wordlessly meeting my tormented eyes.
The passion and pain I saw in her was so clear, it was like an electric charge went through me. Somewhere in the distance, I heard myself gasp at the surprise of it. And then-too late to register anything else-I was kissing her, my lips pressing against her soft ones, begging her to see what I could offer her. I felt elated, vindicated; I felt her arms around my shoulders, tugging me closer, urging me forward.
We pulled apart, my fingers rubbing away her tears and smoothing down her hair. "Say `no,'" I repeated.
She nodded and sniffled slightly, looking back out over the lake. Thunderclouds were rolling in, darkening the sky and shading her face from me. The cool wind tore at my body, making me shiver. But Hermione made no move to stand, so in silence I slowly collected myself before walking back to the castle alone.
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