A/N - yes, it's been a long time but my muse left me for a while, this story has been annoying me (but I was determined to finish it before I started anything else) and I've been incredibly busy with life (including changing jobs). Still, I've been reading some wonderful Portkey stories and haven't given up. So, I hope you like this - it's completed so there will be regular updates and is six chapters long. Oh, and it follows canon (mostly) so there are Harry/Ginny and Hermione/Ron. Cheers.
Chapter One
Opening his eyes, Harry felt the remnants of his dream swirling around his head and he frowned. It wasn't like his usual dreams or a Voldemort dream, but it didn't make it any less unsettling. Sighing, he knew he wasn't going to get any more sleep and resigned himself to yet another frustrating wait until morning.
Staring at the roof of the tent, he thought over what had disturbed him. His frown deepened as he remembered the images, making him look over in the darkness to the tents' entrance where he knew Hermione was sitting outside, keeping watch.
It had been a day since the mess at Bathilda's and the loss of his wand so it wasn't any surprise that sleep wasn't coming easy, even though he was slowly coming to terms with what had happened and the devastation he felt from what he had learned about Dumbledore.
And now he had this dream.
It wasn't the first time that Hermione invaded his thoughts - his fear of losing her often entering his subconscious with the knowledge that if she left he'd be totally alone. But in this dream, he had been the observer, watching as his friend reacted when one day she woke up and he had gone. Harry saw Hermione panic and the scene changed from being in the tent in the middle of nowhere, to Hogwarts where all their friends were. Hermione went to Ron and told him that Harry was missing, and Ron hadn't cared, saying that they were better off. But Hermione didn't listen and instead went to Ginny, telling her the news. Harry watched Ginny, the Ginny he knew, tell Hermione that Harry went missing ages ago and that she had moved on, and that she was with Dean now. Still Hermione didn't give up and kept going to all that she could - Remus, Neville, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Professor McGonagall, even Snape, and no-one cared.
It was then that Harry had woken, the memory of how Hermione had been so scared fresh in his mind. And now, as he lay in the dark wondering if he'd truly be missed if (when, he corrected himself) he died, a new fear began to grow.
What was he leaving behind? How would people remember him when he was gone? As a crazy, teenager who thought he could save the world? As a useless boy not worth a passing thought, just like what the Dursley's used to tell him when he was at Privet Drive? A reckless, thrill-seeker who constantly got his friends into danger because of his own stupidity? Someone full of his own self importance, which eventually got himself killed?
Sighing deeply, Harry sat up, put a jumper on over his pyjamas, grabbed his glasses, put on his boots then made his way out of the tent to where Hermione was sitting, reading a book in the firelight of one of her wonderful blue fires. Slightly startled when he came out, she quickly relaxed as he sat down next to her.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked unnecessarily, and he nodded.
"Weird dream," he explained and this time she nodded, put her bookmarker in place and closed the book.
"Want to talk about it?" she asked and he could hear the hesitancy in her voice, a small reminder of the awkwardness of the past few days. Harry thought before answering, the idea of telling her his dream and how he was feeling seemingly pointless. But the fear felt real and strange and new and he was too tired to keep hiding everything away.
"I dreamt I went missing and you were the only person that seemed to notice," he explained quickly, "that really cared…"
"Oh, Harry," she sighed, reaching out and taking one of his bare hands and covering it with her warmer, mittened one.
"Can I ask you something, Hermione?" he said, looking into her face for any more hesitancy - there was none.
"Of course," she replied immediately, her full attention focused on him.
"Can you help me think of reasons why I'll be missed," he continued strongly, "when…if I die at the end of all of this."
"Harry!" she cried, pulling back from him slightly in shock.
"Please," he pleaded, scooting closer and this time taking her hands in his, "please, help me because all I can think of is the bad stuff, the wrong stuff…"
"The bad stuff?" she repeated with a frown.
"Yeah," he carried on relentlessly, "like stupidly going to the Ministry to save Sirius and instead he dies and I nearly get us all killed, like agreeing to the protection plan to get me out of Privet Drive and getting Moody killed, and George losing his ear. Like killing Dumbledore…"
"You didn't kill him, Harry," she shot at him, "and none of those other things were your fault either. You-Know-Who…"
"Right, it was his fault," Harry interrupted, "every disaster in my life is his fault. But that's what people will remember…"
"No," she practically yelled and he stopped and stared at her. He could see her eyes glistening from the flicker of the blue flames before them, but amongst the tears was a gleam of resolute belief.
"Help me leave behind some reason to be missed, Hermione," he said softly.
He watched as she thought hard about his request, her eyes dropping to stare at their hands as she did so. After a few moments, she looked back up at him with a familiar stubborn glint shinning in the firelight.
"Firstly, Harry Potter," she started firmly, "you are not going to die."
"You don't know tha…"
"No!" she cut in, "you are not going to die! You will not go through all this pain, all this horror and not experience true happiness, like you deserve! I will not let that happen!
"Secondly, there are a lot of people who would miss you if you weren't around. Just because they're not here, doesn't mean they don't care about you. Ron…Ron has always had issues about certain things and sometimes they rule his head. But he's your best friend, Harry, and he loves you like a brother…"
"He has a funny way of showing it," Harry mumbled bitterly at the first mention of Ron since he left.
"I…I know," Hermione admitted, taking a deep breath as she composed herself before continuing, "and then there's Ginny. You know she'll miss you!"
"Actually, I'm not too sure," Harry sighed, "I mean, she let me go so easily, you know? And she's with other blokes there at Hogwarts. She could've easily found someone else…"
"Do you really believe that?"
Harry paused before answering, remembering the kiss on his birthday and how upset she was when it had been rudely interrupted by Ron.
"No," he finally said and Hermione gave him a small smile.
"That's what I thought," she nodded, "and what about all the others? The Weasley's? Hagrid? Remus? Don't you think they would miss you as well?"
"I guess."
"Exactly," she nodded again, more firmly this time, "and thirdly, there are already many reasons for you to be missed, Harry, and I can guarantee you that people will remember the good ones not just the bad."
"You mean the whole `Boy-Who-Lived' nonsense?" he nearly growled, "that's not what I want to be remembered for."
"I don't mean that and I think you know it," Hermione continued, squeezing his hands slightly, reminding him that she still had them covered with hers, "how about your kindness, about your bravery, about how you've been the best friend a person could ever have."
Pausing when her voice hitched slightly, Harry watched her face as she once more looked down at their hands. She was fighting back tears, he could tell, but he had another question to ask and he knew he had to ask quickly before he lost his nerve.
"Will you make sure people remember the good things, Hermione?" he asked softly.
"You can make sure yourself," she sobbed, a lone tear rolling down her cheek as she glanced quickly up at him, then back down to their hands, "you're not going to die."
"But if I do," he pressed, wiping the tear away with the pad of his thumb, "will you help people remember the good stuff?"
"I can't talk about this with you!" she suddenly cried, standing up from him and turning away, "I can't even think about the possibility that you'll die, Harry! I can't!"
"But you must have some doubts…"
"Must I? Why?" she asked, once more facing him as he stood, "have you any idea what my life will be without you in it?"
"It'll be no different," Harry answered, frowning with a half shrug, "you have Ron…"
"I don't have Ron!" she yelled, "haven't you noticed? He isn't here! No-one is here! I've given up everything for you, and if you're not here either, I have nothing left! So, no, I have no doubts what so ever about you not dying, because quite frankly, if you do, so do I!"
"Hermione…"
"No, Harry," she continued, making her way to him so that they were face to face, "no, don't - okay? Don't say anything, just listen. You can't die, you just can't - I won't let you. Because you were my first real friend, are my best friend, and…and…the thought of you not being in my life is just too frightful to comprehend."
Neither said anything for a moment - Harry too lost in her words to be able to say any himself. He never really realised how much he meant to Hermione, never thought about how much she had given up to help him, just accepting her loyalty without a second thought. Mentally berating himself, he knew that he needed to make amends.
"Thanks," he said gently as he watched her slump back down to her spot next to the fire, he slowly sitting down next to her, "thanks for everything."
"You're welcome," she whispered, her tears running freely. Knowing he should of done it days ago, when Ron first left and he knew she had been crying, Harry scooted over and draped a comforting arm around her shoulders, drawing her into him. Holding her as she wept, he thought more about what she'd said and although part of him realised he should just leave it there, that he had already pushed probably too far, he felt compelled to say one thing more.
"Promise me," he said ever so gently, "that…that if something does happen to me and you're resenting me for leaving you, or when you're feeling empty, you know? That you'll remember the good bits and leave out all the rest. That thinking of me will make you happy, not sad."
"Harry…"
"Promise me," he repeated more strongly.
"I promise," she told him, moving out of his embrace to wipe her face, then gave a little half laugh.
"What?" he asked.
"It's just that," she began, blowing her nose on a hanky, "I wish I could be more like you."
"What do you mean?"
"You go through all these horrid things," she elaborated, "had this terrible life yet at the graveyard, that was the first time I've ever seen you cry. It feels like all I've done for the last year and a half is blubber away like a silly little girl. I wish I could hold it in like you do, just deal with things then move on. I mean, after Cedric, you were so angry but it was about so many things. Yet after…after Sirius, you just seemed to accept his death and get on with things. I wish I could do that."
"I'm not sure if my way is the best way, Hermione," he admitted, putting his cold hands under his armpits, "and there have been many times when I've been a wreck."
"I've never seen those times and neither has Ron."
"That's because neither of you two have been there," Harry shrugged, "you should've seen me in Dumbledore's office after the nightmare at the Ministry. After Sirius. And when you were hit, I was a mess. I may seem strong on the surface, but let me assure you, that strength doesn't go all the way through."
"I guess that's good to know," she smiled, finally looking at him again, "it makes you more human."
"Not the infallible hero, you mean," he scoffed, "if people really saw how scared I am most of the time, they wouldn't have so much faith in me."
"Sometimes I see your fear," she told him, "in your eyes."
"You do?" he questioned, "and you're still here?"
"Of course I am," she stated matter-of-factly, "you're not perfect, Harry. And neither am I. Which, of course, is more than obvious."
"I dunno," he smiled, nudging her slightly with his shoulder, "sometimes I think you're pretty perfect."
"Honestly, Harry," she humphed, "when have you ever thought that? Actually, you don't need to answer. I know you're just trying to make me feel better after all this talk about death and whatnot."
"You've caught onto my plan," he chuckled, feeling good to smile again.
"And a good plan at that," she chuckled along with him, all traces of her earlier tears gone, "I also like your plan to change the subject so we are well away from talking about you and how you feel."
"I think I've already told you too much about how I feel," he admitted, suddenly sober again.
"Sometimes…sometimes I forget how well you are at hiding all your hurt and pain away," she said, once more quiet and reflective, "I guess that's all part of this strong persona you portray. The thing is, Harry, although I wish I could do what you do and forget, I can't. I need to stop pretending that someone else will come along and save me from myself - I need to do that on my own," she paused as she took one of his hands from its place of warmth under his armpit, took off a mitten, enlarged it and put it on his cold hand, "I keep trying to be like you, be strong like you and just focus on the job we have to do," she took his other hand and repeated the process, looking directly in his eyes when she'd finished, "but I know now that I can't be who you are."
The moment seemed to last forever - her eyes searching his as his hands began to warm in her mittens. Harry didn't know what to say; he realised he had already said too much already. Instead, he just closed his eyes when she leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead as she stood to leave. By the time he opened his eyes, she was gone.
I can't be who you are
He realised with a thud, he didn't want her to be more like him. He liked, no loved, how unique, how emotional she was. How she complimented him and his lack of ability to show anyone how he truly felt. How she complimented him in so many other ways. How lucky he was that she was still with him.
And how he was sure that this night would stay in his thoughts, be treasured, for the rest of his life.
What Harry didn't expect was the return of Ron the following day, how seeing Ron's fear about anything deeper than friendship between Harry and Hermione really affected him. And that the thought of betraying his friend put any thought of Hermione and the conversation they shared back into the recesses of his subconscious.
He did what he was finding easier to do as time went on. He forgot about it and moved on.
A/N 2 - there you go, a bit clumsy but eh, what can you do. Sometimes I read it and I think its okay, other times I read it and don't think it is. I leave it up to you to decide.
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