Disclaimer: The characters in this work are not of my invention, obviously.
Author Note: Okay, here goes. This is not only my first fan fiction on Port Key, it is also my first fan fiction ever. So I hope you like it. If you dig it, let me know what worked and what didn't (down to grammar and punctuation if you like.) If you didn't dig it, let me know what I can do better. Enjoy.
Hermione gave him a look that shattered his façade. Harry dropped his head and looked sullenly at his feet. He tried to muster courage enough for his retort but the more time that passed the more he realized that he would have to do more than defend himself. This time it was beginning to seem like he would have to explain himself to her or the argument would never end.
"I'm afraid of death." Harry choked out.
"Harry, we all are." Hermione tried to comfort.
"Not my own!" He paused briefly and considered his words, "Okay, yeah, my own too. But I'm talking about other people's."
"Harry, it's going to be all out war. People will die." Hermione for the first time addressed a subject they had skirted for weeks. Guilt. "It won't be your fault they die."
"My fault they fight, my fault they die." He threw his arms up, "Hell, in some cases it'll be on my order that they die! I'm supposed to walk away from that? I get to go be a hero, say I even beat him. Then what? I just go on with my life as a murderer and worse? How does that work?"
"Harry, what do you want me to tell you? Everything is going to be chocolate rainbows and marshmallow dreams? It won't, Harry. It's going to be war, and war means death, and blood, and pain and loss." Harry fell back into the chair in the empty common room and let out a sigh. In response Hermione added, "But it also means strength and valor and courage and victory. It'll be the end of a reign of evil, Harry. They may have joined the fighting for you or with you or whatever else your conscience doesn't like, but they'll be fighting for a better tomorrow. We all will."
Harry looked into her eyes, he knew she was only cheering him up but the tears building there seemed real enough. He smiled at her with his oddly charming boyish grin.
"Thank you, Hermione. I'll think about it." He said so quietly that she had to lean forward slightly to hear him.
Hermione got up from the couch and crossed in front of the fireplace in the empty common room to sit on the arm of his chair. They had been meeting in the common room to talk late at night for several weeks. Usually sneaking out of their dorm rooms in the dead of the night just to talk honestly with each other away from prying eyes. One honesty always eluded them, though they both denied it's existence it was always present behind the thin veil of secrecy that these meetings ran rampant with. It was the reason that they never shared the clandestine rendezvous with Ron or Ginny, or any other member of the now defunct DA, or indeed any other human being aside themselves. They were, if only in these few hours they shared together, and never aloud to each other, deeply and remarkably in love.
From the arm of the chair she put her hand on the top of his head and played for a short while with his hair, mussing it about idly. He put his hand on her knee and slowly spun circles with his thumb and forefinger. This small moment between the two of them was not far from uncommon in this setting. They didn't talk about how open they were physically here or why they never were in regular life. They just assumed that since this was time for sharing fears and secrets that the touching was part of the healing, they explored it's deeper meaning in their heads alone, and only after they had both retired for the night. Neither wanted to make this into something that would destroy friendships or relationships. Which is how their love story would begin.
* * *
Harry was tired in class. He was tired in class all the time now. It could have been the fault of his late night chats with Hermione but he knew better than that. Even if he weren't waking himself up to see her he would be waking himself to escape his nightmares. They had increased in frequency and had begun to take on truly bizarre themes.
He would be riding his broom out before a field of men and they would suddenly begin to laugh at him. Gradually he would laugh along with them and when finally his forced laughter turned into real laughter as he understood the gallows humor of him and his men laughing at death a dark cloud would descend. From the face of the cloud would fall a river of blood, washing him and his men away with a terrible cackling laughter ringing in his ears. Just as all seemed hopeless a hand would reach for him and pull him from the river. It was always Ron, and Ron was always injured in some terrible fatal way. Only Ron never seemed to notice his grievous injury or the horrific scene he had pulled Harry from. He just laughed and laughed and cracked his jokes. He would take them to Ginny and Hermione every time. Ginny was always sick with some kind of plague that caused her face to explode in puss filled sores. Hermione looked always like an angel and as soon as Ron kissed her Voldemort would break through the walls and rend Harry limb from limb. Never during this onslaught would Ron let Hermione go and Harry invariably found himself hacked and clawed and mauled to death while Ron and Hermione made out.
Harry refused to analyze these strange affairs and merely spent the rest of his day trying to forget them. The task would become far more difficult when he had to see these people everyday. His dreams had gotten worse in the days since Dumbledore had died and were growing worse in the days leading up to the funeral. He had, in the back of his head a plan that was growing ever more epic and life altering and of course much more heartbreaking. He knew he would leave Ginny, to spare her from the emptiness of his life and he knew he would leave Hermione and Ron to spare them from the horror he knew his life would become. It was a short time till then, but he would face it. He would tough through it and he would overcome. Or he would die.
* * *
Ginny cried for hours every day. In honest it was driving Ron nuts. Harry would be there soon and Ron knew that if he was still being all noble-hero-who-lived Harry that he would have to show him the ghoul. Ron had told his family a few weeks ago about the whole affair and Hermione had told everyone about what she had done and everyone knew the lengths they would go to protect Harry, everyone but Harry. Ron's biggest concern was what would happen to this family if he died. He would make Harry promise to protect them.
* * *
Harry looked around at the tattered diner. He wasn't exactly pleased with the outcome he had achieved in the last few days. He cursed himself for running off. Though it was true that the ministry was in the hands of Voldemort, he should have been a better leader. There were other things he could have done. He would cycle through them in a constant repetitive way in the back of his mind for years to come. It was in that instant that he had to stand up and make the calls that needed to be made.
"How'd they find us?" Harry asked out loud.
"Who knows? They shouldn't have been able to." Hermione responded.
"Maybe they can track the apparating?" Ron posited.
"Hermione? How possible is that?" Harry asked as he indicated that they needed to get moving. They quickly pulled off their wizard clothes and held them bundled under their arms.
"It's possible, to a point. I mean I know they can track it when a spell is used by the under aged, so clearly they could track a apparation by the under aged, but we're all of age, those tracking spells have worn off of us." Hermione opened her bag and stuffed her clothes inside, she indicated for them to hand her their garments. "Unless they reworked the spell, but a spell that intricate would take a very talented enchanter. We need to start thinking about other possibilities."
"Agreed. " Harry stated quickly, "But since this is what we got for now, it's what we stick with. We need to go somewhere that no one can follow even if they're tracking us." Harry thought for a second before an idea occurred to him that he didn't like but knew would work. "Grimmwauld place. They can't find it."
Ron looked at Harry with a strange mixture of pity and awe, "Harry, you are one hell of a leader." Ron said to lift Harry's spirits.
"We'll see." Was all Harry could muster in return.
* * *
Harry had locked himself in the bathroom. He didn't like having the flashes he was getting from Voldemort's perception and he really didn't like the idea of talking about it with Ron and Hermione. He filled the sink with water and began to splash it on his face. He needed to clear his head and also the cold water felt great against his burning scar. He caught sight of his scar in the mirror. He traced it with his hand.
To think that something that was so small would be such a big deal. It was because of this bit of healed skin that he was destined to kill another person. All of a sudden he was worried that he might not be able to do. Was he capable of murder? He steeled his resolve. He had to. There was no other choice and he would have to stop feeling bad for himself at some point and accept his fate. Just as he was draining the water he heard a knock at the door.
When he had opened the door a crack he saw Hermione standing huddled by the door in her night gown. She looked like an angel to Harry. Her bushy brown hair famed her face and brought out her eyes, and her gown clung to all the right spots. Harry tried not to stare, he had to respect the boundary in place. Above all the feelings he was trying to conceal about her Hermione was Ron's girlfriend and Harry would never betray that. He couldn't.
"Hermione? What are you doing up?" Harry asked.
"Same to you." Hermione said in her playful way. The tone of voice she reserved for their old late night conversations. Harry felt a pang of heartbreak. Those nights were gone now. He wished he could have them back.
"I needed to wash my face." He paused hoping to say what he had to without drawing suspicion, "Bad dream. No big. You?"
"I heard you walk by the door." She said with the right amount of desperation and nonchalance, "What kind of bad dreams?"
"The kind everyone gets when they're living on the run planning to over throw a corrupt government and kill the powerful evil wizard running it. Everyday sort of stuff." He said with a wry smile.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione asked.
"Not really. Did you need to use the lou?" Harry changed the subject.
"Do you want to talk about us?" She said quietly.
"There something to say?" Harry asked very carefully trying to ignore the obvious suggestion in her
wording, "I'm not certain you guys should come along but you insist. My hands are tied you can see."
"No, Harry. About you and me." She stared at him, her eyes searching his for the glimmer she knew was there
and hoped to see. The glimmer that showed through all his lines and forced strength that he loved her.
"Hermione. I. Look It's not that I don't think, or rather…" Harry fought his brain and his heart for the right words to tear his heaven apart. "You and Ron are… He's my best mate Hermione." His eyes pleaded with her to understand. In the quiet glassy surface of his eyes he let slip a glimmer of his feelings for her and she caught it. That was all she needed.
With one hand she pushed the door open and with the other she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss she had waited six years to give him. She would be certain if he resisted her, if in this moment he pushed her away and fought for a platonic relationship. If he kissed back, though she would know that now and forever, he was in love with her too. What he did was what she had wanted most. He poured all six lonely and lovelorn years into the kiss. He kissed her with a passion she had never known from any boy she had shared a moment like this with.
When their lips parted she rested her glowing forehead against his. The smile on her lips impossible to conceal and in a short time it had turned into a euphoric kind of giggle. She was in the clouds. She cracked her eyes open to see his face. To see what sort of Harry emerged before her now. Would it be the serious leader or the playful boy or best yet the love sick hero?
What she saw was panic. Harry was looking wide eyed at the floor and his eyes were searching the boards for some answer he was failing to see. She worried that he was regretting what had happened. She quickly and silently closed the door. She stared into his face.
"Harry? What's wrong?" She asked concerned. When she didn't get an answer she ducked under his face and gave him a quick kiss to revive him from his stupor.
The second kiss was much longer and split into a series of similar kisses. Her tears of happiness ran down his face and dripped from his chin onto his shirt. Still they continued. Years of desire finally made real and tangible. Neither of them wasted a second of the kissing wondering what they should do or where to put their hands. This was simple, this was breathing easy. Nothing came more naturally to the two young people than the simple act of being together. As soon as the kissing ended in both parties wrapped in each other on the cold bathroom tiles did it occur to Hermione what a strange place to have a first kiss. Then again Harry did have a penchant for ending up I strange places doing life shattering things. Once upon a time he had ended up at the same table she had been sorted into. Nothing was the same after that.
She moved her head to look at him. He was flat on his back and smiling ear to ear. His chest rising and falling with labored breathing as she knew her own was as well. She moved her hand to his chest and stroked the shirt there. He picked up her hand and kissed it before turning to look at her. She opened her mouth to speak but he put his finger up to stop her.
"I can't do this." He said with all the happiness draining from his face, and hers.
"Harry, don't look me in the eyes and tell me this didn't mean something to you." She tried to scream but was choking with rapidly gathering tears.
"This meant more to me than you can possibly imagine. It's what I've wanted for longer than you can know. Maybe longer than I do." He looked away for a moment, solemn but determined, thinking about her and this and so much more, "But I can't. I can't do this to Ron. You can't either."
"We can't deny how we feel. That's what got us into this mess!" She retorted, "For so long we refused to let ourselves have this! This perfect thing that we both wanted so badly and wouldn't admit. Look what it's gotten us. We get to be in love from afar all because Ron had a crush on me? You give up everything for everyone and take nothing for yourself and you think that makes you righteous, but you don't even think about me. You give me up for him as though I don't feel for you, as if I'm yours to give away!
"You gave yourself away!" He bellowed with a rage he didn't know he still had, "You dated him. You said yes to him and you shut the door on me."
"You wouldn't let me in! You wouldn't share your burden with anyone and by proxy you wouldn't share yourself!" Her tears running down her face she continued, "I went to Ron because he was willing to give me something you weren't. You drove me away and then acted hurt when I went. You don't ever think about my feelings!"
"You're not thinking about Ron's." Harry cut her off with a cold anger.
Together they sat and stared for a few minutes. Eventually they talked about how they would forget this had happened. About how they would never tell Ron. About how Harry had a mission to do and about the clues they had to accomplish his goal. By the end of it all they agreed start digging through the Black family library in the morning. Hermione slowly started to walk back to her room. She stopped as if a sudden thought had occurred to her and spun around and walked back to him.
"Tomorrow we forget this night between us ever happened." She said with defeat, "So if I don't say this now I never will." She looked Harry dead in the eyes and with honest conviction she said, " Harry James Potter, I Hermione Jane Granger am in Love with you." She concluded with a quick peck on his cheek and a long and lingering kiss. She then turned around again and started off to her room looking back only once. He face was so sad it broke his heart.
A few moments later the boy who lived started off to his own room, full of regret and heart break. He thought bitterly of an old muggle saying, "Love conquers all." He scoffed in bitter regret. His scoff turned into tears. With those tears lost in his pillow our hero finally got to sleep.