The Hard Road is Worth the Reward

DarthMittens

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 05/05/2011
Last Updated: 05/05/2011
Status: completed

During his sixth year Harry comes to the conclusion that Hermione no longer wants to be his friend. So he stops being her friend. Rated PG13 for language and a disturbing amount of fluff.

Chapters

1. The Hard Road is Worth the Reward

1. The Hard Road is Worth the Reward

A/N: Just a little plot bunny that didn’t want to seem to leave me alone. Takes place during Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. One-shot.

I hope you enjoy it!

The Hard Road is Worth the Reward

“No, Harry!” snapped Hermione angrily. “For the millionth time, I don’t think Malfoy is a Death Eater! Now can you please be quiet? I’m trying to study.”

Harry clenched his fists at his sides as he reluctantly sat back in his chair and picked up his Quidditch notebook to study the plays. Well, that was a lie—he actually picked the Quidditch notebook up to hide his reddening face. He was royally pissed off at Hermione. No matter how many times he said it or how many valid reasons he gave her, Hermione just did not want to even consider that Malfoy just might be a Death Eater. Crazier things had happened, right?

It may have seemed a little childish to an observer at first, but once the person had seen how Hermione had been treating Harry this school year they might begin to understand. He didn’t know if it was because puberty had drastically changed her over the summer or if being in love with Ron might have addled her brains or if she was just jealous because with the Half-Blood Prince’s help he was better than her at potions, but this was not the Hermione he knew. The Hermione he knew was always there for him and cared for him, always paying attention to what he had to say and thinking through everything logically.

This Hermione seemed to only have eyes for Ron and didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about Harry anymore. She was yelling at him more than Ron, laughing less around him, and generally seemed to be annoyed with him anytime he was around. She only seemed to appreciate his company when Ron had hurt her and she needed someone to unload her problems and worries on.

And he was sick and tired of it.

From Harry’s point of view, it seemed that Hermione didn’t want to be his friend anymore—she was just using him at this point. She just didn’t care about him anymore. It pained Harry greatly, for he was in love with the bushy-haired braniac, but it seemed to be the only logical explanation. Hermione had always told him to think things through and here he was, finally doing it, only to realize that she didn’t want to be his friend anymore.

Harry glanced over at the woman that was causing him all of his troubles…well, most of his troubles at the moment. She was eyeing Ron, book forgotten in her lap. She had lied to him. She didn’t want to study, she was just annoyed with him for interrupting her daydream about the thick-headed oaf. Harry couldn’t even see what she saw in him. Ron was lazy, abrasive, unreliable, and to be perfectly honest, a bit dim. Sure, he did have striking blue eyes, but that was just about his only good quality.

Harry disappeared quietly upstairs and no one noticed, which only added to his depression. Nobody seemed to care about him anymore. It was okay though, he didn’t need them! He would show them that he could get along just fine without a certain Hermione Jean Granger. He didn’t need any friends.

Perhaps it was even better this way.

Now he wouldn’t have any emotional ties to worry about. His entire family was dead and he had no friends. He would be able to walk into the fiery depths of hell without dragging anyone with him. At least nobody would feel anything in particular when they learned that Voldemort had killed him. Well, nobody except for Malfoy—he would probably cheer and high-five Crabbe and Goyle.

He would still fight for the sake of giving Hermione a happy, Voldemort-free life, but at least now he didn’t have to worry about her getting hurt. Harry didn’t know how he felt about Ron. On the one hand, Ron was his oldest mate. But on the other hand, Ron wasn’t very loyal to him, seemed to harbor quite a bit of jealousy concerning him, and not to mention the fact that he seemed to have won the heart of Hermione.

No matter. Now that he had no friends, Harry had plenty of time to focus on other things. He took out his wand and transfigured some pieces of parchment into a set of weights. It was about time he did something about his scrawniness.

---The Hard Road---

Two months later, Harry was sitting at lunch at the end of Gryffindor Table while reading up on complex offensive and defensive magic. Now that he had completely devoted himself completely to eradicating Voldemort, he was first in the class, even topping Hermione. Hermione had stopped coming to the extra-credit hands-on study sessions about two days after Harry had started doing them…which also happened to be the day she and Ron had become an item. He hadn’t talked to either Hermione or Ron in the past three weeks and they had instigated no conversation with him, which obviously led him to believe that he was right in the idea that they no longer wanted to be friends with him.

Funnily enough, it now seemed that Harry and Hermione were switching roles. Harry’s grades were quickly rising and he was answering more questions in class than Hermione. Hermione’s grades had all dropped around three percent and her assignments were being finished later and later as she procrastinated, putting time with Ron in front of her studies. Oh, how it disgusted him to see them eating each other’s faces in the common room.

Hermione had even received a detention along with Ron. They had shown up five minutes late to Snape’s class, both of them looking particularly rumpled—obviously they had just arrived from a particularly wild snogging session. And Hermione didn’t even have the modesty to blush or apologize.

It devastated him to see how much Hermione had changed now that she had decided to fall in love with Ron. No longer there was the sweet, innocent, friendly girl he had fallen in love with in fourth year. Harry doubted she would even make Head Girl in seventh year. All of her dreams and dignity, gone because Ron was rubbing off on her.

Harry checked his watch as the bell rang. He had a free period right now, which meant that he and Dumbledore were going to continue their search for the Horcruxes, of which only Nagini and another they did not know the identity of remained. They had really accomplished a lot in the past few weeks.

When Dumbledore had asked Harry to accompany him to the rock in the sea, Harry had asked that they postpone it a week. With full access to the restriction of the Library, Harry looked up all the secrets of dark curse-breaking and Horcrux auras. Then it had clicked that he had felt something similar to the feeling they had described in the book.

The two travelled to Grimmauld Place, where they found Voldemort’s locket Horcrux and asked Kreacher how he had attained it. It turned out that him and Regulus Black, who was Sirius’s brother, had gone into a cave in the sea and swapped a fake Horcrux with the real one. Both Harry and Dumbledore were glad that Harry had decided to postpone on going to the cave. They had found a Horcrux without having to jump through Voldemort’s hoops.

Harry, on top of learning Occlumency, learned how to control his connection with Voldemort. He could look into Voldemort’s mind whenever he wanted without the Dark Lord being any the wiser. They had learned of the location of Hufflepuff’s cup from a conversation Voldemort had had with Bellatrix Lestrange. Dumbledore had unrestricted access to Gringotts for helping them set up some of their newer security features, and had recruited the help of Griphook in breaking into Bellatrix’s vault, even swapping the real Horcrux with a fake one just as Regulus had done.

They were currently trying to find the last of the Horcruxes besides Nagini. But Harry had a good idea of what that last Horcrux was going to be. He had searched for one of Ravenclaw’s heirlooms for what seemed like ages in the library and had only run across one: Ravenclaw’s diadem, which had long since been lost. But Harry wasn’t so sure about that. He had come across a piece of information stating that the Grey Lady was Rowena Ravenclaw’s daughter, Helena Ravenclaw. He would make sure to have a word with her before seeing the headmaster.

---The Hard Road---

It was Graduation Day. Parents were sitting in the chairs behind the seventh year students. Harry had just returned to his seat after giving a speech as the Head Boy—he refused to do one as the conqueror of Voldemort.

He had killed the bastard by the end of his sixth year. After destroying Ravenclaw’s diadem, he and Dumbledore had planned a raid of Riddle Manor along with the Order and trustworthy—trustworthy meaning haven taken three drops of Veritaserum and answering questions—Ministry workers for two months. One hit team of Aurors and Order members led by Dumbledore went after Nagini while Harry led a group through the Death Eaters toward Voldemort.

Voldemort had really been no match for Harry in the end. Harry had used a long-lasting memory retention spell, which allowed him to perfectly remember every spell he had read up on for the past four months. Harry killed Voldemort without even receiving a scratch, finishing the Dark Lord by holding his attention while he transfigured a table behind Voldemort into a broadsword. He had fired three curses at Voldemort while summoning the sword, which ended up impaling Voldemort through the chest. As the Dark Lord stared down in shock, Harry finished him off with the killing curse. The rest of the Death Eaters were easy to round up and had all been given the Dementor’s kiss.

And so here Harry found himself at graduation watching the Head Girl Padma Patil give her graduation speech. Hermione didn’t seem particularly perturbed that she wasn’t named Head Girl. In fact, she never seemed bothered when she had missed and assignment or received a failing grade on one of her essays or tests. She hadn’t even finished in the top three that year. But she did have a ring on her finger.

Yep, Ron had proposed. Just after Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup again, Ron had taken Hermione up on his broom, sonorused himself, and proposed to her in front of the entire school. Ron had worked all summer at Fred and George’s shop, saving his money for an engagement ring. They were to be wed after the Graduation Ceremony.

And Harry wasn’t even on the guest list.

---The Hard Road---

Two years. Two years it had been since Harry had graduated from Hogwarts. Two years it had been since he had seen Ron and Hermione. Two years since he had last set eyes on Britain.

A week after graduation, Harry had moved to Burundi, which was in Africa, to help them establish a functional magical government. Then he did the same in Ecuador. He had just finished in Honduras. Now he was on his way back to Britain, having accepted the position of Foreign Ambassador in the British Ministry. It wasn’t exactly what he had envisioned himself doing when he had been in Hogwarts. But then again, neither had he seen himself assisting country after country in setting up their magical government. He was glad that he was actually doing something to help the world.

And now he was next in line for the floo to London. He was whisked away by the familiar spinning sensation, ending up in the international flooport in London. He quickly apparated to Grimmauld Place, dumping the rucksack with all of his belongings on the floor next to his bed when he arrived.

He had lived simply and hadn’t made any friends in the past two years. He was very accomplished, both monetarily and satisfactorily, but he felt as though his life was missing something. All he needed was a friend. He wasn’t one to kid himself or live in denial: he had been lonely as hell the past three years.

Despite his accomplishments and the role he had played in helping the world become a better place, he was miserable. He barely talked anymore and buried himself in work. But at least when he was working he was doing something. Times such as these, when he was all by himself with nothing to do, he found his mind drifting to Hermione and he sank into a deeper depression. No matter what he tried to do he couldn’t seem to move on. She had been his best friend and true love and she had turned her back on him and never looked back.

She was the reason he was so lonely. Being given the cold shoulder by her had crushed his confidence and self-esteem into nothing. Obviously he had done something wrong or wasn’t good enough for her to just ignore him like that. As usual, he found himself reliving his sixth year up until when he and Hermione weren’t talking anymore.

She had been seriously weird that year. Not only with her fixation with Ron but with everything. Her studies, which had always been what she had taken the most pride in, had been put on the backburner for a relationship. She had always seemed to be an independent, strong woman but seemed to succumb to a helpless female stereotype as soon as she had started dating Ron. From what Harry had heard, Hermione only had a part-time job at the Ministry, earning minimum wage. Ron played for the Chudley Cannons as their breadwinner, Hermione seemingly his trophy wife. Whenever Harry had gotten his hands on the Daily Prophet it was to find Hermione hanging on Ron’s arm, gazing up adoringly at him.

Harry didn’t even know who Hermione was any more. She definitely wasn’t anyone he had ever met.

A knock sounded at Harry’s door, which he found very odd. He wasn’t due to return until tomorrow, so not even the Ministry knew that Harry was back yet. So who could know that he was home?

It was midday, a dark, rainy April midday. He opened the door to find a woman soaked to the bone, hair plastered to her head and face. Harry was just about to inform the stranger that she was in the wrong house when she embraced him in a familiar bone-crushing hug, burying her face in his chest.

“Oh, Harry!” she exclaimed, her petite frame shaking from a mixture of cold and sobs. “Thank goodness you’re here!”

Harry sighed. It was Hermione. Why did she think that he was even an option for a shoulder to cry on anymore? “What, so you’re just going to dump all of your troubles on me after not speaking to me for three years?” he asked coldly. She looked up at him in shock, arms only limply wrapped around him. “Only you could show up and hug me and act like nothing has happened. Well guess what, Hermione, I don’t care anymore!” he shouted, showing more emotion in that one sentence than he had over the past three years. “I don’t care if Ron’s cheated on you, I don’t care if he broke your heart! Learn how to grow up and deal with your problems on your own, or at least tell someone who gives a damn! I stopped giving a damn when you threw away our friendship and sold yourself out to become a completely different person! I’m starting over in Britain, Hermione, and this time I plan to do things right, which means that I don’t want you over here darkening my doorstep!”

Hermione’s hand came up and connected with Harry’s cheek, sending him recoiling backwards. He stood up to see Hermione panting, tears filling her beautiful brown eyes. And Harry laughed.

“Okay, I get it,” he said. “I’m the bad guy in this situation. I should’ve figured.”

As Hermione’s lower lip trembled and she pushed her hair off her face, Harry’s disbelieving smile slowly slid off his face as he took in the black ring around her left eye. “H-Hermione?” he asked, reaching a hand toward her face.

“Don’t touch me,” she spat as she swatted his hand away and her tears spilled over onto her cheeks. “I came here for a reason, and I don’t give a damn whether you want to hear what I have to say or not. All I wanted to say is…” she gulped and a sob escaped her throat, wrenching Harry’s heart, “…I love you, Harry. But you don’t give a damn, so I’m leaving.”

“No, Hermione, wait!” he called, but it was too late, she had disapparated.

“Son of a bitch!” he cried, punching a hole in the plaster next to him. He had been waiting for five years to hear her say those words and he had finally had his wish granted only to have no explanation accompanying the confession.

Thinking things through, he decided on his next course of action. Hermione had a black eye, which could’ve only meant that Ron had punched her. She was soaking wet, which meant she had been walking for a while before arriving at his house. She would only ever walk in the rain without using drying and warming charms if she was seriously shocked or confused. And she had not only been trembling from the cold and crying, but fear as well. And the most important bit was that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

Swearing to himself out of frustration, he apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. “Harry!” Tom called. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Tom,” Harry said desperately, muscles tensed, “Have you seen Hermione anywhere?”

“She just went up to her room two minutes ago bawling her eyes out,” Tom informed him. Before Harry could ask, Tom smiled at him and said, “Room eleven.”

“Thanks,” he said before he apparated straight inside her room.

Hermione’s head shot out of her hands and she stared up at Harry in shock from where she was sitting on the side of her bed, eyes rimmed red, making her left eye look even worse.

“What do you want?” she tried to ask fiercely, failing as her voice broke. She was shivering like mad, clutching her arms to her chest for warmth.

Harry cast drying and warming charms on her, then healed her eye. “Explain,” he demanded when he was finished.

“I…I…woke up this morning, and…” she burst out crying again, her whole body heaving with her sobs.

Harry sighed and sat down next to her, pulling her close to him. She tentatively wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, and he rubbed her back soothingly. He couldn’t believe he had succumbed that easily. But it was kind of hard not to when he was in love with her. No matter how she treated him he would always be here for her, helping ease her pain. He hated himself for it because it meant he was weak. He had made a pact with himself to keep Hermione out of his life yet within ten minutes of arriving back in Britain here he was, rubbing her back as she clung to him desperately.

“I woke up this morning,” she mumbled into his neck. “And it was like I had woken up from a trance. I can barely even remember the past three and a half years of my life. Ron had always prepared my tea or poured my glass of pumpkin juice. But I hadn’t been feeling good the past week and liquids seemed to upset my stomach more than anything else, so I secretly dumped them. I thought he had been pouring my drinks to be sweet and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But this morning I woke up and found myself disgusted to be in Ron’s arms. Everything felt wrong. I went downstairs and looked through all of the cabinets for something, anything, and guess what I found in the farthest recess of the top shelf of the corner cabinet.” She laughed like a crazy woman into Harry’s neck, sobs bursting out when she was regaining her breath. “Amortentia,” she finally cried, clutching him harder.

Harry sucked in a gasp through his teeth, his eyes almost bugging out of his face. If she had been ingesting Amortentia since, say, the beginning of sixth year, everything made sense. Why she only seemed to be paying attention to Ron. Why she put her studies second…why she put Harry second. Why she suddenly seemed different one day. Because something was different one day.

“Oh my God, Harry,” she sobbed. “He ruined my whole life! My one dream in school was to be Head Girl, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! I didn’t even help you bring down Voldemort! I’ve loved you since fourth year and only today did I finally get to confess it to you! I have no career, I have a crappy job, and my life is nothing like how I want it!” she cried hysterically, now hyperventilating. Harry sent a silent Patronus message to Tom as he continued to soothingly rub Hermione’s back.

“I confronted Ron about it,” she continued. “It took a few threats, but he finally started talking. Long story short, the only reason he even put me under the effects of Amortentia was because you had told him that you liked me. And only once did he want to have something you wanted. When I told him I was leaving he punched me in the face and told me that I was worthless and nothing without him. But…you know me…I took off the ring, slapped him in the face, and ran in the direction of Grimmauld Place.”

“Oh, Hermione,” Harry said, holding her warm body close. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. If I just…” he trailed off.

“If you just what, Harry?” she asked. “There was nothing you could’ve done, you didn’t know!”

“But I should’ve recognized it!” Harry said angrily. “I knew you wouldn’t just brush me aside like that. And it was entirely my fault! He gave you love potion to get back at me!”

“How were we supposed to know he’d do something like that?” she asked. “We only thought Voldemort was our enemy, we never expected Ron to betray us! Stop blaming yourself! Can’t we just be grateful that I’m no longer imprisoned?”

“We can do that,” said Harry, rubbing her back again.

Tom came in with the potion Harry asked for and said, “Calming draught you asked for, Harry.”

“Thanks,” said Harry as Tom left the room.

Hermione was crying into Harry’s neck again, and she quietly said, “I love you, Harry. I have ever since fourth year. Please…please tell me you feel the same. Please tell me you love me.”

Harry tilted Hermione’s head up by her chin, gazing intensely into her eyes. They were full of vulnerability, hope, and self-doubt. They were rimmed red and tears glistened in them. Her nose was also red from crying and the cold. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He moved so his lips were millimeters from brushing hers, their breath mingling in the miniscule gap between them. He just barely let their lips brush, his lips tingling where they had touched Hermione’s. “How could I not?” he softly asked her before really capturing her lips with his.

“Please say it,” she panted against his lips after a breaking the kiss off. “I’ve waited five years to hear you say it.”

Harry smiled against her lips, moving one of his hands to her arm. He gently pried it off his neck, where it had moved during their kissing, and gently interlaced their fingers. He whispered against her mouth, “I love you,” before kissing her again, soft and sweet.

“And tomorrow we can get to work on getting your life just how you want it,” he said.

Hermione shot back, a wild look in her eyes. “It’s impossible! I wanted a perfect score on my NEWTs! That’s definitely not possible now! I—”

“Shh,” said Harry before kissing her again, grabbing the potion off the bedside table. “Drink this,” he said, putting it in her hands.

“Calming draught?” she asked a touch maniacally.

Harry nodded and Hermione drained it. Harry took the goblet away from her and put it back on the bedside table. When he turned back to Hermione, she was lazily smiling and shaking her head. “You would, Harry,” she slurred as she felt the effects of the sleeping draught begin to shut her systems down, just as Harry had planned.

Harry laid her down on the bed, kissing her forehead. “You wouldn’t have taken it. I did it for your own good.”

Her smile grew on her face a bit and she said, “My life is how I want it, Harry…’cause you’re here with me.” Her eyes shut and she fell into a peaceful slumber.

Harry smiled at her sleeping figure for a few minutes before transfiguring her clothes into pajamas and tucking her in.

They had a lot to talk about and a lot of pain to deal with, but as long as they had each other Harry knew they could make it.

Epilogue

Thirty years. Thirty years it had been since the love of his life had appeared on his front doorstep soaking wet.

One year after that fateful encounter they had gotten married. They had their first child a year after that and three more followed.

Hermione took Ron to court and gave evidence to the Wizengamot that resulted in a 50 year Azkaban sentence for the youngest male Weasley, who also had his wand snapped.

Harry and Hermione worked together to make Hermione’s life how she wanted it, Harry secretly pulling a few strings in the background to make his girlfriend happy.

Harry quit the Ambassador position the next day and decided to work in the Department of Magical Games and Sports as a promoter. Hermione eventually gained enough political power to start a division in the ministry that focused on gaining rights for magical creatures (and this time she avoided the word SPEW).

All of their children had homes of their own and their three eldest had children of their own.

And that was how they found themselves cuddled together in bed on a peaceful April Saturday night, bodies tangled, faces centimeters apart.

Harry kissed Hermione and said, “Did you see Ron got released today for good behavior?”

Hermione smiled. “Funny, he takes away three years of my life and I take away thirty of his. He should’ve known better than to mess with me.”

Harry smiled at his wife and kissed the tip of her nose. “There was no way he could’ve possibly stood in between the two of us for long. I would gladly spend another three years in lonely misery to spend just one day with you.”

Hermione sighed happily, gently brushing her nose against her husband’s. “I love you so much, Harry.”

Harry grinned before kissing Hermione’s lips. “I love you too, Hermione. I love you too.”

A/N: Well there you have it. Merlin, there’s so much fluff that it’s suffocating me.

*Sigh* And yes, I know I could’ve made this a 15K+, 20K+, or even 30K+ fic, but I didn’t feel like it. So if you don’t like how short it was…tough, deal with it. Don’t complain to me about it in a review because I won’t care anyway. I just wanted to put up a one-shot and I did just that. And no, I didn’t proofread it because I finished it at 12:30 in the morning last night and was too tired to do so, so sorry about any and all mistakes. :)

Please Review! (If you’re still alive after almost experiencing death by fluff!)