Resurrection by DarthMittens

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 02/09/2011
Last Updated: 02/09/2011
Status: Completed

Harry's depression a few months after the final battle is slowly but surely destroying
Hermione, who decides enough is enough.




1. Resurrection
---------------

**A/N: I promise I’m working on ‘Hermione, I Miss You’ and ‘Pierced’, Siriusly! The chapters
are going to be horrible because of my rushing unless I get this annoying plot bunny down
first!**

**It’s short, straight, and to the point. Enjoy!**

*"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your
own."**
-Robert Heinlein*

**Resurrection**

A quiet sob. A muffled choke.

Hermione felt her heart break as she listened to what was going on in Harry’s room with an
extendable ear. He had gone drinking again, as he did every night, and had come back to his and
Hermione’s flat only to spend the next few hours quietly crying in his room.

He had been doing it every night for two months, ever since he had killed Voldemort and lost so
many friends in the final battle.

Ron was living at his parents’ and working with George at the joke shop, waiting to be signed by
a professional Quidditch team. Harry had decided to rent a flat to get away from the Dursleys and
allow the Weasleys space to grieve for Fred, Hermione joining him to keep him company. They would
be attending their seventh year of Hogwarts, though it felt weird doing so without Ron, who was
soaking up his new fame.

Hermione was snapped out of her thoughts as Harry gave a soft moan, his nightly ritual before
finally falling asleep. “Harry…” Hermione whispered with her hand on the knob and her forehead
against the cool, smooth wood of the door.

If only she could tell him how much his pain hurt her, how much she wished she could take all of
it for herself so he could be happy. If only she could tell him how much she was in love with
him.

But she couldn’t. Not now, when he was so emotionally confused.

She was surprised when she felt something wet hit the top of the hand that was holding the
doorknob. She was even more surprised when she realized that it was a tear that had dripped off her
chin.

Before she knew it she was full-on sobbing, trying to be quiet as her body shook with each shaky
breath. She staggered back in the direction of her own bedroom, her legs giving out from under her
as soon as her hand touched her doorknob.

So many times Harry had saved her, looked out for her, cared for her, and she couldn’t even do
one measly thing in return. All she wanted was to make him happy—make him the old Harry—but her
brain was failing her for the first time ever. She felt useless, pathetic, and helpless. She felt
like a *failure*.

She crawled into bed on shaky arms and legs and clutched her pillow as she cried into it, her
tears not stopping until she had finally fallen asleep.

***RESURRECTION***

“Well, Hermione,” said Harry with a smile, “I’m going to go out now. Places to go, people to
see.”

That’s what he always said. He had never actually told her he was going drinking, but she had
found out one night when he had come home and proceeded to cheer about Voldemort being dead and
began toasting everything from life to pumpkin juice, all in a heavily slurred voice. He had passed
out on the floor, leaving Hermione to levitate him to his bed and obliviate him so he didn’t have
to remember anything of his embarrassing speech.

And he always acted happy in the daytime. Whenever he was around her he always made sure he was
cheery and chipper, never allowing her into those pain-filled eyes or that fake smile. He saved the
depression for when he was all by himself.

But not anymore, because Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. She had decided that morning that
enough was enough. As Harry turned around to go to his bedroom and change, Hermione said, “Going
off to get drunk again, are we?” Her voice was cold and dangerous, her fury building deep inside
her. Harry froze in his tracks. “Going to keep more secrets from me? Going to keep pushing me
away?”

“Hermione, I…” said Harry apologetically, turning back around to face her.

“I don’t care,” Hermione growled, standing up to face him. She was just getting started. “Go get
so pissed you fall flat on your face. And don’t tell me anything about it. Just let me worry myself
sick about you.”

“I’m s—”

“I’m not finished!” Hermione yelled, tears blurring her vision. “I want you to lie to my face!
Tell me you’re going to see a film or something! Tell me you’re my friend! Tell me you care that I
cry about you every night!” By now the tears had spilled over and were running down her face.

“You…what?” Harry asked in shock.

Hermione let out a choked sob as she fisted the front of Harry’s shirt with both of her hands
while he stood there like an idiot. “Just leave, Harry.”

“What?” said Harry with a hint of panic to his voice. “But I—”

“Please, Harry,” Hermione said wearily, letting her head rest on his chest. “I can’t take it
anymore. It hurts too much. I’ve tried everything to get you to open up to me, to talk to me, to
let me help you deal with your pain, but you just push me farther and farther away. So please…I
think we just need to call it quits now, before I fall even more in love with you.” Harry’s eyes
widened in shock. “The longer I put this off the more it’ll hurt.” She sighed and quietly said,
“I’ll pay you for the last week’s worth of rent.”

Harry swallowed hard, tears beginning to sting his eyes. What had he *done*? He had
destroyed the most beautiful, perfect, indestructible piece of his miserable life! The one bright
spot in a shroud of darkness!

*You idiot, are you really going to let it end like this?* his head asked him.

*I don’t know what to do,* the other part of him responded. *I don’t know what to
do!*

*Pull your head out of your arse,* his head replied simply. *Be a man*.

“Hermione…” Harry whispered, still trying to put his thoughts together.

“Now, Harry,” Hermione replied softly, letting go of his shirt and giving him a gentle push.

With his heart in his throat, Harry said, “But I don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave either,” Hermione responded heavily. “But I think this’ll be best for
both of us. We both need space.”

Harry, now breathing hard, met Hermione’s eye with a look of conviction. “I don’t need anything
but you,” he said in a voice to match his eyes as he took a small step closer to her.

“I think you don’t need any guilt at lying to me on top of your depression,” Hermione said.

“I think you need to let me decide what I need,” replied Harry, taking a small step closer to
her.

Hermione’s lips trembled as the tears began building again. “Harry…” she whispered.
“Please…”

“There’s nothing in this world that will make me more depressed than leaving you,” he said, now
gently gripping her upper arms.

“Then why won’t you let me help you?” she screamed in his face. Then she broke down and started
crying again. “Why won’t you let me help you?” she said again in a much quieter tone.

“Because I was afraid something like this might happen,” he said before covering her lips with
his, trying to convey his love for her with them.

She remained unresponsive the whole time. If anything, her crying grew harder. When he pulled
back her eyes were shut, the tears still escaping their confines. “Why would you be afraid of
that?” she asked, her voice thick and confused.

He sighed. “Because I was afraid of something like this happening afterwards,” he replied
miserably as he held up his hand to gesture between the two of them.

Harry felt his heart swell in hope as her eyes shut and the tiniest of smiles made its way onto
her face. “How do I know this’ll make you happy? I’ve been here all along and you’ve been
miserable.”

Her statements held no weight behind them—she wanted to be convinced that she was wrong. So he
did the simplest thing. He smiled at her and gently caressed her cheek. She slowly opened her eyes,
hoping that all of her wishes were going to be granted within the next second.

And they were. Right in front of her was Harry’s smiling face, his eyes free of all pain. “I
don’t think I’ll ever have an unhappy day in my life again,” he said softly.

“Harry...” she breathed, joy shining through her eyes.

“I’ve grieved for them long enough,” Harry said. “They gave their lives to defeat Voldemort.
It’s not right of me to let him linger. Thank you for showing me that.” His smile grew as he said,
“I love you, Hermione.”

“I love you too,” she said softly, her eyes shining. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

Harry grinned and obliged, and when Hermione kissed him back this time it was a hundred times
better.

How could he have thought that alcohol was the answer? That was never the answer. The answer was
always the same.

*It was love.*