By Your Side

A/N: One more one-shot to tide you over until I can find the proper time to sit down, think about plot development, and write the next chapter for Pierced.

And I just realized that maybe it’s because I’m a guy, but I usually have Hermione doing something wrong and having to make up for it. Or maybe because I’ve read way more of the opposite. Yep. That’s it. Just adding a little variety.

And now I’m listening to the Half-Blood Prince Soundtrack (The movie may not be the greatest, but the soundtrack really is). Listening to Dumbledore’s Farewell makes me want to write something sad…

Rated M for vulgar language.

Anywho, enjoy!

By Your Side

Harry Potter ran his hand through his raven-black hair agitatedly as he sped down the street, taking a turn dangerously fast. Hermione had called him crying, asking for a ride home. He would’ve apparated, but she seemed pretty drunk and he didn’t live that far away, so he just decided to drive.

He weaved through traffic, his eyes burning, his foot not wavering on the gas. He hit the brakes as he reached the club, coming to a stop at the curb in front of the entrance. Harry didn’t look at Hermione as she got in, then sped off as soon as the door was closed. Hermione was sniffling, wiping her eyes with her arms.

“Use your fucking wand, Hermione,” Harry said agitatedly. “You’re getting your mascara everywhere.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said miserably, pulling out her wand and casting a drying and sobering charm on herself.

They rode in silence after that, Hermione still taking shaky breaths. Harry knew she wanted him to ask what had happened. She always wanted him to ask what had happened.

This phase of Hermione’s life had started the day after she had graduated from Oxford, which she attended after graduating from Hogwarts. She was free from the regular schedule of homework and studying every day, now only having the obligation of going to work. They had all gone to a party the night of her graduation.

Big mistake.

That was two years ago, and Hermione still enjoyed going out and partying and getting drunk every night. Harry didn’t want to know what happened to her on the nights she didn’t call him or come home. He figured she went out and partied every night because she had been freed from such a strict regime that had lasted so long, but he hoped that this phase was going to end any day now.

Because he had a bit of a predicament.

The thing was, he had been in love with her since about their seventh year at Hogwarts. Why else would he have picked her up at three in the morning, just a few hours before he had to leave for the office? She had been away for four years to attend university, but when she came back for breaks and when she finally came back for good it was like she had never been gone. The only thing was, shortly after coming back home she had become a completely different person. Night after night it was party this, party that, and she was with a different guy every month. The only positive thing he could think of was that she had always vowed to remain abstinent until marriage. And every time her fling of the month broke her heart, she would come to him and cry on his shoulder. And he was there for her every time. He ferried her to and from places when she was too drunk to operate, and he lent her some money here and there, and he would help her pick out new clothes to wear for when she went clubbing and on dates.

It sucked to be in love with her. It was like he was being used, and it hurt.

This had been going on for two whole years now, and Harry was reaching his limits.

The two of them remained completely silent the entire car ride, Hermione sniffling louder and louder as they got closer to their shared apartment. That was another thing, too, she had just become way to girly for his liking. Don’t misunderstand, he had always appreciated the fact that she was a woman, but she had been a strong, independent, ferocious woman that had prided herself in being that way. He had no idea what had happened to the Hermione he knew.

Somehow, though, he still loved her…the idea of what she had been and that she might change back.

It wasn’t until they Harry had parked and turned off the car that either of them made a sound. “What happened this time?” Harry asked a bit agitatedly, resisting the urge to sigh obnoxiously loudly.

“Oh, it was dreadful!” Hermione cried, reaching over the center console of the car and wrapping her arms around Harry’s left arm, burying her face into his shoulder. “Robbie Fenwick dumped me!” She let out a loud sniff, then wailed, “He said I was hanging all over too many other guys! Said he was jealous!”

Harry was seething, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. “Don’t worry, Harry,” Hermione said, noticing the tightness of his grip. “He didn’t do anything bad enough for you to go after him.”

Harry wrenched the car door open, slamming it closed afterwards with so much force that he was surprised the window didn’t shatter. It wasn’t Robbie he was mad at, and the focus of his anger had just made it worse.

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione said, catching up with him. “You don’t have to be so angry. All we did was break up. He didn’t hit me or anything like last time.”

“Did you finish the paperwork your boss told you to have done by tomorrow?” Harry asked through clenched teeth, the door blowing open before he could touch the doorknob.

Hermione scoffed. “All I have to do is wear a short, tight skirt, flash a little leg, and everything will be fine,” she said nonchalantly. “Don’t be such a slave driver, Harry.”

He took a deep breath through his nose, trying his best to calm down. Just as he was about to tell her ‘Good Night’ and go to sleep so he would at least be half-way decent for work, Hermione said, “Oh shit,” put her hand over her mouth, and ran to the restroom.

Harry followed quickly, running in and holding her hair back as she emptied the alcohol in her system into the toilet. This was a pretty regular occurrence, too. Harry sighed and rubbed her back sympathetically, knowing that no matter how angry he was with her, he couldn’t help but worry about her and be there for her. It was just ingrained in him.

As she continued to vomit, Harry charmed her hair to stay up and ran to the kitchen to grab some chocolate. It always helped get the taste out of her mouth.

Hermione was just finishing throwing up when Harry got back, her dry heaves making him cringe. Why would anyone want to go through this night after night?

Harry sighed sadly, flushed the toilet, and handed Hermione the chocolate, which she scarfed down. And when she smiled at Harry, it all made it worth it. “Thanks,” she said, her speech slurred a bit. Looked like the sobering charm hadn’t been enough; he would have to whip up a hangover draught so she would be able to go to work the next day.

“You’re the best,” Hermione said, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving his cheek a wet kiss.

“Time for bed,” Harry said as Hermione leaned on him for support, her other hand stretched out to stop the spinning. “Come on,” he grunted, letting her use him to stay steady.

They managed to make it to her room without any slip-ups, Harry setting her gently on her bed before standing up. But Hermione stood back up and began dancing against Harry, who remained still except to move his head to try to escape the kisses she was planting on his neck. “Harry,” Hermione slurred in what she probably figured was a seductive voice. “My parents aren’t home. We can get up to whatever we want.”

Harry grimaced, gently pushing her away. She lost her balance and fell back on the bed, giggling. “Oh, you want to be rough?”

She reached out and fumbled with Harry’s belt buckle. He gently grabbed her wrists, leaned down, and whispered, “If you lay down and close your eyes for me, I’ll give you everything you want.”

Hermione smiled and nodded, leaning back and laying down. Her eyes didn’t close though, and she said, “Come on, Harry, what are you waiting for?” She pulled the shoulder of her T-shirt down her arm, exposing smooth, pale skin to him. Harry turned his head away, not wanting anything to happen that she would regret the next day. “I’m ready, Harry,” she crooned. “Show me how much of a man you are.”

“Not tonight, Hermione,” he said, giving her the same answer he gave her every time she acted like this. Having sex with her like this would be pointless and counter-productive. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Hermione let out a garbled laugh and climbed under the covers, shaking her head and saying, “You’re such a tease.”

Harry didn’t even bother answering, but conjured up a bowl and placed it next to her bed. “You’ve got to listen to me, Hermione,” he said, making sure she was looking into his eyes. “If you have to throw up, try and do it in here, alright?”

Hermione nodded, her eyelids already beginning to close on their own. “Thanks,” she muttered. “What would I do without you?”

Harry’s heart felt as though it had been squeezed by an icy hand at that moment. It was always that exact moment where she was just about to fall asleep that she sounded as if her head was clear…and she always said the words he wanted to hear her say, just in a different context. “Good night,” he whispered, his heart in his throat as he kissed her forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered back, a small smile on her face.

He gave her a sad smile in return. “I love you too,” he managed, wishing they meant it in the way he wanted them to.

Hermione’s breathing evened out, which was Harry’s queue to turn off her light and retreat to the kitchen to whip up the Hangover Draught. He took out a cauldron and started a fire, rolling up his sleeves.

It was six-thirty in the morning by the time he was finished, having also brewed an energy potion. The only problem was that he only had enough ingredients to make one energy potion.

His eyes were burning from only getting two hours of sleep and he was sweating from the fires, which he put out before dashing upstairs and changing into his robes for work. By the time he got back to the kitchen, Hermione was already in there, clutching her head and moaning. “Harry?” she asked, wincing at the sound of her own voice as it reverberated throughout the kitchen.

“Potion’s right in front of you, Hermione,” he said, instantly turning bread into warm toast with a flick of his wand.

She grimaced at the taste as she drank the two potions, and after swallowing them, said, “You forgot the sugar again.”

Harry looked at her apologetically. “Sorry,” he said sincerely.

“Just try to remember next time, because the potion alone tastes horrible,” she said, accepting the piece of toast Harry offered her and cramming it into her mouth.

“I’ll do my best,” he said, handing her her coat.

She put it on, said, “I’m off,” and apparated to work, leaving Harry to clean up the mess, which he did with a few swishes and flicks of his wand. He ran to the bathroom and glanced in the mirror, grimacing as he saw the state he was in. It really did look as though he had only gotten two hours of sleep.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and apparating to work.

He worked as hard as he could throughout the day, brushing off the comments that he looked tired and assuring everyone that he was alright.

He had his usual lunch with Ron, pretty much the only time they got to see each other since he was always busy raising his and Luna’s young children while juggling his Quidditch career. “Hermione again?” he asked upon seeing Harry, even though he already knew the answer.

“Three in the morning,” Harry replied, rubbing his eyes.

“Why do you put up with it?” Ron asked, a little angry. “I mean, it’s not like you get anything out of it.”

Harry sighed, looking down at his hands. He hadn’t told Ron how he felt yet. If he had, he would’ve just told him that she told him she loved him every night, and that made it all worth it. But he couldn’t tell Ron that. “We’re best friends,” he said, shrugging. “I’m sure she’d do the same for me,” he lied.

Ron shook his head sadly, knowing that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his best mate. He was stubborn like that. “You need to make sure you get enough sleep,” he said anyway. “Hermione’s a big girl. She can get home on her own.”

Harry remained silent, then asked, “How’s Luna?”

Ron didn’t speak for a moment, disappointed that Harry had changed the subject. Then he completely shifted moods and happily responded, leading to a conversation that lasted all of lunch and didn’t concern Hermione or Harry’s relationship with her at all. When they parted ways and went back to work, Ron couldn’t help but mutter to himself, “Poor bloke.” He wasn’t blind. It was plain as day. Harry was in love, it was just unrequited. He was being used.

When Harry got home Hermione was already there, getting ready for another night out. She surprised him, though, when she waved her wand at him and changed his clothes. “Come on,” she said hurriedly, grabbing her purse and Harry’s arm simultaneously, dragging him out of the door. “You need to get out of the house every once in a while.”

I don’t have a boyfriend so I’m taking you instead, was what she was actually saying. Harry sighed and went along, driving to the club. Hermione claimed she was starving, so Harry ordered them something to eat and thought about how much he wished he wasn’t there while Hermione shouted over the music about how bad her day was and her thoughts on her two-week long relationship with Robbie Fenwick.

He hated this. He hated himself for going along with it. And scarily enough, he found himself starting to hate Hermione for putting him through all of this.

Once their food arrived, Hermione took a bite, met Harry’s eyes, and sadly asked, “Why can’t I meet a good guy, Harry?”

Don’t do it. Don’t yell at her. He swallowed hard. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said sadly. “A guy who’s nice.” Check. “A guy who understands what I want.” Check. “He would never leave my side.” Check. “He would take care of me.” Check. “Never stop loving me.” Check. “He would make sure to make me feel beautiful,” check, “wanted,” check, “and loved,” check, “every single day,” she finished sadly, looking thoroughly depressed. “It just seems like there aren’t any more guys like that out there.”

He didn’t understand how someone so smart could be so stupid at the same time. “You’ll find him one day,” Harry assured her, giving her a small smile. Then he leaned in as if he was about to tell her a secret, and whispered, “He could be in this very building.”

“I guess,” Hermione sighed dramatically, finishing her food in silence, Harry’s eyes never leaving her. She was so beautiful that it hurt to look at her, but he knew it would hurt even more to look away.

Her eyes, warm and cozy and loving, met his. “You’re a great friend, Harry.”

Harry gave her a strained smile and said, “Thanks?” awkwardly, unable to truthfully tell her the same in response. You were a great friend.

A tall, perfectly-muscled man walked up to their table at that moment, bent towards Hermione, and asked, “Would you like to dance?” while offering her his hand.

Then, without so much as a glance at Harry, she happily replied, “Sure!” She accepted his hand and allowed herself to be whisked away, laughing as he spun her.

And Harry was alone. Again. He sighed and apparated home on the spot, not caring if anyone saw his magic. Every time they went out together, it ended like this. Him alone after dishing out for her dinner.

He turned around and punched a hole through the plaster, wishing he was stronger. Everything wrong in his life stemmed from her. Nothing good came of being around her. He was her slave, she used him and tossed him aside as soon as he was needed no longer. She just fucked him over again and again and again, walking all over him.

Harry froze mid-step, an idea hitting him. If she was the problem…

Harry hurriedly picked up the phone, dialing Ron’s number. It was a good thing his friend had learned how to use it properly.

“Hello?” Ron’s voice said after the phone had been picked up three rings in.

“Hey Ron,” Harry replied quickly.

“Harry!” Ron said, surprised. “What’s up?”

“I need…” Harry stopped and licked his lips. There was no turning back after this. Then he glanced at the door of Hermione’s room. He started again, his resolution firm. “I need a place to stay for a couple nights…just until I find a place of my own,” he added.

“That’s no problem,” Ron replied, knowing that this day was going to come any day now. “You can come over whenever you want.” Harry could tell that he wanted to say more, so he stayed quiet. A good fifteen seconds later, Ron finally continued. “And Harry,” he said, weighing his words, “I think this is the best thing for both of you in the long run. She’s not who she was. I think it’s good to move on.”

“You knew,” Harry said, his throat growing dry not only from that knowledge but from the idea of what he was about to do.

“Of course I did, mate,” Ron replied. “I’m in love. I know what it’s like.”

Harry sighed. “Well, I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Yeah, see you,” came the reply.

Harry set the phone on the hook, then stood up and looked around the apartment, his heart somewhere near his throat. So this was it. This was how it all ended with Hermione. All by himself in their apartment, like usual.

He sniffled and wiped his eyes before the tears could fall.

He had packing to do.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Hermione squinted at the little dancing numbers on her cell phone, taking her bottom lip in between her teeth as she managed to hit the little number two. Why did the fucking numbers have to be so small?

She held the phone up to her ear, doing her best to remain standing. Why was the Earth spinning so quickly? It didn’t always spin that fast, did it?

“Hey, this is Harry, leave a message at the beep and I’ll call you back as soon as possible. Thanks.”

“Shit,” Hermione swore, stumbling along the sidewalk. His phone hadn’t even rang, which meant it was off.

Hermione managed to make it into an alley and casted a sobering charm on herself, hoping it was enough to get her home. They didn’t seem to have much effect on her anymore.

She sighed and began walking home, her stomach churning for reasons other than the alcohol. She couldn’t wait to see Harry so she could apologize for abandoning him like that. He obviously hadn’t liked it if he not only ducked out but turned his phone off.

She was so deep in thought about what she was going to say to Harry that she bumped into an old man, losing her balance and falling on the floor.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” the man said, turning around to look at the woman he accidentally knocked over.

“It’s alright,” Hermione said, dusting herself off. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Yes,” the man said thoughtfully; slowly. “It’s funny how easy it is to lose sight of that which is important.”

“Okay,” Hermione replied slowly. This man was obviously a bit off his rocker.

“It’s almost as funny as how easy it is to not fully understand that which is truly important until it is too late,” he continued. “Especially for one as young as you.”

“Right,” Hermione said, slowly walking away from the man. “Sorry about the bump.”

His blue eyes twinkled, and he said, “It’s quite alright. Don’t fret…and keep a level head,” he called to her retreating back.

Hermione shook her head, trying to shake off the oncoming haziness that began to plague her as she unlocked the front door to be greeted by a dark apartment.

Harry must already be asleep, she mused.

She slowly opened his door and peeked in, her head completely clearing instantaneously when she saw that it was empty. Completely bare.

“Harry?” she called, her voice wavering a bit. “Harry, this isn’t funny.” She closed his door and walked back towards the kitchen, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. “Harry,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. What had happened?

She turned on a light and shielded her eyes, which were accustomed to the dark. Under the hand shielding her eyes, she saw a yellow post-it. She picked it up and read:

Hermione,

I’m going to find my own place. Please don’t go looking for me. I’m fine.

Harry

Hermione stared at the note for several minutes, trying to understand why Harry would abandon her. Did he not like her anymore? Maybe…maybe he didn’t want to be her friend.

She crumpled the note and swiped angry tears from her eyes, angry at Harry for betraying and using her like this. She pulled on her coat and angrily apparated to Ron’s house, which was about a mile from the burrow. There was no way Harry could’ve found a place of his own on such short notice.

She knocked loudly on the door, tapping her foot impatiently. Ron opened it after a minute, glaring at Hermione. “I have two children, Hermione, and it’s four in the morning. What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“Harry, now,” she said, glaring at Ron.

“What about Harry?” Ron said agitatedly.

“I’m not an idiot, Ron,” Hermione replied. “I know Harry’s here.”

“No—”

“Ron, it’s fine,” said Harry, stepping around his friend.

Hermione immediately grabbed Harry’s shirt, making his eyes widen, and apparated straight into their apartment. “What the hell, Hermione?” Harry said angrily.

“That’s my line,” Hermione demanded, thrusting the note in his face. “What the hell is this?”

“You dragged me out of bed at four in the morning to talk about this?” Harry asked, sighing. “I’m not having this discussion with you.”

“Fine,” Hermione said with angry tears in her eyes. “I see how it is. You just used me throughout school for good grades and put up with me for an extra two years so you wouldn’t feel as guilty when you left?” she said.

Don’t yell. “You were my best friend,” Harry said quietly. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Than what is it?” Hermione demanded. “What could possibly have happened between us that would make you want to move out?”

Ah, fuck it. “YOU happened, Hermione!” Harry shouted, all of his pent-up anger finally blowing apart the bottle it had been holed up in.

Hermione faltered, then came back just as strong. “And what exactly does that mean?” she asked dangerously, her own anger rising.

“I come home every night, I do my work, I read a bit, then I go to sleep,” Harry said. “Then I wake up a few hours later, pick you up, help you throw up, tuck you in, then make you a hangover potion. That’s how I spend every damn day of my life!” he yelled. “You came back from Oxford changed, Hermione! You go out to parties every day, don’t do your work, and don’t give a shit about anyone!”

“Well, I care about you!” she cried.

Harry scoffed. “No you don’t,” he said, lowering his tone of voice a bit. “Do you know how many times I’ve gone to work with almost no sleep because I was too busy taking care of you and making sure you’d be able to go to work the next day? Do you know how many times I’ve sat on the couch, holding you while you cry because your fling of the week dumped you? Do you know how many times I’ve gone out with you, only to have you ditch me and leave me alone?” Hermione didn’t answer any of his questions, growing a bit uncomfortable and ashamed. “You changed, Hermione. You’re not the girl I used to know. And now I can tell you this, because I honestly don’t care what your answer is now.” He took a deep breath and said, “You’re not the girl I fell in love with.”

Hermione’s eyes and throat were burning. He loved her? “How am I different?” she asked. “I’ve always been me.”

“In school, you were all about following the rules,” he said. “In school, you were a hard worker who knew when to have fun and when it was inappropriate. You were loving, kind, and always there for me. You really were a friend. Now, you’re…I don’t know what you are. All you do is use me and treat me like shit.”

Hermione could barely see through the tears stinging her eyes. “I don’t treat you like shit,” she replied.

Harry let out a derisive chuckle. “Well, even if you don’t count the earlier stuff, please tell me,” he said. “When’s the last time you’ve truly given me a heartfelt thank you for making you a hangover potion, or waking up to pick you up, or holding your hair back when you throw up, or being there to listen to your guy troubles, or letting you cry on your shoulder? You use me, then toss me aside when I’m not needed. I’m sick and tired of it.” Hermione was looking down at the floor, ashamed of herself. There was complete silence for a few minutes, then Harry said, “And there’s not even an apology. I’m going, Hermione,” he said, looking at his watch. “I’m leaving, and I’m asking you to please not follow me.”

“But I love you,” Hermione blurted.

That one stopped him in his tracks. “Don’t say that,” he replied. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t ditch me for the first guy who asked you to dance when I’m sitting right there. You wouldn’t come crying to me about all of your guy problems. You wouldn’t just use me. So don’t try to manipulate me. Don’t try to use my feelings against me to get me to stay. Besides, I said I used to love you. I don’t love who you are now. So goodbye.”

Harry disapparated, leaving Hermione alone in her two-bedroom apartment.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Hermione sighed as she lay in bed, thinking about that fateful night six months ago. She hadn’t been to a single party since then…but she hadn’t seen Harry, either. After a brief period of anger, she had come to understand Harry’s points and realize that he was completely correct in his assessment of her. She had let the wild life of partying change her into a bad person. She didn’t hate Harry for recognizing it, either.

In fact, it had made her come to appreciate what Harry had done for her. Not only had he completely taken care of her for those two years, but he had saved her. She had been going down a path of destruction and he had opened her eyes.

And she loved him for it.

It was funny that now, after he had left her life for good, she had realized what a valuable friend and person Harry was. She missed him so much it hurt. It left an aching in her chest, a longing, a need that would never be filled. She needed to see him, to see him smile, to laugh with him. She felt empty when he wasn’t there, as if her very soul had been sucked out of her.

Why can’t I meet a good guy, Harry?

You’ll find him one day. He could be in this very building.

She was such an idiot! She had been sitting right across the table from the man of her dreams without even realizing it! She loved him! It had just taken him leaving her life forever to realize it.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Hermione asked the ceiling.

No matter how badly she wanted to, Hermione couldn’t change or undo what she had done. Harry was gone, and that was that. They would never be friends again. Sure, Hermione had changed, but Harry had made it very clear that he no longer wanted her in his life.

So she didn’t talk to him.

She understood his feelings. If she had been in the same situation, she knew she wouldn’t really want someone like herself talking to her. So she decided to respect his wishes and stay out of his life. It hurt, but that didn’t make it the wrong thing to do.

She sighed and rolled over, thinking that the pain would go away if she could just keep focusing on getting through each day.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

The next day at work, Hermione got on the lift to go to lunch. There was only one other person in the lift: a man with long, scraggly hair, sunken, dull eyes, and an unkempt beard. He kind of looked like Sirius when he had first escaped Azkaban, though he wasn’t quite as thin as Sirius had been. He didn’t seem to notice Hermione when she got on.

They rode in silence the entire way, not moving until the lift stopped…but the doors didn’t open. “What the hell?” Hermione said, realizing that the lift had stopped between floors.

“These lifts run on magic,” the man said, making Hermione completely freeze. “How can they have possibly broken down?”

She slowly turned around to face him, squinting at his face. That voice…She saw just the barest hint of a scar on his forehead. “Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Hermione asked.

“I hoped you wouldn’t recognize me,” Harry replied honestly, making Hermione’s heart squeeze painfully. “How did the lift break down?” he said, changing the subject.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione said. “But I know it’s impossible to fix from the inside.”

“So we’re stuck,” Harry concluded.

“Yep,” Hermione replied awkwardly, wishing it wasn’t like this between them.

They both sat down in opposite corners of the lift, not looking at each other. After fifteen minutes, Harry finally spoke up. “You look like you’re doing better,” he said quietly.

“I’ve been trying,” she said. “What you said that night really put everything into perspective. I feel…I feel like my old self again.”

“That’s good,” he said, giving her a small smile.

“You found a place?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “Just a couple of blocks from here.”

“And…er…what’s with the hair?” she continued.

Harry shrugged. “Haven’t bothered to cut it or shave at all,” he said nonchalantly.

“Now you look like Sirius,” Hermione said, trying to lighten the tension a bit.

“Yeah…” Harry replied lamely.

The awkward silence fell over them again. After a few minutes, Hermione took a deep breath. “Harry, I want to let you know how sorry I am for treating you the way I did,” she said, trying to allow the sincerity to show through her voice and eyes. “It was completely wrong of me.”

“Hermione…” Harry said warily.

“I’m not…I’m not looking for you to forgive me,” she said, even though it hurt. “And I’m not trying to get back into your life. I just…I-I just wanted you to know,” she said.

Harry stared into her eyes, deep in thought. When he surfaced again, he gave her a small smile and said, “But I do forgive you. We’ve been best friends for twelve years. I couldn’t hate you even if I tried. The fact that you managed to change and apologize…well, that’s enough for me.”

Hermione swallowed, hot tears pricking her eyes. She had missed him so much. “You took care of me for two years, Harry,” she said. “And no offence, but you look terrible.” Harry nodded. “Move back in with me and let me take care of you. I miss being able to see you every day.”

“I miss you too,” he said. “I’ll move back in with you under one condition.”

“Anything,” Hermione said.

“Get this itchy hair off my face and give me a proper haircut,” he said, grinning.

Hermione laughed and with a few swishes and flicks of her wand, it was done. He looked like the old Harry, just a little thinner.

“Thanks,” he said, touching his jaw. “I feel much better.” Then he met Hermione’s eyes seriously. “You don’t have to take care of me, though, because you do that just by being around me.”

Hermione smiled at him and got up so she could sit next to him, their arms touching. Harry smiled down at her and said, “I’m glad you’re back.”

She smiled in return. “I’m glad I’m back too,” she said. “I wasn’t a very good person.”

“Everybody goes through that phase at least once in their lifetime,” he said. “Remember fifth year?” he asked in reference to his behavior.

“Yeah,” she said, looking away at the lift’s door. There was something she had to tell him. It was only fair. “Harry?” she said, still not looking at him.

“Yeah?” he replied.

She took a deep, calming breath. “I love you,” she said, surprising herself. She had meant to build up to it first.

“What?” Harry said disbelievingly.

She smiled at the door. “I love you,” she said again. “I didn’t realize it until too late, but the perfect guy was right there all along. I’m not asking for you to tell me you love me right now, because of what we went through, but I thought it would be fair to tell you since you told me.” She looked straight into his eyes for her next statement. “I will do whatever it takes to get you to fall back in love with me, though,” she said with conviction.

Harry chuckled. “For someone so smart, sometimes you can be really daft,” he said, only looking at her out of the corner of his eyes. “What makes you think I ever stopped loving you?”

“Y-You told me…” she said.

“Yeah,” Harry said, grinning. “I only said that because I was angry at the time. The only reason I really was leaving was because I loved you. It sucked not having those feelings returned and having them be used and manipulated.” Hermione looked down, ashamed at herself. Then a gentle finger lifted her chin up, leaving her face less than a foot from Harry’s. “I’ve never stopped loving you and I never will,” he said quietly, gently pressing his lips against hers afterwards.

She kissed him back, melting into him as he worked his lips softly against hers. It was the best moment of her life. When he pulled back, he grinned at her. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he said.

The lift started up immediately, prompting Harry and Hermione to stand up and look at each other oddly. Then Harry shrugged and kissed her, picking her up around the waist and spinning her around.

When he set her down, he said, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

Up in the lift control room, Ron smiled and opened the door, getting ready to go home. “Thanks, Seamus,” he said, speaking to the man who was in charge of the lifts before stepping outside of the room.

He smiled as he walked out of the ministry, very pleased with himself.

The things I have to put up with for those two, he mused.

He wondered how long it would be before Harry proposed.

A/N: I couldn’t really come up with a good ending for this one, so you all get that piece of crap. Sorry.

Anyway, please feel free to leave a review if you can spare the few seconds!