Fight for Her

A/N: Trying to get my muse back by writing this one-shot. Please enjoy!

Fight for Her

Hermione’s eyes were wide, locked on his as his heart pounded in his chest. “W-what did you just say?” she stammered.

Harry cleared his throat, his cheeks more than a bit red. “I…uh…I-I love you, Hermione,” he said, smiling nervously. “I just wanted to know if you…you know, had any feelings for me in return.”

Hermione froze, her eyes full of something akin to horror. With each second she remained silent, Harry felt his heart sink more and more. Finally, unable to bear the silence anymore, Harry said, “Hermione, please say something…anything?” The ‘anything’ came out as a nervous, awkward half-question.

“Harry…” she said, her eyes full of sorrow and pity. “I-I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly. “You’re my best friend.”

As if that made it any better. “And that’s it,” Harry said sadly.

She gave him a sad smile. “And that’s it,” she said softly, turning away from him and slowly walking back down the hallway.

Harry stood there watching her, wishing in the end that he hadn’t said anything. Then it hit him. “It’s Ron, isn’t it?” he asked quietly, making her stop.

She turned around slowly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, Harry,” she said once again before turning around and almost jogging around the corner so he couldn’t stop her again.

Harry sighed and sank down the wall, cradling his head in his hands. He just had to open his stupid, fat mouth. He just had to let her know how he felt about her. He just had to let her know why he had done everything he had since first year, including his defeat of Voldemort a few months back. Like an idiot, he just had to let her know.

And she had let him know. She had let him know how she felt about him. She had let him know that he was inferior to his friend. She had let him know how it felt to have his heart broken.

Harry wasn’t one to sugarcoat; it felt pretty crappy.

He heard footsteps and turned his head to see Ron walking towards him, an concerned look on his face. “You alright, mate?” he asked.

Harry didn’t hate him. It wasn’t his fault that Hermione liked him better than himself. It was all preference. Harry wouldn’t let unrequited feelings jeopardize their friendship.

Harry smiled and stood up. “I’m fine,” he said despite the burning ache in his chest.

“You want to go grab dinner?” Ron asked, obviously hungry.

“’Course,” said Harry, leading the way.

When they arrived, they sat opposite Hermione like usual. She glanced up as they sat down, met Harry’s eyes, and promptly looked back away. Harry’s smile slid off his face and he morosely picked at his food, his appetite gone. It hadn’t been ten minutes and things were already awkward between them.

Great.

Later that night, Harry was lying awake in bed with his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Both his heart and his head hurt, the situation in general messing with his head. The main thing bothering him was the question of whether things were going to be permanently weird between him and Hermione. He had known going into it that things were going to be irrevocably different, but not so different to the point that she wouldn’t even meet his eyes any more. What did she expect to happen if she did?

He didn’t understand. But then again, he just didn’t understand women in general.

“Hey, Harry?” Ron’s voice asked from one bed over.

Harry glanced at his bedside clock. It was one-thirty in the morning. Obviously he hadn’t been the only one deep in thought.

“Yeah?” he responded, looking over at Ron’s bed to see his silhouette turned towards him.

“Do you think Hermione likes me?” he asked vulnerably.

Harry turned back to look at the ceiling, a sad smile on his face as his heart twisted in his chest. “Yeah, Ron,” he said quietly, “I think she likes you.”

“You’ll be alright if I ask her out, right?” Ron continued.

His eyes began to burn. “Yeah,” he said raspily. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Ron was silent for a few seconds. “I thought you might’ve had a thing for her,” he admitted.

Harry chuckled weakly. “I think you’re imagining things,” he replied sadly.

The silence became awkward. It stretched on for what seemed to be forever. “You sure you’ll be good?”

Harry turned away from him. “Yeah,” he said confidently through his burning throat. “I survived a crazy murderer going after me for eighteen years; I’m pretty sure I can survive seeing my two best friends dating.”

Another long silence. “Alright then,” Ron finally said. “Good night.”

The irony of the statement hit Harry hard as he heard Ron shift into a more comfortable position. He was pretty sure it was impossible at that point for the night to get any worse.

And oddly enough, he didn’t get any sleep that night.

3 Months Later

Harry sat with his back to a tree, a sketchpad in his hand as he shaded the drawing he was working on. He had picked up the hobby after his defeat of Voldemort and had become quite good at it after some lessons from a few books Hermione had.

That was before the falling-out, of course.

He looked over the lake, the sunlight glimmering on its surface, making it look beautiful. He looked back down at his drawing and saw something even more beautiful, the subject of the myriad of both soft and harsh black lines somehow forming a more wondrous and breathtaking landscape than he thought possible. He touched up a faint line that formed the back of her hair and looked back up, looking at her when he knew she couldn’t see him.

She was doing homework in a position much similar to Harry’s, the sun streaming through the leaves to illuminate her like the angel she was.

It had been three months since it had all gone down. He had been rejected and now she was going out with Ron. They seemed to be happy enough, behaving like every other young couple in love. Harry hated watching it from the sidelines, but it was all worth it when he saw her face light up for Ron. Every time she was happy now it was because of Ron. He was everything to her. Harry wished those smiles were for him, but he figured that as long as she was happy, he could at least try his best to be happy.

The only bad thing about it was the pity in her eyes every time she looked at him. The sorrow. Every time she gave him those eyes he regretted the moment he had told her. He could see how much it hurt her that she had hurt him. It wasn’t her fault, of course, but she was Hermione, which meant she saw it that way. She wouldn’t be Hermione if she didn’t.

Harry sighed and leaned in to finish touching up the drawing when he suddenly heard rustling leaves and light, erratic panting behind him. His brows furrowed and he tried to concentrate despite it, but something let out a moan.

Harry should’ve known. The edge of the forest was a pretty popular make-out spot because of the privacy it provided. It was just Harry’s luck that they chose to start making out not ten feet away from him.

He sighed and picked up his stuff, intent on going inside to finish up the drawing. He was close enough to being finished that it didn’t really matter at this point whether he could see the actual landscape or not.

“Lavender,” a voice moaned.

Harry froze, his eyes wide. He knew that voice.

“Oh, Ron,” Lavender giggled back.

Harry dropped all of his things in shock, his eyes on Hermione. She wasn’t even forty feet away, completely oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend was cheating on her.

Harry’s hands balled into fists, anger rolling through him. She loved him, and this was how he treated her? How could he do this to Hermione?

He took a step around the tree and confirmed it with his own eyes: Ron was kissing right below Lavender’s collarbone, a few of her shirt buttons undone and his hand on her upper thigh, under her skirt. They were too caught up in the moment to notice him.

Ron unbuttoned a few more of her shirt buttons as Harry watched on, his horror and anger rising even more. “Ron,” Lavender said breathily. “You’re sure about this? What about Hermione?”

“I already told you, Lavender,” Ron said, nuzzling her neck. “You’re much better than Hermione. You’re a hell of a lot sexier and a lot more fun. All Hermione wants to do is read her books and do her homework. A guy needs a little more than that sometimes, you know what I mean?” he said suggestively.

Lavender giggled. “Well, whenever you need that ‘little more’, don’t hesitate to ask me,” she said.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hesitate,” he replied gruffly, lifting a squealing Lavender’s leg to his hip and pressing against her.

Harry marched up to them, grabbed Ron’s shoulder, and pulled, spinning him around. Ron’s facial expression turned to one of surprise and horror for the merest second before Harry’s fist slammed into his face and sent him to the ground.

As Ron got up, Harry shook his hand in pain. That had hurt quite a bit. “Lavender, get out of here,” Harry said dangerously. She didn’t deserve to be hurt along with this cheating bastard. He was the one who was breaking Hermione’s heart even if she didn’t know it.

A shadow fell over them as they squared off, Lavender already over halfway back to the castle. Harry was giving his best mate a disgusted look, receiving an enraged one in response.

Ron gave a cry and charged forward, swinging a giant haymaker that Harry ducked before slamming into him and taking him to the ground hard. He clambered onto his chest, pinning him down, and punched him in the face. “You bastard!” Harry shouted, anger overwhelming him. “She loves you!”

Harry cocked his fist back, intent on hitting Ron in the face again. He was hit first, though, the force of the blow sending him to the ground in a daze. “Well I don’t love her,” he replied, hitting Harry in the face again as he pinned him down.

They both took a break, Ron still on top of Harry as they panted heavily. “Then why are you still with her?” he asked harshly.

It began to rain, a few drops hitting Harry’s face.

“Because she wants to be with me,” he responded, looking at the ground ashamedly.

Harry shoved him off angrily and they both stood up, squaring off again. “You think she wants to be with someone who doesn’t care for her? You’re stringing her along, Ron. You’re going to break her heart.”

“What do you think I should do, then?” Ron asked icily. “Be the perfect boyfriend and wait on her night and day? She’s so boring, Harry,” he complained tiredly. “I haven’t even reached second base yet!”

Harry looked at him disgustedly. “You’re only using her for sex?”

Ron looked at him and gave a disbelieving snort. “We’re eighteen, Harry. You think I’m looking for anything but sex? What, does Hermione think I got with her because I was going to marry her?”

“That’s exactly what she’s thinking, you idiot!” Harry shouted.

Ron’s ears turned red as his hands balled into fists. “I’m an idiot, am I?” he asked dangerously. “Hermione’s the idiot for thinking I cared for anything but her body! It’s tiresome having to deal with her trying to be all lovey-dovey with me all the time! She’s lucky I have enough patience and sympathy to not break up with her!”

“Oh, so you’re staying with Hermione out of some sort of chivalry?” Harry asked disbelievingly.

Ron snorted. “And the hopes that one day she’ll let me pop her cherry,” he said arrogantly.

“You fucking arsehole!” Harry shouted, charging Ron, pure fury fueling his muscles.

Harry tackled him and pounded him as savagely as he could into the ground, hitting every possible inch of him that he could reach. Ron was covering his face, laughing. “So you like her after all, Harry?”

Harry froze, looking at Ron in horror.

“Stop it!” he heard a shout from his left. Hermione was standing there, looking on at them disbelievingly.

Harry’s moment of hesitation was a mistake. He was blinded as Ron’s fist caught his temple, sending him crashing on his back, spots dancing in his vision. He scrambled on to his feet along with Ron, who smirked at him. “So you’ve been in love with my girl all along?” he asked arrogantly, knowing Harry was too noble to tell Hermione what was going on.

Harry glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye, his anger rising even more as he saw what she understood to be the cause of this fight. She was looking at him with disappointment and sadness, sending icy knives through his heart. “You think fighting’s going to make her like you over me?” Ron continued.

Harry glared at him and charged again, just wanting him to shut up at this point. He could still make him pay for what he had done without Hermione knowing about it. He wouldn’t be the one to shatter her happy little world.

He punched Ron in the face, who punched him back. Harry came in close so Ron couldn’t use his height to his advantage, but unfortunately for Harry, Ron had the weight advantage too. Harry landed a few good punches overall, but Ron worked him, landing not only a punch that Harry was sure broke his nose, but other that made Harry’s head spin. Then, finally, Ron caught Harry with a hook to the jaw that sent him straight to the ground and unable to get back up.

Ron glared down at him condescendingly, smirked at him, then walked toward Hermione. “Help him out, Hermione,” he said quietly. “It’s not his fault he’s attracted to someone as amazing as you.”

With that, Ron left, leaving Hermione alone with Harry, who was staring up at the falling rain. No matter how hard or in what way he fought for Hermione, it seemed that he would never win.

Hermione kneeled down at the top of his head and inspected his face. “What are you doing, Harry?” she asked, disappointed. “I thought you were better than this.”

Harry looked everywhere but her eyes. “You don’t understand,” he mumbled.

“Episkey.” Harry cried out as his nose was healed. “What don’t I understand?” she asked skeptically even though she touched his already-forming bruises ever so gently.

“I can’t tell you,” he replied.

He could feel Hermione glaring at him. “I’m pretty sure I understand,” she said with thinly veiled anger. “You were being jealous of your best friend so you decided to try and beat him up. Why can’t you just admit it?”

Harry swallowed, the urge to tell her the truth almost overwhelming. But he knew that in the end that would only do more harm than good. She probably wouldn’t believe him, either.

“That wasn’t it,” he said honestly.

“What other reason could there possibly be?” she exclaimed in irritation.

“I did it because I love you,” he replied, finally meeting her eyes to show how sincere he was.

She shook her head and stood up, leaving him lying in the rain. “Harry, grow up,” she said. “I’m. With. Ron. Please just let me be happy with him.” She took in a quick deep breath. “Now, do you need my help getting back into the castle?”

Harry shook his head, staring up into the rain again, letting the cold drops mask the salty tears forming in his eyes.

“Just…just don’t stay out here too long or you’ll catch a cold,” she said before sighing and heading back into the castle.

Probably to go back in and cuddle with that cheater in her private Head Girl’s room.

Harry sighed, staring up at the rain, glad for each cold, stinging drop that hit his exposed skin. It augmented his mood…it felt good.

3 Weeks Later

Harry watched Hermione morosely as she put away the library books she had needed to do her homework. He was under his invisibility cloak watching her, making sure she was alright.

He missed her so much.

After the fight, she didn’t really talk to him anymore. And when she did it was pretty obvious that she didn’t really want to. She was disappointed and angry with him. Harry couldn’t decide which one of the two was worse.

He hadn’t spoken to Ron, either, but that was a given. It had turned into something almost the same as what Harry and Malfoy felt towards each other, only it hurt more because Ron was his best friend.

Harry smelled a hint of jasmine as Hermione walked past him to exit the library. He followed her out and through the castle, planning to stop as soon as Gryffindor Tower came into sight. They turned into the hallway before the hallway that led to the fat lady’s portrait. Hermione stopped at a door. Harry walked a little closer to her and heard faint, suspicious sounds coming from the room. Suspicious sounds meaning moaning, and the moaning definitely wasn’t coming from Moaning Myrtle.

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed and she reached for the handle of the door. Harry, making a split-second decision, whipped off his cloak. He’d do whatever it took to make her happy.

“Hermione, don’t!” he cried, reaching out towards her desperately.

But it was too late. The door opened as she looked over at him in fright, not expecting him to be right there. She still hadn’t seen.

“Oh, shit!” he heard come from the room, making him cringe. She would definitely look now.

And look she did, her eyes going wide at the sight. “Ron?” she whispered disbelievingly. Harry didn’t need to look in the room to know what she saw.

“Hermione…” he said softly.

She shook her head, her lips quivering. “Don’t lie to me,” she said quietly.

There was silence for a long moment, then Ron said, “I don’t like you like you like me.”

“Well no shit, Ronald,” Hermione snapped. She glanced at Harry shrewdly. “Why were you and Harry fighting that evening?”

Even though Harry wanted her to know so much that it hurt, he hadn’t wanted her to find out like this. Then he realized that since he didn’t tell her, this was pretty much the only way it could’ve ended. It was still his fault.

After a long silence, Harry could tell Ron wasn’t going to answer any time soon. “Because I caught them,” he admitted quietly, taking a step towards her to comfort her.

She took a step back in response. “Thanks for telling me,” she spat, her tears threatening to spill over.

She turned and ran, and without hesitation Harry followed her, knowing she wasn’t really angry at him even if she did feel betrayed. He was stronger and faster than her and determined to make her understand so they could at least be friends again, the combination of the three allowing him to easily catch up to her. When he did, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

She didn’t try to fight her way out of his embrace.

Instead, she turned into him and buried her face into his chest, sobbing into it as her heart broke. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked again between her sobs.

Harry held her the entire time she cried, not caring when his knees began to hurt from standing for so long. Evening became night as she just held Harry and cried, no words necessary between the two…until the crying had died down, of course.

By that time, they were both sitting against the wall, side-by-side with Hermione’s head on his shoulder, her eyes puffy and red.

“You wouldn’t have believed me,” Harry said. Hermione looked up at him with no comprehension. It had been a few hours since either of them had spoken. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Harry…” she said slowly. “You never lie, I know that.”

“You also know that I wouldn’t let something like jealousy make me fight my best friend,” he said. “Yet you believed that I had.”

Hermione looked down in shame. “My feelings for Ron blinded me,” she said quietly, playing with Harry’s fingers.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a long while. Then they both spoke at the same time.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

They turned their heads to look at each other, then their lips quirked and they both began laughing. “I missed you too,” she said.

He smiled. “And I’m sorry too,” he said.

“But what did you do?” she asked.

Harry took a long, deep breath and sighed it back out. What was he sorry for? “I was afraid that things would get even worse between us if I had told you back then,” he said. “I think that in the end I only caused you more heartbreak.”

She looked down sadly. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “You had my best interests at heart and that’s all that matters.”

“I’ll always have your best interests at heart,” he said seriously, nudging her chin up so she could see it in his eyes.

She shied away from him. “Harry…” she said both warily and uncomfortably.

“I love you, Hermione,” he said, closing the gap between them the tiniest bit.

“Harry!” she said more forcefully, putting her hand on his chest warningly.

Harry let his eyes close and sighed in frustration. “Sorry,” he said, letting his head lay back against the wall in defeat.

“I just want a friend right now,” she whispered vulnerably, snuggling against him more comfortably.

I guess that’s good enough for now. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brought her in close, keeping her safe from anything that might hurt her.

Quite honestly, even though they were just friends at this moment, Harry never wanted it to end.

6 Months Later

“Weird, huh?” Harry asked with a quirky smile, Hermione in his arms as they danced on the floor.

“Everything feels so normal this year,” she replied with a brilliant smile. “Who knew they used to hold a graduation dance before the war?”

Harry laughed lightly and stole a quick peek at her elegant off the shoulder dress. “It wasn’t mentioned in Hogwarts, A History?” he asked teasingly.

Hermione gave him a skeptical look. “Anything you’d like to say about my reading habits, Mr. Potter?”

“That depends,” Harry replied with a mischievous smile. “Anything you’d like to say about mine?”

“There’s nothing to say about something that doesn’t exist,” she replied with a small smile.

That smile made Harry feel like they were the only ones on the floor, the music playing only for them.

Is she flirting with me?

He decided to test the waters as he said, “I read your notes every year to study.” His hand moved from the middle of her back to her lower back, where he applied light pressure.

She gave no sign to show that she was uncomfortable with the move. In fact, she seemed to melt against him a little. This was why he was falling even harder for her with each passing minute.

The past six months had been great. It had just been him and Hermione, best friends, the golden duo. Things were no longer awkward between them, Hermione realizing that the fact that he loved her was completely irrelevant when it came to their friendship. He was still the same old Harry, always there for her and always happy to see her.

Ron was gone, held in disdain by the two.

Harry had asked Hermione to the graduation ball, and she had said yes only under the condition that Harry was very clear in understanding that they were only going as friends. He had agreed and here they were.

“I can’t believe that tonight is our last night in this castle,” Hermione said sadly.

“Then we’re on to bigger and better things,” he said to cheer her up.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather spend a few nights at my parents’ first?” she asked him for what had to be the hundredth time, her eyes large and pleading.

He really had no idea how he had resisted up to this point. “I’ll be fine, Hermione, trust me,” he said with a soothing smile.

“Why I thought I could get you to budge I have no clue,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I guess that leaves me no option than to room with you.”

Harry almost stopped dancing. “You what?” he asked, thinking he had heard incorrectly.

“I’m taking that second bedroom,” she said unwaveringly, “and I’m paying half the rent.”

Harry shrugged, hiding the fact that he wanted to jump around in glee like a little schoolgirl. “Fine by me,” he said.

Hermione smiled up at him and he smiled back, their feet slowing down as they held each other’s eyes. One corner of his lips lifted. “Actually, I have one condition,” he said quietly.

“What is it?” she whispered back. Harry had no clue how he could hear her over the sound of the music and other people.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” he responded.

Hermione licked her lips, her eyes full of awe as they never left his. “I’m thinking…” she said quietly as they came to a stop, their arms still held as if they were standing. “I-I’m thinking that you’re incredibly handsome,” she said quietly, her eyes locked on his. Harry’s smile grew just the tiniest bit. He went to open his mouth to talk, but she beat him to it. “And I’m thinking you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. I…I think you’re the best friend anyone could ever have. I think you’re smart, funny, and loving. I think I’ve been an idiot this whole time for never really considering you for anything other than being a friend. I think…” she trailed off, lost in his eyes. He leaned forward a little and she rose up to meet him in response. He stopped just short though, her big brown eyes not two inches from his own.

“Tell me,” he breathed.

She blinked, her breath tickling his lips as she remained silent for a few seconds. Then she said it. “I think I’m in love with you,” she said from her heart, her breath catching in her throat as the words made Harry grin.

He closed the gap between them, silence descending upon them as their lips met in a loving embrace, Hermione’s eyes finally leaving his as she let them flutter closed. Harry began swaying them to the music in his head as he wrapped his arms around her and continued to kiss her slowly, moving his lips gently against hers. She kissed him back just as lovingly, her arms finding their way around his neck.

The kiss didn’t end until they naturally came apart, both smiling as they began slow-dancing to the music, Harry’s arms around her waist and her arms around his neck. He arched an eyebrow at her. “Well I know I’m in love with you,” he said teasingly.

She rested her head against his chest and let her eyes close, listening to his heart beating in his chest. “Well that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” she asked. “I love you and you love me.”

Harry’s lips quirked into a smile and he rested his cheek on top of Hermione’s head. “Yeah,” he sighed happily. “That’s all that matters.”

A/N: This could’ve been a much longer story, but I really like how it turned out. I liked leaving everything a tiny bit vague, too. It was interesting and fun to write.

I hope it was just as interesting and fun for you too! Thanks for reading!