harry/hermione; something real
Title: Something Real
Author: Catherine
Word Count: 1219
Gnere: Romance/Hurt/Comfort
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Disclaimer: Nope.
Halloween. The memories are always stronger on Halloween...
Hermione sat on the smaller couch in the common room, shoes left placed neatly on the floor and legs crossed in front of her, and Harry on the tan chair diagonal her.
Neither of them moved.
Whether it was fear, or just plain madness, both of them sat silently in their designated areas, shifting only to turn the page of the books they each pretended to read, or prick at the corner of their eye as a reassurance of a dry face.
They were in shreds. The drop of a pin from tears, each.
She knew he was struggling right now, with remembering things better left hidden, but he didn’t have to take it out on her. Things buried in his mind were taking brains of their own, surfacing themselves, and she knew he couldn’t control the flood of memories. But he had erupted. And the ash flew all over her.
“Well maybe Ron and I do have a thing for each other! Why would it matter to you anyway, Harry Potter?”
Hermione mentally flinched at the remembrance of her harsh words. Looking over her copy of Hogwarts: A History, the 6th year wizard could have sworn she got a glimpse of those emerald eyes peering over his book, too.
Nevertheless, they sat in complete stillness, listening to the rain bore on the castle window and the faint “huuuh, ahh” of each other’s breathing. Ten minutes. Ten long minutes they’d been sitting in solitude, and Hermione decided it was nine too long.
She spoke softly, slowly, choosing each word wisely. “I don’t like Ron. Whether he has feelings for me or not is not my ground to cover. But I’ll tell you- I don’t.”
Harry took a long sigh, closing his book and not even bothering to mark the page. Hermione then noticed just how much he had changed over the six years she had known him.
His black hair had shagged out, highlighting his perfectly pale face attractively. She blushed; I shouldn’t be thinking these things about my best friend.
Another sigh.
“So what does that mean?” He looked at her carefully, skeptically almost, and the slight twinge of anger was not completely gone from his voice.
It was Hermione’s turn to exhale. “I don’t know, I... you asked. I figured you were inclined to the truth.”
There. A chuff. Just a slight “Pssh,” and a shake of his shoulders and she knew he didn’t believe her. She knew it even before he shot her back a smart answer.
“Yeah, I’m sure...” The sarcasm was evident.
Usually this wouldn’t have bothered her, but the fact that he had been acting off all day and failed to tell her why when she asked him (even though she already knew) made her very annoyed and very impatient.
She took a deep breath.
“You listen to me, Harry Potter, and you listen good. I am not, was not, nor will I ever be in love with Ron Weasley.” She stared at him, happy to get a reaction out of him other than his recent coldness. “I have loved one boy in my entire life-and you have not named the right one. Can’t you see, Harry? It’s you. I’m in love with you. I always have been. I don’t really see when that’s going to change!”
She breathed heavily, and stared at him for a second as if to erase the last part of her monologue from his mind.
She had never meant to say that.
But the shocked, unreadable expression on his face reminded her that he knows. That was never supposed to go that far.
Thirty seconds... forty five... one minute... they stared at each other. When finally he broke the trance, standing up, and for a second Hermione thought he was going to walk out of the room and leave her there alone.
But instead, he stood in front of her and, never changing his expression or saying a word, wrapped his sweater-clad arms around her body, pressing the bottom of his chin to her hairline.
She was too stunned to move. But figuring it rude not to, she held him as well.
In, out, in, out... a rhythmatic wave of inhales and exhales symphonized their breathing, and it was only when the melody was broken that she realized Harry was crying.
She slowly pulled away, and looked him straight in the face. His eyes were puffy and his face was splotched red from trying to hold back tears. “Hermione, I...”
He seemed at a loss for words.
Sitting down beside her, Harry ran a hand through his raven hair and chuffed. “I love you. So much....” He trailed off. While one part of her wanted to throw her arms around his neck, another wanted to strangle him for making her think that he was trying to let her down easily. But another part, the biggest part, of her wanted to pull him back into a hug and tell him it was okay not to be afraid of love.
Because she knew he was.
His parents had loved him more than anything else on this earth. And he was remembering that tonight. They left-not by their own choice, but left nonetheless-and he was afraid.
It sometimes occurred to Hermione that she just might have known her best friend better than he knew himself.
He took a deep breath. “Hermione Granger, I’m going to be flat-out honest with you. I love you. I have, ever since I saved you from that troll. To this day I don’t have any idea what I would have done without you here at Hogwarts.”
She sniffed. Then, ever so slowly, a tiny smile crept up her face as he took her into his arms again and held on tight, almost as if he was fearful of losing her.
She knew he was.
Burying her face in his chest, they leaned back and he softly rubbed her shoulder. He needed something to hold onto. This was it.
“I’m so sorry...” He said, his voice quivering. “It’s just... my parents... and it’s almost like I can picture them... but I don’t want to, because it just makes the forgetting harder, and.... oh, Hermione...” He trailed off, and she gave his hand, which had somehow found its way to hers, a reassuring squeeze.
She grinned inwardly. “It’s alright, Harry... I’m here, okay? I always have been.”
And for the first time on Halloween night, Harry Potter smiled.