Happy Valentine's Day
What Love Is
He knew she was there before she spoke.
“Harry?”
He didn’t respond. He knew what he had to do, had known it for days now. He just hadn’t had the strength to do it but now, tonight, he knew he needed to.
“Harry, why don’t you get some sleep? We’re safe enough here.”
He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t look at her. If he looked at her-if he saw the caring in her eyes-he knew he wouldn’t be able to do this. Instead, he closed his eyes and his heart and did what he knew he needed to do.
“Leave me alone, Hermione.”
“You need to get some sleep, Harry. I know you’re not sleeping enough these days,” she persisted-as he’d known she would.
“I told you to leave me alone!” he burst out. “Just… leave!” He heard her suck in her breath but closed his ears to the sound as he went on, his voice rising, becoming more forceful. “Go back to Hogwarts, be Head Girl, do all those things you know you want to do and leave me the bloody hell alone! I don’t need you telling me what to do. I don’t want you here; I don’t want you helping me. I don’t need you helping me! I just want you to leave me alone!”
The last words rang out, almost seeming to echo in the heavy silence.
“I can’t!” she burst out, her words drowning out the echoes of his. “I can’t leave you alone, Harry! It doesn’t matter if you don’t want me to help you; I’m going to.” Her voice cracked, as she made a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a sob. “I can’t just go back to Hogwarts and be Head Girl!” The words were a shout and now he had to turn, had to look at her-because this was Hermione and she didn’t really shout. She didn’t lose control of herself.
She didn’t lose control. Except she had.
Oh God, what had he done?
Her face was flushed, tears streaking down her cheeks. Tears. He had made Hermione cry-cry with an intensity that bordered on violence even as sobs caught in her throat as if there were too many to be released at once. He’d never thought-never imagined-that Hermione could ever look or sound like this-all rationality, all composure, drowned out in the surge of emotion.
He felt like his heart was physically breaking, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. His heart was breaking-and he hated himself with a virulence that almost strangled him.
He was frozen so for a long minute, he could only stare as the words spilled from her in a flood. “Do you think I like missing school and being in danger all the time? I wish I could be back at Hogwarts, wish I could only worry about assignments and tests and even sodding boys! But I can’t! I hate that I feel so scared all the time! I hate that I worry about you so much that I can’t sleep at night! I hate that I don’t know how to help you! I hate that even though you’re shutting me out and you don’t want my help, I can’t not help you!” She gave a choking gasp as if trying to force back the words but they kept coming. “I can’t leave you alone; I can’t stop worrying about you; I can’t-”
He let out a strangled breath as he crossed the space between them in a few steps, hauling her into his arms and cutting off her words by pressing her face into his shoulder-or trying to. She fought him-telling him more than anything else could have just how much he had hurt her-shoving him away, one fist swinging out so he had to snap his head back to avoid being punched as her fist grazed his glasses, knocking them askew. She wasn’t really trying to hurt him, he knew that. Knew that no matter what, Hermione wouldn’t hurt him-and the thought made his heart twist savagely inside him. She wouldn’t hurt him-but he had hurt her.
“You said you didn’t want me!” The words burst from her as she twisted away from him.
He caught her wrist in his hand and captured her other arm between their bodies as he managed to get his arm around her. “I lied!”
She abruptly ceased struggling at his words, although she didn’t relax.
He didn’t let her go, kept on holding her as she stood there, her entire body stiff, unyielding. It felt unnatural, wrong in a way he’d never even considered, to hug Hermione and not have her respond. It had never occurred to him before but Hermione had always been so freely affectionate with him, touching his hand or his arm or hugging him. It was the sort of affection he had never known before and never known until now how much it mattered to him.
And he wanted it back, needed it back. Needed her. He knew that now. He’d lied and tried to push her away to keep her safe-but he could not do it.
He cared about her too much. And what was more-somehow-she cared about him too much.
I can’t leave you alone, she had said. And he suddenly knew that the same went for him. He couldn’t push her away, couldn’t do without her. Not for her cleverness or her research but for her. Her friendship, her affection, her loyalty, her heart… He needed her.
“Hermione…” he managed to choke out from the emotion clogging his throat.
And as if the sound of her name had been the cue, she gave way, sagging against him. A sob and then another broke from her throat and then she was clutching him, the hand that had been trying to push him away now gripping his shirt, as she buried her face in his shoulder and cried.
“I can’t leave you alone. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” The words were a muffled wail.
He tightened his arms around her, closing his eyes against the sudden sting of tears. Oh God, what had he done? To reduce Hermione-Hermione-to this. It was… stunning… and heart-wrenching… and humbling… She cared about him so much… And that was really why he couldn’t push her away. He could hurt himself-his own pain mattered very little when compared to her safety-but he couldn’t hurt her.
Friendship, affection, loyalty-love-were too precious. Love. Everything inside him stilled at the word. That wasn’t-was it-did he really think Hermione… loved him?
Yes. He didn’t know how or why or even what that really meant, but yes, it had to be love. Didn’t it? Friendship, affection-the words were too… tame, too tepid to describe the intensity of Hermione’s emotions, her reaction. Hermione’s words rang through his mind: I hate that I worry about you so much that I can’t sleep at night! I hate that even though you’re shutting me out and you don’t want my help, I can’t not help you! She worried about him so much she couldn’t sleep at night; he hadn’t known that.
Friendship, affection-he suddenly found himself thinking about Ginny. Ginny, whom he rarely thought about anymore. Ginny, who must feel friendship and affection for him. Ginny, who had let him go and hadn’t really tried to go with him.
And Hermione… Hermione, who was still sobbing as she clutched his shirt. Hermione, who could not-had never-let him go. Yes, that had to be love…
The word caught at his heart. It was something he’d never really known; it summed up what he wanted most, what he’d always wanted. And Hermione had given it to him-not in words, not obviously, but in her actions, everything she’d done. And he hadn’t even realized it fully until now, had taken it for granted because it had been cloaked in friendship and had been mostly quiet, steadfast, not seeking attention or gratitude but just there. She had always just been there for him. And he hadn’t realized just how true that was, and just how much that meant to him, until now.
She was like air, he suddenly thought. Because he needed her, yes, but also because he hadn’t really noticed it until now. He needed air to breathe but in part because he couldn’t see it or touch it, he never thought about it. And Hermione had been like that for him-just as necessary and just as unnoticed. Because she didn’t advertise the depths of her caring, never reminded him how much she had done for him, he hadn’t realized just how much he owed her, hadn’t recognized what Hermione gave him for what it was: love.
Hermione’s sobs were quieter now and he smoothed a hand down her hair. “Hermione,” he said very softly, having to force the words out past the emotion clogging his throat, “I’m so sorry.”
She made a sound that was half a sob and half a sniffle as she lifted her head to look at him and his heart clenched at the sight of her tear-swollen eyelids. “I can’t leave you alone,” she repeated, more calmly, although her voice still trembled slightly. “So don’t ask me to.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “Not again.” He paused and then added, “I couldn’t let you go either-I can’t let you go,” he amended his words. “I can’t do this without you. I wish I could-I wish -”
“I know that it’s dangerous,” she cut him off. “But I don’t care.”
He blinked. How had she-but even before the question formed in his mind, he knew how she’d known what he meant, why he’d tried to push her away.
She knew him. She understood him-and she loved him anyway.
He suddenly found it hard to breathe, emotion filling his chest until it almost physically ached. God, how had he ever thought he could push her away? He lifted his hand to touch her cheek lightly and realized with a little shock that his hands were actually trembling slightly. “I-I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you,” he told her shakily.
“Neither could I,” she said quietly, her lips trembling into a wobbly attempt at a smile that somehow only succeeded in making her look more vulnerable. “So I guess we’ll just have to protect each other so nothing happens to us.”
“I can’t protect you!” he burst out. “Not well enough. I- I’ve never been able to protect people I cared about before. I couldn’t save Sirius or Dumbledore and you-you’re more important than they were and it’s more dangerous now and I can’t prot-”
She stopped his words by covering his mouth with her hand. “Harry! Stop it,” she said more quietly. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You shouldn’t blame yourself. And don’t say you’ve never been able to protect people before-you saved Ginny in 2nd year and Sirius the year after that and-”
“I didn’t save them,” he interrupted her. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Well, since I’m not going to leave you alone, we should be fine.” She gave him a small smile. “See? I figured it all out. What happened to Sirius and Dumbledore only happened because I wasn’t there to help you.”
He managed a slight, wavering smile for her, since he knew it was what she’d been aiming for, even if smiling was almost the last thing he felt like doing. “I never thought of it like that before.”
“Anyway,” she said, soberly now, “we’ve been over this. It doesn’t matter how dangerous it is. I can’t leave you to go through this alone, no matter the risk to me.”
“And I can’t do this without you.” He really couldn’t. The fear that something would happen to her might-and did-claw at his insides but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine doing this without her. Couldn’t imagine surviving this without her. He couldn’t have explained why but he did know it. He wasn’t strong enough or brave enough or clever enough to do any of this, to be the Boy Who Lived, the hero that was supposed to save them all. He needed her-to be the clever one when he was stupid, to be strong when he was weak, and to make him feel like he could be braver and stronger than he was because she believed he could be.
“Don’t try to push me away, Harry. I won’t leave you. I can’t leave you.”
She said it so simply, so matter-of-factly-as if she was promising to buy him lunch and not promising to risk her life to help him. It was amazing. She was amazing. And she loved him.
“Hermione, I-” he began and then stopped, his throat closing up on the words. I-I think I love you too. And he did think so. Whatever love was-however it felt-it had to be what he felt for Hermione. She just… meant so much to him… more than Ron, more than Ginny, more than Sirius… He needed her and the mere thought of anything happening to her terrified him so much it made it impossible for him to breathe or to think. He would do anything for her, to keep her safe and happy. And seeing her cry had hurt him as if her every tear was a knife wound to the heart. All that had to be love.
But he didn’t know if he could say it, didn’t know how to say it, those words he’d never said before. “I…”
He couldn’t say it. Talking about emotions-any emotion, let alone this emotion-had never been easy for him.
So he didn’t say anything. He just kissed her.
Softly-part of him couldn’t believe he was doing this, his thoughts in a whirl as part of him insisted this was quite possibly the stupidest, most reckless thing he’d ever done. Realizing that on some level, somehow, the relationship between him and Hermione had moved beyond friendship was one thing; kissing her was another thing entirely, a gratuitous complication that he-
She seemed to drift closer to him, one of her hands lifting to touch his cheek, as the kiss lingered, changed, deepened…
And he forgot to think-or, more accurately, his thoughts faded away.
Complication it might be, but it felt… natural… Natural to tighten his arms around her, bringing her closer; natural to deepen the kiss as it spun out into a lingering exploration.
He finally drew back, reluctantly, just enough so he could look at her and really see her for what felt oddly like the first time. He could still see the traces of tears on her face. Her lips were slightly swollen and her eyes a little unfocused, as she blinked them open.
And the sight of her at that moment hit him with all the force of a blow to the chest. He fancied her. It was irrational, crazy. Why-even after kissing her, after realizing that he thought he loved her-the thought that he fancied her should mean so much-because it did. Somehow. Maybe because it had nothing to do with the War or with the danger they were in, had nothing to do with him as the Boy Who Lived or as the Hero who needed Hermione to help him. It had nothing to do with her cleverness or her strength or her loyalty. Because, for once in this year of constant danger and worry and fear, this was just about a boy thinking that a girl was pretty and that he wanted to kiss her. It was so… normal… and maybe that was why it mattered so much.
He kissed her again, softly, just a touch of his lips to hers. Just because he wanted to and because he could.
“Harry, I… are you sure about this? It’s not just because you’re sorry or… lonely… Is it? I just-”
He stopped her uncharacteristic faltering with his lips, kissing her again, before he drew back to meet her eyes. “Hermione, do you really think I’d do that?”
“No…”
There was so much vulnerability in her eyes it almost hurt to see it. It was just… wrong that Hermione, who was usually so strong, could be so uncertain when it came to something like this, so uncertain about what she meant to him. He felt another stab of guilt and tried for humor, to make her smile. “If I went around kissing girls because I was lonely, I’d probably have kissed half the girls in Hogwarts by now.”
She managed a small smile in response but then the smile faded. “But Harry, what about Ginny? I thought…”
“I don’t need Ginny,” he said simply. He lifted his hands to cup her cheeks, his voice softening. “But I do need you. And it’s not just your cleverness. It’s because… because you make me feel like I can do this even when I’m terrified.”
And maybe, he thought, he needed her because he could tell her when he was terrified. After all, maybe it was as simple-and as profound- as that: he needed her because with her, he could simply be himself. In this time, when he sometimes felt as if all the darkness, all the fears, all the expectations were swallowing him alive-as if the Boy Who Lived was taking over until nothing remained of the boy who was just Harry-with her, because of her, he could still be “just Harry.”
A smile trembled on her lips. “That’s good because I don’t plan to go anywhere so you’re stuck with me.”
He managed a smile. “Lucky me,” he said softly just before he kissed her again.
And for the first time in a very long while, he really felt like he was lucky. Because of Hermione and with her, he thought he might be able to do this, survive this War.
Her cleverness could save his life, but more than that, he thought, her love would save his soul…
"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." - Lao Tzu
~The End~
A/N 1: I was originally planning for this fic to be focused only on the relationship between H/Hr and not involving anything physical at all but, well, H/Hr disagreed and, really, where's the fun in a fic that doesn't involve kissing? ;-)
A/N 2: I was also planning on writing a fic that, for once, doesn't mention either Ron or Ginny at all but Ginny just had to be stuck in there because part of this fic really is about the fact that loving someone doesn't mean only being around for the easy parts, before and after they go through Hell; loving someone means you're with them for the hard times, as they go through Hell-- not that JKR seems to care.
He knew she was there before she spoke.
“Harry?”
He didn’t respond. He knew what he had to do, had known it for days now. He just hadn’t had the strength to do it but now, tonight, he knew he needed to.
“Harry, why don’t you get some sleep? We’re safe enough here.”
He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t look at her. If he looked at her-if he saw the caring in her eyes-he knew he wouldn’t be able to do this. Instead, he closed his eyes and his heart and did what he knew he needed to do.
“Leave me alone, Hermione.”
“You need to get some sleep, Harry. I know you’re not sleeping enough these days,” she persisted-as he’d known she would.
“I told you to leave me alone!” he burst out. “Just… leave!” He heard her suck in her breath but closed his ears to the sound as he went on, his voice rising, becoming more forceful. “Go back to Hogwarts, be Head Girl, do all those things you know you want to do and leave me the bloody hell alone! I don’t need you telling me what to do. I don’t want you here; I don’t want you helping me. I don’t need you helping me! I just want you to leave me alone!”
The last words rang out, almost seeming to echo in the heavy silence.
“I can’t!” she burst out, her words drowning out the echoes of his. “I can’t leave you alone, Harry! It doesn’t matter if you don’t want me to help you; I’m going to.” Her voice cracked, as she made a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a sob. “I can’t just go back to Hogwarts and be Head Girl!” The words were a shout and now he had to turn, had to look at her-because this was Hermione and she didn’t really shout. She didn’t lose control of herself.
She didn’t lose control. Except she had.
Oh God, what had he done?
Her face was flushed, tears streaking down her cheeks. Tears. He had made Hermione cry-cry with an intensity that bordered on violence even as sobs caught in her throat as if there were too many to be released at once. He’d never thought-never imagined-that Hermione could ever look or sound like this-all rationality, all composure, drowned out in the surge of emotion.
He felt like his heart was physically breaking, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. His heart was breaking-and he hated himself with a virulence that almost strangled him.
He was frozen so for a long minute, he could only stare as the words spilled from her in a flood. “Do you think I like missing school and being in danger all the time? I wish I could be back at Hogwarts, wish I could only worry about assignments and tests and even sodding boys! But I can’t! I hate that I feel so scared all the time! I hate that I worry about you so much that I can’t sleep at night! I hate that I don’t know how to help you! I hate that even though you’re shutting me out and you don’t want my help, I can’t not help you!” She gave a choking gasp as if trying to force back the words but they kept coming. “I can’t leave you alone; I can’t stop worrying about you; I can’t-”
He let out a strangled breath as he crossed the space between them in a few steps, hauling her into his arms and cutting off her words by pressing her face into his shoulder-or trying to. She fought him-telling him more than anything else could have just how much he had hurt her-shoving him away, one fist swinging out so he had to snap his head back to avoid being punched as her fist grazed his glasses, knocking them askew. She wasn’t really trying to hurt him, he knew that. Knew that no matter what, Hermione wouldn’t hurt him-and the thought made his heart twist savagely inside him. She wouldn’t hurt him-but he had hurt her.
“You said you didn’t want me!” The words burst from her as she twisted away from him.
He caught her wrist in his hand and captured her other arm between their bodies as he managed to get his arm around her. “I lied!”
She abruptly ceased struggling at his words, although she didn’t relax.
He didn’t let her go, kept on holding her as she stood there, her entire body stiff, unyielding. It felt unnatural, wrong in a way he’d never even considered, to hug Hermione and not have her respond. It had never occurred to him before but Hermione had always been so freely affectionate with him, touching his hand or his arm or hugging him. It was the sort of affection he had never known before and never known until now how much it mattered to him.
And he wanted it back, needed it back. Needed her. He knew that now. He’d lied and tried to push her away to keep her safe-but he could not do it.
He cared about her too much. And what was more-somehow-she cared about him too much.
I can’t leave you alone, she had said. And he suddenly knew that the same went for him. He couldn’t push her away, couldn’t do without her. Not for her cleverness or her research but for her. Her friendship, her affection, her loyalty, her heart… He needed her.
“Hermione…” he managed to choke out from the emotion clogging his throat.
And as if the sound of her name had been the cue, she gave way, sagging against him. A sob and then another broke from her throat and then she was clutching him, the hand that had been trying to push him away now gripping his shirt, as she buried her face in his shoulder and cried.
“I can’t leave you alone. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” The words were a muffled wail.
He tightened his arms around her, closing his eyes against the sudden sting of tears. Oh God, what had he done? To reduce Hermione-Hermione-to this. It was… stunning… and heart-wrenching… and humbling… She cared about him so much… And that was really why he couldn’t push her away. He could hurt himself-his own pain mattered very little when compared to her safety-but he couldn’t hurt her.
Friendship, affection, loyalty-love-were too precious. Love. Everything inside him stilled at the word. That wasn’t-was it-did he really think Hermione… loved him?
Yes. He didn’t know how or why or even what that really meant, but yes, it had to be love. Didn’t it? Friendship, affection-the words were too… tame, too tepid to describe the intensity of Hermione’s emotions, her reaction. Hermione’s words rang through his mind: I hate that I worry about you so much that I can’t sleep at night! I hate that even though you’re shutting me out and you don’t want my help, I can’t not help you! She worried about him so much she couldn’t sleep at night; he hadn’t known that.
Friendship, affection-he suddenly found himself thinking about Ginny. Ginny, whom he rarely thought about anymore. Ginny, who must feel friendship and affection for him. Ginny, who had let him go and hadn’t really tried to go with him.
And Hermione… Hermione, who was still sobbing as she clutched his shirt. Hermione, who could not-had never-let him go. Yes, that had to be love…
The word caught at his heart. It was something he’d never really known; it summed up what he wanted most, what he’d always wanted. And Hermione had given it to him-not in words, not obviously, but in her actions, everything she’d done. And he hadn’t even realized it fully until now, had taken it for granted because it had been cloaked in friendship and had been mostly quiet, steadfast, not seeking attention or gratitude but just there. She had always just been there for him. And he hadn’t realized just how true that was, and just how much that meant to him, until now.
She was like air, he suddenly thought. Because he needed her, yes, but also because he hadn’t really noticed it until now. He needed air to breathe but in part because he couldn’t see it or touch it, he never thought about it. And Hermione had been like that for him-just as necessary and just as unnoticed. Because she didn’t advertise the depths of her caring, never reminded him how much she had done for him, he hadn’t realized just how much he owed her, hadn’t recognized what Hermione gave him for what it was: love.
Hermione’s sobs were quieter now and he smoothed a hand down her hair. “Hermione,” he said very softly, having to force the words out past the emotion clogging his throat, “I’m so sorry.”
She made a sound that was half a sob and half a sniffle as she lifted her head to look at him and his heart clenched at the sight of her tear-swollen eyelids. “I can’t leave you alone,” she repeated, more calmly, although her voice still trembled slightly. “So don’t ask me to.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “Not again.” He paused and then added, “I couldn’t let you go either-I can’t let you go,” he amended his words. “I can’t do this without you. I wish I could-I wish -”
“I know that it’s dangerous,” she cut him off. “But I don’t care.”
He blinked. How had she-but even before the question formed in his mind, he knew how she’d known what he meant, why he’d tried to push her away.
She knew him. She understood him-and she loved him anyway.
He suddenly found it hard to breathe, emotion filling his chest until it almost physically ached. God, how had he ever thought he could push her away? He lifted his hand to touch her cheek lightly and realized with a little shock that his hands were actually trembling slightly. “I-I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you,” he told her shakily.
“Neither could I,” she said quietly, her lips trembling into a wobbly attempt at a smile that somehow only succeeded in making her look more vulnerable. “So I guess we’ll just have to protect each other so nothing happens to us.”
“I can’t protect you!” he burst out. “Not well enough. I- I’ve never been able to protect people I cared about before. I couldn’t save Sirius or Dumbledore and you-you’re more important than they were and it’s more dangerous now and I can’t prot-”
She stopped his words by covering his mouth with her hand. “Harry! Stop it,” she said more quietly. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You shouldn’t blame yourself. And don’t say you’ve never been able to protect people before-you saved Ginny in 2nd year and Sirius the year after that and-”
“I didn’t save them,” he interrupted her. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Well, since I’m not going to leave you alone, we should be fine.” She gave him a small smile. “See? I figured it all out. What happened to Sirius and Dumbledore only happened because I wasn’t there to help you.”
He managed a slight, wavering smile for her, since he knew it was what she’d been aiming for, even if smiling was almost the last thing he felt like doing. “I never thought of it like that before.”
“Anyway,” she said, soberly now, “we’ve been over this. It doesn’t matter how dangerous it is. I can’t leave you to go through this alone, no matter the risk to me.”
“And I can’t do this without you.” He really couldn’t. The fear that something would happen to her might-and did-claw at his insides but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine doing this without her. Couldn’t imagine surviving this without her. He couldn’t have explained why but he did know it. He wasn’t strong enough or brave enough or clever enough to do any of this, to be the Boy Who Lived, the hero that was supposed to save them all. He needed her-to be the clever one when he was stupid, to be strong when he was weak, and to make him feel like he could be braver and stronger than he was because she believed he could be.
“Don’t try to push me away, Harry. I won’t leave you. I can’t leave you.”
She said it so simply, so matter-of-factly-as if she was promising to buy him lunch and not promising to risk her life to help him. It was amazing. She was amazing. And she loved him.
“Hermione, I-” he began and then stopped, his throat closing up on the words. I-I think I love you too. And he did think so. Whatever love was-however it felt-it had to be what he felt for Hermione. She just… meant so much to him… more than Ron, more than Ginny, more than Sirius… He needed her and the mere thought of anything happening to her terrified him so much it made it impossible for him to breathe or to think. He would do anything for her, to keep her safe and happy. And seeing her cry had hurt him as if her every tear was a knife wound to the heart. All that had to be love.
But he didn’t know if he could say it, didn’t know how to say it, those words he’d never said before. “I…”
He couldn’t say it. Talking about emotions-any emotion, let alone this emotion-had never been easy for him.
So he didn’t say anything. He just kissed her.
Softly-part of him couldn’t believe he was doing this, his thoughts in a whirl as part of him insisted this was quite possibly the stupidest, most reckless thing he’d ever done. Realizing that on some level, somehow, the relationship between him and Hermione had moved beyond friendship was one thing; kissing her was another thing entirely, a gratuitous complication that he-
She seemed to drift closer to him, one of her hands lifting to touch his cheek, as the kiss lingered, changed, deepened…
And he forgot to think-or, more accurately, his thoughts faded away.
Complication it might be, but it felt… natural… Natural to tighten his arms around her, bringing her closer; natural to deepen the kiss as it spun out into a lingering exploration.
He finally drew back, reluctantly, just enough so he could look at her and really see her for what felt oddly like the first time. He could still see the traces of tears on her face. Her lips were slightly swollen and her eyes a little unfocused, as she blinked them open.
And the sight of her at that moment hit him with all the force of a blow to the chest. He fancied her. It was irrational, crazy. Why-even after kissing her, after realizing that he thought he loved her-the thought that he fancied her should mean so much-because it did. Somehow. Maybe because it had nothing to do with the War or with the danger they were in, had nothing to do with him as the Boy Who Lived or as the Hero who needed Hermione to help him. It had nothing to do with her cleverness or her strength or her loyalty. Because, for once in this year of constant danger and worry and fear, this was just about a boy thinking that a girl was pretty and that he wanted to kiss her. It was so… normal… and maybe that was why it mattered so much.
He kissed her again, softly, just a touch of his lips to hers. Just because he wanted to and because he could.
“Harry, I… are you sure about this? It’s not just because you’re sorry or… lonely… Is it? I just-”
He stopped her uncharacteristic faltering with his lips, kissing her again, before he drew back to meet her eyes. “Hermione, do you really think I’d do that?”
“No…”
There was so much vulnerability in her eyes it almost hurt to see it. It was just… wrong that Hermione, who was usually so strong, could be so uncertain when it came to something like this, so uncertain about what she meant to him. He felt another stab of guilt and tried for humor, to make her smile. “If I went around kissing girls because I was lonely, I’d probably have kissed half the girls in Hogwarts by now.”
She managed a small smile in response but then the smile faded. “But Harry, what about Ginny? I thought…”
“I don’t need Ginny,” he said simply. He lifted his hands to cup her cheeks, his voice softening. “But I do need you. And it’s not just your cleverness. It’s because… because you make me feel like I can do this even when I’m terrified.”
And maybe, he thought, he needed her because he could tell her when he was terrified. After all, maybe it was as simple-and as profound- as that: he needed her because with her, he could simply be himself. In this time, when he sometimes felt as if all the darkness, all the fears, all the expectations were swallowing him alive-as if the Boy Who Lived was taking over until nothing remained of the boy who was just Harry-with her, because of her, he could still be “just Harry.”
A smile trembled on her lips. “That’s good because I don’t plan to go anywhere so you’re stuck with me.”
He managed a smile. “Lucky me,” he said softly just before he kissed her again.
And for the first time in a very long while, he really felt like he was lucky. Because of Hermione and with her, he thought he might be able to do this, survive this War.
Her cleverness could save his life, but more than that, he thought, her love would save his soul…
"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." - Lao Tzu
~The End~
A/N 1: I was originally planning for this fic to be focused only on the relationship between H/Hr and not involving anything physical at all but, well, H/Hr disagreed and, really, where's the fun in a fic that doesn't involve kissing? ;-)
A/N 2: I was also planning on writing a fic that, for once, doesn't mention either Ron or Ginny at all but Ginny just had to be stuck in there because part of this fic really is about the fact that loving someone doesn't mean only being around for the easy parts, before and after they go through Hell; loving someone means you're with them for the hard times, as they go through Hell-- not that JKR seems to care.