Fic Exchange: Fic for caitriona_3
For:Caitriona/caitriona_3 of Gryffindor
# of words: 1021 (not counting the title)
Title: There's still a light
Rating/warnings: PG
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Hermione
Summary: There is a war outside and they had more importants things to be worry about, but Harry can't keep like this.
Author's Notes: Hope you like this ♥ First time I write H/Hr. -Also, it is unbetaed but hopefully I didn't make too many mistakes-
He stands there, in front on her, all words caught in his throat and it’s funny, in some sort of way -he thinks - how nervous, how much nervous, he can feel right now, and for this, considering how the last months had been.
They’re trying to save the world, now. They are failing, walking in circles and trapped in improbable assumptions, but they are still fighting. And their mission, his mission is much greater, much more important than this. He shouldn’t waste time with this sort of things, not when people are dying outside but he can’t help it. He’s human too, made of flesh and bones and so is her. And maybe it’s the locket talking, but he thinks they deserve, he deserves to talk about this, to face it.
“Harry?” Hermione asks finally, carefully closing the book she had been reading “is there something wrong?”
Harry smirks before the question, something wrong? What exactly wasn’t wrong, right now?
“You’ve been crying again,” he lets out and feels like smacking his head against a wall the second he realizes what he has said. Subtle, Harry, just subtle.
They had never talked or mentioned talked about this before. He knows she’s been crying, and she knows he knows but they had never brought up the subject.
“I’m okay,” she says but her voice betrays her, “a bit tired, that’s all,” she adds with a weak smile, “but thank you for asking,”
They could leave the very awkward conversation here; they could change the topics and start talking about horcruxes and Voldemort’s life because that’s their comfortable, safe, zone where their feelings and fears are never allowed to enter -and when they do, they are never acknowledged-. But Harry has made up his mind and he can’t leave Hermione all alone in her silence and grief, he can’t stand watching her so broken and damaged, pretending, forcing herself to be stronger that she really is.
“You’re not okay,” he tells her and sits next to her, “I am not okay, either,”
Hermione sighs, her brown eyes puffy and tired.
“So, what is it?” Harry asks turning to her, “what’s troubling you, now?” he adds, hesitantly. A part of him doesn’t want to know. Because, what if he is the cause Hermione cries at night? What if he is still the cause of her tears, the reason why the girl stares outside, at the woods as if waiting, excepting, missing seeing someone? What if there is nothing Harry can do to make her feel better?
“You can tell me,” he says, to both of them.
She bits her lower lips and shakes her head a bit.
“It’s nothing, Harry, really. We have so much other things to care about,”
“Hermione,”
She looks at him, them, straight into his eyes. He can see doubt and sadness.
“It’s something petty and small,” she insists but doesn’t sound too sure.
“It’s been bothering you,” he points out and though her face is clean he can easily see the trace of tears.
“It’ll sound very selfish and hard, and it’ll probably hurt you and anger you, especially you of all people,” “And I don’t want that,” she adds, in a louder, desperate voice.
“I don’t want you to be angry at me, Harry. I don’t want us to fight.”
“I won’t get angry,” he says quietly, his fingers involuntary touching the locket hanging from his neck.
“Could you take it off, first?” she asks in a quiet, shy voice and he nods.
It always makes him feel better, like he’s has been sinking in a poisoned sea and can finally swim and be free from it. It’s only temporary, he has to remember himself.
“It’s about my parents,” she lets out, quickly, almost so quickly that a normal person would had had trouble to understand her but Harry catches it perfectly.
“Their anniversary was a week ago,” she continues, before he can say anything, “when I was a kid I would decorate the house for them, cut hearts, cut flowers and then I went to Hogwarts but even then I would write them”
“I miss them,” she confesses, tears falling, “and I keep worrying and wondering if Australia is safe enough, if this war will end soon, If I … well, if I’ll see them again.”
“And I know it is not fair to bring up this to you, because you… well, but I…” She cuts herself short there, biting her lip again, keeping her mouth shout as if stating she has finished talking.
He stares at her, all the information getting him. Of course she missed her parents; of course she was worried about them. Maybe she hadn’t acted childish and annoying, waiting for the slightest opportunity to leave him and return to her family but that didn’t meant she hadn’t been tempted to it.
“I am sorry, Harry,” she tells him, eyes shining with tears.
Harry shakes his head slowly, wondering which words could he say, which words would make the tears go away and place a smile instead. But he has never been good with this kind of things so he simply acts without saying any word, without tracing a genius plan.
He wraps his his arm around the girl’s shoulders and brings her closer to him. He embraces her and lets her cry and let out all her frustrations and fears in the shape of tears.
“We’ll win the war,” he tells her and she nods, resting her head over his shoulder. And for the first time, in what feels ages, she smiles sincerely.
“Yes, we will,” she says, her voice still a bit cracked, “We’ll win it, together,
”
They stay like that for what could be hours. There’s still a war outside, they know, and everything outside the tent is still the same -maybe worse- but inside their, inside their home, something between them has changed. And it’s the warmest and most beautiful thing Harry has ever known.
They could take magic away from him, he thinks with a smile. He would allow as long as they let him keep this.
# of words: 1021 (not counting the title)
Title: There's still a light
Rating/warnings: PG
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Hermione
Summary: There is a war outside and they had more importants things to be worry about, but Harry can't keep like this.
Author's Notes: Hope you like this ♥ First time I write H/Hr. -Also, it is unbetaed but hopefully I didn't make too many mistakes-
He stands there, in front on her, all words caught in his throat and it’s funny, in some sort of way -he thinks - how nervous, how much nervous, he can feel right now, and for this, considering how the last months had been.
They’re trying to save the world, now. They are failing, walking in circles and trapped in improbable assumptions, but they are still fighting. And their mission, his mission is much greater, much more important than this. He shouldn’t waste time with this sort of things, not when people are dying outside but he can’t help it. He’s human too, made of flesh and bones and so is her. And maybe it’s the locket talking, but he thinks they deserve, he deserves to talk about this, to face it.
“Harry?” Hermione asks finally, carefully closing the book she had been reading “is there something wrong?”
Harry smirks before the question, something wrong? What exactly wasn’t wrong, right now?
“You’ve been crying again,” he lets out and feels like smacking his head against a wall the second he realizes what he has said. Subtle, Harry, just subtle.
They had never talked or mentioned talked about this before. He knows she’s been crying, and she knows he knows but they had never brought up the subject.
“I’m okay,” she says but her voice betrays her, “a bit tired, that’s all,” she adds with a weak smile, “but thank you for asking,”
They could leave the very awkward conversation here; they could change the topics and start talking about horcruxes and Voldemort’s life because that’s their comfortable, safe, zone where their feelings and fears are never allowed to enter -and when they do, they are never acknowledged-. But Harry has made up his mind and he can’t leave Hermione all alone in her silence and grief, he can’t stand watching her so broken and damaged, pretending, forcing herself to be stronger that she really is.
“You’re not okay,” he tells her and sits next to her, “I am not okay, either,”
Hermione sighs, her brown eyes puffy and tired.
“So, what is it?” Harry asks turning to her, “what’s troubling you, now?” he adds, hesitantly. A part of him doesn’t want to know. Because, what if he is the cause Hermione cries at night? What if he is still the cause of her tears, the reason why the girl stares outside, at the woods as if waiting, excepting, missing seeing someone? What if there is nothing Harry can do to make her feel better?
“You can tell me,” he says, to both of them.
She bits her lower lips and shakes her head a bit.
“It’s nothing, Harry, really. We have so much other things to care about,”
“Hermione,”
She looks at him, them, straight into his eyes. He can see doubt and sadness.
“It’s something petty and small,” she insists but doesn’t sound too sure.
“It’s been bothering you,” he points out and though her face is clean he can easily see the trace of tears.
“It’ll sound very selfish and hard, and it’ll probably hurt you and anger you, especially you of all people,” “And I don’t want that,” she adds, in a louder, desperate voice.
“I don’t want you to be angry at me, Harry. I don’t want us to fight.”
“I won’t get angry,” he says quietly, his fingers involuntary touching the locket hanging from his neck.
“Could you take it off, first?” she asks in a quiet, shy voice and he nods.
It always makes him feel better, like he’s has been sinking in a poisoned sea and can finally swim and be free from it. It’s only temporary, he has to remember himself.
“It’s about my parents,” she lets out, quickly, almost so quickly that a normal person would had had trouble to understand her but Harry catches it perfectly.
“Their anniversary was a week ago,” she continues, before he can say anything, “when I was a kid I would decorate the house for them, cut hearts, cut flowers and then I went to Hogwarts but even then I would write them”
“I miss them,” she confesses, tears falling, “and I keep worrying and wondering if Australia is safe enough, if this war will end soon, If I … well, if I’ll see them again.”
“And I know it is not fair to bring up this to you, because you… well, but I…” She cuts herself short there, biting her lip again, keeping her mouth shout as if stating she has finished talking.
He stares at her, all the information getting him. Of course she missed her parents; of course she was worried about them. Maybe she hadn’t acted childish and annoying, waiting for the slightest opportunity to leave him and return to her family but that didn’t meant she hadn’t been tempted to it.
“I am sorry, Harry,” she tells him, eyes shining with tears.
Harry shakes his head slowly, wondering which words could he say, which words would make the tears go away and place a smile instead. But he has never been good with this kind of things so he simply acts without saying any word, without tracing a genius plan.
He wraps his his arm around the girl’s shoulders and brings her closer to him. He embraces her and lets her cry and let out all her frustrations and fears in the shape of tears.
“We’ll win the war,” he tells her and she nods, resting her head over his shoulder. And for the first time, in what feels ages, she smiles sincerely.
“Yes, we will,” she says, her voice still a bit cracked, “We’ll win it, together,
”
They stay like that for what could be hours. There’s still a war outside, they know, and everything outside the tent is still the same -maybe worse- but inside their, inside their home, something between them has changed. And it’s the warmest and most beautiful thing Harry has ever known.
They could take magic away from him, he thinks with a smile. He would allow as long as they let him keep this.