Drabble the tenth
Trying desperately to get these drabbles all done and finished in time for Christmas!
The tenth drabble.
For madderbrad- thanks for all your faithful reviewing!
Prompt: H/Hr, dealing with the Prophecy and ignoring the Crappy Canon Addition known as HBP.
Banishing His Nightmares
Hermione crept down the front stairs of Grimmauld Place quietly, heading to the kitchen to get a drink of water.
The door was ajar and she pushed it open silently, only to stop at the sight of Harry. He was curled up in a chair he’d pulled up beside the window and was staring outside into the darkness. Sadness bordering on despair radiated from every line of his frame. Even his profile seemed to speak of pain.
She made her way over to his side, all thoughts of thirst or of anything else disappearing from her mind.
He didn’t move as she approached although she knew he was aware of her presence.
She put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Harry?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can’t you sleep?”
He barely stirred, continuing to stare blindly outside. Only his lips moved as he asked, very quietly, “What- what if I fail?”
She sighed softly, the question causing a pang in her heart. “Oh Harry, you shouldn’t think like that. You won’t fail.”
He turned to her sharply, his movement abrupt. “How can you know that? Don’t tell me you’ve taken up Divination!” he snapped, his eyes flashing with a sudden flare of anger.
She didn’t react to his anger, only edged closer to him. “I don’t know it,” she admitted, “but I do believe it. I have to believe it. I believe in you.” She paused, having never before put her faith into words, but it was true. She did believe in Harry, not only because the alternative was unthinkable (though it was) but because she, of all people, knew just what Harry was capable of. She knew the depths of his courage and his strength, knew the extent of his magical ability (could sense even more power than she’d seen him use). She’d already seen him do so much, endure so much, seen how he always, somehow, managed to survive, managed to do what needed to be done.
“I believe in you,” she said again, softly. “And you can do this.”
His expression didn’t lighten as he looked back at her. “But what if I die?” he finally asked in a voice little louder than a breath. “I don’t know if I can survive this. The Prophecy--”
She cut him off, before he could continue. “Don’t say it. I remember what the Prophecy said: Neither can live while the other survives,” she quoted. “But you’re not going to die. Don’t even think that.”
“But it says I can’t live while he does,” Harry began gloomily.
“So what?”
He stared at her disbelievingly. “So what?! So I’m going to die!”
“No, you’re not. Not unless you let Voldemort live and you’re not. He’s been trying to kill you for years and you’re still here. It just means that you have to defeat him-and I knew that already.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Know it all,” Harry accused, but his expression and his tone had softened until they were nearly normal again, so much affection in his eyes and voice that she felt her heart warm.
Her heart lifted at the sign of the Harry that she knew-and loved, a small voice in her head inserted. “You’re not going to die,” she repeated and then added, deliberately, in an attempt to make him smile, “I won’t let you die.”
And though she tried to smile, she didn’t quite manage it, her tone was too intense. It was a promise, a vow, to herself and to him. She wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
The ghost of a smile crossed his face, his eyes brightening with a gleam of humor. “And I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.”
She smiled. “No, you wouldn’t.”
He returned her smile with a small one of his own and she knew that he would be okay now. At least for tonight, his nightmares had been banished.
She stood up and pulled him up with her. “Come on, you should get some sleep.”
He complied, falling in beside her until they reached the door of his bedroom.
“Goodnight,” she said and turned towards her own door but he stopped her with a word.
“Hermione.”
She paused and looked back at him. “Hmm?”
He hesitated and then he stepped closer to her, putting a hand on her arm. “Thank you,” he said simply and quietly-and then did something he’d never done before and, bending forward, brushed his lips against her cheek.
She felt herself color but managed to smile a little. “Anytime.” It was a light disclaimer of his thanks and yet it felt somehow solemn, as well. She was promising to always be there for him when he needed her-and she knew he knew that.
His eyes softened and his hand gave her arm a quick, grateful pressure, before he released her and stepped back, opening his door. “Good night, Hermione.”
“Sleep well.”
“I will, now,” was all he said but she heard, too, the unspoken words, thanks to you.
And she was smiling as she went to her own room.
She had brought him some measure of peace-and in doing so, she had found her own peace…
The tenth drabble.
For madderbrad- thanks for all your faithful reviewing!
Prompt: H/Hr, dealing with the Prophecy and ignoring the Crappy Canon Addition known as HBP.
Banishing His Nightmares
Hermione crept down the front stairs of Grimmauld Place quietly, heading to the kitchen to get a drink of water.
The door was ajar and she pushed it open silently, only to stop at the sight of Harry. He was curled up in a chair he’d pulled up beside the window and was staring outside into the darkness. Sadness bordering on despair radiated from every line of his frame. Even his profile seemed to speak of pain.
She made her way over to his side, all thoughts of thirst or of anything else disappearing from her mind.
He didn’t move as she approached although she knew he was aware of her presence.
She put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Harry?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can’t you sleep?”
He barely stirred, continuing to stare blindly outside. Only his lips moved as he asked, very quietly, “What- what if I fail?”
She sighed softly, the question causing a pang in her heart. “Oh Harry, you shouldn’t think like that. You won’t fail.”
He turned to her sharply, his movement abrupt. “How can you know that? Don’t tell me you’ve taken up Divination!” he snapped, his eyes flashing with a sudden flare of anger.
She didn’t react to his anger, only edged closer to him. “I don’t know it,” she admitted, “but I do believe it. I have to believe it. I believe in you.” She paused, having never before put her faith into words, but it was true. She did believe in Harry, not only because the alternative was unthinkable (though it was) but because she, of all people, knew just what Harry was capable of. She knew the depths of his courage and his strength, knew the extent of his magical ability (could sense even more power than she’d seen him use). She’d already seen him do so much, endure so much, seen how he always, somehow, managed to survive, managed to do what needed to be done.
“I believe in you,” she said again, softly. “And you can do this.”
His expression didn’t lighten as he looked back at her. “But what if I die?” he finally asked in a voice little louder than a breath. “I don’t know if I can survive this. The Prophecy--”
She cut him off, before he could continue. “Don’t say it. I remember what the Prophecy said: Neither can live while the other survives,” she quoted. “But you’re not going to die. Don’t even think that.”
“But it says I can’t live while he does,” Harry began gloomily.
“So what?”
He stared at her disbelievingly. “So what?! So I’m going to die!”
“No, you’re not. Not unless you let Voldemort live and you’re not. He’s been trying to kill you for years and you’re still here. It just means that you have to defeat him-and I knew that already.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Know it all,” Harry accused, but his expression and his tone had softened until they were nearly normal again, so much affection in his eyes and voice that she felt her heart warm.
Her heart lifted at the sign of the Harry that she knew-and loved, a small voice in her head inserted. “You’re not going to die,” she repeated and then added, deliberately, in an attempt to make him smile, “I won’t let you die.”
And though she tried to smile, she didn’t quite manage it, her tone was too intense. It was a promise, a vow, to herself and to him. She wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
The ghost of a smile crossed his face, his eyes brightening with a gleam of humor. “And I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.”
She smiled. “No, you wouldn’t.”
He returned her smile with a small one of his own and she knew that he would be okay now. At least for tonight, his nightmares had been banished.
She stood up and pulled him up with her. “Come on, you should get some sleep.”
He complied, falling in beside her until they reached the door of his bedroom.
“Goodnight,” she said and turned towards her own door but he stopped her with a word.
“Hermione.”
She paused and looked back at him. “Hmm?”
He hesitated and then he stepped closer to her, putting a hand on her arm. “Thank you,” he said simply and quietly-and then did something he’d never done before and, bending forward, brushed his lips against her cheek.
She felt herself color but managed to smile a little. “Anytime.” It was a light disclaimer of his thanks and yet it felt somehow solemn, as well. She was promising to always be there for him when he needed her-and she knew he knew that.
His eyes softened and his hand gave her arm a quick, grateful pressure, before he released her and stepped back, opening his door. “Good night, Hermione.”
“Sleep well.”
“I will, now,” was all he said but she heard, too, the unspoken words, thanks to you.
And she was smiling as she went to her own room.
She had brought him some measure of peace-and in doing so, she had found her own peace…