Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Summary: Just before the sixth year of school begins, Harry comes to a realization in an unlikely way. Hermione's POV.
Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. Not making any money, etc.
There he is. I haven't seen or heard from him for almost two months, and now twin urges are quarreling within me. Part of me wants to run to him. Throw my arms around him. Remind him. The other part wants to duck and run. Protect myself from him. He didn't respond to any of my letters all summer long…even when I begged.
But who am I kidding? A humorless smile briefly appears on my face. I wouldn't run away from him if he was on fire and I was covered in petrol. Still, I can't just pretend to myself that everything's all right. That I can take this for another year and be okay. Not anymore.
Hedwig is sitting in her carrier on top of the armoire, her amber eyes fixed on me. I hold my finger up to my lips and she blinks. Hedwig probably spent almost as much time at my home as she did at the Dursleys' this summer. 'Please come back soon even if he doesn't send anything,' I said so many times, as I fastened my parchments to her leg.
I'm not an impatient person. I'm really quite adept with things that require painstaking diligence over a length of time. I'm absolutely fantastic at doing all the things necessary and beyond to reach a goal. But relationships don't appear to work that way—at least, not with Harry Potter. Once you've completed 'A' and 'B', 'C' doesn't necessarily follow.
I hate feeling so out of control. Waiting. I'm not sure how much longer I can stand this, pouring so much of myself into him and having precious little response in return. A new school year will start tomorrow and I wonder if I have anything more to look forward to regarding Harry. Am I a coward for wanting it to be him who makes the first move? Am I a fool for waiting? I'm afraid that the answer to both questions is 'yes'.
I stand watching him in my indecision, suddenly realizing he's not really in the room with me anyway. I begin to understand the slight look of warning in Mrs. Weasley's eyes when she told me where he was. He's staring out the grimy window, unconsciously skimming the glass with his fingertips; reaching for something... He seems different to me somehow. Yes, I can see that he's grown a bit taller and he's certainly thinner from his months at the Dursleys, but I'm not talking about the physical here. It's just…him. Something's been added or taken away—I'm not sure which. Maybe both.
There's tension in the way he stands there, and the awful longing on his face chases away any lingering anger or hurt from my mind for the moment. In situations requiring courage or loyalty, he's the mountain that will not be moved. But in matters of the heart, he's absolutely unsure of himself. Fragile.
I'm grateful that Harry hasn't noticed my presence yet, because I'm entertaining the thought of quietly going back downstairs to join the others. They're probably getting ready to eat dinner in the pub area of The Leaky Cauldron. But then, my eyes are drawn abruptly down as an orange blur darts past me. 'No, Crookshanks!' I gasp inwardly.
But Crookshanks scurries to Harry before I can grab him. Harry starts as he feels a gentle pressure winding around his legs. I'm surprised to see the intensity vanish from his face as he bends and greets Crookshanks fondly. Am I imagining it, or is my cat smirking at me as he purrs loudly against Harry's hand? Then, as though suddenly realizing that my cat doesn't usually travel alone, Harry's head snaps up, his eyes finding mine.
He says my name joyfully and I rush to his open arms. Big surprise. But then, my eyes widen as I feel his warm lips brush my cheek. Helplessly, I feel the hope that I've quashed for the past year begin to expand like my hair on a humid day. He's never done anything like this before. I have to quell my instinctive response to pull back so I can see his face and analyze what he means by it.
Anyway, I'm too afraid I'll see what I've always seen, and choose to just enjoy this uncommon embrace as I feel Crookshanks weaving softly in and out of our legs. For once I'm quiet, afraid that what I'm thinking will pour right out of my mouth and drench us in awkwardness. When we finally release each other, all we can do is smile nervously for a moment while the air around us stirs with uncertainty.
"You've grown taller." I inwardly roll my eyes because I can't believe that these inane words are the first thing to come out of my mouth.
But he keeps his smile and nods, seemingly glad that the silence has been broken. "My back and legs have ached all summer." His smile fades just a bit. "You look a lot thinner, Hermione. You all right?"
I nod. But I can't help remembering the sleepless nights and the nervous stomach that plagued me all summer because of him and what he might be going through.
Then before I know it, I blurt out, "Why didn't you answer my letters? I've been so worried!" My voice sounds horribly plaintive and I immediately resolve to have my vocal chords removed. The miserable look that passes over his face makes me want to kick myself across the Thames and back. But it doesn't stop me from wanting an answer.
Harry is silent for a moment. His gaze reverts to the window, and he looks as though he'd like to go through it. I quickly grasp his arm and start to apologize, but he shakes his head and meets my eyes again. "I tried, Hermione," he answers quietly. "I'm really sorry. I just…couldn't." His voice fades as he lowers his head.
Tears prickle in my eyes and I can't help but gather him in my arms. I'm a little surprised when he doesn't end this embrace quickly. Instead, he seems to almost rest against me as though seeking comfort, which is very un-Harry like. And, though I've craved this closeness from him for so long, it worries me even more.
ooooo
Dinner is an interesting affair, all of us gathered around the pub's long table trying to draw Harry out. He's having none of it. He isn't rude in any way—he responds nicely to everyone's attempts to engage him in conversation but no one gets more than two or three sentences from him before he turns back to his food or asks someone to pass him a bowl of something that he doesn't intend to eat. He's hardly eaten anything—just keeps pushing his food around with his fork.
"You know, your chips haven't gotten 'The Plate Tour' yet." I whisper, keeping my voice and face as serious as I can. "I think they're about to protest."
"Oh, yeah. Thanks." Harry nods, quickly prodding them with his fork. "Didn't mean to leave them out."
"Harry, you okay?" I say even more softly.
The corners of his lips quirk a bit and I can barely hear his response, "If I weren't, do you think I would tell you here?"
I shake my head and mouth, "Sorry."
Harry goes back to food shifting and I glance up to find Ron eyeing us from across the table. He lifts a questioning eyebrow and I shrug slightly in response. Ron's gaze switches to Harry and I know he's wondering the same thing I am: How much longer is Harry going to hold himself apart from us, and what's he hiding that's strong enough to separate us?
I resolve to find out, fully aware that it won't be easy. There's so much about Harry that I know. I've studied him long enough, for Heaven's sake. I can tell you almost exactly how he'll react in any given situation. I can tell you what frightens him and what makes him merely uncomfortable. I can tell you what he likes and what he wants, what he's good at and what needs work.
But I know next to nothing about Harry's past. And I don't mean what happened when he was one year and three months old. I'm talking about his time with the Dursleys. Yes, I know they mistreat him horribly—that's obvious. But as cowardly as it is, I'm not sure I want to know the details. Someday, yes. But right now it would wreck me. I watch him as he looks around the room but doesn't take it in. It's as though he's not seeing what we see, not where we are. I wish I could look through his eyes into his world. See the point of his separation. Understand.
All at once, I'm startled by the realization that Harry's looking quizzically at me. I feel warmth rush into my cheeks as I quickly lower my gaze to my plate, breaking my unintended stare. Ron's foot connects with my shin under the table and I lift my eyes to find him scowling at me. I decide I've had enough of both of them for today and, to everyone's surprise, I stand, quietly excusing myself as I begin to make my way upstairs.
ooooo
A clock quietly chimes once. I look up from my book and gaze into the softly crackling fire. 'There's not much better than a good book, a warm fire, and a comfy chair.' I shift position a bit in the chair and return my attention to the page in front of me, but then my head snaps up as I hear a creak from the stairs.
I slowly close The Standard Book of Advanced Spells as I hear another creak, closer this time. Rising quickly to my feet, I gaze around the pub, but the only light I have is from the fire in the grate. I know Harry is somewhere in this room even though I can't see him…I know it.
I say his name softly, but get no answer. 'Bloody Invisibility Cloak!' My hands swipe at the air in front of me, and I begin stepping forward, continuing to reach in front of me. If anyone else saw me right now, they'd think I've gone mental, but I don't care.
I can strangely feel his movements and I know I'm closing in on him—backing him into the long wooden table where we eat our meals. Sure enough, I hear the table shift and creak, and my hand finally makes contact with the fluid material that I know covers Harry. As I begin to slide it from him, I realize that he's actually crouching on the table and my lips twitch into a smirk.
"Damn it, Hermione!" Harry whispers exasperatedly, obviously not amused. "What're you doing down here?" he growls as he hops down from the table and yanks the cloak from my hands.
My eyebrows disappear into my fringe. "I asked Tom if I could read in the pub so I wouldn't keep Ginny up. What are you doing down here?" I toss back at him.
The look on his face is defiant and after a long moment he says, "I'm going out."
"What d'you mean, 'you're going out'?" I whisper heatedly as my hands go to my hips.
"I mean I'm going out!" He glares at me and jabs his finger in the direction of the door.
"You are not!"
"Do you think you can stop me?"
I want to wipe the smirk off his face but instead, I raise an eyebrow and stare into those green eyes. It's a bluff, but I'd rather not get into a duel with Harry. I know I might not win.
Apparently, he's had the same thought because, after a long moment, he changes tack. "Hermione, please…" His voice now wheedles, paired with a look on his face designed to soften me. But I'm not buying it. Yet.
"Why?" I ask folding my arms across my chest. "It's not safe."
"I'll be under the cloak—no one will see me."
"Where are you going?"
"I just want to go for walk," he says quietly. "To get away for a bit. Not long, I promise."
"Honestly, you don't even know your way around Lon—"
"I won't get lost, and even if I do, I'll just call the Knight Bus to bring me back here.
"Harry…"
"Please," he whispers, his eyes imploring mine, "I need to get away from here for just a little bit."
I'm folding and I know it. I hold his gaze for a moment then nod. "But only if you take me with you."
Harry blinks as though surprised by my acquiescence and subsequent demand, but then finds his voice. "No."
"If you want to go, you will."
"Really." The defiance is back in his eyes and his voice.
"Yes, really." I wrack my brain, then my lips curve into a small smile. "I know what charms they used to lock the door…and how to unlock them. Feel free to try it, but you'll set off an unholy alarm if you use the wrong spell or so much as touch the handle right now."
Harry's eyes narrow as he realizes he's between me and a hard place. "All right," he says shortly. "You can come. But two conditions: you can't talk about this world," Harry glances up and around The Leaky Cauldron, then back to me, and his gaze is pointed. "And you can't ask me how I'm doing."
Although I don't like the terms, I nod, realizing that Harry needs some control here. "I need to go and get my trainers," I say. "Do you promise to wait for me?" I know full well that Harry's clever enough to figure another way out that doesn't use the door.
"Yes."
I start up the steps, then turn back and lock eyes with Harry. "If you're not here when I get back, so help me…"
"I said I'd wait," he returns impatiently, "so hurry up."
Trying not to wake Ginny, I hastily pull on my shoes, grab my wand, and quietly hurry back down. But there's no sign of Harry anywhere. Anger and fear begin to course quickly through me, and to my consternation, I feel the quick sting of tears in my eyes. 'How could he?' Then, I feel a poke in my ribs, but I'm in no mood to giggle. Relief washes through me, but leaves me feeling hollow.
Harry removes his cloak and comes around to face me, smirking. "I said I'd wait. Don't you trus—" He notices my watery eyes. "Hey," he says softly as his face falls. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."
I just shake my head. "Let's go," I say removing the locking spells as I walk toward the door until I notice Harry's not walking with me. I turn around and he's rooted to his spot, staring at me perplexedly.
"Are you coming or not?" I ask flatly with a tilt of my head. He nods, finally starting towards me and, after he carefully covers us both with the Invisibility Cloak, we walk into the night together.
ooooo
The air is thick and moist, swirling around our feet like a cloudy potion. "Which way do you want to go?" I whisper as we stand on the damp pavement. I can tell I'm going to have trouble ignoring how close our bodies are going to be on this 'walk'.
Harry shrugs glancing up and down the street. "What d'you think?"
"Trafalgar Square is that way." I gesture tentatively to our left.
Harry nods. "That's fine, then."
And we begin making our way south down Charring Cross Road. I wonder why there aren't more people about on a weekend night, but then I realize that it's past time for the Underground to be running. Soon, I can see the grand staircase and columns of St. Martin-in-the-Fields. I can't help but smile. I love that place. When I was growing up, my mum and I would sometimes come into London on a day trip during my hols from school. We always tried to catch one of the free lunchtime concerts if it was on the right weekday.
Harry notices my smile and raises his eyebrows. "What?" he asks softly.
I quietly tell him about the concerts and end with "…and Mozart and Handel actually performed here. And there's a café down in the crypt under the church. My mum and I liked to eat there after the concerts."
"Sounds a little morbid."
"Yes, but it's not really. It's a little dark, but the food is wonderful. I guess I just didn't think much about having my chair resting on someone's grave while I was eating." Wanting to get away from the subject of death, I say, "Do you see the clock face up on the steeple?" Harry cranes his neck along with me. "I don't know if you can tell in the dark or not but it's the most beautiful color of blue."
We begin to walk down the sloping pavement beside the wall of the open area where Lord Nelson's Column is surrounded by huge black lions and curving fountains. In the silence, I become uncomfortably aware of Harry's closeness to me. I wonder how much longer the cloak will be able to cover more than one of us.
I feel Harry shift and I turn to see what he's doing. Suddenly his breath is warming my nose and warning sirens sound through my mind. Our eyes meet for a strange moment and I audibly swallow the tension that has quickly expanded in my throat. Harry looks away first, but not before an odd look briefly shadows his face.
"What's that building?" He asks a little too quickly, pointing toward the large white structure on the north side of the square.
"That's the National Gallery of Art. It's another one of my favorites."
Harry nods. "Looks familiar. I think I remember going there on a school daytrip when I was younger. A guide took us from room to room and I remember sitting on the floor with my classmates while she told us about one of the paintings."
"Can you remember which one?"
Harry shakes his head. "I can't remember the name. I do remember that the painting was mostly dark except for the light that surrounded a woman and a blind man. It was coming from a curved window in between them." He's silent for a moment then added quietly, "I thought the light was beautiful."
"Sounds like Anna and the Blind Tobit by Rembrandt," I say softly, inexplicably moved.
"Yeah…now I remember…the woman is sitting with her blind husband—they were waiting for something. And the light meant that God's still watching over us even through hard things…" Harry's voice trails off and he looks away.
"That's right," I say quietly, knowing he's trying with difficulty to hide how much that thought affected him. "How old were you when you saw that painting?"
"Eight or nine." Harry shrugs, emotions back under control. But still, he turns to gaze back at the gallery with a look in his eyes that I can't quite read. "Maybe we can go back there some day. I'd like to see it again."
"I would too," I respond and we turn to continue southeast down Northumberland Avenue in silence. In my mind I'm picturing a very young Harry in the museum and I can't help but want to wrap my arms around that lonely child with his baggy clothes and kiss the top of his messy charcoal hair. I shake my head slightly at myself. Silly.
After a bit Harry confesses, "I've been out walking almost every night this summer."
"That was really dangerous, Harry!" I turn my head to look at him incredulously. "You could've been atta—"
"Don't forget what you agreed to, Hermione!" Harry says sharply and his gaze is flinty.
"I just…" Harry's glare is enough to make the words die in my throat.
"Look, I couldn't just stay in that house—in that room—all summer long, okay?" His voice grows quieter but not softer. "I almost went crazy the first few nights by myself with my memories running through my dreams…I had to do something before I absolutely lost my mind. So one night, I snuck out. And I walked for hours."
I keep silent knowing that if I try to speak, I might cry, and I'm so tired of my tears. That's the last thing Harry needs right now. It's the last thing I need right now, too.
"Walking was the only thing that helped," Harry continues, turning his head back to look straight ahead. "So every night, I waited until the Dursleys were asleep. I began walking at night and sleeping during the day."
Since Harry was the one to open this subject, I ask, "Did the Dursleys mind you sleeping all day?" I also wonder if the Order realized that Harry was going on these excursions, but don't dare voice that question.
He shrugs. "They let me whether they did or not. Guess Moody's little talk with Uncle Vernon at King's Cross helped me out there." Harry smiles wryly, then his face softens as he glances back at me. "Thanks for all your letters. Really. I'm sorry I didn't answer them but they helped, so don't think they didn't matter to me…they did."
We cross Victoria Embankment and walk onto the footbridge that crosses the Thames.
"I'm glad they helped," I finally respond, feeling the hurt I thought had gone, rising again. I don't mean to be selfish but I could've used some help this summer, too. "Sounds like a lonely summer, though."
Harry lifts a shoulder and nods. "I got some studying done and I had a lot of time to think. At first, I couldn't get the visions of that night at the Ministry out of my mind." He pauses for a moment as though deciding whether or not to go on, then continues. "But I began going back through our school years one by one, starting from that first ride on the Hogwarts Express. I tried to remember every detail—forced my mind to think about those memories instead."
We've stopped in the middle of the bridge, leaning against the railing, looking out over the swiftly moving water. There's a cool breeze sneaking under the cloak and we automatically move closer into each other's warmth.
"I was reminded of things I hadn't thought about in years." An amused smile flits across his face. "Remember Neville's lost toad on the train our first year?"
I chuckle softly. "Yes, but actually, the thing that I remember most about that day was meeting you."
Harry scrunches his nose in surprised disbelief. "Me…why?"
"Well, you were The Harry Potter, after all. I'd read about you in several books."
Harry snorts, shaking his head and asks, "So, did I live up to all the hype?"
"Nope."
"Oh, really." Harry raises his eyebrows.
"Well, you certainly weren't what I was expecting…"
"Should I be offended?" Harry's eyebrows knit together now.
"Oh, good grief," I laugh, lightly punching his arm.
"Ow!" Harry rubs his arm with a small smile, pretending to be in pain.
"See?" I laugh again. "Some hero!"
"Well, what you see is what you get, I guess." His voice has become strangely serious and I feel him shift slightly away from me. "Hopefully I'll be able to live up to the hero thing later on."
My eyes snap to his at this sudden change in demeanor. "Harry?" I ask, trying to keep eye contact with him. "What's wrong? Did I say something?"
Harry shakes his head then looks back at the dark water. "I'm fine."
'Yeah, right.' I think as I turn fully toward him, knowing there's something much deeper he's dealing with that he hasn't shared with Ron or me. "Don't lie to me. What happened just then?"
Harry is silent for a bit, as though debating with himself, then begins, "You know, as I was reliving the past five years in my mind, I began to realize something." His head lifts slowly and he turns to face me. "So many times…I couldn't have gotten along without you. So…thanks."
A bit surprised, I lean into him slightly and nod; fully realizing that he hasn't answered my question. I know his words should make me feel happy…but they don't. They aren't what I really want to hear. So…some part of Harry has realized that he needs me. I gaze at the river moving past us. People need water. Need it for all sorts of things. Would die without it. But do they even think about it when they don't need it?
I don't want to be needed. I'm tired of being needed. Needed for the right answers in class, for homework. Needed to help Harry with whatever dangerous situation he's facing. Needed to fill a role at a Yule Ball. I don't want to be needed…I want to be wanted. To be the desire of someone's—Harry's—heart. I want to fill Harry's mind so that he can't think of anything else. Not Quidditch, not Sirius, not Voldemort.
"Hermione?" Harry's voice breaks through my thoughts and to my surprise, I feel his arm around me. The only time he ever initiates anything like this is when my life is in imminent danger.
"You okay?" He asks, his eyes searching mine with concern. Now it's my turn to conceal the truth. "I'm fine."
We both stare at each other, knowing that neither is being honest. I can tell Harry's still hiding something—something important. But I'm not going to try and pry it out of him. I can tell he's wondering what I'm hiding, too. Good.
"I guess we'd better be getting back." Harry breaks the silence and disappointment seeps through me as I feel his arm slide from around my waist.
I nod then we turn together and begin the walk back in silence.
ooooo
I can hear commotion around me as I resist breaking through the fog that permeates my sleepy brain. I want to stay in my warm bed, but someone is shaking my shoulder.
"Hermione," I hear Ron's urgent voice. "Wake up! We can't find Harry."
This information burns right through the sleepy haze and I sit bolt upright, nearly knocking heads with Ron. "What?"
Ron's face comes into focus and although I can tell he's curious as to why I've slept in my clothes, he answers, "Harry. He's gone. We've looked all through the pub and my parents and the twins are looking through Diagon Alley right now."
"Oh, no…" I begin worriedly, trying to disentangle myself from my covers as my stomach plummets. But then a memory from last night flashes through my mind and, suddenly, I have a good idea of where he might be.
"What time is it?" I ask quickly swinging my legs off my bed, trying to locate my shoes with my feet.
"Just a bit before ten…where're you going?" he demands as I stand up and speed across the room to the door.
"I have an idea." Ron's hot on my heels as I clamor down the steps. As the main room of the pub comes into view, Remus looks up from the table to see who's causing the commotion on the stairs.
"Hermione thinks she knows where Harry is," Ron calls from behind me.
Remus' gaze sharpens and he stands to follow me as I head for the door to the street. I turn quickly back to Ron and him. "Please just let me go. If he's not where I think he is, I'll come right back."
Remus shakes his head. "You can't go out there by yourself. I'm coming with you." He turns to Ron. "Please go find your parents and tell them that Hermione and I will be back in just a bit, and hopefully with Harry."
I can tell by Ron's face that he wants to argue that he should come with us but, after only a brief hesitation, he turns and hurries toward the backdoor and the entrance to Diagon Alley.
Remus and I start quickly down Charring Cross. When we get to Trafalgar Square, I turn right and head for the art gallery. Before I start up the steps, I turn to Remus. "Will you please wait here? If he's not in there, I'll be right back out, I promise."
Remus hesitates, not wanting to let me go alone, but finally acquiesces and I turn and hurry through the front doors. I rush through the crowds of tourists sauntering through the gallery on a Sunday morning, working my way to the back of the building. I turn left just before I reach it, then right, then left again. My eyes dart around the area.
There he is. Standing just where I thought he would be. I walk slowly to him and stand by his side, not knowing what to say. He continues to gaze at the painting but I know he's aware that I'm there.
After a long moment he says, "Do you believe in God?"
I wasn't expecting anything like this. It takes me awhile, but I finally reply, "Yes, generally. It's the daily thing I have trouble with."
Harry nods, seeming to understand my answer and he grows quiet.
"You're right," I say softly, after a bit, as my eyes follow his gaze. "The light is beautiful."
"Yeah, but Tobit can't see it."
"Surely he can feel the warmth of it, at least."
Harry shrugs and after a long moment says, "I feel sorry for Anna. I imagine she doesn't have much of a life of her own, taking care of Tobit and all. He needs her a lot more than she needs him."
"What?" I say incredulously and he finally looks at me. "Harry, we all need people. I don't see it that way at all." I want to weep, realizing that he thinks he has nothing to offer—thinks he's a liability to the ones he cares about because of what's happened in his past and what might happen in his future.
I continue, holding his gaze, "I think Anna's glad to be with Tobit, happy that she can share her life with him…but not because he needs her. I think her feelings for him are so much deeper than that and based on something entirely different.
Harry looks back at the painting and after a moment, his eyes widen slightly. What happens next makes me almost lightheaded. First, a look of astonishment builds in his eyes, then his lips curve gradually to a tentative, almost disbelieving smile. He slowly turns to me, and suddenly I'm having just a bit of trouble breathing properly. I've waited for this for so long and now that it's so close…
I make a split-second decision. For better or for worse, I want to know. "Remember last night, when I said that you weren't what I was expecting when I first met you on the train?" I say a little breathlessly.
Harry nods mutely, looking unsure of where I'm going with this.
"Well, you've become so much more…so much better than what I expected."
His lovely green eyes are fixed on mine and I hear him say softly, "So have you."
I smile shyly and a grin slowly grows on his face in response. After a bit the intensity becomes too much.
"We need to go," I say. "Remus is outside waiting for us, and we need to get to King's Cross soon."
Harry seems to come to his senses, and we rush outside to find Remus pacing on the sidewalk in front of the stairs. When he sees us, a huge look of relief spreads across his face and he bounds forward saying, "Thank God!"
"Harry, don't do that again." Remus adds very seriously, grasping Harry's shoulder.
Harry shakes his head contritely. "I won't. I'm sorry…I didn't mean to worry anyone."
"I'm just glad you're all right. No harm done, then." Remus gives Harry's shoulder a last squeeze then turns and begins to lead us back up the street to The Leaky Cauldron. He walks just a few paces ahead of us, as though somehow aware that something is different between Harry and me.
I feel a spark run up my arm as Harry's fingers brush mine while we walk. The next time our hands meet, two of his fingers tangle into mine and stay. I turn to him, seeing something wonderfully new in his eyes as he looks back at me, and I take all of his hand into mine.
ooooo
If you'd like to see the painting, Anna and the Blind Tobit, mentioned in the story, you can find it here:
. /paintings/rembrandt-anna-and-the-blind-tobit