Chapter 7
Coming Clean
A/N: Hi guys. This is me begging for forgiveness! I realize that it took me WAY too long to update this and I'm sorry. In case you didn't know already, the ending to the last chapter was changed. Actually, I just added an actual ending to it whereas before it was a bit lacking. Anyway, for those who only read the original end of 'Merging' there is more that you need to know to continue, so go check that out. Okay, here's chapter seven.
"Albus..."
Dumbledore turned to see Professor McGonagall approaching him through the ruins of the Hospital Wing. The numb shock on her face was testament enough to how bad the sight she looked upon truly was. He turned back toward the wreckage. He just couldn't believe it. Not even he, with all he'd seen and known, had expected this.
"What happened?"
He took a deep breath and pointed toward the end of the room. There, beneath the giant hole where a large chunk of the eastern wall and part of the ceiling used to be, surrounded by endless amounts of rubble and debris, lay two bodies beneath a single white sheet. They clung to each other, sleeping soundly. He didn't dare move them. As he'd suspected they only needed each other. He only wished he knew the nature of that need. As Minerva drew up beside him, he heard her gasp.
"Is that..."
"That is Harry and Hermione, and they are the cause of all of this," he said, his hand gesturing to the wreckage around them.
"Are they alright?"
She turned her eyes on him. He couldn't manage a smile to reassure her.
"Oh yes, they are just fine, so long as we don't remove them from one another."
She only looked relieved for a second. For then her eyes traveled around the room, taking everything in. The beds and curtains closest to the door behind her were charred and crumbling. The closer to the sleeping couple's corner, the worse it got until there was nothing left but incinerated dust within the rubble. There were no more tapestries on the walls and the glass from the windows had shattered then melted. Everything was destroyed.
"But...," she searched his face once more. "How?"
When Harry opened his eyes all he saw was blackness. Judging by the stiffness of his muscles, he hadn't moved in a long time. He lay there in the dark silence and wondered if he'd died, if the pain really had killed him and the rest had all been some sort of dying man's dream. How else could he explain Hermione being as much in love with him as he was with her? He closed his eyes again as a familiar heaviness entered his chest. Despair had become his constant companion. It only made sense that here, in this dark, empty place it would return to him.
Then he heard her make a noise in her sleep.
It was a soft sound, a whisper, but he heard it as though she'd shouted. He turned his head in that direction, off to his right somewhere, and screwed up his eyes. Slowly, very slowly, she came into focus, like moonlight fighting through dense clouds. The sight of her took his breath away.
She was wearing white. Surrounded by the white of the bed she looked like an angel. Her hair lay against the pillow, framing her face. Her eyelashes feathered against her cheek. Her eyes were unmoving beneath their lids. Her creamy skin looked healthy and vibrant, just a little pink on her cheeks. He was right; she was serenity itself.
It was strange. Harry knew it was pitch black. However, he could truly see Hermione. He there lay motionless watching her sleep, not knowing how long he'd been staring. When he heard the clock strike six he finally looked away.
Sitting up, he slid out from under the thin sheet that was his only covering. He was surprised to find that he still wore only a pair of white shorts. They felt like they were made of the same soft material as the sheet. Lightheadedness assailed him when he moved to stand. Closing his eyes, he focused on taking deep, steady breaths. When the world stopped spinning, he felt it safe to open his eyes again.
The first light of dawn was brightening the eastern sky and easing the darkness in the room. Harry's feet brought him to Hermione's bedside without having to be told. The early morning sunshine did wonders for her skin. He sat on the edge of her bed. Lightly, so as not to wake her, he placed a hand over one of hers. She sighed and smiled, truly smiled, turning her face toward him.
Warm tenderness spread through his chest, banishing the lingering shadow of his former despair. Once again his heart ached, but it was an aching sweetness now. When she started to frown, he reached up and tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, allowing the back of his fingers to brush her cheek as he pulled back again. She turned toward the touch, so he stayed and allowed himself to continue.
"I'm dreaming again, aren't I?"
She spoke quietly, without opening her eyes. He didn't respond, but his fingers stilled, hovering just over her cheek.
"You see, I can't be awake," she said, barely whispering. The sadness in her voice was unmistakable. "Because I feel you and you aren't touching me. I know the exact expression in your eyes, though I haven't opened mine yet. I even know what you're feeling here," she said, unerringly reaching a hand up to place over his heart, "though you haven't told me... How can I know these things, feel these things, if they aren't something my heart has conjured up?"
A few tears slid from the corners of eyes that had yet to open. Then she looked at him and it only seemed to increase her sorrow. Her hand moved from over his heart up to brush his cheek as he had hers.
"Only in my dreams would you look at me like this."
The beat of Harry's heart was painful in his chest. He knew too well what she was feeling. He saw the mirror of his own personal anguish in her eyes and he wanted to banish it from her forever. She made him feel so much. It was so strong, too strong. He wasn't used to it, would never get used to it. He had to close his eyes to gain control before he could speak. But as soon as he looked at her again he was lost.
"I don't know how to tell you," he said. His voice was raw with all that was swarming inside him and tinged with just a bit of desperation. He covered her hand with his and held it against his cheek. "I don't know how to show you."
She sat up, the movement bringing her very close. She made no move to change that, so he didn't either. Her fingers moved to trace his lips. Harry dropped his hand and became very still.
"I like touching you."
She was whispering again. Harry wasn't breathing right.
"It feels so nice. Even better than before. You know, it actually feels best when you touch me. I wonder why that is."
Her eyes flicked back up to his. He had no idea what she could see there, but there was plenty to choose from.
"In my last dream I kissed you."
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. His heart actually skipped a beat.
"Well," she said with a half smile, "I started it, but boy did you finish it."
She stopped touching his lips and let her fingers trail down his chest, her eyes following the movement.
"Why don't you kiss me this time?"
She was so close now. His eyes darted to her lips then back to her eyes. He wanted. Badly. It was almost too much to resist, but there were a few things that still bothered him. His conscience for one.
"I can't kiss you yet."
Her eyes flew back to his and something flashed in their depths before she could hide it. Confusion? Hurt? She didn't speak but her expression was telling. Why, it seemed to ask.
"You think you're sleeping, that this is a dream," he said, taking a hand and twining her fingers with his. "You think this is a safe place inside your head, where there are no consequences for our actions."
Her eyes wavered and he lifted her hand, pressing it over his heart.
"The truth is: you didn't dream any of it. I really am in love with you. This heart beats only for you. That really is the reason I was hiding. It was killing me to be anywhere near you, knowing that I couldn't have you."
Now that he'd started he was compelled to tell her everything. It was painful, but strangely soothing– like draining poison from a wound. He closed his eyes, remembering, reliving all the moments as he prepared himself to confess all.
"I missed you so much, sometimes I couldn't even breathe. My heart ached all the time, every moment. And you were always in my thoughts. Whenever you saw me outside of classes– that was because I just couldn't stand to be so far away from you anymore. Sometimes I would hide under the invisibility cloak and sneak into the common room, just to be near you.
"All my senses seemed to be attuned to you. If you walked into the room, the air changed. I could smell your scent, feel that you were there. It became so strong that I could tell if you were in a room just by walking past it. My whole body would react. And it did feel good when you touched me, but it also hurt– in more ways than one."
He opened his eyes to look at her face. He still had one hand held to his heart. Her other was covering her mouth. Her tears were flowing silently down her cheeks again. He didn't stop, but stared into her eyes, trying to make her understand why he'd run.
"When you would touch me, it was like fire sinking through my skin and curling into me. But more than that, it was like getting little bits of you injected into my soul. But not enough. Never enough. There was only enough to tear open wounds and keep me bleeding. Every time, it was like if I'd gotten to kiss you, then had to watch you walk away from me again. It tore me up. I would have to be alone for hours afterward, shaking, and sore, and aching. And the longing never faded. Never! You were all I wanted, always.
"Then I woke up with you in my arms and maybe I could have fought just a little bit longer, but you were so sweet and soft and vulnerable. I just wasn't strong enough to fight you. It was one thing to fight myself, my heart, what I wanted. But how could I fight you? And it was like you knew just where to hit me. Merlin, the sounds you made–"
He cut himself off, a shudder going down his spine as he remembered kissing her– the feel of her against him, in his arms, the taste of her lips on his, and her purring. That's what he would forever think of it as. He'd briefly closed his eyes again, but he opened them now to see how much damage he'd done.
"So you see, you're not dreaming."
He didn't ask if she still wanted him to kiss her, though at that moment it was his heart's greatest desire. Instead, he waited and while he waited, he cupped her cheeks with the palms of his hands and used his thumbs to brush away her tears.
Wherever Hermione was it was dark. This time, Harry wasn't touching her. Just as she was beginning to regret that, she felt his hand cover hers. Her heart warmed even as she felt the pleasure of his touch. Amazing that something so simple could feel so good, so right. She must be dreaming, to have conjured him up simply by desiring him.
Had it all been a dream?
She sincerely hoped not. But the more she thought about it, the less sense it made. How could Harry burst into flames? What was that light? It must have been a dream...
She felt her dream Harry tuck her hair back and brush her cheek. It was so nice, so sweet. He felt so real, but the real Harry fled from her. He didn't linger in beds with her. He didn't hold her. He didn't talk to her. He certainly didn't kiss her senseless. And she could see this Harry. He looked at her with love in his eyes. He did love her, she could feel it. So it must have been a dream. She must still be dreaming...
"I'm dreaming again, aren't I?"
Dream Harry didn't reply, but his fingers froze just above her cheek. That was it then. It wasn't real. And she could still feel him, though he wasn't touching her anymore. She had to fight tears. It had all been a lie her stupid subconscious had fed her and her stupid heart had eaten it right up.
"You see, I can't be awake," she said. She didn't know why she felt the need to explain this to her dream. Maybe she was hoping he'd deny it.
"Because I feel you and you aren't touching me. I know the exact expression in your eyes, though I haven't opened mine yet."
She could see him. She could feel him, could feel the love pouring out of him. Reaching out, she put a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump, thump of his heart.
"I even know what you're feeling here, though you haven't told me. How can I know these things, feel these things, if they aren't something my heart has conjured up?"
She lost her battle with the tears as she finally gave up the hope that this could be anything but fantasy. When she opened her eyes he was there, looking at her, loving her and she only wished that it could be real. She lifted her hand from his heart and touched his cheek, just as he had hers.
"Only in my dreams would you look at me like this."
The look in his eyes changed then. He was pained and it hurt her to see it. Then his eyes closed as he took several deep breaths. When he opened them again he was no better off.
"I don't know how to tell you," he said. He seemed desperate as he pressed her hand to his cheek. "I don't know how to show you."
Wow. She'd had no idea she could dream up something so real. That's exactly what he'd have said. But Hermione didn't want to think about this as a dream. She wanted to enjoy whatever time she had with him. What if she woke up soon and she had spent the whole dream wasting time? No. She sat up, putting herself within inches of him. Perfect. Pulling her hand from beneath his, she traced the outline of his lips. She wanted him to kiss her again. Like last time, with all the passion and desire her subconscious could muster.
"I like touching you," she said as her finger skimmed his lower lip. Were boys supposed to have lips this soft? "It feels so nice. Even better than before. You know, it actually feels best when you touch me. I wonder why that is."
She tore her gaze from his lips– Soon!, she told herself– and glanced at his eyes. Emerald fire. That's what was staring back at her. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him.
"In my last dream I kissed you," she said, her eyes never leaving his. Her mind flashed back to those glorious moments when he'd lost control. How wonderful it felt to know she'd done that to him. He'd blown her mind. Just the memory had her lips tingling and her heart accelerating. "Well, I started it, but boy did you finish it."
Even in a dream, where the answer was guaranteed, she couldn't look at him when she asked. She let her eyes follow her fingers as they traced a line down to Harry's chest– which was far more toned than she'd ever realized. But even looking as good as he did, she could see telltale signs of a serious lack of nourishment. He hadn't been eating. Well, she'd get on his case about that later. She leaned a little bit closer, determined to get her kiss.
"Why don't you kiss me this time?"
Silence... then:
"I can't kiss you yet."
Her eyes flew back to his. No? How could he say no? Why would he want to? Before the hurt could fully catch up with her he was talking again.
"You think you're sleeping, that this is a dream."
He webbed his fingers with hers and searched her eyes with his.
"You think this is a safe place inside your head, where there are no consequences for our actions."
Her heart started racing before her mind could make sense of what he was saying. Something fluttered in her stomach. He picked up her hand and put it back over his heart, using his to hold it there.
"The truth is: you didn't dream any of it. I really am in love with you. This heart beats only for you."
Funny he should mention hearts when hers was trying to beat its way out of her chest. Her breath wasn't coming out right either...
"That really is the reason I was hiding. It was killing me to be anywhere near you, knowing that I couldn't have you."
She watched his eyes flutter closed and could read the truth in his face as he continued, already lost in agonized confession.
"I missed you so much, sometimes I couldn't even breathe. My heart ached all the time, every moment. And you were always in my thoughts."
But that was her existence without him in it...
"Whenever you saw me outside of classes, that was because I just couldn't stand to be so far away from you anymore. Sometimes I would hide under the invisibility cloak and go into the common room, just to be near you."
All those times she could have sworn she'd sensed him, felt him, only to look around in abject misery, thinking her mind was playing tricks on her...
"All my senses seemed to be attuned to you. If you walked into the room, the air changed. I could smell your scent, feel that you were there. It became so strong that I could tell if you were in a room just by walking past it. My whole body would react."
She'd only just begun to feel those things and already she couldn't stand it. How had he fought it for so long?
"And it did feel good when you touched me, but it also hurt– in more ways than one."
His eyes opened and the emerald fire was back, but it was different this time. It wasn't physical desire that raged here. This was so much more.
"When you would touch me, it was like fire sinking through my skin and curling into me. But more than that, it was like getting little bits of you injected into my soul, but not enough. Never enough."
His hand was hard on hers, like he could make her understand through the racing beat of his heart beneath her palm.
"There was only enough to tear open wounds and keep me bleeding. Every time, it was like if I'd gotten to kiss you, then had to watch you walk away from me again. It tore me up. I would have to be alone for hours afterward, shaking, and sore, and aching. And the longing never faded. Never! You were all I wanted, always."
Her heart was surely broken. How else could it ache so fiercely? She could feel his pain as though it were her own. Then his tone changed. It was almost like he was pleading.
"Then I woke up with you in my arms– and maybe I could have fought just a little bit longer, but you were so sweet and soft and vulnerable. I just wasn't strong enough to fight you. It was one thing to fight myself, to fight what I wanted. But how could I fight you? And it was like you knew just where to hit me. Merlin, the sounds you made–"
She wasn't so far gone that she didn't blush. She'd felt his reactions to the noises she'd made. It was one of the reasons she hadn't felt embarrassed about it at the time. She saw a spark of that other fire as his eyes closed once more. He shuddered and she actually felt flattered to have gotten so under his skin. Then he opened his eyes again and the tenderness was back.
"So you see, you're not dreaming," he said quietly as his hands came up to cup her cheeks and dry her tears– tears she hadn't even realized she'd shed.
"Harry–"
Her heart felt swollen and her voice cracked as a few more tears spilled over. He wiped those away, too.
"Yes?"
Hermione took a deep breath. But she couldn't tell him. It would only hurt him to know how very much she'd suffered, too. So she made a snap decision to climb into his lap. A decision that she was immensely glad she'd made as soon as his arms came around her. She felt warmer, from the inside out. He kissed the top of her head and then rested his chin there. Her heart nearly burst.
"Is this all you wanted?"
She could hear the smile in his voice.
"I missed you, too," she said, snuggling as close to him as she could get, clinging really. He rubbed a hand up and down her back. It was very soothing. Things fell silent between them for a time after that. It was a comfortable silence, one that neither of them felt the need to break.
In that silence Hermione's mind was jumping from thought to thought, memory to memory faster than even she could keep up with. There were so many things she wanted to talk with him about and she had no idea where to start. Finally, she just blurted out the first thing that ran across her mind.
"You're fire feels amazing."
He stilled for a second– no doubt surprised by the randomness of her statement– before he burst out laughing. She pulled away to frown up at him, but when she saw the smile on his face, completely free of strain and so natural, she couldn't help smiling, too.
"It wasn't that funny."
He shook his head, still chuckling. He bent and kissed her cheek. His lips came so close to her mouth that her heart stopped beating for a second.
"I'm sorry. It was just a little too bizarre," he said. Hermione had to struggle to listen as her heart restarted at a newer and much faster pace than before. "And I already knew you liked my fire."
That got her attention.
"How," she asked, this time managing to keep her confused frown in place.
"Well, I told you I've become very attuned to you," he started hesitantly. She nodded her encouragement. "What I didn't tell you was that lately it's gotten more complicated than just knowing where you are."
When he didn't continue she raised a brow. "How much more complicated?"
"Well, I've been able to tell what you're feeling when I get close to you. Like in Potions. I don't even know how I figure it out, but I just sort of know. When we were in the Hospital Wing," here he paused to swallow audibly. "When I... well, caught fire, I could feel everything differently. It was like I was the fire, or the fire was me. I don't know, it was a part of me, I guess. You were in the fire, too, so I could feel you. When you touched me, the fire responded how I would have. It felt like I was caressing you, but with the flames. I don't know. It was strange. Anyway, I could tell you liked it."
By the time he'd finished she was gaping up at him. He sat there, blushing. She could tell he felt so awkward, and really it was just too cute. Snapping her mouth shut, she rested her head against his chest and tried to hide her smile. Seeking to make him feel better, she decided to bolster his self-esteem.
"Liked it' would be a bit of an understatement. It was like... like... taking a bath in you."
They both laughed at that.
"Okay, that sounded ridiculous, but really, that's what it felt like. Imagine if it had been reversed, Harry," she said, looking up into his eyes again. "You've been missing me for months– been in love with me without even realizing that's what it was. Then, one crazy day goes by and you wake up in the same bed as me. You kiss me and I go crazy on you, kissing you in ways you never even knew a person could kiss. Then, out of nowhere, I explode into this huge ball of flame. But not just any kind of flame! The fire is me and suddenly I'm all around you– on your skin, in your hair. You reach for me and the fire laps around your fingers like... liquid desire. Of course I liked it. Who wouldn't have..."
She trailed off, feeling a little overheated. Between the memory and the look in Harry's eyes her skin had grown hot again and her blood too. She was intensely aware of his hands, one on her leg, the other on her back. He had been rubbing comforting circles up and down her spine, but as his eyes grew darker, the movement of his hand changed too. She got the feeling that he wasn't even doing it intentionally, but it felt so good. She closed her eyes and arched her back into his hand as he pressed on just the right spot. Her hands moved of their own accord, one over his, the other to his chest. The quickening beat of his heart under her palm had her smiling, while her other hand clasped his fingers and held him there. The hand on her back had grown surprisingly warm as it moved along her spine, which seemed to be melting as he passed over. Without thinking about it, she hummed in pleasure. His sharply indrawn breath had her eyes flying to his. She nearly gasped.
He looked like he wanted to eat her for breakfast. Right then, she didn't think she had a problem with that. His eyes, usually so bright, were the darkest she'd ever seen them. She had never noticed this about him. He had completely frozen, like he was trying to regain control. The thought bothered her. She liked it when he lost control. She liked it a lot. Still holding his hand, she moved her leg to the other side of his. This simple movement had her literally straddling his lap. She felt bold and empowered, but after that, she didn't have enough courage to do anything else. His eyes bore into hers and her heartbeat grew frantic as he slowly lowered his head to hers.
"You like testing me," he asked. His voice was quiet, but rough, like velvet fire.
She didn't answer. He didn't really want her to. She moved just a little bit closer, encouraging him to kiss her, but he just smiled, a devious light in his eye, and shook his head. Moving her left hand up to his chest with the first, he moved both his hands to her back and began to massage her muscles. At first it just felt nice, but as he continued, she could feel the shifting of the pleasure. It rose with the heat of his hands. At one point she buried her face in his neck. She didn't understand what he was doing, but it felt too good. It didn't take long before she felt him touch her bare skin. He had moved under her shirt. She couldn't bring herself to care. Skin on skin contact had her breath hitching. When her legs tightened involuntarily around him, she didn't even have time to revel in the effect on him, because just then the flames engulfed his hands and she could feel everything.
There was one moment of pure unadulterated bliss.
Then the cold water was thrown on them...
Literally.
a/n: Please review. (I am working on the next chapter, promise.)