The Love Of A Friend

    “We’re loosing him.”

    Hermione’s words shattered the silence of the night. Ginny, lying awake in their shared room at Number Twelve, did not know what to say.

    “He’s strong,” Ginny offered at last.

    “He’s broken.”

    “Harry is unbreakable,” she protested. Hermione tore her gaze away from her contemplation of the night to look at Ginny, her face oddly blank.

    “Harry wants to die.” She said this softly, but firmly. Then, again:

    “Harry wants to die.” She turned her face once more to the window. In the moonlight, Ginny saw the tracks of tears on her friend’s pale face. “Harry wants to die.”

    “Stop saying that,” Ginny whispered.

    “Wouldn’t you want to, if it were you?” Hermione asked, as if she hadn’t even heard Ginny. Perhaps she hadn’t.

     Ginny sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, clasping her arms around them.

     “I would,” Hermione murmured, without waiting for Ginny’s answer. “Of course I would. Anyone would. Harry has no future; he has only destiny.”

     “Doesn’t that mean something, too?” Ginny questioned. “Isn’t saving lives worth something?”

     “He doesn’t see the lives he’s saved, Ginny. Only the ones he’s lost.” Hermione sighed. “It must be lonely, being a hero. It must be frustrating, knowing your life isn’t your own. It must hurt, knowing you are the only one who can end this war, but having to watch as the people you love are picked off one by one. It must feel like failure.”

     Ginny found herself caught off-guard again. At length she replied, “I guess so.” She knew it was a singularly inadequate response. Hermione sighed again.

     “Get some sleep, Ginny.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

     They were picking at their breakfasts when Kingsley Shacklebolt stumbled into the house, exhausted, limping and bleeding.

     Remus Lupin had not made it back with him.

     Hermione saw the way Harry’s face tightened, the way he silently left the table and retreated to the back yard before anyone could stop him. Remus Lupin; another failure.

     Hermione blinked back tears and excused herself as well, creeping upstairs to Harry and Ron’s room. Ron’s Cleansweep was leaned against the wall by his bed; Hermione closed her hand around the smooth wood of the handle, opened the window and crawled out onto the roof with it. She had never been much good on broom, but she could stay on one, at least. She kicked off of the roof and glided over the house to see Harry hurtling through the air at breakneck speed, headed straight for the ground. A gasp caught in her throat, delicate fingers seized on the broom handle in raw fear, clutching so tightly the knuckles turned white.

    He pulled up sharply at the last moment, and the Firebolt was now rapidly ascending; the change of direction had taken only seconds. It was much longer before Hermione’s breathing steadied. She flew closer.

     “Harry?”

     He pivoted in midair to face her and stopped.

     “What are you doing up here, Hermione?”

     She flinched. His voice was so hard. “I was... I wanted...” She sighed. “I was afraid you would do something stupid.”

     He sagged a bit, suddenly looking very, very tired. “Go back inside.”

     “I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re all right to be by yourself.”

     “Damn it, Hermione!” he snapped. “All my friends are dying, and I’m not going to have you added to the list because you were chasing after me for no reason! You’re hopeless on a broom, and if you’re going to die, it’s sure as hell not going to be because you fell off Ron’s Cleansweep from a hundred feet up!”

     “And if you’re going to die, it’s not going to be because I left you alone to slam into the ground in the backyard!” Hermione retorted. “You are going to die of old age in your sleep, or you’re going to go down fighting like fifty men, but you are not going to throw your life away like it doesn’t matter! It matters.”

     Harry thought she might cry.

     Hermione saw him soften, almost imperceptibly. “Come here,” he said to her.

     She flew closer, until they were even with one another, side-by-side. Harry leaned over and pulled her onto his Firebolt in front of him, wrapping one arm around her waist while the other was left to grip the broom. A softly muttered spell had the Cleansweep following them as Harry flew back to his window and landed lightly on the roof.

     "Get inside," he told her, not unkindly. "Watch out for yourself, Hermione."

     "You too," she answered. He almost smiled- almost- and hugged her.

     "You´re a good friend, Hermione," he said, then took off into the cool morning air. Hermione did not try to follow this time; he needed some time to himself and the wind in his face. She replaced Ron´s broom and retreated to her room to look out the window. She knew Harry was aware of her presence, but he did not acknowledge it, which was its own tacit acceptance of the scrutiny. Hermione sighed and rested her head against the glass. Sometimes she envied Harry´s skill on a broom. Sometimes she wished she, too, could just fly away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

    A soft but insistent tapping sound woke Hermione, and she groaned. As if she wasn´t sleep-deprived enough, with their impending N.E.W.T. exams. She rolled out of bed to find and stop the noise, only to see Harry floating on his broom outside the window, tapping on the glass. She sighed and opened the window. "Harry, it´s three in the morning!"

    "I need to talk to you," he replied. Hermione hesitated, bit her lip, then nodded. "Common room," she told him, and shut the window. He left, and she threw a dressing gown on over her nightgown and pulled her sleep-mussed hair into a messy bun at the nape of her neck to keep it out of her eyes.

    Harry appeared in the common room not long after she did and sank on to his favorite couch beside her.

    "I need to talk to you."

    "So you said."

    Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. "I needed... I needed to tell you I love you, Hermione. You´re like a sister to me, and I wouldn´t be here right now if it wasn´t for you."

    It was touching, but it sent a stab of fear through Hermione.

    "It´s soon, isn´t it?" she whispered. Harry nodded. "Tomorrow. It´s going to happen tomorrow night."

    She didn´t ask him how he knew.

    "You are going to survive this," she whispered. Her hand found his and squeezed. "You have to survive this, Harry James Potter, because I don´t know what I´d do without you. You´re too much a part of my life for me to loose you." she sighed, and a soft, wistful smile settled upon her lips. "I know you hate playing the hero, Harry, but you are selfless, so think of me. You must live, Harry. You must."

    He looked down at their clasped hands. "I don´t want to."

    "I know," she answered simply, "but if it´s him or you... well, do you really have much choice?"

     He sighed. "I hate not having a choice. I hate having to be a murderer."

    "And I hate that all this had to happen to you." Her free hand moved to cup his face. "I hate that you´ve had to feel so much pain. I hate that you´ve had so much loss. I hate that you´ve had so little love. I hate that you´ve had so little freedom. I hate that you have a destiny, and I hate that there´s nothing you or I can do about it. But hating it doesn´t change it, Harry. It doesn´t change a thing."

    "Hermione, I want you to get out of here."

    She shook her head. "Absolutely not."

    "I want you to be safe."

    "I´d rather be with you than be safe," she said quietly, ignoring the knot of fear in her stomach. She hardly felt like a Gryffindor in times like these; she just felt terrified. But Harry was her friend, and she´d be damned if she´d let him walk into danger alone.

    He relented with a sigh. "That´s pretty much what Ron said."

    She smiled. "Of course it was."

    He gathered her into his arms and held her close in a tight hug, his face buried in her bushy hair. It was soft against his face and smelled of her shampoo, faintly fruity. He felt her arms around him and her breath warm against his neck, felt a faint trace of moisture as well... a few tears had escaped her eyes.

    "You´re going to be okay, Harry," she whispered. "You can do this." She pulled back slightly and pressed a soft kiss to his scar, then another to his lips. "You should get some sleep," she murmured.

    "I´ll try." He gave her a final squeeze and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Hermione." He rose and headed for the stairs to the boy´s dorm.

    "Harry?"

    He turned. "Yeah?"

    "Do you want me to sit with you for a while?"

    "Don´t you need to rest?"

    "I´m fine."

    He managed a smile. "I´d like that."

    She sat on the edge of the bed as he crawled under the covers and set his glasses on the night stand for him, then wove their fingers together once more.

    "Sweet dreams, Harry," she murmured, then sat there in silence, thumb gently smoothing over the skin of his hand as he fell asleep. No longer tired herself, she just stayed there, still and silent, until the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon. With a final squeeze to the hand she held, Hermione slipped from the boy´s dorm and returned to her own bed for a few short hours´ sleep before the day began.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

    Hermione blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision as she struggled upright. Chaos... everything around her was in chaos, and the night was aflame with the light of curses flying thickly through the still air. Smoke... shouting... she felt dizzy, her head was pounding. Hermione forced herself to her feet and looked around. There... Harry was on the ground. And a figure, cloaked and hooded, was advancing on him.

    Hermione didn´t think twice.

    "Harry!" The name tore at her throat as she threw herself forward. She looked up into the eyes of Lord Voldemort as she hit the ground on hands and knees in front of her friend, met his cold gaze without fear, but with deadly certainty. She felt the tense thrill in the air and whispered, "Don´t waste this."

    A flash of green light.

    "Hermione!"

    She crumpled on the ground, lifeless, unmarked save for a cut, jagged and slowly oozing lifeless blood, on her forehead.

    Harry picked up his wand, looked up at Lord Voldemort, and knew the meaning of hatred.

    "Avada kedavra."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

    "Don´t waste this." That was what she had said. How could he have? No, Harry couldn´t have wasted Hermione´s sacrifice if he´d wanted to. But he was so full of hate. Voldemort´s death had not been enough for him. He had killed and killed and killed, and it wasn´t until he saw Draco Malfoy´s pale eyes behind the mask that he had stopped. Hermione had always said Malfoy wasn´t worth it.

    And right now, he hated Hermione, too. Hated her for being so damn selfless, hated her for making him hate, hated her for making him live.

    But most of all, he hated that she had done the right thing.

    Hermione was always right.

    The graveyard was quiet tonight, and a low fog made it hard to see. But Harry knew where he was going, knew exactly where to find the small, simple headstone and the patch of recently turned earth. The flowers laid on the grave during the funeral were wilting now; Harry set two fresh roses atop the headstone, one red, one gold. Hermione had proved herself a Gryffindor through and through that night. She was more a Gryffindor than any of us, Harry thought. Certainly more of a Gryffindor than me.

    He sank to his knees on the damp grass beside the headstone, and his fingers traced the letters of her name. Hermione. The stone was cool against his skin.

    "I´m not a heroine. I´m just a girl who loves her friends."

    Those words, Hermione´s words, were carved into Harry´s mind as surely as they were carved into her tombstone. Words she had chosen, in her will.

    She must have known what was coming. Somehow, she had known, and she had faced it anyway. Hermione had never trusted Divination or fate, but she had trusted her instincts. Somehow, intuitively, she had known.

    "Why did you do it, Hermione? What did you save me for? This? This isn´t a life, Hermione. This is Hell. I need you back, Hermione! I need you here!"

    But the night was still and silent. Even the love of a friend cannot bring back the dead.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

FIN