He states the obvious, as if letting her know of one of her many problems and giving her his jacket will do anything to help the searing in her heart. Well it doesn't. And he knows this.
Placing the sports coat over her shivering shoulders, he squeezes a little too tight or holds on a little too long and her demeanor shatters right then and there. Turning around, she latches onto his neck and buries her face in his shirt and he just holds her and murmurs "It's alright, you're alright" in her ear until the weeping dies down to a soft cry and the screams lower to a faint squeal.
In three minutes the chest of his perfectly ironed polo is soaked through the skin with tears.
She lifts her head and stares at him, wiping her nose and turning a shade of pink he knows isn't from the cold. "It'salright,you'realright,it'sokay,you'reokay" replay themselves again and again in his mind until he can see that she really is finally okay, and he leads her to a bench in the park.
"You know, when I was coming to meet you here, I wasn't expecting the first time you see me in two years to be quite like... this." He chooses his words carefully. (Smart.) She sniffles and then blows her nose on a hankerchief, abruptly stuffing it in her pocket afterward. She might need to later.
"Yeah... sorry, for that," She says, and for some reason unknown to him she won't meet his eyes. He brings her chin up to look at him.
"Hermione, this - we, I -," He breaks off, waits for her to look at him, and crashes his lips onto hers at the first sign of eye contact. He can feel her tense but he just kisses her harder, and soon she responds and everything in him is screaming yes and he finally thinks something is going to work out and he loves her, really and truely loves her, and he wonders if that can maybe, maybe be enough this time.
But she soon pushes against his chest and breaks off the kiss, and he looks at her confused. "Harry, I can't do this. Ron, he just died, and I know he wasn't - we weren't, but..." He hangs his head. He understands. He tries to say that, but it won't come out.
"Yeah, okay. Sure, that's great." Suddenly he's a little 14 year old again mumbling in front of Cho Chang, but now, looking at his best friend, he wonders what he ever really saw in the Chinese exchange student at all. She was here along along.
And he had let her slip away.
"Harry, you do realize that I... I've always loved you, Harry. I wanted you to see it sooner, but I... I don't know. I'm sorry; I was a coward. I just thought you should know that, now." And with that she wipes away a few unshed tears (Or maybe they were trailing down her face; he wouldn't know.) and hurredly leaves the bench... the park... the boy. And suddenly all those feelings of lonliness and sadness and pain and depression come swirling back in, and the flood of emotions hits Harry like a ton of bricks.
And Hermione called him the hero. No, no - she had always been his.
harry/hermione; your love will be safe with me
He states the obvious, as if letting her know of one of her many problems and giving her his jacket will do anything to help the searing in her heart. Well it doesn't. And he knows this.
Placing the sports coat over her shivering shoulders, he squeezes a little too tight or holds on a little too long and her demeanor shatters right then and there. Turning around, she latches onto his neck and buries her face in his shirt and he just holds her and murmurs "It's alright, you're alright" in her ear until the weeping dies down to a soft cry and the screams lower to a faint squeal.
In three minutes the chest of his perfectly ironed polo is soaked through the skin with tears.
She lifts her head and stares at him, wiping her nose and turning a shade of pink he knows isn't from the cold. "It'salright,you'realright,it'sokay,you'reokay" replay themselves again and again in his mind until he can see that she really is finally okay, and he leads her to a bench in the park.
"You know, when I was coming to meet you here, I wasn't expecting the first time you see me in two years to be quite like... this." He chooses his words carefully. (Smart.) She sniffles and then blows her nose on a hankerchief, abruptly stuffing it in her pocket afterward. She might need to later.
"Yeah... sorry, for that," She says, and for some reason unknown to him she won't meet his eyes. He brings her chin up to look at him.
"Hermione, this - we, I -," He breaks off, waits for her to look at him, and crashes his lips onto hers at the first sign of eye contact. He can feel her tense but he just kisses her harder, and soon she responds and everything in him is screaming yes and he finally thinks something is going to work out and he loves her, really and truely loves her, and he wonders if that can maybe, maybe be enough this time.
But she soon pushes against his chest and breaks off the kiss, and he looks at her confused. "Harry, I can't do this. Ron, he just died, and I know he wasn't - we weren't, but..." He hangs his head. He understands. He tries to say that, but it won't come out.
"Yeah, okay. Sure, that's great." Suddenly he's a little 14 year old again mumbling in front of Cho Chang, but now, looking at his best friend, he wonders what he ever really saw in the Chinese exchange student at all. She was here along along.
And he had let her slip away.
"Harry, you do realize that I... I've always loved you, Harry. I wanted you to see it sooner, but I... I don't know. I'm sorry; I was a coward. I just thought you should know that, now." And with that she wipes away a few unshed tears (Or maybe they were trailing down her face; he wouldn't know.) and hurredly leaves the bench... the park... the boy. And suddenly all those feelings of lonliness and sadness and pain and depression come swirling back in, and the flood of emotions hits Harry like a ton of bricks.
And Hermione called him the hero. No, no - she had always been his.