Many thanks got my beta Ron Weasley, for all of the help with this story.
A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long, but I had a bit of trouble with it. It still doesn't feel completely right, but I don't know what else to do. Anyway, please tell me what you think.
Chapter 8: Distance
Hermione was back in the common room alone. She did not know how she managed to get back under that cloak with Harry by her side, walking so close next to her. This night had been a fiasco. She could not believe it had all happened so soon, no warning, nothing. Running her hand through her hair for the millionth time that night, she glanced over at the grandfather clock over the fireplace�”four o’clock in the morning. She desperately needed some sleep, yet her brain was working too fast for her to be able to get any at all.
She lied down on the couch in front of the fire thinking very hard. Involuntarily, she raised her hand to her lips. They felt swollen, and she kept feeling the need to touch them. For the hundredth time since she’d gotten back from the Room of Requirement, she recalled her kiss with Harry. To say there had been fireworks was putting it lightly. She had never felt like that with any other guy, not with Krum or Anthony�”and certainly not with Ron. Indeed, she felt like that was the first time she had kissed anyone at all. She banged her head on the couch�”thank God it was soft.
Why, she told herself, why did that feel like my first kiss? Why did I grow all weak? Ugh! This is so frustrating!
She could not believe it happened. Her best friend…her best friend loved her, he’d kissed her, and he told her he wouldn’t be able to live without her. How was she ever supposed to face him after that?
Hermione was starting to have doubts about her answer. Again, everything came back to her as if it was happening now, in front of her eyes. She remembered that after her and Harry had pulled apart, they had looked into each other’s eyes for the longest time, Harry still holding her. She remembered feeling weak, and if Harry hadn’t been holding her, she would have certainly fallen to the ground. With all the strength and will-power she had left, she had muttered�”
I can’t believe I told him so straight-out! What if I hurt him? Besides, did I…I think…I did the right thing when I told him…when I told him no, didn’t I?
She might have done the right thing, but she would never forget the look in Harry’s eyes when she’d uttered that one-syllable word. The way he immediately released her, the way his hands shook as he picked up his cloak and had thrown it over the both of them, or the way he had tried not to touch her during their whole trip back.
Once inside the common room, he’d thrown the cloak off, had looked her straight in the eye, and he’d said, “Is there…was there…anything I could have done to make you love me back?”
Poor Hermione. She just shook her head helplessly, not knowing what to do or say. Understanding it was beyond his control, Harry just nodded and walked to his dorm, a defeated look on his face. Hermione had succeeded at doing exactly the thing that she had never wanted to do. She had made Harry’s life more difficult than it already was.
Absent-mindedly, she hugged herself, missing the feel of Harry’s strong arms around her.
No, no, no, no! What are you thinking? she told herself. You already said no to Harry, so you might as well not beat yourself up with desires you don’t even understand! Besides, you’re with Harr�”NO! You’re with Anthony, Hermione. His name is Anthony!
Again, she felt desperate, desperate to try and understand the situation, desperate to clear her feelings, desperate to go back in time so she wouldn’t have to have hurt Harry. How complicated it all was.
But her over-exhausted brain seemed to be giving up on her. She had no more strength to stay up, and just before her eyelids dropped and she fell into a troubled sleep, she caught sight of the clock again. It now read 5.17 AM.
***
A stray strand of hair had fallen over her face. He brushed it away and looked at her, his heart feeling as if a large crowd of Hippogriffs had walked all over it. How angelic she looked. Her expression was calm, serene, and she was smiling at something he could not see. She was breathing slowly, her chest rising and falling. Her sweatshirt was twisted to the side, revealing a sliver of porcelain-white skin. He noticed the goose bumps rising on her skin and produced, out of thin air, a feather quilt, placing it softly over her. She did not stir. He found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her, realising this would be one of the only chances he was going to have to look at her like this. The one word she’d said to him stabbed at his heart and he thought that he would never forget it. Amazing how a simple word could cause such heart-wrenching pain.
He was now on his knees in front of the couch where she was sleeping. He gently stroked her outstretched hand, wishing his love for her would just evaporate. Bending down, he kissed her forehead, willing himself to let her go. He placed an envelope on her lap and left the common room, feeling like he’d left his heart there too.
***
Hermione sat up and the feather quilt fell off her. She looked around and saw that the common room was empty and a blazing sun was shining outside of the window. It looked like it was just past noon. Looking down, she saw the quilt that was still covering her legs. She wondered how it had gotten there. She got up and went back to her dormitory wanting to freshen up and forget about all of her problems, at least for a little bit.
After a half an hour, she reappeared in the common room, feeling slightly better, but the prospect of facing Harry still haunting her. Just as she was making for the portrait hole to see where everyone was, she noticed something white on the couch where she had spent her night. Picking it up, she saw it was an envelope with her name written across it. She opened it and her eyes moved rapidly across the parchment as she read:
Hermione,
I can only imagine what you’re feeling right now. I understand that my confession last night might have left you a bit confused. It is useless telling you how I feel about it. This is why, I’m sure you will understand, I am asking for just a bit of distance between us, at least for a little while. It will not be an easy feat for me to face you again after what happened, and I don’t think I could look at you and Anthony together for a while. I just need to regroup myself. I hope this doesn’t bother you. But I want you to remember, Hermione that nothing and no one can ever come between us. Even if we’re not exactly talking to each other, you know you can always count on me for anything. I want to apologise for the awkward position I have put you in.
With love from Harry.
Hermione couldn’t believe her eyes. Harry was distancing himself from her, and it was her own fault. Her best friend didn’t want to have anything to do with her, because she had hurt him so badly. How was she ever going to get through everything without Harry’s friendship? And he was apologising for making her feel uncomfortable.
Tears formed in her eyes, but before they could make their way down her cheeks, she wiped them away with one angry swipe of her hand and told herself to get a grip. After all, she was supposed to be strong, she was supposed to care only about books and marks and such things.
Still clutching Harry’s letter in her hand, she made for the portrait hole once more. Yet again, she was stopped going through it. Ginny came running down the dormitory steps and halted right in front of Hermione's feet. Noticing the lost look on her best friend’s face she asked, “Hermione, what’s the matter?” Hermione simply handed her the letter. She thought she would have to explain what Harry meant by his confession, but Ginny didn’t ask. She scanned the letter, than looked at Hermione with sorrow-filled eyes.
“So he told you?” she said her tone pensive. “And I’m guessing you gave him a negative answer? Poor guy.”
Hermione looked at Ginny incredulously.
“You knew?” she gaped. “You knew how he felt?”
“Well, yes, Ron told me. He was desperate to try and hook you up, too.”
“Ron knew as well? Does the whole school know?” Hermione yelled, unable to restrain herself. “And what do you mean, Ron tried to hook us up?”
“No, Hermione, me and Ron are the only ones who know, and we’re certainly not the whole school. As for Ron, he was the one who sent you that letter for the date on October 15th. He thought you might realise that Harry would go to any lengths to save you. That git,” she added, her teeth gritted.
Hermione felt her mouth hang open. All of this had been going on under her very nose, and she hadn’t noticed a thing.
“Are you going to give him the distance?” Ginny’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“Well, yes, if that’s what he wants,” Hermione replied icily.
“That’s not what he wants, Hermione, and you know it. It’s what you want.”
There was a moment of silence as Ginny’s words penetrated Hermione’s brain and she raised a hand to her lips once again.
“Are you okay?” Ginny asked her. “I mean you are quite sure you did the right thing, aren’t you? You don’t feel the same way Harry does, right?”
Hermione felt it was time to change the topic. She didn’t want to dwell much on her feelings for Harry anymore.
“I suppose everyone is outside?” she asked Ginny, her tone casual. “Is it nice out?”
“Yes, it’s very nice, although a bit cold,” Ginny answered her, clearly understanding Hermione’s attempt to change the topic. “Maybe we should go outside too.”
“All right,” Hermione said a bit more cheerfully. She deeply appreciated Ginny not insisting on talking about Harry. She was feeling stone-cold just thinking about Harry not wanting to talk to her.
***
A month had passed since Harry had confessed his feelings to Hermione. It had been exceedingly hard for Hermione to get used to Harry’s distance. They hardly talked to each other anymore, and Hermione had long since stopped helping Harry with his homework, which had obviously showed, because Harry’s marks had dropped considerably.
Harry was getting used to being alone. He had to admit that distancing himself from Hermione was the best thing he could have done. Since he didn’t see her much, he didn’t have to deal with controlling himself around her. His love for Hermione had never disappeared though, and he still loved her with every ounce of strength he possessed. Now, his heart was an open wound that had just healed, but only one scratch was needed to make the wound bleed again. He would think he was over Hermione and then, suddenly, he would see her talking or laughing with Anthony and all of the hurt and anguish would come back to him.
Hermione, on the other hand, was absolutely devastated that Harry wouldn’t talk to her. She felt as if something big and important had been taken out of her. She would slump around, at times neglecting her homework so that everyone was worried about her, at times burying herself in books, trying to distract herself. Whenever she caught sight of Harry, her heart would leap, her eyes would light up, and she’d find herself hoping against hope that he would talk to her. Harry, however, would merely nod or say a feeble ‘hi’, leaving Hermione more downcast than ever before. Even Anthony had noticed something was wrong. He often asked her what was happening or why she never listened to him any more. Hermione tried to put on a show, just for her boyfriend’s sake, because, after all, he had no fault in all this. But whenever she was laughing with Anthony, her eyes would catch Harry’s tortured look and the laughter would die in her throat. Harry had promised her this wouldn’t ruin their friendship, but it certainly had. If only she’d�”
“Move out of the way, Granger,” a drawling voice behind her interrupted her thoughts. “Some of us have more important things to do than stand around looking at a brick wall all day.”
Hermione looked up and saw the sneering face of Draco Malfoy, current Head Boy and Harry’s enemy since eleven years old. Not in the mood for him, Hermione moved slightly to the left, letting him pass.
“Haven’t seen you with Potty lately,” he sneered, looking down at her. After all, everyone knew she and Harry weren’t talking anymore, they just didn’t know why. “Don’t tell me he doesn’t want to hang out with you anymore? Was he actually smart enough to realise that nothing good could possibly come out of being friends with a know-it-all, bushy-haired Mudblood?”
Hermione flushed. She was used to hearing Malfoy’s taunts, but this one hurt especially bad. The one thing that had bothered her wasn’t Malfoy calling her a Mudblood, or calling her other names�”it was him telling her that Harry didn’t want to be around her anymore. Though, of course, Malfoy had got the completely wrong reason. Hermione was just about to reply to him, when she saw something strange was happening. Malfoy’s ears seemed to be elongating and becoming furrier. Pretty soon, instead of his normal ears, Draco Malfoy was wearing a pair of donkey ears, that suited him quite well too, thought Hermione. Malfoy seemed to have noticed, since he turned around and stared at something Hermione could not see.
“You never know when to stop, do you Potter,” he whispered, his voice malicious and his eyes narrowed. “But it’s not going to last long, I can promise you that. He will have you finished soon enough. And I’d watch out for her parents, if I were you,” he added, nodding at Hermione. Now pointing at his new ears, he said once more, “I’m not going to bother with this. They’ll be gone in no time. And so will you, Potter.” And with that he strode off, waving his wand at his donkey ears and making them disappear.
Harry and Hermione were left looking at each other. Harry felt a painful twinge in his heart as he looked at her, but that was all. Hermione’s eyes were filling with tears.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hey,” Harry replied. It was high time they started talking to each other, and now was the time to do it.
They looked at each other for the longest time, until Harry realised the old wound was beginning to bleed again.
“Don’t worry about him,” he told her, while walking towards the Gryffindor common room, “he was bound to say something like that, wasn’t he?”
“I know, it’s just that…it was horrible. And what he said about you … I …”Hermione’s voice trembled as she spoke.
“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said, trying to calm her down.
Hermione said nothing. She was feeling horrible. She knew she should be happy that Harry was talking to her again, but the taunt about her parents had taken quite a lot out of her. She felt shaken, and she suddenly felt that she didn’t only want Harry to talk to her. She looked sideways at him and eyed his strong arms, the arms that had held her more than a month ago. She found herself desperately wishing that those arms would embrace her again and offer her some peace and stability, like she knew they could. She inhaled sharply, thanking God that Harry hadn’t noticed anything unusual.
Together, they climbed through the portrait hole and sat across one another at one of the tables in the common room. They had so much to say. One month was a very long time after all. They talked and talked, and they couldn’t help but feel happy that this was happening�”that they finally had each other once more.