Her Worst Memory by babyeinstein12
Chapter Notes: Hello again! Well, this is the end; I hope you you enjoy it. Please review!
With his eyes open wide and his face cold with sweat, Harry stared up at the ceiling, breathing fast and feeling his heart pound. His head was swimming, and he felt as though he ran for miles on end, even if he was only lying there in his warm bed. For a brief second, he wondered why he was feeling so tired and fatigued, but then it came back to him in a rush: the sound of a book tearing apart… the awful smack when hand met face… the cheers from the onlookers… then the pleading, trembling voice of that little girl, suffering at the hands of those awful children…
Feeling the tears once again threatening to make their appearance, Harry whipped off the bed covers and bounded out, barely noticing how cold the carpet was against his bare feet. He knew that what he just saw was a dream, but he also had a deep, gut feeling that all of it actually happened.
“She’s a nightmare, honestly. It’s no wonder she doesn’t have any friends.”
Harry glanced over at Ron’s still-sleeping form. He still remembered those words Ron vehemently spit out six years ago, back in their first year. And no matter what, Harry still remembered and always would remember Hermione’s face, screwed up and stricken with tears, as she bumped into him and walked onwards, clearly having heard what Ron had just said. It all fit now.
Without another word, Harry rushed out of his room and slammed on the hallway light switch, looking around and trying to remember where Hermione was sleeping. He was so excited and agitated that he couldn’t think clearly. All he wanted to do was to find Hermione.
One closed door at the end of the hall looked familiar. Another flood of excitement seeped into Harry quickly as he leapt through the hallway, not caring if the loud thumping of his feet woke anybody up. He spoke her name involuntarily as he finally laid a quivering hand on the doorknob. Just thinking about her made electric tingles prickle throughout his entire frame.
He wrenched open the door, and the stream of hallway light immediately illuminated the room. With a huge sigh of relief, Harry saw Hermione on her bed, sleeping. She looked even more beautiful now than she did in the rain.
Filled with more love than he could remember, Harry stumbled towards the bed and dropped himself down on one side, wrapping an arm around Hermione and lying there, his green eyes focused on her sleeping figure. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing in and out slowly, with the pattering of the rain filling the room.
Without meaning to, Harry quietly slipped himself partway under her bed covers and tangled a pajama-clad leg with one of hers. “Why didn’t you tell me, Hermione?” he whispered painfully, staring straight at Hermione’s face, which was only a few inches from his own. With one hand he slowly reached up and touched Hermione’s left cheek, where the bruise happened to be just moments earlier, in his dream. It was empty of any disfiguration now, but Harry still saw it fresh in his mind. He caressed her cheek with his thumb and shifted even closer to her. He suddenly felt an urgent need to wake her up and comfort her; disbelief still racked his entire body at the thought that Hermione kept all these memories within herself. “Hermione,” he said softly, trying to wake her. He gently shook her. Hermione’s eyes snapped open, but she didn’t even react as her brown eyes landed on his green ones.
“Harry.” Hermione whispered very quietly. “What are you doing here?”
Before he could stop it, a sudden wave of some sort of compression filled his head, and he immediately recognized it as threatening tears. Harry, not wanting to cry in front of Hermione but also not wanting to look away from her, kept his eyes wide open. As if on cue, the tears then started to gather at the back of his eyelids. He vaguely wondered how long he could keep them there.
“Harry?”
As if on cue, the glossy drops trickled down his eyes as feelings of sorrow and remorse swept through his trembling frame. Hermione was there for him all along, even when nobody else was. She risked everything she cared about to come along with him and fight with him, and he’d been taking her granted for all these years. And while the tears continued to flow down his face, he felt warmth unlike anything he felt before fill him to the core.
Hermione reached out and wiped the tears off Harry’s face. “Harry, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare? I have some Draught of Peace left in my bag, do you”?
“Hermione,” Harry said, his voice cracking, “It’s nothing like that. Hermione… I-I saw you… And…I want you to know that you’re the most beautiful girl I know.”
“Harry, don’t joke around,” Hermione whispered. “I’m not beautiful at all. Tell me what happened instead.”
“Hermione,” Harry said, “I saw you…in a playground. A Muggle playground.”
Hermione stayed silent, but Harry noticed that her face seemed to tauten slightly.
“You weren’t what you look like now. You looked younger. And you were sitting all alone, no friends or anything.” Harry’s voice was quavering uncontrollably.
“How do you know this?” Hermione asked very softly.
“I saw it, in some sort of dream. And…” Harry had to gulp down more tears before he said the next part. “I saw a little boy come up to you and tear your book up in front of you. He called you all sorts of names…”
Even though Hermione didn’t say anything to this, Harry noticed that the memories were capturing her face, as if all the things she was hearing were not new to her. Her brown eyes were glistening slightly. Was she about to cry too?
“The boy hit you,” Harry gasped out, as if the pain was real and he was feeling it. The heart in his chest was hammering away, and he felt tingly all over as the stinging waves of remorse were beating through him stronger than ever, and his breathing became ragged. “Oh, Hermione, I never knew…” He felt his love for her reach its breaking point, and he thought he would burst from it. The sensation of different emotions rushing through him left him feeling almost delirious.
Harry then felt Hermione’s warm body slowly envelop him in an embrace. Harry heard sharp intakes of breath issuing from her, and he realized that those awful memories were still fresh within her mind. And in response, he just clung to her tighter.
“I need you,” Harry heard himself say. “I-I love you.”
Hermione sobbed all the more harder as she buried her face into his neck. Harry didn’t mind the wetness soaking down his neck and through his shirt, but he continued to hold her, deciding with more conviction than ever that he would one day repay Hermione back, somehow.
“I’m sorry,” Harry croaked out. That was the first time he could remember actually apologizing to her.
And he grabbed for her hand and held it crushingly, desperately.