No Reason to Cry

"Oh God, Hermione, hold on! Don't leave me. We're almost there! We're almost there!"

'Almost where?' Hermione wanted to ask. Harry's voice seemed very distant to her, like she was hearing him through a badly tuned radio. What was happening? Her eyelids felt heavy, but she managed to keep them open. Her clouded gaze met Harry's. He was crying. Hermione hated it when Harry cried. She wanted to reach out her hand and sweep away his tears and tell him everything was going to be alright, tell him not to cry anymore, but her arms felt weighted down for some reason; she couldn't lift either of them.

Slowly, her head lolled to the side. Ron was there, and he was also crying. What was wrong? Why were they looking so grim, so sad? And why were they were running? Hermione was lying on her back and they were running alongside her, trying to keep up. Belatedly she realized she was on a magicked stretcher. But why was she on this stretcher?

It took all of her effort to direct her eyes on her surroundings. The trees that were whizzing past them made her dizzy and lightheaded, but even if she wasn't focusing on the trees she still felt the sharp pain pounding in her head. Finally she was able to bring her eyes onto herself.

She was bleeding, heavily. Her blood soaked through her school uniform, staining her button up shirt a dark crimson red. Her hands were involuntarily clutching her wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it wasn't working. That's why they were crying, she had been injured, and fatally it would seem.

As she centered all of her attention on the deep penetrating cut that adorned her lower abdomen, Hermione could vaguely hear Harry's hysteric voice.

"Hermione, hang on! We're almost there... Almost... there..." his voice faded away along with her surroundings as she passed out into blessed oblivion.

~*~*~

The smell of blueberry pancakes tickled Hermione's nose as she sat down to eat.

"Morning, squirt," her father affectionately greeted her.

The huge grin that always came when her father called her by her nickname came across Hermione's features. "Morning daddy," she responded.

Her mother set down a glass of orange juice to the top right of Hermione's plate. Orange juice was Hermione's favorite drink. Kissing the side of her head, Hermione's mother asked, "How'd you sleep dear?"

When she carefully opened the window, a beautiful tawny brown owl swept in, dropping a letter into her hands. It swooped across the room, stealing a strip of her bacon before making its grand exit.

Turning the suspicious envelope over and over again in her hands, Hermione slowly broke the wax seal.

Dear Miss Granger, (it read)

The scene melted, swirling in a blur of colors to rearrange into something new.

She was fourteen now, sitting alone in Hogwarts' massive Library. She was completely lost in her book, Hogwarts, A History, that she almost didn't notice the group of giggling girls hiding behind one of her sacred bookshelves; almost.

Rolling her eyes towards the Heavens and praying for patience, Hermione tried to ignore the group of ditzy girls.

Hermione's head snapped up from her book to see the reason for all of the annoying girls. Viktor Krum was towering over her with a politely inquisitive look on his burly face.

Hermione was slightly annoyed with the famous Quidditch star for invading her sanctuary and for bringing his fan club, but that did not overcome common courtesy.

"Of course," she allowed, moving over her piles of books and parchments to make some room.

Viktor sat, letting out a breath he had been holding in. His toe was tapping incessantly and he kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye. Hermione, never one to play the fool, looked up from her book and directly met his gaze. Surprisingly, he did not look away.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely.

Viktor smiled slightly at her. "Maybe," he informed.

When Hermione raised a brow at him, he did not bother to hide his smile. "I vas vondering if you vould like to be my partner, vor de Ball," he spilled out in a rush.

For a moment, Hermione considered asking him if he was kidding, but when she saw the nervous glint to his eyes, she knew that he wasn't. Viktor Krum was asking her to the Yule Ball, who'd have thought? - Certainly not her or anyone else for that matter.

No one would ever have thought that the famous Quidditch star Viktor Krum would give Hermione a second glance, let alone ask her out. She was too plain for him. Her bushy hair and family background wasn't good enough for him, at least that's what others would think. It certainly didn't appear to be what he thought.

Viktor was supposed to go with the most beautiful girl in the school, not her. But knowing that made Hermione mad. Why couldn't Viktor show any interest in her? Why couldn't she go with him? Well, she could go with him, and she would, just to show everyone that Hermione Granger could hold her own.

"I'd love to," she finally answered.

With that, Viktor grinned at her and exhaled contentedly. Hermione was curious despite herself.

"Can I ask, why you asked me?" she wanted to know.

He smiled at her. "You vere de only girl vere that does not vant to go vith me, so I knew that if ve vere to go, we'd haff fun together."

"Do you know something?" Viktor suddenly asked.

Hermione shook her head in a negative.

"I only came vere to de Library everyday so I could vork up de courage to azk you to go vith me," he admitted, turning a few shades of red.

Hermione smiled up at him, she would have more fun at this ball than she had expected.

Again the picture melted, forming a new one.

Then she was sixteen. She was at the Yule Ball, blissfully dancing in the arms of her best friend, the one she had come to love as more than a friend.

"I'm sorry," he apologized with a small grin. "I never did get the hang of dancing."

Hermione beamed up at him. Harry was tall, she herself came to just about his shoulder. She liked him tall, she felt protected when encircled in his arms.

"That's quite alright," she assured him.

He stepped onto her toes three more times before Hermione had an idea. Pulling out of Harry's embrace for a quick moment, Hermione lightly stepped up onto his feet. Smiling triumphantly, Hermione tilted her head up to look adoringly into Harry's eyes.

And then he grinned down at her. It was that roguish grin that caused her breath to quicken and her heart to fly into her throat.

"Harry I-" she started but stopped, for at the same time she said that Harry began, "Hermione I-"

A moment's pause filled their own little world as everyone else kept dancing. They had stopped and were standing in the middle of the floor, staring at each other as if they had never truly seen the other before.

Time froze as Harry inched forward, closer to her. Hermione felt a sudden heat that had nothing to do with being in a crowded room flood her. She tilted her head up towards Harry's and leaned forward.

And then their lips met in their sweet first kiss. It was the lightest of kisses, his lips barely brushing hers. It felt like someone was teasing her mouth with a feather. But then the moment passed, and they felt the need to be closer and to kiss harder.

Her happiest memory dissolved to form her most recent, most terrible one.

"Hermione, run!" Harry shouted.

Hermione, having been temporarily frozen to the floor, finally moved, Salazar Slytherin's sword crashing into the floor where she had moments before been standing.

Voldemort sneered. "I'll teach you to love Potter! I'll teach you to stand against the Dark Lord!" the sword made another swing for Hermione's head.

Ducking furtively, Hermione narrowly escaped. She was tired, having had no sleep in about two days. Harry was beside her now, blocking Voldemort's next blow with Godric Gryffindor's sword.

Hermione felt herself being tugged away to safety by Ron. She fought him, though; she couldn't leave Harry like that.

"Hermione, we have to go, Harry knows what he's doing. Please, Hermione, please!" he had shouted at her.

No. Something inside her knew that Harry wouldn't be all right if she left. As long as she was with Harry, he'd be all right. Even though the thought seemed childish and improbable, she would not abandon Harry. Allowing her to be pulled a little to the side for safety's sake, Hermione watched on worriedly.

Harry was really great with a sword, far better than his opponent apparently. Voldemort had no chance, this was a battle he wouldn't win. Harry saw his opening and took it, plunging his sword deep into the stomach of the most feared wizard in their world.

Voldemort looked just as surprised as Harry did when he toppled lifelessly to the floor of the Forbidden Forest.

This man that she loved had just saved her life, and those of many others. He had come so close to death, and had narrowly escaped. The man she loved was a hero; he was her hero.

Slowly, Harry smiled reassuringly at Hermione, causing her heart to flutter like it always did when he looked at her with love in his eyes. She was about to smile back, but frowned suddenly.

"HARRY! NO!" she shrieked as she ran forward, pulling out of Ron's arms with strength she didn't know she had.

Everything appeared to be going in slow motion for her. As time sluggishly went by, Hermione violently shoved Harry to the forest floor as a blade with an emerald encrusted hilt sliced into her.

Time sped up then as Hermione fell to her knees and Voldemort fell backwards, dead for real this time after having spent the last of his strength.

Harry was cradling her in his arms, rocking her back and forward as his tears fell onto her confused face. Ron magicked up a stretcher and Harry placed her on it, paling at the sight of all the blood she was losing. And then they ran.

That was when she had passed out.

~*~*~

When Hermione cracked her eyes open a blinding white light flooded her mind, causing her to blink away her weariness. When she was able to see clearly, she took in her surroundings. She was in the school's Infirmary. She was there.

Harry was sitting in a chair beside her bed, his head dropped in his hands. He was crying again, she realized. His shoulders were shaking and she could hear his sobs. Finding that she was now able to move her arms, Hermione gently touched Harry's shoulder.

His response was to snap his head up and met her still fuzzy gaze with watery eyes. He looked at her disbelievingly, hoping that he wasn't again imagining her awake.

Hermione gave him a weak smile. "Please don't cry, Harry. You know I hate it when you cry," she soothed him in a voice she could barely recognize as her own.

But Harry couldn't stop crying. The tears fell in streams down his cheeks as he smiled at her. He moved to take her in his arms, being careful as to not hurt her as she was still very weak.

"Sh-h, don't cry Harry. I'm alright, I'm okay," she tried to calm him, even though tears were leaking through her own eyes.

He cried harder, his sobs racking his whole body. And she cried, too. They shed many tears, purging themselves of what had almost happened and what could have happened. When they had none left to shed, the just held each other. Neither of them wanted to let go for fear that the other might disappear.

They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice Ron in the corner, silently sobbing his own cleansing tears of joy and relief.

It was all finally over; all of it. They no longer had reason to cry, but did so out of the sheer joy of it all ending.

And they truly did live happily ever after.