Ten More Days

Ten More Days

by Eowyn, lady of Rohan

***

It was a normal evening at the residence of Vernon and Petunia Dursley for once - they and their son, Dudley, and Dudley's cousin and Vernon and Petunia's nephew Harry Potter were all seated at the dinner table, silently eating. And then the phone rang.

"Who in the bloody blaz - Hello?" Vernon roared angrily into the phone, listened for a minute, then his eyes narrowed and his face turned the familiar shade of a plum, and Harry knew at once it was somebody asking for him. His heart sped up slightly; the last person to call for him had been Ron Weasley before their third year at Hogwarts, and Harry'd gotten into trouble after that, so who would be calling him now? Unless it was -

"Hermione Granger, you say your name is? Well I'm sorry, you've got the wrong num -"

"NO YOU HAVEN'T!" Harry yelled, leaping to his feet in a split second and yanking the receiver from Vernon before he could stop him. "Hermione, what's up? Is everything okay?" He heard a sniffle from the other end, and his heart sank to his knees. Obviously something was going wrong, and ever since Sirius's death, he had been on end constantly.

"No," she feebly answered, sounding about twenty years older on the phone, yet somehow young again. "Is - is it okay if I come see you? I've just... oh, I'm so confused, I need to talk to you in person, my parents, I don't want them to hear." She wasn't making much sense, but Harry got the gist of it all.

"Of course you can, but how're you going to get here?"

"I'll drive."

"You can?"

"Well, I don't have my license of course yet, but oh - it doesn't matter. I'll get there one way or another, if it's all right."

"I told you, of course it's all right," he shot the Dursleys a warning look. Petunia hadn't touched anymore food, however Dudley was transfixed to the TV and not hearing or caring about anything Harry said. "How far away do you live, though? If it's too far, I'm sure you could get some Floo Powder somewhere, and -"

"No, it's only a twenty-minute drive, I think... I don't care, I just need to see you."

"Right, well come on, and I'll be waiting for you." He hung up the phone, and Vernon was on him in an instant, spit flying.

"I TOLD YOU ONCE BEFORE, DON'T YOU EVER GIVE ANYBODY OF YOUR KIND OUR BLASTED NUMBER OR I'LL -"

"You'll what?" Harry replied in a dull voice, already bored as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You can't kick me out, Aunt Petunia has to let me stay, don't you?" He looked expectedly at her, and she just closed her mouth and nodded slowly, her face ashen. "See?"

"You two - you just don't try anything funny -"

"If you hadn't realized, Hermione was crying, so I don't think she'll be much in the mood for 'trying anything funny', but thanks for the idea anyway. Now, if you'll excuse me." He left, his dinner unfinished, going up to his room. The place was a mess, and he started to put away things, in order to get it somewhat neat for when Hermione came - he didn't want her to be appalled at the state he was currently living in. Since his fifth year ended, he hadn't really cared about much at all, but he wished he had've, he hated cleaning. After he was done shoving things under the bed and in the closet for the time being, - what he liked to call cleaning - Hermione still hadn't arrived, so he busied himself with a Quidditch magazine until the doorbell rang. He rushed downstairs, throwing open the door.

Hermione stood with her back to the sunset, shadows cast on her face from the sinking sun. The air outside was heavy and sticky, and Harry could hear a faint rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Come in," he said simply, closing the door behind her. He led her up to his room, noticing how quiet she was and knew it had to be serious then - Hermione was almost never quiet. As Harry closed the door, he felt incredibly uncomfortable, and with horror weighing in the pit of his stomach, thought, What if she thinks I'm trying to suggest something with her being in my bedroom, the door shut? Oh, Merlin's beard...

"What's up?" he asked, clearing his throat (and his mind) as he turned back around, leaning back against the door. She sat down on the edge of his bed, her hands clasped in her lap. She'd worn a simple white T-shirt and pleated khaki skirt, her hair pulled back on the sides. Her skin was golden-brown from her trip to Greece earlier in the summer, and he wouldn't've been able to tell she'd been crying were it not for her bloodshot, tired-looking eyes and the occasional sniffle.

"Ron wrote me a letter." She pulled it out from a pocket and held it out, looking up at him the whole time. He pulled his desk chair up to the bed and sat down before taking the rolled up parchment, noticing the way Hermione was wringing her hands in her lap over and over, or fidgeting with her hair.

Hermione,

I don't really know why I'm writing this, just that I am. Well, I guess it's just everything from the past year that I don't know how long we're going to, you know, make it, so I have to take my chances. I like you - a lot. Fancy, I guess. I was only mean to you about Krum last year - well, year before last, I guess - because I wanted to go with you to the Yule Ball, and I was really mad when you were talking to Harry and I wasn't because, as usual, I figured something was going on with you two to believe him and not me. And when that story from Rita Skeeter came out about you... well, all of this is to show you that I like you. Or tell you. Or whatever, I'm just kind of confused right now.

So... will you go out with me? As like, being a couple. If you're not dating Krum, or you know, anyone else.

Ron

Harry sat, stunned for a moment. Never - never - had he pictured Ron to be the one confessing his 'fancy' for Hermione, though he'd suspected it in the back of his mind for the past two years. But why was Hermione crying? He asked her the same question, and she promptly burst into tears again. He handed her a box of tissues, and she pulled out about fifteen, the other fourteen resting in her lap as she dried her eyes with one.

"Oh, it's just... I don't like him anymore. I've thought about it and thought about it, but the feelings I had for him are gone - he just waited too long, and Viktor helped me realize that, he knew Ron liked me all along - he thought you liked me too, but I know you don't - anyway, but I never thought he'd actually ever tell me, so I moved on." She started crying some more. Harry shifted, feeling like he should put his arms around her, or even pat her shoulder, but wasn't sure if she'd feel comfortable with him doing that, though it would be purely a friendly gesture... right? Since she'd said '... he thought you likd me too, but I know you don't...' he'd started thinking, What if I did?

"I, er, I honestly don't know what to say, Hermione. I wish I could help you, but I really don't have much experience with girls, as you know," she softly laughed and looked up at him, sniffling again.

"You're right, you don't. You didn't even kiss Cho back." It was his turn to laugh. He didn't know why he did, but now it seemed funny. Maybe because he didn't have the desire to kiss her anymore.

"Well you know, it was just sort of unexpected, and all," he said, shrugging. "But this isn't about me. Why don't you just tell Ron what you told me? I think he'd understand... after he got a little angry, but it'd blow over."

"Oh, Harry, you really don't understand girls at all," she said, using number five of the ten remaining tissues. "I can't just... tell him. As mad as I am for him never telling me this earlier, it's partly my fault, for I could've told him how I felt. I'm just... I'm wondering if I shouldn't break his heart when I'm not sure he wouldn't have broken mine. If that made any sense."

"It made sense, Hermione," said Harry. "Everything you say does. Even if us guys are too stupid to realize it." He sighed, dragging his fingers through his unruly black hair.

"Well, thank you, I think."

"I wish I had some words of wisdom to help you out with, but I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it helps just being here with you, having you listen. I think I just needed someone to talk to." She stood, the remaining tissues falling to the floor, but Harry didn't care. He didn't realize it, but they were drawing closer, and he let the parchment fall as his arms went around Hermione, her hands fisted against his back as she cried into his shoulder. This was the second time he'd been cried on, only this time wasn't so bad, he decided. Perhaps it was because Hermione was his best friend.

Perhaps it was because he needed her - this - some sign that there was someone left in the world who cared about him, even if he was just a listening ear for her. He'd just be that for the rest of his life, if it meant having her. As a friend, of course, he reminded himself. She drew back then, smiling halfway.

"Do you have any aspirin? I always get headaches when I cry." You too? He wanted to say. It was amazing, that after nearly six years of knowing her he didn't know something about her. Come to think of it, he didn't know a lot of things about her - her favorite color, for instance, or whether or not she read Shakespeare among all the other things she'd read. Things like that.

"Of course," he answered, coming out of his small reverie. "You wait here, I'll get it." As he filled a glass with water, ignoring the looks given from Vernon and Petunia, he thought of Hermione and tried to picture her and Ron together. Sure, they looked all right together, but would they really make a great couple? They had so many differences. Of course there was that saying that "opposites attract," but having things in common with each other made things so much more interesting, in his opinion.

"Thanks," Hermione said after she'd downed the aspirin, setting the glass on his bedside table. "For everything, for listening to me and all that."

"Anytime, I'm kind of glad you came. Not - not that I'd want this to happen to you, of course," he added quickly, earning a laugh from her, "but just because you're great company, especially compared to those idiots."

"I figured that's what you meant," she said, smiling. She suddenly looked very tired. He sat down beside her on the bed, pulling her into a hug again, knowing she would fall asleep, and she did. She needed rest, he decided, and he could always call the Grangers. As he carefully laid her back on the pillows, he drew back to go to the phone, but her hand gripped his shirt.

"Please stay with me," she whispered. He swallowed. It was rather tempting, and he was sort of tired as well. Even if he didn't go to sleep, he would stay with her, he decided. Besides, what could be wrong with that? They'd just be taking a nap... together... in the evening... not even thinking of when she'd get back home. What the hell, Harry decided, you only live once. He relaxed and settled back on the pillow next to hers, putting an arm over her waist. And there, he drifted off to the first peaceful slumber he'd had in months.

***

When he woke, Hermione was gone, but the faint scent of her lingered on the pillow beside him, which held a small note she'd scribbled on notebook paper.

Dear Harry,

Thanks again for letting me stay here for a bit. The nap was nice, too, and the aspirin helped. I decided I was going to take your advice, I'm going to tell Ron that he took too long. If I lose him as a friend, at least I'll have you, and that's what's most important. Besides, I'm sure he'd come around in time, as you said. I feel as if I should return the favor, so if there's anything I can do you for you, let me know. You're the only guy I can really cry in front of who I don't think feels awkward around me. If you do, you're a great actor. I would've told you this in person, but I knew you were sleeping well, maybe something you hadn't done in a while, so I couldn't disturb you even I'd wanted to. Oh, and this stays between us. I don't think Ron would be too happy, but Rita Skeeter would have a field day.

Thanks again,

Hermione

He felt a lingering sort of regret in the pit of his stomach as he glanced at the clock. It was ten-thirty, and he didn't know how long she'd been gone. He didn't care that the Dursleys might've seen them, but he hadn't heard Vernon's voice yet so he figured they must not have.

There were ten more days until September the first, the day he went back to Hogwarts. He didn't know what the new year would bring to him, but whatever it was, he'd have Hermione... and that was all he needed.

*