Becoming More

Chapter Three

All's Fair in Love and War

Hermione dabbed at her red, puffy eyes with a tissue as she gazed at her dismal reflection in the mirror. Mascara ran down her cheeks, and she desperately tried to wipe the black streaks off of her face. However, this was to no avail, and she threw her hands up in frustration. "Ugh! Why did I even start wearing this god-forsaken stuff in the first place? I'm just too emotionally unstable!!"

She returned to her futile attempts to scrub the makeup off, and after rubbing it deeper into her skin, Hermione plopped down onto the bathroom rug. She heard the front door slam rather abruptly and heard Harry grumble under his breath. Giving her image a final once-over and deciding she didn't look absolutely horrid, Hermione sighed and unlocked the door. As she pushed it open, she was greeted by a dazed Harry in mid-knock.

"Hermione," Harry said, rather sheepishly. "Are you okay?"

Ruffling Harry's untidy mess of black hair, Hermione smiled. "Yeah. I just need to get a grip on my emotions, but I'm glad that you're concerned." With a wink of her eye, she went to retrieve a towel and washcloth from the nearby cupboard. "So who was at the door?"

"Ugh. Draco."

"Malfoy?" Hermione said, laughing. "What did he want? To know if you had taken advantage of 'your friend with benefits'?"

Harry looked at her in shock. It was remarkable, the mood swings Hermione went through. Not a minute ago she was in tears, and now she was throwing witty sarcasm left and right. "Not quite," Harry replied, still in disbelief of the spontaneous change of attitude. "He wanted to know if you would fancy joining him in the hot tub."

Not responding in the slightest, Hermione grabbed what she needed from the cupboard and headed back for the bathroom. She was about to shut the door when realization finally dawned on Harry. "W-what are you doing?"

"Taking a shower, if you don't mind. Being an emotional roller coaster is exhausting, y'know. I'm in need of the refreshing cool water and I probably smell anyways," she responded, laughing at her own declaration of body odor.

Harry skeptically stared at her as she leaned against the wooden frame of the bathroom doorway. "What makes you think you've acquired this foul smell?"

"The squalid stench that is Draco's idiocy, I'm afraid, has rubbed off on me. Being in close proximity to that, that thing just makes me feel in need of a shower."

Harry could only chuckle at Hermione's drollness; the seventeen-year-old wizard did not mind at all the slander said about the smug Slytherin. In fact, the best part was that her comments were all made at Draco's expense and Harry discovered himself finding that as part of her tantalizing charm.

As Hermione turned to enter the bathroom, her golden brown hair whirling around right with her, Harry's thoughts finally focused on the relationship he had formed with the Muggleborn witch. He realized that ever since Ron had been killed trying to save the life of his best friend, he and Hermione had grown closer with every minute they spent together. Unfortunately, this thought both thrilled and pained Harry. Of course, as a teenage boy with raging male hormones, he couldn't help but be ecstatic at even the aforementioned thought of Hermione's paying him extra attention. Yet it was the cost of this newfound attention that was like a dagger plunging through his heart. His best friend had died at the murderous hands of Lord Voldemort, and here Harry was, trying to win Hermione's affections. A flood of past comments revisited Harry's thoughts, every one of them about the supposed affair between the two Gryffindors. He couldn't forget how people had brought up the fact that Harry had waited until after Ron was gone to 'pursue' Hermione.

"Ron was a friend to both of us," Harry reassured himself aloud. "We were both grieving and wouldn't dare talk to anyone else. It was only natural for us to turn to one another, thus forming an even stronger bond. Wasn't it?"

Harry found himself questioning his own motives concerning Hermione. At that point, he wasn't entirely convinced that he hadn't betrayed Ron. When he didn't come to any conclusions other than overanalyzing this would drive him insane, he realized that Hermione had long since shut the door and he had been standing there for all this time.

Wandering back into the bedroom, Harry plopped down on the soft bed, heaving a heavy sigh. "The only way to get rid of this guilt is to talk to Hermione," he confessed to himself. "But then again, I could just make a bloody fool out of myself, which could completely ruin the rest of this trip and quite possibly our friendship."

"Who the bloody hell am I kidding?!" he shouted, throwing his hands up into the air. "I can't talk to her about this!!"

"Talk to me about what?" Hermione said as she entered the room, leaving Harry at an awkward loss of words. His mouth gaped open, and Hermione simply smiled. "Ok, you don't have to tell me. But just so you know, curiosity is going to drive me to torture you until eventually, I get your little secret out of you."

"Hermione, you're off the hook," Harry blurted out without even thinking.

Hermione looked into Harry's emerald eyes with a perplexed look reflected on her face. "Excuse me?" She tossed her towel aimlessly into the corner of the room and walked over to her best friend, only to lean against the post of the bed.

"You're off the hook," Harry continued, deciding he might as well just go with it now. Seeing the confusion intertwined on Hermione's face, he stood up to face her. "I'm not usually one to pour out my heart and soul or, as a matter of fact, a strong believer in that whole 'if you love someone, set them free' stuff. But here I am, doing both." Harry had to suppress a strong urge to bolt out of the room and never come back, but he clenched his fists and went on. "I love you Hermione. Always have, and always will. But apparently, time has never been on our side, and I don't think things will work with us always trying to fight time. I just want you to be happy; I want you to feel like the way I feel when I'm with you. So the best thing for me to do is to just let you go. The thought of being in love with you is enough for me." As he finished, he waited for laughter to follow, her acknowledgment that she thought he was ridiculous.

Yet no laughter followed. Tears shimmered in Hermione's eyes and she looked up at Harry and spoke. "You know, for the record," she said, stifling a sniffle, "I don't want to be let off the hook. All I've experienced has kept me moving, mostly running, away from my problems. You're the bravest person I know Harry, and I wish I had the courage to face my fears and all the obstacles that come my way. Running is the only way I know, and to tell you the truth, my running has always led me back here, to this time and place. I love you Harry, but I can't afford to be let off of anybody's hook, because then I might just get the notion that it's ok to keep running."

Harry gulped, trying to get rid of the lump that he found forming in his throat. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

Hermione wasn't even able to say two words, for there was a sudden knock at the door. Harry pursed his lips and formed a half-smile. "See?" he said. "We've never had good timing, 'Mione. I'm sorry."

With that, he turned and left the room to answer the door, leaving a sobbing Hermione curled in the fetal position at the foot of the bed.