Untouchable Face

For clarification, the songs are in verse form, italicized. The flashbacks in the middle, as well as random thoughts, are also italicized











Untouchable Face

*Chapter One*




I see you and I’m so perplexed
What was I thinking?
What will I think of next?
Where can I hide?

You look like a photograph of yourself
Taken from far, far away
I won't know what to do
And I won't know what to say, except

Fuck you and your untouchable face
Fuck you for existing in the first place
And who am I? that I should be vying for your touch
Who am I? I bet you can't even tell me that much...

     

     


      "Hush now," Harry murmured softly, pushing Hermione back to arm's length. He gave her a half smile, looking embarrassed. "Don't...please, don't cry, Hermione! What's wrong?"

      What the hell am I doing?

      She flung her hands to her face, jerking away from him. Ferociously slapping the tears away, she stepped back, trying desperately to wrench a smile onto her face.

      Let's try this again. "Harry!"

      "Hi." He looked almost amused now.

      "Oh, yes, well, oh Harry, I'm sorry! Look at me; I'm a mess. This is no way to welcome you!"

      "Hermione..." Harry shook his head "Are you feeling well?"

      "Fine. I'm just overly emotional right now. It's been so long..." -against her will she reached out to touch his arm- "...so long since I've been here, so long since I have seen you. I'm sorry; I was just a bit overwhelmed."

      He wasn't looking convinced. "I could get you a drink. Or should I fetch Madame Pomfrey? Really Hermione, you don't look well at all..."

      Hermione managed a real fake smile this time. "No, I think I just need a bit of air. I have been in this hall since the banquet began. Maybe I just breathed in too many magical fumes."

      Harry raised his eyebrow slightly. He didn't find her weak attempt at a joke amusing. She wasn't acting right. True, it had been years –My God, has it been three years? he wondered– since they had seen each other regularly, but surely no one could change so. No, he decided. She couldn't be feeling well. Perhaps he could persuade her to at least take –

      "No Harry, I don't want a sleeping draught. I am just fine!" Hermione gave him a Hermione look.

      Alright, let her be miserable, see if I care! "I don't know if I like this whole Auror thing," he muttered.

      "Well you might as well get used to it," Hermione said crossly. This is a bit much, she thought. First, he appears out of nowhere at Hogwarts (of all places!) in the middle of the night, on Christmas Eve, and completely disrupts my personal time. Then he implies that I need a damn potion to put me to sleep so he won't have to worry about me. And THEN, oh, then, he insults my profession.

      "Alright, alright." Harry half-smiled. "Are you sure you aren't feeling a bit under the weather?"

      Hermione laughed and wasn't sure why. "Of course I feel under the weather, Harry. Don't you?"

      Harry glanced up at the enchanted ceiling and then sighed. "You're an imp, did you know that?"

      "Watch yourself Potter."

      "Oh, sorry." Harry said, peevishly. "I almost forgot whom I was addressing, Professor."

      Hermione just looked at him for a moment. He looked so much older. So changed. So...conquered. I can't do this.
"You must be tired. Guest quarters are the open rooms right down from the South Tower. Get to bed."

      Harry looked at her enquiringly. "What about you?"

      "I'm going for a walk."

      "Hermione!" His voice was sharper than he had meant it to be. "It's bloody cold out! The snow was ankle deep when we arrived and that's been – "

      "Harry, shove off. My life is not yours to run anymore."

      He swallowed, holding his mouth tightly closed in an attempt to control his emotions. They were surging now, all tangled up together in a ridiculous mound of anger, and worry, and care, and a thousand other things that he didn't wish to think about just then.

      There was a small intake of breath behind them.

      No, not now! Harry screamed inside his head.

      Hermione turned. "Ginny!"

      The girl gave a tiny smile, looking uncertainly between the two. Finally she held out her hands in greeting. "Hermione! It's been so long..."

      Ginny didn't notice the hardened look of accusation Hermione threw at Harry before taking Ginny's hands. "Hello dear." Damn that fake smile, it was becoming a permanent fixture. "I didn't know that Harry had brought you!"

      Ginny's smile widened, her uncertainty vanishing momentarily. She brushed a strand of snow-dampened, auburn hair from her face. "I didn't want to stay in London alone, not right now." Her other hand moved smoothly from Hermione's grasp to lie protectively over her belly. "Things are too precarious."

      Ginny glanced at Harry, whose face softened under her gaze. Hermione felt the shock of realization run through her. How could she have forgotten? A touch of gold glinted on Harry's hand for a mere second as he moved to take Ginny's arm and pull her slightly away from Hermione.

      "Hermione and I were just talking about how cold it is out, Gin." Harry looked at Hermione evenly. "Come on, we should get you warm. So the guests are down by the South Tower, Professor?"

      "Yes. You remember the way." Hermione replied, wishing madly that she could slap that look off of his face. "Go on then. Don't want Ginny to catch cold."

      Ginny smiled weakly at Hermione, sensing but not understanding the tension in the air. "Goodnight."

      But Hermione had turned and was almost to the doors.

     



     

      "Hermione!" she heard him choke out. It was a haunted, desperate cry. She had flown past Madame Pomfrey before Dumbledore even had the chance to intercede for her.

      'He needs me. He needs me.' She fought her tears valiantly as she reached the bedside, Harry moaning her name softly.

      "Shhh," she quieted him, in a voice a thousand times calmer than her heart. His eyes were wild, searching, as he fumbled for her hand. "I'm here. Harry, look here. See? I'm here."

      His eyes closed in relief. " 'ermione..." "Hush."

      "I thought..."

      "Harry."

      He frowned at her, opening his eyes again. "You made me forget what I was going to say."

      "You didn't forget." Her tone was hopeful.

      He sank back into the pillows a little more. "No," he sighed. "I didn't, I don't..."

      As his voice trailed off, Hermione tensed. "Harry, I think you need to sleep now. I'll get Madame Pomfry to mix you a draught to help you..." "No!"

      "Harry, darling, please. You are so drained; you need to rest. I will stay here, I promise. We can talk about whatever it is later, when you're feeling better."

      "Hermione." Harry screwed his eyes open and fixed her with his gaze. "I need to – " he drew a breath "I need to talk to you now. It's important. Please?"

His breath was getting short. He was worrying her. But if it calmed him down, then perhaps a moment wouldn't hurt. "Only if you promise not to get worked up."

      He proffered a weak smile and a whispered, "I promise."

      "Well in that case." Hermione looked at him playfully and bent closer.

      "Hmm..." Harry drew her head down to his gently, and kissed her with as much ardour as he could muster. He let his fingers trailing softly down her cheek, shivering as her hair fell around his face and blocked the rest of the word from view, if only for a moment.

      Harry whimpered in protest as Hermione sighed against him and drew away, a slight look of regret on her face. She giggled and he frowned at her. "What?"

      She tickled his nose. "You're a silly boy; like an indignant child when you disapprove of me."

      "I don't disapprove of you," he murmured, trying to pull her down to him again.

      "Oh, no you don't Harry James." Hermione put her finger to his lips and tried to frown. “Stop that right now. You are going to over-exert yourself and not be able to get up any time soon, and then Madame Pomprey will murder me.”

      Harry sighed and settled himself against the pillow. “Then just tell me,” he said quietly, all of the playfulness gone from his voice.

      The serious expression she wore matched his own. “Tell you what?”

      “Hermione, you know what.” His eyes glinting softly in the firelight, he looked more like a child than the man he was quickly becoming. “I need to know what happened. How it happened. What it is that – that broke.” He paused to swallow and take a deep breath before continuing. “I know it’s over – I can see it in your face. So I know that Neville finally won his vengeance - ”

      “Why, Harry?” she interrupted. “You knew the odds. Why Neville?”

      “You know why.” He leaned forward the smallest bit, rising to her challenge. His voice dropped to a whisper, and for some inexplicable reason, she was frightened. “You know why it had to be him.”

      She shook her head. “I don’t understand. You have lost just as much as he has. I don’t see why you risked so much – I’ve never seen anything so horrible – do you know how you frightened us? I – ”

      Harry put his finger to her lips. “I know. I know. And I’m sorry.” He offered a tiny smile. “I never meant to frighten you so. But it’s over. It’s all over. Shouldn’t we be happy, celebrating?”

      Hermione looked at him doubtfully. “Yes, I suppose we should. But we aren’t.”

      “No,” Harry replied, looking thoughtful, “we aren’t, are we?”

      “Miss Granger!” Madam Pomfrey appeared, drawing back the curtains that surrounded the bed.

      Hermione planted a quick kiss on the end of Harry’s nose. “I’ll be back.” She promised in a whisper, and then fled.

      “Out!” she head Madame Pomfrey shout in her direction. “Out!”

     



     

      It was cold. Cold like that night had been cold; the wind cut through your clothes, and the calm chilled your very core. Hermione bent her head against the wind, her face laced with icy tears and the snow that still stubbornly fell.













Two days later, and hundreds of miles away, Ron leaned on his right arm heavily, his check resting in his hand. He smiled, flicking the parchment he held in his left hand. “Ah, Hermione…” he shook his head.


Dear Ron, (he read)

This is insufferable. How this ever happened is beyond my comprehension,
really. Harry is here, at Hogwarts. He came a week early for the New Year
Gala that Dumbledore arranged for the alumni, bringing Ginny, of course.
I do love Ginny; you know that Ron. But this – this is all so dreadfully
complicated.


“Of course it is, you overblown twit,” Ron murmured. “She’s married to the man you still love.”


I don’t know how to explain what I am feeling. I know that I have no right
to be jealous, and by all means, I’m not jealous in that way, oh no!


“Harrumph.”


It’s just that – oh, Ron, how I do miss the old days, when it was just
the three of us. You and Harry getting into frightful fixes with your
homework and I forever scolding you –bollocks, I was a drat, wasn’t I –


“Not the half of it…”


We had such a grand time though. I think we were a family, in some way.
We grew up together Ron, and no matter how terrible it was at times, with
Judgment Day seemingly always around the corner...we always came out
on top. I don’t believe it would have worked without all three of us. Harry
was the force, the power. I was the intellect. And you – Ron, you were
the heart. How I miss those days. Seeing Harry again, with Ginny as his
partner now, not us, well, it’s very hard, Ron.

I miss Harry. I miss you. I miss us.






Ron sighed, folding the letter back into a neat rectangle. He rested his head in both of his hands now, his eyes closed tightly against the tears that threatened.


“Damn it all, Hermione. I know.”