Feelings Like Red Wine

Feelings Like Red Wine

Dear Diary,

I write today because I feel the need to explain an unfortunate incident that occured a few hours ago. The fight had been cruel, and things were said that were unfair and not anywhere near the truth. But in the end, our pride got the best of us and we turned away from eachother. The door slammed and I knew he was gone. God I hope it's not for good.

I look back and can't help but bawl at the endless things Harry said...he said that he couldn't love someone who didn't love him back and then he called me names in which I don't wish to repeat. It was because of my job, my teaching job at Hogwarts as the Arithmacy teacher, that caused the fight in it's entire. It's not that he was jealous of my job, more that he was jealous of who was working with me. Because you see, Diary, his, and I dare say my own, best friend Ron Weasley began his own career at Hogwarts as flying instructer and Quidditch referee only 2 months ago. It was this that spurred a jealous assumption about dear Ron and I involving an affair which didn't exist.

Oh, how I wish I hadn't said those words now...those stupid stupid words that led to an angry shout out and then the final closing of the door. I told Harry that Ron and I were only friends, and that it had always and would always be that way...but when he didn't believe me I snapped at him. 'Even if I was involved in some strange infactuation with Ron, at least I would be happier than I am with you!'

Those few words, simple as they were, broke my heart as well as his. His retorted reply was far more worse. 'Fine then, since I don't make you happy then I guess I'll leave you to Ron! You can forget everything, Hermione, you can forget the train, you can forget the marriage, hell, you can forget the goddamn love that I gave to you!'

The train...the train was the best memory of my life. And he wanted me to forget it. I don't feel I have ever written about the train...being that I started this diary as a kind of day by day friend the day Harry and I wed. No, I mustn't have...so I will now.

It was a cool autumn day, the sun ripe in the sky and the leaves vibrant colors of orange, red, and purple. Calm winds shook the trees and blew all cares along with it.

I was getting ready to board the train to Hogwarts, having kissed Harry goodbye that morning at our small apartment in London. Having seated myself in a lone compartment near the back of the train, I heard a shout coming from the platform.

I turned towards the window and saw Harry standing outside the train just as it was beginning to pull away from the station. I remember smiling and tugging open the window, a wild jolt in my stomach. Who knew Harry could be so implusive.

He ran with the train, jogging along side it. 'Marry me!' he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth for the little added volume it produced.

Oh, how I remember the thrill of it. My heart felt like it had exploded and I couldn't get my voice to speak...so I mouthed the one word to him... 'Yes', just as the train rolled out of his reach. I looked back out of the window and saw him there, utter glory on his face as though he had just won the Quidditch World Cup for his team...he was getting married...and so was I.

Sadly, that day is nothing but a memory now...yet it ceases to fade from my mind. I sit here now, uncomfortable on the couch, with you spread across my pretzeled legs. How I wish I could relive that memory, relive that one moment of sheer happiness that exuded so many good things...until today.

I guess that is all I can say...though I feel no less depressed then I did when I began writing in your clean white pages. I guess something things you just can't pour out into a diary as well as others.

~ º Hermione º ~

Hermione layed her diary down on the coffee table, sighing heavily to herself. Her diary had never failed her, until today. It was something she wasn't quite used to, but then again neither was fighting with Harry.

The had been married for almost 3 years now, and fights had always seemed to solve themselves. This fight, however, was different. Arguments had never involved another person before, much less an affair.

But wild assumptions can lead to heartache, and that heartache can lead to anger. Anger however, can be suppressed, if the suppression involved the right amount of love and devotion. Hermione hadn't provided that, instead she had fought back.

Pride is often said to ruin relationships, and in some cases a misuse of ones pride can lead to jealousy and confusion, even divorce. But she wouldn't let that happen...she couldn't let that happen. Though maybe she had already.

Hermione stood up slowly and walked towards the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a large bottle of Merlot. Red wine was usually the source of romance...but in some cases could be a good remedy for depression.

Grabbing two wine glasses from the rack, she stopped herself. Why had she grabbed two? She was so used to grabbing two...one for Harry and one for herself. But Harry wasn't here now, he wasn't here to celebrate their love for eachother. No, he was probably off somewhere, wishing that he hadn't wasted his life on someone so stupid.

Hermione felt that she couldn't cry, for the pain she felt inside her was far beyond the kind of pain that causes one to cry. Instead she set the extra wineglass back up on the rack and took the single glass down towards the couch, the bottle of wine in her hand.

Sitting down on the couch she held the single wineglass up to the dim lamplight. It sparkled clear and like crystal, and yet there was a tiny smudge on it's side. Had she been her usual perfectionist self, she would have made an excruciating attempt to rid the glass of all smudges before ever placing wine in it, but since she was not she let it go unnoticed.

She took out the cork with a loud pop and gently began pouring the blood red liquid into the smudged crystal glass. Halfway full, she set the wine bottle onto the coffee table and began conscientiously sipping the deep red liquid. She felt it course through her system, and felt the pain in her chest subside but a little.

The wine helped, but only just so. She began thinking to herself, her wine glass emptying as the minutes passed. What if Harry never comes back? What if he really has left me for good?

She couldn't help but remind herself of the train station, back on that autumn day. The wind rustling his black hair and the light bouncing off his emerald eyes. Nothing, nothing, compared to that moment in time as the train had pulled away from the station.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione downed the glass and stood up, her chest feeling heavy and her mind clouded with disbelief and dismay. He is really gone this time, and it is all my fault, she thought almost intuitively.

Without even turning off the light or placing the wine bottle back in the kitchen, Hermione headed towards their bedroom; the bedroom she and Harry had slept in, made love in, cried in, for those few years of their marriage. It was over now though, because nothing could bring him back.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she stood in the doorway, just staring at the bed. That bed had been the communal of their marriage, the very definition the word monogamy held on to. That bed, had been where they had poured out their feelings, poured out their souls to each other, all in the heat of passion and desire.

Was that desire gone? She thought painfully. Perhaps he did not long for her anymore, and perhaps that had led to the angry words he had said. Or maybe she didn't long for him any longer...but how could that be true? Here she was, standing in the doorway, reminiscing around the bed that he slept in.

No, she still longed for him, and her heart still ached for him. Only her pride had taken over her before, it had blocked out everything else...and how she wished she could just return herself to that moment, that moment where she could have fixed everything, where she could have saved their marriage...she could have apologized.

Hermione walked over towards the almost sacred bed and climbed into it, curling herself under the covers. It was then that she felt herself begin to cry.

* * *

Taking his key out of his pocket, Harry shoved it into the keyhole and turned the doorknob. His thoughts were varied, but his mind was set on one steadying thought: Hermione didn't love him anymore.

Everything that he had given her, every last bit of his heart that he had shared with her, was for nothing. Of course maybe he had been unfair, he thought skeptically, but it was nothing that she hadn't started first.

Pushing open the door, he stepped cautiously inside. He had expected to see her sitting on the couch, ready to yell at him some more. But instead he found the lamp turned on, casting dim light into the living room and saw a half full bottle of Merlot sitting on the coffee table next to a single wine glass.

Funny, he thought, Merlot was the kind of wine they usually drank together.

He stepped into the kitchen and opened the cabinent door above the sink, taking out a crystal drinking glass. Filling it with water from the tap, he downed it and set the glass on the counter.

A window sat above the sink, it's curtains open to the empty dark yard. He stared at his reflection for a moment, wondering why his face looked so devoid of emotion.

His eyes were red and dry, he had been crying during his time away from home. Though it wasn't a weeping kind of cry, it was more that the tears just seemed to fall from his eyes. His hair was touseled, the wind was sweeping through London that night, which had caused his hair to look even more scruffy then usual.

Taking his eyes off his reflection, Harry turned on the tap and splashed cool water over his face, letting his head hang over the sink for a moment, water dripping repetitively into the sink.

Grabbing a towel off the counter, he dried his face and turned quickly to walk out of the kitchen and head to the bedroom. He knew Hermione was there, where else could she be?

She was most likely relishing in the fact that he wouldn't be sharing that bed with her anymore...that he would most certainly be leaving. And yet, just the thought of ever leaving this home caused his heart to bleed.

It was as if his soul cried out for her, while his pride and temper stood in it's way. Grasping ahold of him, his pride had driven her away. And yet, was he not the one who had left? Of course he had done it purely for her...she couldn't of wanted him there any longer...plus he couldn't take it anymore.

He couldn't take the words that were being said. The harshness of it all. The anger, the cruelty, the sheer unjustness that broke his mind into pieces.

He stopped at the doorway to the bedroom, their bedroom, and paused with his hand on the knob. What if she doesn't want me to come in? he thought sadly, closing his eyes and trying to forget the notion. Pushing open the door softly, he stepped inside and shut it behind him. The pale moonlight shone into the room, casting light blue beams of light onto the bed where Hermione lay silent and asleep.

He walked over towards her, seeing her face in the dim light of the moon. She looked so beautiful, her hair touseled slightly, her face pure and smooth. He didn't even have time to think, he couldn't think with such perfection lying in front of him.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek lightly, feeling as if everything were alright and as if nothing had happened. No fight, no nasty words, no shutting of the door on their relationship.

Hermione stirred slightly, and opened her eyes. Her eyes met his, and they held a silent gaze for a moment or too.

When she had seen him there, right above her, her heart had jumped. She had almost been scared, but who could have been scared from looking into the love in his emerald eyes.

He hasn't left forever...he's come back...she thought, feeling her throat well with sobs. She had been so scared, so scared that she would never see her husband again, the one man who brought joy and comfort into her life...and now he was standing there, inches from her face, his eyes peering down into hers...

A single tear escaped her eye as she blinked. It trickled down her cheek until it met Harry's comforting fingers. He wiped it away and lifted up the covers that concealed her curled up body, climbing under them himself.

Wrapping her up in his arms, he kissed her neck softly and then found her soft lips, making them his eternal home with a lasting kiss.

Her body trembled as relief washed over her. He was back...and he loved her. That was all that mattered. He didn't care about what had been said, he didn't care that pride had taken over...he didn't care that neither of them could of been the bigger person and apologized. All he cared about was loving her, and letting her know it.

Harry pulled away slowly, staring into her eyes once more. She is so goddamn beautiful, he thought, his mind swimming with nothing but that single thought.

Hermione's brows furrowed slightly as if something were bothering her, a sure sign that there was something she wanted to say.

"What is it?" Harry said softly, his hand tracing her jaw line. Hermione gazed into his eyes, and her mouth opened slightly and then shut again.

"I...well...I was just wondering..." she began, looking down at his hand now as it rested in hers. She looked back up into his eyes. "Where did you go when you left tonight?"

A smile formed on Harry's face, and he kissed Hermione's nose gently. "I went to the train station, where I first proposed to you."

Hermione let out a soft cry and felt tears fall from her eyes and down her cheeks. Harry started, unsure as to why she was crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked, lifting her chin so she would look at him, her cheeks stained with tears.

"It's just that...I was thinking about that day at the train station...when you proposed...the whole night while you were gone...I was so sure that that would be the last great memory I would have to hold on to of you before you...left for good."

It was Harry's turn to feel tears in his eyes...steaming water that penetrated his lids and begged to fall. "Honey..." he said reassuringly. "I was afraid that you were the one who wanted to end us...because I know I would never, ever, want to leave you. And I would never and will never do so."

Hermione felt her heart fill with emotion at the honesty in his eyes and his smile, something she had always loved about him. He always looked true to his word.

"I love you..." she said quietly, resting her head up against his chest. She didn't see his smile, but it was there and accompanied by a few tears.

"I love you too." he said, embracing her tightly and closing his eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair.

They were together again, as if nothing had changed. It was almost as if the argument had brought them closer together as a couple, and as lovers. The desire, the love, the feeling, the emotion were all back, and nothing could ever ever take it away...not even a bottle of Merlot red wine.

~º THE END º~