Optimistic

~~*~~

The night was the darkest blue and the sky was velvet, streaked with silver, wispy clouds veiling the stars and only letting a few twinkle out at the world. The clouds glowed fiercely against the ghostly moon, and one lonely figure sat on a stone, watching it silently.

He was clad in black from head to toe, except for the buckle of his long flowing cloak. It was the richest gold, with rubies inlaid that looked like drops of blood. Calm eyes looked up at the sky from thin wire-rimmed round glasses, their startling green hue cool in the moonlight. His long legs were folded in front of him as he stared at the sky, sitting very still, his long hands clasped in front of him, a long slim wand tangled in the fingers. His hair was black like his attire, and it ruffled to and fro in the light but biting Highland breeze.

He had been sitting out there for some time, revelling in the time alone, away from the chaos in the castle, but at the same time feeling intolerably lonely.

It wasn't the idle loneliness of someone who wanted a romantic entanglement, nor was it the loneliness of someone who wanted different sort of friends. These were normal, expected forms of loneliness that hundreds upon thousands - if not millions - of people suffered from day to day.

His loneliness was one that sunk deep within the soul, the loneliness of one faced with extraordinary circumstances. The kind one would expect to have when what felt like the entire world turned to you for strength, for protection, for salvation.

Nobody really quite understood, and from what he could tell, nobody wanted to. He didn't blame them. If he had that luxury, he wouldn't want to understand it either. They had someone else to believe in, someone to turn to and know that all would be well as long as this person was there to look after it. He hated being that very person that they turned to.

He didn't have anyone like that. All those that had once cared for him and protected him had no way of helping him. Their foe was more powerful than they were, and the only person powerful enough to stop this dark enemy was him - Harry Potter. For some strange unimaginable reason, when he was born he was branded, not by the evil he had to face, but by some unseen hand. He was given a power stronger and more binding than any seen before, and for a time it frightened him. He clung to those around him, hoping and wishing it was a mistake. When the strongest of those against Voldemort began to fall away, he slowly realised with a dull, dead horror that it would come down to him. Albus Dumbledore would not repel his foe again. No mythical creature would step in to scare a dark wraith away, and his simple touch would not crumble the abomination of its terrible existence from this world.

Whether he liked it or not, he was on his own, and with a fatalistic air, he had come to accept it. He would walk head on into the quagmire of hate and revenge, of the darkest magic and the bravest hearts, and battle to keep on his feet, and protect the ones he loved.

It was with much annoyance, therefore, that the little bushy-haired witch he knew as his best friend kept popping up next to him in these most trying of times.

"There you are!" she sighed, stomping over to him through the long grass that edged the lawns that ran to the Forbidden Forest. "I've been looking for you everywhere. It is a pretty night, isn't it?"

Harry rubbed his eyelids, leaning in his hand and sighed back at her.

"Hermione... what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," she said, sitting down next to him and hugging her heavy cloak around herself. "The Head Boy and Girl would have a fit if they knew you were out here! Lucky the Head Girl found you first!" she smiled.

Harry did not smile back.

She whimpered, grabbing his arm and rubbing it.

"Oh Harry! Don't look like that, you scare me when you do."

"Why's that?"

She frowned. "I know you're afraid, Harry. Everyone is. But I know that we've been working so hard preparing for this, and you can take it, you can fight."

He felt himself flinch at the word 'afraid'. He didn't have the luxury of being scared. He wrung his wand in his hands.

"Everyone's so bloody sure about that. This is me here you know, Muggle-raised Potter. It terrifies me that you all have such faith in me."

He felt a slight flush of relief airing such doubts to Hermione. She frowned, her full brows knitting.

"People have faith in you because you're powerful and good, Harry. Not because of the scar."

She had such a talent of cutting to the quick, this girl.

"What if I'm not powerful enough? How can one person survive against someone so terrible and full of hate?" His voice hitched at that last word. It was this dark and unforgiving cruelty of Voldemort and his followers that scared him the most.

Hands wrapped around him.

"You won't be alone, Harry."

She didn't have to say anything else; he knew what she was saying to him. He shook his head thoroughly.

"No, no and no. Absolutely not. We've been through this before."

"It's not up to you," she said, looking down her nose at her feet stretched out in front of her, shaking her head and looking very stubborn.

"Hermione-"

"You can say to me, 'You're staying behind and that's it'," she said, her arm around him. "I'll just come anyway. And if there's anyone around that can come toe-to-toe with you magically, it's me and you know it."

With a growl he faced her, taking her jaw in his hands and turning her head so their eyes met. He needed her to know he meant business, no dilly-dallying, no playing around. With his face an inch away he glared at her, turning the full brunt of his green eyes against her brown ones.

"This isn't a game, Hermione. This isn't crawling around a room we shouldn't be poking around in, looking for the Philosopher's Stone, or gallivanting around on the back of a Hippogriff."

"I wasn't aware you'd taken that situation so lightly-"

"This is serious!" he exclaimed, interrupting her. "I've nearly lost you before, I don't want to chance that again!"

Hermione swallowed, searching his eyes, and he felt her hands tighten around his. There was a fierce determination in her eyes and it frustrated and frightened him no end.

"I'm not letting you face this alone. I won't do it."

Harry gave a sad, empty laugh, turning away and rubbing his face and cradling his head in his shaking hands.

"Bugger Voldemort. You'll kill me. I'll worry myself to an early coronary."

"Harry!"

"If you know what it did to me, Hermione, the thought of you dying..." He gave her a serious glare, his eyes rimmed with red. "I don't think I could take it. No - I know I couldn't." He closed his eyes, taking clumps of his shaggy black hair in tight fists. "It wouldn't be so bad if I could figure out what this great secret weapon I was supposed to have is, you know? We've been bashing our heads for two years trying to figure out what the hell it is. I'm strong, I'm powerful, but no more than Professor Dumbledore! Not right now anyway." He shot out a sigh. "It's - it's enough to send you mad."

He felt Hermione wrap her arms about him again.

"You do the best you can, Harry. It'll be enough."

He shook his head. "What if it isn't?"

"Then I'll do what I can, and so will those around you."

"Yes but what if I'm on my own?" he asked. "What if something happens to you or you're captured or - then-"

Fingers stilled his mouth. He glanced at Hermione, and her brown eyes were blazing with conviction.

"I'll be there, Harry," she said, voice husky and soft, just a breath. "No matter what. Everything that I am, my every breath and every thought will be with you. It always has been and it always will." She gave a distant, lost little smile as she tilted her head. "I don't know. Magic is a strange thing. Sometimes it's not just wands and potions. I believe - no, I know - that it's something more than even most wizards understand. I think maybe Dumbledore understands but..." She drifted off, looking thoughtful. "I know it saved you before, Harry. Maybe it'll save you again. I also know if you're strong enough to be good and strong enough to care about people despite all the horrid things you've been through, then you're strong enough to beat Voldemort, because all he has are these dark things to aide him." She shook her head. "If these things haven't killed you yet, I don't think they ever will."

Frustration welled up in Harry. People often brought up his mother, Dumbledore in particular. He gave a hot huff.

"Hermione, you know that the magic from my Mum isn't as potent as it was then. Ever since Voldemort took on my blood, it's damn near useless!"

"Harry. You have more than your mother's love on your side."

He frowned a little, puzzled by such a comment. He looked to her for explanation, lips pursed and ready to ask, "What's that supposed to mean?", but it seemed another set of lips took advantage of this and pressed against his own.

A ripple of shock raced through him, followed quickly by a sweeping tingling feeling. His brain staggered, trying to understand all that was happening. After a moment of losing himself in the sensation of her lips on his own, he pulled away, surprised at the roughness of his own voice.

"Hermione-"

"Don't say it, Harry," she said. "Don't. I know you probably don't want that, but I feel it anyway." There was a despondent laugh in the darkness. "I feel it so deeply sometimes I think I'm going mad. If it can do some good, then I'm relieved." Her hand was on his arm. "I know he's going to strike soon, Harry. I wanted you to know, before you faced him. Before anything happened."

His heart dropped a clear foot in his chest as he realised that this was no idle chit-chat, no midnight pep talk before bed. She'd come here for a reason, with deliberation and intent. She'd chosen this moment to tell him, to give him the gift of her protection. He felt his chest grow full with a hot rush, and his eyes stung. He sank his head in his hands, searching for something - anything - to say to all of this. What could he say? Thanks for that emotional sacrifice but I'm kind of confused and lost right now? How bloody ungrateful and cruel would that be? He didn't know it, but he was shaking.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry..."

"Why are you sorry?"

She laughed stiffly. "Why do you think? I've made an utter fool of myself."

Harry looked bemused. "How?"

"Are you deliberately being this obtuse?" she sighed.

He ignored that comment. He still had no idea what to say. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he felt angry. He grit his teeth, taking hot sharp breaths.

"You're going to die, you know," he said, staring off into the darkness of the forest, his eyes burning. "You're going to die, and it'll be my own bloody fault."

"Harry..."

"What can I say to you, Hermione? What can I say so that it's clear to you?" He shook his head. "You've done something that's marked you. By doing what you've done you've... set yourself up for your own end. You've gone and accepted the fact that you'll probably die and I don't want that! I need you to believe that you won't!"

She was quiet, and he continued.

"I can't even think about losing you, you know. I do everything I can to NOT think about it. I run around and I convince myself that I'm frightened for everyone, and I am, but bloody hell it's nothing compared to what the thought of you -" He skipped the word. "Of what that does to me." He gave a helpless whimper. "And then you go and do *that*," He waved at her face. "You may as well say goodbye. Thanks for everything. I'll be seeing you on the other bloody side!"

"Harry, please don't yell at me."

The anger that had built up into a good rage suddenly swept from his chest. He looked to Hermione and shame crashed in around him. Tears had welled in her eyes and were spilt on her cheeks. All he could think was 'Fuck'. He hadn't wanted to hurt her but he did it anyway.

"I'm sorry..." he muttered, rubbing his eyelids wearily.

"No, it's all right. It was silly of me to try this," she said. "I would never have told you about this if I had a choice in the matter, really. I thought it might help but I think it'll probably end up killing you."

She sniffled, and sitting there in the deep silvery blue of the moonlight, she looked a tragic figure.

"It won't kill me," he said. "It'll probably save me like you wanted."

She looked up at him, wiping tears from her cheeks. She seemed endlessly tired.

"Well. That was the general idea."

They sat in silence for what felt like a very long time. An impasse was upon them and he felt utterly stuck. Guilt seeped in at him, however, and as he realised this, words came to him and there was a way forward again.

"I've been a complete prick," he said finally, laying his head in his hand.

Hermione was pointedly silent.

"You offered yourself... to me. I can't even wrap my mind around it, I can't. I don't feel worthy." He glared at the grass beneath him darkly. "I shouldn't punish you for that."

He felt her hands on his shoulder, and she slowly, tentatively, wrapped her arms about his. His eyes fell closed, and he felt his heart melt slowly.

"I know things are confusing right now," she said. "And probably uncomfortable, considering what I've said to you tonight. I just want you to know... I don't expect anything from you. I'm the same Hermione, I'll behave like the same Hermione, so don't let it upset you."

Harry gave a hollow laugh. "Hermione, you should know better. This isn't me upset. This is me panicking in the face of unavoidable change."

"Well, I suppose change hasn't been to kind to you."

"It was for a while," he said.

"I know. This doesn't have to be a change. It's just a promise, Harry." She fanned her hands out, looking like her utterly logical self in the pale blue light. "A promise and you don't have to do anything about it."

He had to admire her. She'd just admitted something incredibly personal and revealing, and she was tucking it away like an offered free pizza ticket that he could redeem at his own convenience. It struck him as incredibly wrong, and he took her hand.

"I think there's something you must realise," he said.

"What's that?"

He gave a self-deprecating wince. "You're talking to the stupidest bastard this side of... well anywhere. Just anywhere."

She sighed. "Harry, don't say that."

Rubbing his eyelids again, he sighed heavily.

"I wish I could turn to you and say that I felt the same, I really do. God, I couldn't - I couldn't say what I feel, and I don't want to lie to you."

He saw her nodding in the dim light, and there was the tiniest sound of a sniffle. He leant to her, squeezing the hand that was holding his.

"I treasure it, Hermione. I treasure your promise. It's the most precious thing anyone's ever given me. And I can promise I'll stand by you and protect you... I can promise that. I don't know what else I can promise though... I really don't." He frowned, and at the shuddering breath from Hermione's throat, he felt his own become broken and sore. "Maybe... maybe after everything's..." Wincing, he glanced to her.

She nodded quickly, jumping to her feet, shaking a little.

"Exactly, right."

"Are you-"

"I'm fine!" she said, smiling a little too brightly.

He got to his feet after her, gulping. "You're not."

She growled, and squeezing his shoulders roughly she made a strange hiccoughing noise.

"I am. I needed to hear this, I did. I mean, what the hell was I thinking?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm glad you did."

Hermione gasped, and they were quiet. They stood in the darkness, and high above the winds stroked the wispy silver clouds aside, letting bright stars twinkle unencumbered. The air was thick, thick with something, and Harry wasn't entirely sure what it was. He had the feeling that he liked that.

"What do you want, Harry?" she sighed. "What?"

He licked his lips, feeling his heart race uncertainly. "Time. Can we have that? Some time?"

She folded her arms. "It depends."

"On?"

"Whether you think you're good enough to get through this."

He thought that she definitely gave him some incentive. He picked his wand up from the floor and slipped it away.

"I guess we'll find that out."

Jumping forward, Hermione hugged him awkwardly, squeezing briefly. She was quick to part with him again, and her eyes twinkled in the moonlight.

"Night, Harry."

He smiled, and leaning forward, he pressed a tender kiss to her cheek.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

He squeezed her shoulder, and her cheek brushed his for a moment. With a gulp Hermione stepped back. She waved at him shortly and turned, trudging off into the night, back towards the castle. A little way up the hill, she called over her shoulder.

"Get some rest! Nobody ever saved the world with sleep deprivation!"

A quiet laugh fell from him unbidden, and he let himself watch her until she'd disappeared into the gates of the castle.

Pulling his cloak around him he cast his gaze about him. The sky was no longer hung with thin wisps of wraith-like clouds. It was clear, and high near its zenith hung the bright pearly orb of the moon, gleaming brightly, blue and white stars winking happily about it. The dark silhouettes of the trees reached up into the sky, and although he had looked upon the trees of the Forbidden Forest with fear in the past, right now they seemed protective and strong. They reached up high and curled over the earth beneath them, hiding their treasures and terrible secrets within. He couldn't count the times he'd broken the rules at Hogwarts, which wasn't just the castle, but an entire world that included the surrounding grounds and vast beautiful lake. Always at his side were his best friends. Always there to protect him was Hermione, and he had a feeling it would never change.

Looking back to his dilemma, he couldn't gather the depth of hopelessness and despair he had felt before. He searched within himself, and he found where it was. It was a curious feeling that he discovered. It was akin to the strange warm pulsing that followed the climax of the worst pain that told the body that whatever had hurt was now healing. It was a mingled feeling of relief and discomfort, and a promise of feeling better. For some reason unknown to him, the fear and loneliness he'd felt before had diminished.

Yes... he wasn't alone anymore. He'd known he wasn't alone logically, but now he really felt it. It was no mystery to him why that was.

He wasn't certain what to do about the confusion that had taken hold of him, however, or the growing twisting sensation that was like mere fascination, but had the insidious deeper roots of something far more permanent and consuming. Perhaps the time he asked for would help him with that.

The beautiful scene around him held no more answers for him, and with a deep sigh he turned away from it, striding up the hill, following the well-worn path he'd walked with his friends countless times. He slipped inside the castle gates and stole back to Gryffindor Tower. He put to bed thoughts of his challenges ahead, and now could only think of how imperative it was that he didn't die, that he survived, and not just because of everyone else in the world.

He had no doubt Hermione would be scolding herself for admitting what she did to him that night, but for reasons he didn't understand, it was the one thing out of all that made him feel just a bit optimistic.

~~*~~