Sleepless Nights

Sleepless Nights

"Do what you will, always
Walk where you like, your steps
Do as you please, I'll back you up"

-Dave Matthews, "I'll Back You Up"

Harry was livid, for the fourth time this week Seamus and Dean were arguing loudly and keeping him awake in the middle of the night. Last night he was treated to a heated battle on which Hogsmeade shop was the most fun to visit. Tonight he was getting the classis fifth-year boys sports debate.

"But Quidditch is so much more dangerous because you fly and get iron balls whacked at you. In football, all you do is run around kicking a stupid little ball. How can that possibly be any fun?" Seamus asked continuing his and Dean's longstanding argument.

"Quidditch barely takes any athletic skill whatsoever though, in football you need to run for ninety minutes. It's bloody hard!" exclaimed Dean, fed up with hearing about how great Quidditch is.

"Hey, I resent that," said Harry rolling over in his bed to turn to his two arguing roommates, who were yet again keeping him from sleep. He looked over to see Ron completely oblivious of the heated conversation that had been roaring through the fifth-year Gryffindor boy's dorm for the past hour and a half. Harry couldn't understand how Ron could sleep through this nonsense every night.

"It's two o'clock in the morning aren't you two ever going to shut the bloody hell up?" pleaded Harry.

"Not until he admits that football is about as much fun as a potions class with Snape," remarked Seamus.

"Oh yeah, that was a good one. How about this, why don't you take your broomstick and shove it up your ass," retorted Dean.

"Alright, that's enough. For the FOURTH TIME this week, I'm going to sleep on the couch in the common room because you two can't stop this nonsense! Good night!" Harry yelled as he slammed the door behind him. Those two were just as bad as the first years, probably a good deal worse. Besides, the argument was pointless, Quidditch was by far the better sport in Harry's opinion, but he would never allow himself to be dragged into their sports battles.

Harry trudged barefoot down the stairs with his pillow and blanket, not caring how much noise he made, or who he woke up. He was feeling particularly irritated because he was had been deprived of sleep all week and was getting very tired of the couch in the common room. It was somewhat comfortable, but it didn't provide the same comfort of his bed.

Harry got to the foot of the stairs, crossed the room, and hurled his pillow at the couch, getting ready to settle in for what he could only hope, would be a decent night's sleep. He flopped onto the couch and rolled around for a few minutes until he got as comfortable as possible and began to relax. He wished he had been paying more attention to Professor Flitwick when he had taught them cushioning charms; he would have loved to use one right then.

"Ah well," he said aloud to himself. He felt his body begin to unwind as he started to drift out of consciousness when he heard a door shut from what he thought was the girl's staircase.

Harry could hear the sound of soft footsteps descending the stairs towards the common room. 'If whoever this is prevents me from getting a good night's sleep, they are going to need hundreds of hex marks removed tomorrow morning,' he thought to himself. He shut his eyes not caring about whoever the new arrival was, until he heard a creak in the bottom step of the girl's staircase.

His curiosity got the best of him as he lazily looked up towards the girl's staircase, but he didn't see anyone there. He assumed that the mystery noisemaker must have gone back to bed. No sooner had he begun to fall back to sleep when he heard a soft sobbing coming from the windows by the other end of the common room. 'Oh man, you must be joking," thought Harry.

He sat up and looked towards the obviously distressed form sitting by the window. He could vaguely make out a hunched over figure sitting on the couch in what looked like pajamas. Harry reached down for his glasses and returned them to his face. His eyes traveled back over to the window and he realized who it was. The crying girl was Hermione.

Harry tossed off his blanket and walked quietly over towards the window Hermione was sitting near. He stopped for a second and gazed at her slumped over form sitting on the couch. Hermione was huddled on the chair in her pajamas, with her arms around her knees pulled up to her chest. In one of her hands, he could see a piece of parchment that he assumed must be the reason that she was crying.

Harry walked up to the couch and began to speak to her in a low voice so he did not startle her.

"Hermione...are you okay?" was all that he could manage. 'Wow Potter, that was impressive you fool. Obviously she's not okay you prat,' he thought to himself.

As Harry uttered her name, she jumped obviously startled by Harry's presence, which she had been too preoccupied to notice. "Oh...Harry...I uh...I didn't realize that you were down here," she said as she tried to wipe the tears from her face in a vain effort.

Harry brought his eyes to hers, which were bloodshot with heavy amounts of crying.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked with a mixed expression of uncertainty and sympathy locked on his face.

Hermione stared right back at his comforting gaze, locked with his eyes for a moment until she sniffed a few times and burst into tears again.

Harry sat down next to Hermione on the couch that she was seated in, and put his arms around her as she buried her face into Harry's shoulder. He had seen her upset before, he had even seen her cry before, but he had never seen her lose control like this.

Harry brought his hand down to her back and began to rub it gently hoping to settle her down a bit so he could fine out what was bothering her.

"It'll be okay Hermione," was all he could manage.

He was shocked and wondered what could be bothering her so much. Despite his attempts to calm her down, she was still crying uncontrollably into his shoulder.

Various thoughts ran through this young wizard's head as he tried to calm one of his best friend's down. He had just seen her a few hours ago and she was perfectly fine. He couldn't begin to imagine what could have upset her to this extreme degree.

It was at this moment that Harry's eyes came to rest on the discarded letter that she dropped on the couch when she started raining tears down on his shoulder. Harry was sure that the letter would offer him the details that he wouldn't be able to get from her very easily. He reached down, picked it up, and read it over her shoulder.

Dear Hermione,

I know that this will not be easy to tell you, but I am sure you will understand. A few weeks ago, a transfer student started at Durmstrang. I was assigned to accompany her around the school to help her get a feel for her new surroundings. She was very shy at first, but we quickly got to know each other really well and fell for each other within days. She is the most beautiful, caring and loving pureblood witch that I have ever met. I am sorry to say it to you like this, but I can't see you any more. I feel for her so much more than I ever felt for you.

-Viktor

By the time he reached the end of the letter, Harry was torn between feeling terribly sorry for Hermione and an incredible sense of hatred towards her former boyfriend, Viktor Krum. Ever since they started dating, Harry had hoped that nothing like this would happen. One of his long dormant fears had finally become reality; Krum had dumped her. Harry had heard that many Quidditch players were like that, a different girl for every week. While Krum seemed to be different from the others, it seemed that it had only taken a little longer for his true self to be revealed.

"That son of a bitch!" Harry thought. How could he do this to her? He couldn't believe that Krum would have the audacity to break up with her in a six line letter.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry," he said as he wrapped her in a fierce embrace.

This only caused her to wail even louder as she crushed Harry in an intense, needing hug.

It was first made clear to Harry that Hermione and Viktor were interested in each other when the two of them attended the Yule Ball together during the previous year. Harry could still remember his reaction at seeing Hermione all dressed up; she was strikingly beautiful. It was that moment when he realized how much he had been overlooking Hermione. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was also the most warm-hearted and caring individual he had ever met.

While Harry had been happy for Hermione, it also left him feeling like the odd man out because he was still single while everyone else was pairing up. Every fifth year Gryffindor had become involved with someone except for him. Both of his best friends were involved with someone, even clumsy Neville had managed to woo a fourth year Hufflepuff. Harry just decided to play it off, like everything was fine, when in reality he was aching for someone to show him some affection outside of the hero-worship that he usually received.

She had been crying into his arms for several minutes when he began to pat her back lightly in an attempt to get her to calm down.

"Talk to me about it," Harry gently asked her in a pleading voice.

She had begun to limit herself to lightly sobbing when she started to speak in a low whisper.

"Harry, He...told...me...that he...loved me," she said while stuttering from her inescapable cries. "Why would he say that, and not mean it?" she asked Harry as she turned her tear stained eyes to Harry's face.

Harry was left speechless, he didn't want to say the wrong thing to her, it just upset her more and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

She must not have been looking for an answer because she continued speaking a second later.

"Why would he love me?" she asked herself out loud, "What would he see in a muggle born witch; why would I even think that I was good enough for someone like him?"

Harry didn't know what he could say to make her feel better, but he knew that he wouldn't let her talk about herself like this.

"Hermione!" he said, gently taking her face in his hands, "you are good enough for anyone, especially a shallow fool like him. Don't bring yourself down just because some stupid git says something like that."

Hermione looked away from him, still lightly sobbing, "Harry, just because you're my best friend doesn't mean that you have to lie to my face to make me feel better."

The bite of Hermione's comment was evident on Harry's face, but he quickly shook it off. She was upset; it was understandable that she would react like that.

"I can't stand you talking about yourself like this Hermione. You are the greatest witch that I have ever met. You've helped me out more times than I can remember, Hell I'd probably be dead were it not for you. So stop this talk about you not being good enough for anyone, I won't have any of it."

Hermione just gazed right back into his eyes and she suddenly broke into tears again.

"Harry...I'm sorry," she said choking on a sob, "you were just trying to make me feel better and I exploded at you."

Harry felt a slight smirk reach his face at the end of her statement, "Yeah, that was pretty mean of you," he said in an overly sarcastic tone.

"Oh shut up Harry," she said with a faint trace of a smile as she smacked him lightly on his shoulder. She sank back into the couch and peered towards the window at the gentle rays of moonlight seeping through the glass.

Harry looked at her while she was staring out the window; she looked utterly exhausted. Her face was beet red from weeping. As he looked into her eyes, he was almost sure she was going to burst into tears again at any moment. He did the only thing that came to his mind; he put his right arm around her and swept her into his arms, bringing her head to rest on his chest in an effort to keep her from crying again.

"Thanks, Harry," said Hermione.

"Anytime Hermione...anytime," Harry said.

They stayed nestled together for a while until Hermione shook herself out of her reverie and turned her eyes towards Harry's gaze.

"Harry, why don't you go to bed, I don't want to keep you from getting any sleep."

Harry looked down at her face, gazing into her beautiful cinnamon eyes, which were still moist with tears, "It's okay, I'd rather stay here with you," he said as he dried her eyes with his thumb.

"Besides, I'm sleeping on the couch tonight anyway. Seamus and Dean were having one of their Football versus Quidditch arguments again and I couldn't sleep."

"Are you sure you want to stay with me?" she persisted.

"Yeah Hermione, you're going through a rough time, there's no place I'd rather be," he said and kissed her on the cheek.

Harry saw her shiver as he pulled his face away from hers. Naturally, he assumed that she was cold.

"You're sitting here in the middle of the winter in your pajamas, why don't we go sit on the couch by the fire?"

She nodded and Harry led her over to the couch with Harry's discarded blanket laying on it. He picked it up and spread it over himself and Hermione. She snuggled up next to him, pulling her knees up to her chest under the warm blanket.

Harry put his arm around her, drawing Hermione even closer as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"It'll be okay Hermione," he declared with compassion.

She looked up into his emerald eyes and gave him a trace of a smile. She sank back into his arms again, closed her eyes, and finally beginning to relax a bit.

"It's a Hogsmeade weekend, we'll go into the village tomorrow and I'll help you forget all your worries," Harry said.

His words went unheard though as she had already fallen asleep. He watched her chest slowly rise and fall in the gentle rhythm of her breathing as he began to feel tired. Harry leaned over and kissed the top of her head. He closed his eyes in relaxation, treasuring the moment that he was sharing with one of the few people in his life that he loved with all of his heart.