You've Got to Live!

Harry looked at Hermione and gasped. She was looking beautiful. He was already regretting that she was Ron's date and not his. She was wearing a low neck, backless gown. The neckline cut deeply, revealing a bit of the cleavage. Her hair was tied up formally, though a few strands escaped and touched her cheeks, making her even more desirable. Her figure was perfect, the svelte curve of the hips and the elegant slope of her chest.

"Harry?" she asked.

Harry averted his eyes. He had been gaping at her.

"You look...wonderful," he murmured.

"Thanks."

Hermione went over to Ron. Ron didn't seem to be as taken with her as Harry was. Hermione sighed, wondering if she had made the wrong decision. She had seen the admiration in Harry's eyes.

Though Hermione attracted many lascivious looks from boys, Ron's eyes seemed to be elsewhere. In fact, his eyes were settled on Lavender Brown the entire evening. Hermione detached herself from Ron, which he did happily, whispering to her, "Would you mind too much if we went back to being just friends and not a couple?"

"No," said Hermione truthfully; she had come to appreciate Harry more and more in the three months that she'd been dating Ron. She went over to Harry, who was sitting alone, not having asked anyone out. Only Hermione knew why he did it; it was not the lack of girls, it was the rejection she'd given to him. He had accepted it gallantly, with a smile, and she'd not thought more until a few days later. Then she'd started noticing the brooding tendencies in him, like a knight forever loyal to his lady in spite of rejection.

Harry gave her a smile when she sat down next to him. He noticed the thoughtful look in her eyes. She's so beautiful, he thought to himself. But she's Ron's, another voice told him. He sighed.

"Harry, will you dance with me?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Harry looked at her, his dull green eyes regaining some of their fire. Then he looked down again.

"Wouldn't Ron mind?" he asked softly. Ron was well known for being extremely possessive.

"I really doubt it. He just ditched me for Lavender," said Hermione with a smile.

Harry stared at her in shock.

"You broke up?" he asked faintly.

"Yes. Ron just told me if I'd mind if we went back to being just friends again, and I said no. Frankly speaking, it was all a mistake. We were never compatible with each other. And Ron's way too fickle for me," she glanced at Ron and Lavender, dancing together happily, then turned back to Harry, "They look happy together. All we did was to fight. Now, Harry, will you dance with me?"

"You're not upset?"

"No. Even I'm surprised at myself, but I'm actually glad this happened."

Harry stood up and offered her an arm. They walked over to the dance floor. Harry could only think of the pretty woman in front of him. His feet moved automatically with an easy grace, much to everyone's surprise. He himself did not notice, he was too engrossed with Hermione.

Hermione looked at Harry, cursing herself mentally. She and Ron had drifted away from him when they were dating. Harry had grown reclusive, and was rarely seen. Guilt coursed through her as she took in his thin face, which had an unhealthy pallor, his cheeks flushed with slight fever, and the sad, deep eyes that had seen much more misery than any person should ever see. She could feel his feverish warmth and a gleam of happiness in his eyes as he danced with her. They swayed together rhythmically, gracefully, drawing the attention of the entire gathering. When they finally stopped, applause greeted them.

They stared at each other, not knowing how to react. Ron was staring at them open mouthed. Then he walked over to them.

"What do you think you're doing?" he shouted at Hermione.

"Dancing," she replied coolly.

"You're my girlfriend! HOW CAN YOU DO THIS?" Ron yelled, then turned to Harry, who had paled, "AND YOU! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY BEST FRIEND! YOU TAKE AWAY MY GIRL THE MOMENT I LOOK AWAY!"

Harry cringed, and Hermione lost her temper.

"RONALD WEASLEY! I AM NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND ANY MORE! OR HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT YOU DUMPED ME HALF AN HOUR EARLIER? YOU ARE NOT MY BOYFRIEND ANYMORE! AND SINCE I DON'T INTERFERE IN YOUR PERSONAL MATTERS ANY MORE, I EXPECT THE SAME FROM YOU! AND DON'T YOU DARE ACCUSE HARRY!" Hermione screamed back.

"So, it's Harry now, isn't it? You've shifted your affections to Harry?"

"That is none of your concern!"

"Deny it then, deny that you like him!"

"I DON'T LIKE HIM; I LOVE HIM! AND HE'S A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER THAN YOU ARE, RON! HE'S LOYAL. DO YOU THINK I NEVER NOTICED YOUR AFFAIR WITH LAVENDER THAT HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR THE PAST MONTH?" Hermione yelled, and stormed out of the hall, leaving everyone open mouthed. Harry stood shocked for a moment, then ran after her.

Harry found her near the lake, sitting on the ground, her back resting on the trunk of a tree, her knees drawn up. Harry could see her shoulders shake as she sobbed. He sat down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She threw her arms around him and he patted her awkwardly on the head as she sobbed unrestrainedly on his shoulder. It was quite some time before she calmed down. They stood up slowly. Harry was cursing himself for having attended this party, though Percy's wedding had been an unavoidable event.

"Let's go to your flat," said Hermione, "I'm tired of the Weasley Manor."

Harry nodded, and both of them Apparated to his flat in Muggle London. Hermione looked at his flat curiously.

"It's very neat, Harry...you've kept it nice...but it looks so...uninhabited..." she said, and seeing his head fall, her voice sharpened, "You don't live here?"

"I do. It's just that I'm a bit busy right now..."

Hermione stared at her friend. He had changed so much since the defeat of Voldemort in their seventh year. He had gone into Auror training, and was now the most celebrated Auror worldwide. She'd also heard rumours that he'd be the next minister, as soon as Mr. Weasley retired. And he was just twenty one.

Hermione put out a hand and swept away a strand of hair from his face.

"Don't work so hard, Harry...you'll hurt yourself..."

"Who cares?" he said bitterly, throwing himself on the sofa and shocking Hermione. She sat down gingerly next to him.

"I do."

Harry laughed bitterly. Hermione was tempted to move away. She hadn't heard him laugh like that since Voldemort's death. It was a cold, powerful, terrifying laughter, sending shivers down her spine.

"I'll get something to drink," said Hermione and stood up.

"You..."

"I know where things are, Harry. I've been here before. I agree that it was a few months back, but my memory's as good as ever."

Harry smiled. This time, it was a warm, genuine smile, which made Hermione return it with one of her own. She walked over to the kitchen and pulled open the cupboard. A bottle of her favourite wine lay there. She took it out. She took out two glasses and washed them. As she turned to go, she tripped over the train of her gown, falling headlong on to the floor with a huge crash, tearing her dress in the process. Harry appeared immediately. He picked her up in his arms very gently, and laid her on his bed despite her protests.

"I'm fine, really. Just tripped," she said, blushing.

Harry noticed the tear in her dress which revealed a bleeding white leg, and shards of glass sticking to her neck, shoulders and back...the glasses had fallen from her hands, shattered, and pricked her, tiny droplets of blood visible on her white skin.

"No, you're not. The glasses must hurt. Stay still, I'll just pull them out and then apply some antiseptic. I can't do magic here, the alarms will go off. Or I can take you to St. Mungo's."

"Your remedy is fine Harry."

Harry pulled out each shard of glass deftly and gently. She felt his cool fingers touching her neck, her shoulders, her back, her arms, her leg and pulling out the particles. Then he stood up and muttered something, blushing.

"What'd you say?" Hermione asked.

"You may have more glass particles sticking around...I mean other than the visible ones..." Harry murmured and reddened even more.

Hermione smiled at him. She did feel a few more pricking particles in her legs. She pulled up her gown, revealing two white legs, particles of glass sticking out from her thighs, which Harry hadn't seen.

Harry, still blushing, worked on her legs. Hermione felt strangely comfortable at his touch. She thought over what she'd shouted at Ron. Did she really love Harry?

Harry had fetched a bottle of antiseptic and some cotton, and gently applied it to her cuts.

"Ouch!"

Harry gave her a small, embarrassed smile. "It'll hurt a bit," he said softly.

When he was finally done, he told Hermione to find something wearable in his wardrobe and left the bedroom. Hermione opened the wardrobe and picked out a night shirt and matching pyjamas. The pyjamas were too big for her, so she contended herself with only the night shirt. She went out to the sitting room. Harry stared at her legs, mesmerised.

"Would you like some dinner?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Harry went into the kitchen and started frying some sausages. Hermione followed him. He had already cleared up the mess she'd created.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It's ok. I shouldn't have let you come here alone."

Hermione smiled sadly.

"You haven't changed a bit, Harry...still blaming yourself for everything..."

Harry remained quiet. Soon they were sitting on the dining table, eating quietly. The bottle of wine had been opened too. When they were done, Harry cleared the table, refusing to let Hermione do any work. He offered to take her home, but she refused, indicating her state of undress.

"You'll have to get me something to wear tomorrow morning; I can't go like this."

Harry conceded the bedroom to her and took the living room sofa himself. Both of them lay awake for quite sometime, thinking about each other, then drifted off slowly.

Hermione woke up suddenly. She was a light sleeper, and she was sure that she'd heard someone scream. She heard it again, and realised with a start that it was Harry's voice. She ran to the living room. He had fallen from the sofa and lay on the floor, twitching and whimpering. Tears streamed down his face. He was obviously having a nightmare. Hermione sat down next to him on the floor. Then he started murmuring.

"Mum...Dad...Sirius...no...please don't leave me again...please...I'm so sorry...I came late...but please don't leave me alone...I'm sorry...it was all my fault...come back! Please...not again...Ron...no! I'm sorry...I didn't mean to...no, she's yours...go Hermione....don't bother about me...but I'll always love you..." his voice broke. His fists were clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palm and blood flowed out. Hermione wiped her own tears and gently moved his head on her lap. She whispered soothing words to him as she stroked his hair. That seemed to calm him. She wiped away his tears slowly, careful not to awaken him. His fever had worsened. The slight fever he'd had at the party had grown so bad that Hermione could feel his forehead burning. She gingerly checked his pulse. Too high. Something was gravely wrong. She shivered suddenly. It was cold. She pulled Harry's abandoned quilt from the sofa and covered both of them with it. She rested her back on the sofa and fell asleep.

When Harry woke up the next morning, he was shocked to find his head in Hermione's lap. He got up gingerly, careful not to wake her. He carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He sunk down on the sofa and sighed. Then he remembered that he had to get a dress for her. He looked at the clock. He sighed again. No shop would be open at six in the morning.

Harry took a long, relaxing shower. He went over to the bedroom door and stared at Hermione for a long time. She looked so pretty when she was sleeping. Like an angel. He knew that he loved her, but he wasn't sure of her feelings towards him. He had been really shocked when she'd screamed at Ron the previous night. He wondered if it was mere anger or if she really loved him...

Then he moved away, cursing himself. What could he give her? He wealthy and famous, true, and he loved her deeply, but he was a murderer. He had killed Voldemort. And he didn't even feel any remorse for it. And he was a man haunted by memories; by guilt. He had many enemies; he was a marked man. He could die any day. And if the Dark wizards didn't get him, his illness would. He smiled grimly, thinking of Madam Pomfrey's startled face when she told Dumbledore that his golden boy had lost the will to live, triggering a very rare psychological disease that inevitably resulted in a wizard's death. No cure was known. That was two months ago. Harry had only been surprised that the malady had taken so long to come. No, it would be unfair to Hermione. He had to push her away, for her own good. Maybe Ron would realise his mistake and apologise to her.

Harry glanced at the clock again. He hadn't realised that his musings had lasted so long. It was nine. He wrote a note to Hermione and left it on the bedstead. He dressed quickly and went out, locking the door behind him. He drove out in his small Muggle car. He went to a Muggle shopping mall, about half an hour's drive from his place.

Hermione woke up soon after Harry left. She saw the note and smiled to herself. No point in taking a shower before he arrived. She got up and went to the library like room Harry had created. As her eyes moved over the rows of books and files, she couldn't resist looking though a file marked 'Me'.

It was more of a journal than a file. It contained very brief accounts of his adventures. She read through his pre-Hogwarts days, some events bringing tears in her eyes. She quickly flipped over his Hogwarts days; she knew it all. She smiled as she read his adventures as an Auror. Her smile faded as she read on about his dangerous cases and raids. Then she came to the entry dated two months previously. Her eyes grew wide in shock as she read it. She fell on the nearest chair and cried. It was only when she heard footsteps that she stuffed the file in its place and ran back to the bedroom. She flopped down on the bed as she heard the key turn in the lock.

Harry entered the flat and went straight to the bedroom. He saw Hermione on the bed and smiled.

"Hermione? Are you awake? I got you a pair of jeans and a t shirt. Why don't you take a shower while I fix up breakfast? Then I'll take you home," he said softly.

Hermione's face remained buried in the pillow; she couldn't face him; her eyes were too red. She mumbled her assent. Harry left the room. She could hear him working in the kitchen.

Hermione got ready quickly. The shower had refreshed her. Her eyes looked better, and she was thankful that they were no longer red and puffy. She went to the kitchen and started helping Harry to make sandwiches and tea, giving him a smile.

Harry stared at Hermione. Though she'd smiled at him, he knew instinctively that something was wrong. He looked carefully at her. Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed, and he was fairly certain that she had been crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing."

When they sat down for breakfast, Hermione confronted him about his nightmares. Harry hung his head and listened to her chiding quietly, telling him again and again that it was not his fault. Hermione's sharp words hit him like hammers. Hermione observed him as she spoke, her suspicions confirming. She stood up and went over to him.

"Harry," she said softly, "I love you."

This simple statement threw him off guard. He looked up at her, his eyes shining. Hermione smiled, but her smile faded as his eyes dimmed.

"I don't," he said, as if every word was causing him great pain.

Hermione stared at him in shock. Then it hit her. He was trying to push her away. She suddenly bent down and kissed him passionately. After a few shocked seconds, he kissed back urgently, as if his life depended on it, though gently, almost reverently. When they finally broke apart for air, they both knew that they'd found their soul mates.

"I want to see your castle again," Hermione said. Harry nodded. They Apparated to his castle, where Dobby welcomed them happily.

"Harry Potter sir ought to come to his home more often, sir," Dobby squeaked. Harry smiled at him and quickly muttered a healing spell that healed Hermione's cuts immediately.

Hermione loved this castle. It was as big as Hogwarts, if not more. It was the best of all the castles and manors Harry owned. It had belonged to his parents before him. They'd lived there till they were forced to go into hiding.

As they toured the castle, Harry said softly, "Hermione, we can't...I can't...I'm..."

"You're not dying, Harry. Not if I can help it."

"How did you..."

Hermione put a finger on his lips.

"I read your file. I'll find out a cure if it's the last thing I do. I'm sure I've read about it somewhere. Give me a month, Harry. I'll have the cure in my hand by then."

"If I die before that...I'm not in a very safe job, you know..."

Hermione slapped him suddenly. He took a step back, shocked.

"Don't you dare die on me, Harry James Potter! I'll follow you to the gates of hell and drag you back if I have to!" she hissed.

"Sorry."