It Could've Gone That Way (Pt. 1)

Chapter One

Hermione was crying again. Harry listened to her with a heavy heart. She sat, hugging her legs and rocking her body back and forth in a depressed stupor. Her eyes were red and puffy. She hadn’t stopped crying for days, ever since Ron had abandoned them. The Horcruxes were the missing link to the downfall of his greatest enemy, the Dark Lord Voldemort. They had been hunting them down for months until Ron was sick of it. His jealousy and his lack of comfort got the better of him and he left. Harsh words were exchanged and bitterness was left in its wake. Leaving them was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Curse that Ron Weasley! He had broken Hermione’s heart too many times. He was a total git! Couldn’t Ron see that Hermione was besotted with him? Why did he have to leave and take Hermione’s heart with him?

The weather was getting colder (as it was mid-November), the food was scarce, and they had absolutely no idea where to start searching for the Sword of Gryffindor. Harry was discouraged beyond belief. He rubbed his face, feeling the stubble that had formed over the last few days. Hermione was looking rather pale and he cringed thinking how hungry they both were. They had just eaten the last of the rabbit he had caught, and he planned to hunt for decent game in the morning. They had a few cans of beans and a small serving left of Molly’s apple preserves, but little else. His stomach rumbled in protest. He needed a distraction from his hunger. He stretched, reaching for his wand with the Marauder's Map secure in his lap.

“I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good,” he whispered, trying not to disturb Hermione. The magical map came to life, and he was able to track the movement of everyone in Hogwarts—Ginny Weasley’s movements to be exact. He watched as her footprints moved across the parchment of the map. He imagined her fiery hair and those adorable freckles, and then frowned. She wasn’t there and he was hit with the realization of how lonely he actually was.

Merlin, Ginny was a gorgeous redhead! She was smart, athletic, and had a body that… well, Ron would’ve hexed him if he continued that thought about his sister. He would’ve had to be dead not to admire her.

But Hermione, she was just… Hermione—same wild curls, same bossy demeanor, and her same smile. Except, he hadn’t seen that smile in Merlin knows how long. He ached to see that smile again. She was his rock and it unnerved him to see her so unglued emotionally. She was the one who always stood by him. His eyes drifted to her unusually thin face. His mind wandered back to when she had met him for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. She’d been crying then, too. She had just obliviated her parents and erased her existence from their memory. She had done it to protect them. If anything were to happen to her, she wanted her parents to be blissfully unaware. Harry suddenly realized then that she might never see them again. He couldn’t believe just how much she had sacrificed for him. He felt so unworthy of her unwavering friendship and loyalty. He was in awe, as a tear snuck its way down his face. Why? Why had this precious woman given up so much… for him?

And then it hit him. It hit him like a load of bricks. She looked at him with those piercing brown eyes, and he skipped a beat. His heart actually skipped a beat. But she was his best friend. He couldn’t wrap his head around what he was feeling anymore. Why did life have to be so complicated?

“Mischief managed,” he sighed, and the map became dormant again.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. Maybe cleaning them would help him gain a new perspective on her. He stared at the tired-looking spectacles. The tight glasses were starting to give him a headache. The Dursley’s had bought him the cheapest pair in the store; and that had been when he was six. He was 17 now and in desperate need of a new pair. His heavy breath fogged the lenses and he rubbed them ‘till they squeaked. He put them back on and looked over at Hermione again, his feelings only growing bolder. Her face was pale and her eyes lacked the laughter they used to have. He couldn’t stand to see Hermione like this anymore. He had to do something. He stood up, with his heart racing wildly. This plan needed to work, if sanity was to be reclaimed for the both of them.

Harry walked over to her and held out his hand. Hermione sighed in protest but grabbed it anyway. He pulled her up and unclasped the Horcrux locket from around her neck. They were gazing into one another’s eyes deeply. Without breaking her stare, Harry tossed the locket onto the nearby bed and started to dance with her. Hermione knew that Harry was a terrible dancer, but he forced himself to. Why? He had two left feet and here he was begging her to dance with him. She resisted Harry, as he helped her sway her arms back and forth. Harry never knew what song the radio was playing, and he didn’t care. All that mattered was Hermione was in his arms. He inched her backward and gave her a twirl. This broke Hermione’s sullen attitude, and she couldn’t help but crack a weak smile. As they continued to move to the music her smile grew, especially at Harry’s comical attempts to dance. Harry dipped her and she full-out laughed that time. It felt so good to laugh, she needed this. Harry knew she needed this. She gave out a sigh of contentment as they rested their heads on each other, slow dancing their cares away.

Harry was always there when Ron broke her heart. Even when Ron had been with Lavender Brown, he had been the shoulder she cried on. She stared at his face and felt a bubbling sensation in the pit of her stomach. His proximity was stifling to her senses.

“Harry?” she finally whispered. They stopped dancing, but Harry never let her out of his grasp.

“What?” he whispered back, almost afraid to break the mood. Hermione was almost in a trance from the overwhelming green in his eyes.

“The… the music… it’s stopped,” she replied.

“Has it?” Harry hadn’t noticed. His mind was most pleasantly preoccupied.

“You can… let me go now,” she offered, blushing violently. Harry was less than an inch from her face and his breath was hot on her skin.

Harry finally ended the tension and crashed his mouth to hers. If he wasn’t sure about his feelings for her, he definitely was now. In fact, he was fairly certain he had always been in love with her since they first met on the Hogwarts Express at age eleven. This mousy-haired bookworm, the best friend of his youth, he knew now. He loved her. He loved her deeply.

Hermione was stiff with shock at first, but when Harry’s mouth began to move against hers, her body gave in. Soon she was kissing him back with equal eagerness.

When she was younger, Hermione had often wondered what it would’ve been like to kiss him. It was a child’s innocent contemplation. She never dreamed that it would actually happen! Now that he was kissing her, she couldn’t imagine kissing anyone else, not even Ron. But, wasn’t she supposed to be in love with Ron? How was she supposed to think with him snogging her to distraction?

It was almost surreal. Was he really kissing her? Was she really letting him? …he stopped. He wanted her so badly but… not like this. Not while she was so emotionally vulnerable. Not while the tears for Ron were still staining her cheeks. Hermione was more than a bit confused. Her mouth hung open and her eyes searched his curiously.

“I…,” Harry pulled away, ashamed. He felt like he’d defiled her.

Hermione (in somewhat of a daze) walked past him and exited the tent. Such a large elephant Hermione had left, and Harry was at a loss as to know what to do with it.

(To be continued)...