7Thanks to Insearchofsunrise, who glanced at this one-shot over and helped make it as solid as possible. :3
Update 2021: Re-edited. It should read better now, and hopefully, there's not a comma out of place!
Hermione watched with excitement from the stands beside Harry, who made a point to see all of his fiancée's matches. They watched together as Ginny flew around, her body tensed for a response. Hermione fought to keep the smile from her face as she watched Ginny's sail through the air. Guilt churned in her stomach as she remembered just why she couldn't smile, not in the way Harry did when he looked at Ginny, at least.
"I miss this," he said over the noisy crowd, interrupting her thoughts.
Hermione frowned. "You could have come back, you know." She luckily stopped herself from adding, though, I'm glad you didn't.
Harry shook his head. "Too many memories, Hermione. It was time I moved on."
Hermione nodded her head in understanding. A nudge came from her right, and she glanced at the fifth-year boy beside her, who was flirting shamelessly with his date of the evening. She rolled her eyes at the two and returned her attention to the match. A shriek came from the girl, and Hermione whipped around to chaste them for being so disruptive; however, she never got the chance.
The gasps and murmurs came from the fellow Gryffindors, and immediately Hermione's attention snapped back to the match. The game had halted, and she squinted to spot her lover. "Do you see her, Harry?" she asked.
Harry frowned. "No."
They both stood at the same time and rushed down side by side. Hermione's hands began sweating as she neared the field. "Do you see her yet?" she asked again with worry.
Harry glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're more worried about her than I am. Accidents happen all the time. I'm sure she's just sitting out while they figure out what's going on."
"It seems our Gryffindor chaser, Ginny Weasley, has taken quite the tumble! It doesn't look so good down on the field... I hope she'll recover soon!"
Hermione cursed at the announcer. She sprinted through the crowd and onto the field, where players were huddled in a circle.
"I knew that play would be too dangerous. Take her to the hospital wing for me, would you—"
"I've got her," Harry said as he squeezed through the small group. "She needs space. All of you get back!" He lifted her easily and made his way off the field with Ginny in his arms.
"And it looks like one of our favourite seekers and Wizarding Hero has swooped in and saved the day again! If that's not romantic, I don't know what is! Guys, I hope you're taking notes."
Hermione tuned out the announcer once again as she sprinted to catch up with Harry. She fought back the urge to touch Ginny. Her face was pale, and she could see a sheen of sweat covering her freckled face. "Careful with her," she said softly as Harry paused to shift her. "Harry, stop! You don't know if she's broken anything."
He stopped again. "Hermione, I know you're trying to help, but please just go back to the match."
"I would have just levitated her. It would've been easier."
He cursed under his breath. "She's my fiancée. I can take care of her just fine."
Hermione scowled. "Yes, but she's my... friend," she finished lamely. Refusing to say anything more that might raise suspicion, she opted to remain quiet for the rest of the walk. In the back of her mind, paranoia reared its ugly head, and she wondered if Harry already knew. Someone might have mentioned it already. It had been tense the entire game, or maybe she really was reading into things too much.
She was doing something very wrong, and she was terrified of the outcome if or when she and Ginny decided to tell him. She had no idea which would be worse, breaking up with Ginny or letting it continue. Either way, she had to do something. It wasn't as if they could hide it forever, and she knew that Ginny loved Harry. She always had loved him, and she probably always would. It was absurd to believe that Hermione was more important than Harry.
At that moment, Hermione decided she would talk with Ginny when she was out of the infirmary. It would, at the very least, give her enough time to prepare for the rejection she knew would come, and she would fake a smile when the time came. She would look a Ginny and say, 'that's okay.'
She opened the door for Harry, and they entered the hospital wing. The exchange with Pomfrey was a blur. Hermione was too busy counting up the multitude of outcomes that could happen with her decision to have 'the talk.' Each outcome put her more and more into a state of fear and pain.
"Hermione!"
She jumped visibly and looked to her right. "What?"
"I've been calling you for the last five minutes. Are you alright?" Harry asked with worry.
She cleared her throat. "I'm fine. I'm just worried." Her heart was heavy, and she couldn't find it in herself to look her best friend in the eye.
Harry shifted from one foot to the other. She could see the questions on his face and knew he was scrutinizing her odd behaviour. "Hermione," he started after a long stretch of awkward silence. "I'm not as dim as you might think I am. Is there something I should know about you and Ginny?"
She swallowed.
"You've been acting odd all evening, you're sweating, and you look like I felt when I was hiding something from you and Ron. So what is it?"
She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. "It's nothing really; I just feel a bit off today. Perhaps, I ate some bad lemon tarts," she replied, trying to keep her voice aloof and calm. The strained pitch in her tone probably counteracted the effort.
Harry scowled and opened his mouth to say something, but Madam Pomfrey popped her head into the corridor to Hermione's luck. "You can come in now, dear. She broke a few bones and was knocked unconscious. I've mended the bones, and she should wake up soon."
She smiled kindly at Harry as he stepped into the room but stared at Hermione's with pursed lips as she started to follow. It was a look of judgement, Hermione realized with a pang in her heart.
They edged to the bed together and peered at their lover, their lover. The word 'their' played over in her head like a broken record. She had no right to call Ginny hers.
"Hermione, could you step outside for a bit? I've had something I've wanted to talk to Gin about since the match started."
Hermione bit her lip at the request and took one last look at her girlfriend, who looked like Sleeping Beauty, the way her fiery-red hair spilled over the pillow, contrasting with the white of the sheets. "Sure, Harry," she whispered before stepping out of the room.
She paced anxiously in the hall while rehearsing what she wanted to say later. Harry knew. She was positive. She could tell by his suspicious glances and his questioning. It would be best for her to break it off before Harry confirmed his suspicion, but even with that thought, it seemed she was too late.
"YOU!"
Hermione barely had time to turn around before she found herself pinned against the wall, his hands holding her wrists harshly against the cold stone. She blinked up in fear at the face of her first real friend, her eyes watered, and she knew... Harry had found out. Something had been mentioned in that room, and it was too late. She had officially broken the trust of the man who had been there for her through thick and thin; even when she hadn't known she needed him, he had always been there for her. She had brutally stabbed him in the back, and that lone thought was enough to bring her to her knees. How could she have been so stupid?
The tears escaped her eyes as she tried to look past him. "Harry..."
"What did you do to her?" he growled. "She called your name! Your name... not mine! I was right there, and she didn't even see me..." The grip on her wrists tightened, and Hermione winced. "Look at me, Hermione!" he ordered.
She hesitantly locked her eyes on his and would've collapsed if not for the fact he was holding her up. She expected the hatred. She expected him to be angry or maybe even violent, but what she saw was pain, complete and utter pain. He was hurting, and it was all her fault.
"Explain, please," he whispered, his voice catching on the plea.
The tears cascaded down her cheeks quickly, and his own eyes watered with tears that he stubbornly held back. "She was missing you, and I was there. It just happened. We-we weren't thinking. At first, it was just comforting, I'd have nightmares, and she'd crawl into the bed with me. It was just like we used to do at The Burrow. Sleepover stuff, Harry, that was all it ever was."
He loosened the grip on her wrists ever so slightly. "But it changed... when?" He looked past her, not even seeing her. He spoke as if he were talking to the brick wall behind her.
"It just happened..."
His eyes snapped to hers. "Things like that don't just happen."
"It just happened," she repeated. For the first time in her life, she was truly at a loss for words. No book could tell her how to handle this situation, there were no hidden clues for her to solve, no instructions, and she was completely on her own.
She wracked her brain for the proper words to say. Surely there had to be something she could say; anything was better than nothing. She opened her mouth and closed it before trying again.
All at once, Harry let go of the grip on her wrists before slumping against her. She let out a shuttered breath as he all but collapsed in her arms. He shook violently against her, and her blood rushed as she prepared for him to lash out at her. She closed her eyes, expecting some sort of slap to the face or a punch to the gut; she certainly deserved it.
She didn't, however, expect the stammered breaths and the sniffles that came from him. His head rested heavily on her shoulder, and his arms hung limply at his sides. She could feel hot, wet tears falling onto her and soaking her jumper.
She did the only thing she knew to do.
Hesitantly she wrapped her arms around him, cradling his body against hers. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered, her voice thick with remorse. "I'm so, so sorry." She ran her fingers through his hair, moving on autopilot.
He said nothing as he dropped to the floor, and she followed him. She lost track of how long they sat on the cold floor of Hogwarts sobbing together. Harry crying for his broken heart; Hermione for the loss of her best friend, and more prominently, the fact that she had caused his broken heart. When their crying slowed, they remained silent. Neither of the two seemed to know what to say or do next.
It was Harry who broke the silence. "I want to hate you, Hermione. I really do," he mumbled into her shoulder.
Hermione slowly removed her arms from around him. They shifted, so their backs were both against the wall as if it were the only thing holding them upright. She rested her head against his shoulder. "I know, Harry. I think I may hate me enough for the both of us."
She could feel his nod. He rubbed his hand against his face, tiredly. "What do we do now," he asked numbly.
She sniffed as a round of fresh tears threatened to spill. "I don't know, but I guess that would be your choice to make, Harry. If you never want to talk to me, I'd underst—"
"Do you... do you love her?" he interrupted quickly.
"...Harry," she started slowly, unsure of how to respond.
"It's an easy question," he said in a hauntingly serene tone.
"I do."
"She loves you, too. I could tell by the way she asked for you. She needs you, and you need her. She seemed so lost without you there." He scoffed. "I wasn't even needed." He stood, and she quickly put a hand on his arm.
"Harry! She loves you, Harry. Please don't do this to her."
"No, Hermione. Ginny and I are done. She made her choice, and so did you. I just wish I could have had some sort of say in it."
"Please," she cried, tightening her grip on him.
He looked down at her sadly and pulled his arm out of her reach. "It may be a while. I do not want to be in the same room as you for a very long time. I do not want to see your face or hear your voice, and I certainly do not want to see your owl outside my window for a long time, but you're my best friend. I will heal, and when I do, I'll have you take me out for a Firewhiskey. Right now... I can't. I need space."
Hermione looked up, surprised. "What?"
He offered her a hesitant smile. "You're like my sister, Hermione. We'll get past this even if it takes years. I can't lose you forever." He ruffled her hair. "Now go see Ginny. She's probably waiting for you," he said distantly.
She watched in slight shock as he walked away. She wanted to argue that he was wrong, that Ginny loved him more. She tried to call after him, but no sound came. It wasn't until a first-year asked her if she was okay that she actually moved. She stood and brushed off her uniform before walking through the hospital doors to the person who had her heart.
"Ginny..." she said, and her heart skipped a beat.
The redhead was sitting up and picking at the sheets, a nervous habit that Hermione knew all too well. Ginny's head snapped in her direction. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what I was saying. I thought he was you, and then I just wasn't thinking and—"
For the first time since the evening had started, Hermione gave a genuine smile. She shushed Ginny and sat on the edge of her bed. "It's all sorted out." Ginny started to speak, but Hermione rushed a kiss to her lips. "Ginny. It's okay," she stressed. "It's going to be alright, you'll see."
"You mean it?"
Hermione nodded and kissed her again. "I do."
Seven Months Later
Ginny clutched Hermione's hand and dragged her into a shop. "Hermione, try this on. It'll look perfect on you!"
She grinned. "Okay fine." She reached out to search for the robe in her size, but as she started to pull it off the rack, she felt a tug in the opposite direction. She looked up and found a small brunette staring at her. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said politely.
The brunette blushed. "No, it's okay. I'm not even sure if it would look that great on me."
Ginny popped her head over another rack and rushed over. "Don't be silly. I'm sure it'll look wonderful on you. Try it on."
Hermione was about to add an encouraging comment when a familiar voice sailed through the air and in their direction.
"Mary, did you find something you like?"
Hermione and Ginny shared a worried glance as Harry rounded the corner. He stopped mid-step and looked at the three women. The two lovers started to back up and give him the space he had requested so long ago.
He cautiously took a step forward and nodded ahead in their direction. Hermione and Ginny watched, fascinated as the tiny brunette skipped over to twine her hands with his. She looked from him to Hermione to Ginny, confused. "Are these them?" she asked so quietly, Hermione almost missed it.
"It is," he replied.
The woman smiled and nudged him forward in their direction, causing the two to freeze. Mary squeezed his hand before addressing them. "I should thank you two. Harry's a great guy... I'm lucky to have met him."
Hermione frowned as the guilt crept back up, and there was an extremely awkward silence.
Mary seemed oblivious to the tension and gave Harry another shove while clearing her throat. He pursed his lips, which only caused her to clear her throat again and jerk her head in their direction. Harry looked at her sideways and seemed to have some sort of private conversation before he rolled his eyes and cracked a smile at her.
He took a single step forward and ducked his head sheepishly. "So, Hermione..." He shoved his hands in his pockets casually. "How about that fire whiskey?"
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