“You don't mind, do you, if I stay out here alone?” Harry asked
abruptly of the crowd of shadowy faces.
Somberly, they all nodded and proceeded toward Shell Cottage,
towards the lights and warmth. Harry raised a hand, swiping at
the tears threatening to break past his squinted eyes.
He blinked rapidly as he realized some of the dirt and sweat from
his fingers had been trapped in his eyes. Water streamed from his
eyes as he rubbed furiously, and it was then he heard a noise
behind him.
Still rubbing at his eyes, Harry swiveled around, and realized
that a hand had very nearly caught his arm. As his vision
cleared, he could see a rather small figure slowly struggling to
get back up from the ground.
“Hermione!” Her name left his lips instantly; he reached down and
caught her arms, helping her up. “Hermione, you should be inside.”
She raised her eyes to him, and wavering moonlight washed over
her face. He cringed slightly, seeing the pallor of her cheeks
and over-brightness of her eyes.
The tip of her tongue slipped out of her mouth, and she took a
deep breath, dry and raspy, before uttering a hoarse whisper.
“Dobby saved my life, too. Besides, I had to-- I had to see if
you were--”
He felt her sway slightly, and he placed an arm around her waist.
“Hermione, I'm serious.” he spoke anxiously, as her shallow
breathing reached almost a wheeze. “You're not well.”
She shook her head, obviously unable to speak, and he felt her
hand creep over to grasp the hand holding her waist. She tilted
her chin back, her eyes soft with pleading. He sighed.
“You were incredible.” he said finally, offering a forced smile.
“Coming up with that story while you were-- with Lestrange.”
She managed a feeble smile in return. Her hand tightened around
his lightly.
“I'm sorry.”
She made a face, and he smiled grimly.
“It's a reflex, Hermione, you know that. It may not be my fault,
but I feel responsible anyway.”
Again, her hand flexed around his. Her eyes searched his face as
she attempted to speak. All she managed was a soft, “I didn't
want you to take-- that kind of responsibility.”
He grinned reluctantly, and her eyes softened in warmth.
“That's the only kind I've taken.” he said lightly, keenly aware
that this was the closest they had been since Ron's return to
their trio. “Let's get you inside. Don't look at me that way; I'm
coming too.”
He hesitated.
“Maybe I should carry you.” he suggested tentatively, watching
her face intently.
She looked startled at the offer, but then her eyes moved to his
face, and a pleasant, soft glow entered her brown eyes, like a
new candle set in a familiar candleholder.
She nodded her assent, and Harry lifted her into his arms,
marveling at how light she felt in his arms.
Her arms slipped around his neck, and in the darkness he could
feel her relax slightly, and he was glad. Maybe he was glad that
she trusted him, or perhaps more that she felt comfortable in his
arms.
“Harry, take her into the back room.” Bill appeared in the
doorway. He directed Harry back into a small guest room
containing a small bed.
The sheets were already rumpled, and feeling self-conscious but
rather responsible, Harry lay Hermione gently down on the bunk.
As he carefully adjusted the pillow under her head, his mind
wandered back to the day when she had pulled the Horcrux off of
his chest. He couldn't help but feel like this was his turn.
And he felt ridiculously inadequate.
He pulled the covers up over her, feeling the clumsiest he'd ever
felt, and then sat softly on the edge of the bed.
He surveyed her silently for a moment, and she gazed quietly
back. He reached down and cautiously trailed his fingers across
her cheek.
A soft smile curved her lower lip, lifting her cheek into a
slight dimple as she closed her eyes.
“Erm... g'night, then.” he said quietly, utterly transfixed on
her face and embarrassingly aware of it.
She opened her eyes briefly, raising a hand and sweeping it down
the side of his face. Her expression (for there was no mistaking
it now) was so tender Harry felt a hard lump jam in his throat.
Was it possible that he could evoke such a lovely glow about her?
“Harry.” she murmured simply. As her eyes closed, Harry could see
her slip off into sleep, but not with difficulty as had so often
been the case these past few months.
No, she went to sleep as he supposed girls should: leaving the
world behind for warm dream castles and all the other things
normal girls would hope for.
Someday he'd ask her about dreams; someday he'd try to return the
tender glances and sweet smiles.
But tonight he'd let her sleep.
Nights shouldn't always have to end with darkness, after all.
Harry took one last look at her face, his heart pleasantly warm,
and slipped out of the room.
And for him, well, night always contained a couple of stars.
abruptly of the crowd of shadowy faces.
Somberly, they all nodded and proceeded toward Shell Cottage,
towards the lights and warmth. Harry raised a hand, swiping at
the tears threatening to break past his squinted eyes.
He blinked rapidly as he realized some of the dirt and sweat from
his fingers had been trapped in his eyes. Water streamed from his
eyes as he rubbed furiously, and it was then he heard a noise
behind him.
Still rubbing at his eyes, Harry swiveled around, and realized
that a hand had very nearly caught his arm. As his vision
cleared, he could see a rather small figure slowly struggling to
get back up from the ground.
“Hermione!” Her name left his lips instantly; he reached down and
caught her arms, helping her up. “Hermione, you should be inside.”
She raised her eyes to him, and wavering moonlight washed over
her face. He cringed slightly, seeing the pallor of her cheeks
and over-brightness of her eyes.
The tip of her tongue slipped out of her mouth, and she took a
deep breath, dry and raspy, before uttering a hoarse whisper.
“Dobby saved my life, too. Besides, I had to-- I had to see if
you were--”
He felt her sway slightly, and he placed an arm around her waist.
“Hermione, I'm serious.” he spoke anxiously, as her shallow
breathing reached almost a wheeze. “You're not well.”
She shook her head, obviously unable to speak, and he felt her
hand creep over to grasp the hand holding her waist. She tilted
her chin back, her eyes soft with pleading. He sighed.
“You were incredible.” he said finally, offering a forced smile.
“Coming up with that story while you were-- with Lestrange.”
She managed a feeble smile in return. Her hand tightened around
his lightly.
“I'm sorry.”
She made a face, and he smiled grimly.
“It's a reflex, Hermione, you know that. It may not be my fault,
but I feel responsible anyway.”
Again, her hand flexed around his. Her eyes searched his face as
she attempted to speak. All she managed was a soft, “I didn't
want you to take-- that kind of responsibility.”
He grinned reluctantly, and her eyes softened in warmth.
“That's the only kind I've taken.” he said lightly, keenly aware
that this was the closest they had been since Ron's return to
their trio. “Let's get you inside. Don't look at me that way; I'm
coming too.”
He hesitated.
“Maybe I should carry you.” he suggested tentatively, watching
her face intently.
She looked startled at the offer, but then her eyes moved to his
face, and a pleasant, soft glow entered her brown eyes, like a
new candle set in a familiar candleholder.
She nodded her assent, and Harry lifted her into his arms,
marveling at how light she felt in his arms.
Her arms slipped around his neck, and in the darkness he could
feel her relax slightly, and he was glad. Maybe he was glad that
she trusted him, or perhaps more that she felt comfortable in his
arms.
“Harry, take her into the back room.” Bill appeared in the
doorway. He directed Harry back into a small guest room
containing a small bed.
The sheets were already rumpled, and feeling self-conscious but
rather responsible, Harry lay Hermione gently down on the bunk.
As he carefully adjusted the pillow under her head, his mind
wandered back to the day when she had pulled the Horcrux off of
his chest. He couldn't help but feel like this was his turn.
And he felt ridiculously inadequate.
He pulled the covers up over her, feeling the clumsiest he'd ever
felt, and then sat softly on the edge of the bed.
He surveyed her silently for a moment, and she gazed quietly
back. He reached down and cautiously trailed his fingers across
her cheek.
A soft smile curved her lower lip, lifting her cheek into a
slight dimple as she closed her eyes.
“Erm... g'night, then.” he said quietly, utterly transfixed on
her face and embarrassingly aware of it.
She opened her eyes briefly, raising a hand and sweeping it down
the side of his face. Her expression (for there was no mistaking
it now) was so tender Harry felt a hard lump jam in his throat.
Was it possible that he could evoke such a lovely glow about her?
“Harry.” she murmured simply. As her eyes closed, Harry could see
her slip off into sleep, but not with difficulty as had so often
been the case these past few months.
No, she went to sleep as he supposed girls should: leaving the
world behind for warm dream castles and all the other things
normal girls would hope for.
Someday he'd ask her about dreams; someday he'd try to return the
tender glances and sweet smiles.
But tonight he'd let her sleep.
Nights shouldn't always have to end with darkness, after all.
Harry took one last look at her face, his heart pleasantly warm,
and slipped out of the room.
And for him, well, night always contained a couple of stars.
Containing Light in the Darkness
|
| The Ultimate Harry Potter Analysis Source |
| Choosing what is Right over what is Easy |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| Copyright © 2007 | www.booksandwands.com | All Rights Reserved Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers Entertainment. No copyright infringement intended of any and all source material. No profits were made from this site. |
