He saw her sitting outside in the grass, eyes fixed out onto the
gray-blue expanse of the sea. The wind was playing with her hair,
and Harry felt compelled, suddenly, to go and join her.
He excused himself from the table where Ron and Bill were engaged
in a game of chess, and stepped out the back door into the nippy
air.
Hesitantly, he strode across the lawn and stood behind her,
feeling rather stupid, just standing her behind her silently. But
then she spoke.
“If it isn't Teddy's godfather.” Her tone was warm enough, but
Harry could hear the undercurrent of... was it sadness? No, it
was more a wistful tone, and he couldn't help but think that if
her voice had a color, it would match the soft, pearly gray of
the sky.
“Yeah.” he said, and with a quick step, he sat beside her. She
turned and offered a small smile.
“I think Remus and Dora made a good choice.” she said quietly,
reaching out and softly squeezing his hand. “Teddy's a lucky boy.”
A flush crept to his cheeks, and he looked away.
“I dunno.” he said after a pause. “I don't exactly know anything
about babies.”
She made a slight noise, almost a sigh, but more of a wordless
whisper.
“But it's okay.” he said, after allowing another pause. “He's got
his grandparents, hasn't he, and the Weasleys.”
“And you.” she reminded him. His lips twitched in a dry smile.
“And me, I suppose.”
Another silence ensued.
“You haven't given up yet, have you?” she asked him seriously.
Harry frowned, puzzled.
“I don't have a choice, do I? I have to end him.”
“No, not You-Know-Who.” she said, with a quiet cluck of her
tongue. “I meant... I mean, haven't you ever allowed yourself to
think about-- about what happens afterwards?”
“Have you?” he countered. She paused, and as Harry turned his
eyes towards her face, he saw her eyes close.
“Not much.” she admitted, nibbling her lip. He gave a half-
hearted chuckle. “But honestly, Harry.”
He shook his head, sighing and plucking a blade of grass from the
ground.
“No. I try to be realistic.”
Her hand was on his arm then, and he felt her fingers contract
around his wrist.
“Afterwards is realistic.” she said, and the passion in her quiet
tone surprised him. “For you and for me.”
He lowered his eyes, the flush returning to his cheeks. As if
realizing the implications of her words, Hermione's fingers
twitched nervously around his wrist.
“Is it?” he spoke finally, after another long silence. The sound
of the waves echoed in his ears. “Hermione, this whole-- this
thing... it's all I have.”
“No, it's not.” Hermione said fiercely, and he looked up,
surprised. Her eyes were alight in a way he'd never seen there
before. “You have me!”
A silence occurred, in which Hermione blushed slightly and
stammered something that sounded like, “I mean...that is to say--
I'm your best friend-- I--”
Unbelievably, yet uncontrollably, Harry found himself smiling. It
was a small smile, but the first real smile he'd felt in a long
time.
A shy smile played at the corners of her mouth as she looked away.
“When this is over--” Hermione began, then stopped. She slipped
her hand into his, pushing her unruly curls out of her eyes and
dampening her mouth with her tongue. “Just know that you do have
an afterwards to look forward to.”
He smiled again, and carefully brushed a finger across her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and instantly snapped back open as she
cast him an embarrassed glance.
“I'd rather look to you. You're closer.”
He reached up and caught her tears on his thumb, and she smiled.
“You shouldn't-- but you can, just as long as I can look back.”
gray-blue expanse of the sea. The wind was playing with her hair,
and Harry felt compelled, suddenly, to go and join her.
He excused himself from the table where Ron and Bill were engaged
in a game of chess, and stepped out the back door into the nippy
air.
Hesitantly, he strode across the lawn and stood behind her,
feeling rather stupid, just standing her behind her silently. But
then she spoke.
“If it isn't Teddy's godfather.” Her tone was warm enough, but
Harry could hear the undercurrent of... was it sadness? No, it
was more a wistful tone, and he couldn't help but think that if
her voice had a color, it would match the soft, pearly gray of
the sky.
“Yeah.” he said, and with a quick step, he sat beside her. She
turned and offered a small smile.
“I think Remus and Dora made a good choice.” she said quietly,
reaching out and softly squeezing his hand. “Teddy's a lucky boy.”
A flush crept to his cheeks, and he looked away.
“I dunno.” he said after a pause. “I don't exactly know anything
about babies.”
She made a slight noise, almost a sigh, but more of a wordless
whisper.
“But it's okay.” he said, after allowing another pause. “He's got
his grandparents, hasn't he, and the Weasleys.”
“And you.” she reminded him. His lips twitched in a dry smile.
“And me, I suppose.”
Another silence ensued.
“You haven't given up yet, have you?” she asked him seriously.
Harry frowned, puzzled.
“I don't have a choice, do I? I have to end him.”
“No, not You-Know-Who.” she said, with a quiet cluck of her
tongue. “I meant... I mean, haven't you ever allowed yourself to
think about-- about what happens afterwards?”
“Have you?” he countered. She paused, and as Harry turned his
eyes towards her face, he saw her eyes close.
“Not much.” she admitted, nibbling her lip. He gave a half-
hearted chuckle. “But honestly, Harry.”
He shook his head, sighing and plucking a blade of grass from the
ground.
“No. I try to be realistic.”
Her hand was on his arm then, and he felt her fingers contract
around his wrist.
“Afterwards is realistic.” she said, and the passion in her quiet
tone surprised him. “For you and for me.”
He lowered his eyes, the flush returning to his cheeks. As if
realizing the implications of her words, Hermione's fingers
twitched nervously around his wrist.
“Is it?” he spoke finally, after another long silence. The sound
of the waves echoed in his ears. “Hermione, this whole-- this
thing... it's all I have.”
“No, it's not.” Hermione said fiercely, and he looked up,
surprised. Her eyes were alight in a way he'd never seen there
before. “You have me!”
A silence occurred, in which Hermione blushed slightly and
stammered something that sounded like, “I mean...that is to say--
I'm your best friend-- I--”
Unbelievably, yet uncontrollably, Harry found himself smiling. It
was a small smile, but the first real smile he'd felt in a long
time.
A shy smile played at the corners of her mouth as she looked away.
“When this is over--” Hermione began, then stopped. She slipped
her hand into his, pushing her unruly curls out of her eyes and
dampening her mouth with her tongue. “Just know that you do have
an afterwards to look forward to.”
He smiled again, and carefully brushed a finger across her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and instantly snapped back open as she
cast him an embarrassed glance.
“I'd rather look to you. You're closer.”
He reached up and caught her tears on his thumb, and she smiled.
“You shouldn't-- but you can, just as long as I can look back.”
Choosing to Look
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| The Ultimate Harry Potter Analysis Source |
| Choosing what is Right over what is Easy |
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