2 Ch02

Hermione… without a word or a glance in his direction she'd made that wreath. It was small, beautiful, and perfect. How had she known? His heart felt like it was filling to overflowing with… something… Harry felt his heart swelling almost to the point of bursting with the pressure of it. Hermione… "Merry Christmas Harry." she whispered and laid her head on his shoulder. That was when the pressure burst… and he knew. But he would never let on, please god help him to not let on. Hermione… she was with Ron and he with Ginny. They were his best friends, his family and he would sooner rip out his own heart than to hurt them.

And so he would. He would pretend nothing within himself had changed and that his entire universe hadn't shifted to revolve completely around her. Hermione… that impossible, infuriating, know it all, beautiful, intelligent, wonderful person. Yes, he would smother that part of him, walk into that tent and reassure her that she did nothing to feel bad about. That she had, in fact, done everything right! As she usually does. He could do it. He would. He had to.

Harry pushed his way through the tent flap and there Hermione was, exactly as expected, sitting at the table and staring intently at his broken wand as if willing it to mend with just the power of her formidable mind. Harry gave another sigh, a little one, and walked over to sit beside her.

"I'm sorry Harry," she said in a small voice, "it's my fault. That curse…"

"Look at me." Harry said firmly. Hermione turned to him almost involuntarily and he continued, "You did nothing wrong Hermione." He picked up the wand pieces. "Certainly nothing to be sorry for, I mean you saved my life!"

"But…!" Hermione jumped from her seat "You've already lost so much Harry! The wand… it's so much a part of you…!" she had begun to pace in the middle of the tent in her frustration.

"The only thing," Harry began in a load voice, cutting her off as he too rose from the table. Once he had her attention again he continued in a softer voice, "I've lost here is a wand. It's a thing, Hermione. It was special, yes, but in the end it's just a thing. Serius Black, Mad Eye, my parents… their deaths are a loss. Losing them hurts." His voice cracked slightly on that last word but his voice firmed, his back straitened, and he continued on as he walked over to where she stood, having stopped her pacing to listen to him.

"Ron, his family, our friends, and… you. Those are the only things that matter to me. This," he said holding up his broken wand, "is just a stick." Harry tossed the broken pieces out the tent flap without a second glance and took another step forward, "Losing you… A-any of you would destroy me." Harry blushed. God, he'd almost slipped. He hoped she hadn't noticed. Just like he hadn't noticed how close he'd come to her. They were almost sharing breath they were so close. Somewhere in that speech Hermione had captured his eyes with her own, and god help him he couldn't look away.