Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

"Dark and difficult times lie ahead. Soon we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy." - Albus Dumbledore

Chapter One

Hermione Granger would know Hogwarts Infirmary just about anywhere. For the average fifth year student, she had spent a little too much time within its four walls. So, when she opened her eyes, she knew exactly where she was and, she supposed, why. She took a deep, painful breath, as she tried to keep the panic at bay. She was fine, surely. She wouldn't still be at Hogwarts if she wasn't.

She took a moment to survey herself, starting from the top of her head and worked her way downwards. She had a headache, but it wasn't nearly as painful as the stinging pain in her chest. Even breathing was uncomfortable. There was a mild ache in her right elbow. Her wand arm. Her wand!

She could worry about that later. There was something in her hand; something warm and soft.

It took her a moment to realise that someone was holding her hand. A slight twist of her neck and her eyes settled on the guilty party. Harry Potter was sitting in a chair, his head resting on the edge of her bed. He was obviously asleep, his glasses adorably askew and his lips slightly parted. His hair was more of a mess than usual, which actually made her smile.

Hermione couldn't help but just watch him for a moment. He was here. He was alive. The Death Eaters couldn't have won then. Even as he slept, she noted that there was nothing peaceful about the look on his face, and she didn't think that his position was particularly comfortable. His back had to be aching.

"Harry," she whispered, squeezing his hand with her own. It was enough for his eyes to flutter open and settle on her slight smile. He immediately sat up and straightened his glasses, having taken his hand back. He ran a hand through his unruly hair and gave her a lopsided smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hermione," he said, looking more surprised than anything. "You're awake?" he asked stupidly, and then shook his head at his own words. "I mean, of course you're awake. I can see that... but you're awake."

Hermione just continued to smile at him, finding that she was relieved that he was the one she woke up to. For just a while, she could forget that she didn't know what happened after she was struck. She found that she didn't actually want Harry to be the one to tell her.

"How long have I been out?" she asked, her voice much lower than she anticipated.

Harry leaned forward to get close enough to hear her properly. "A few days. We've been waiting on you, Sleeping Beauty."

Hermione didn't know why she blushed but she couldn't help it. Perhaps it was because he was so close, or was it the way he was looking at her?

Without prompting, Harry started to tell her what had happened to their friends. "Ron was in here for a while," he explained. "Neville and Ginny were also hurt but Madam Pomfrey fixed them up rather easily. Luna is fine as well but nobody likes getting Stunned by a Death Eater." He even shuddered at the last part. Then as if a switch was flipped, Harry suddenly grew serious. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione reached for his hand. "It's not your fault, Harry."

He pressed his lips together. "I don't quite believe that," he admitted to her. "But I'm trying. Ron says that everything that happened probably would have happened anyway, in some form or another."

Hermione squeezed his hand encouragingly. "So we're all okay then?"

Harry stiffened and Hermione definitely noticed.

"Harry?"

He swallowed. "You could have died, Hermione," he almost cried, his eyes filling with unshed tears. "I could have lost you too."

Her breath hitched at that. "Too?"

Harry sat back and took deep breaths. Darkness clouded his features. He couldn't say it out loud, even if he knew she had to know. He shook his head as he stood up. "I should get Madam Pomfrey," he said, forcing the overwhelming emotion aside. "She said to get her when you woke up. I'll be right back."

Hermione could only watch in worried suspense as he hurried away from her. Gingerly, she tried to sit up but quickly abandoned her attempts. It hurt a little too much, and she was sure that the resident MediWitch would have words to say if she noticed.

Harry did not return with Madam Pomfrey. While she was tending to Hermione, he slipped out of the Infirmary after casting one last pained look at Hermione.

The young witch could only speculate about what had happened because even Madam Pomfrey refused to tell her anything that didn't pertain to her own injuries. By the time the MediWitch was done with her, Hermione had taken about a dozen potions, with countless many scheduled for the days to come.

Hermione held her groan in until Madam Pomfrey was out of earshot. It would be so much better if the potions didn't taste like death in a bottle.

Hermione must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew, she was being woken by hushed voices. She didn't open her eyes immediately, choosing just to listen to her friends.

"When did Madam Pomfrey say the Sleeping Potion would wear off?" Ron asked, his impatience getting the better of him.

"Whenever it wears off," Ginny replied hotly. "If you don't want to wait, you can just go."

Ron let out a breath, clearly affronted. "I was just asking," he defended himself. "I want to see Hermione as well, you know?"

"Why? So you can tell her you like her?" Ginny almost sang.

"I do not!" he huffed. "What would make you think such a thing?"

"Did you see your face when they brought her into the Infirmary?"

Ron cleared his throat. "Gin, whatever my face was revealing had to do with Sirius," he said sadly. "Not Hermione."

"So you weren't worried about her?"

Ron gasped. "Of course I was. She's my best friend. I would always worry about her."

"But not as much as Harry?"

"What on earth are you going on about now?" he asked. "What about Harry?"

Ginny didn't respond to her brother's question. "Where is Harry, by the way?"

Ron didn't press his sister, surprisingly. "Dumbledore wanted to see him. Harry seemed quite reluctant to go but he wouldn't tell me why."

"Maybe Dumbledore wants to talk about Sirius," Ginny offered. "I wouldn't want to go either, if that were the case."

Ron sighed. "I can't even believe he's dead, Gin."

That made Hermione's eyes snap open. "What?" she asked and, despite her obvious discomfort, she forced herself to sit up. "What? What?"

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, clearly surprised. His face broke into a wide smile, before it quickly disappeared. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough," she said dismissively. "What about Sirius?"

Ron looked down at his hands, his own expression turning to the pained one that Harry had been wearing when he left earlier. "The Order arrived at the Ministry to help," Ron started to explain. "Bellatrix hit Sirius with a Curse, and he fell through the Veil."

Hermione just stared at the redhead, trying to make sense of what she was being told. Sirius, dead? No. It couldn't be.

Ginny continued. "Harry almost went through after him, but Professor Lupin had to hold him back."

"You-Know-Who also showed up," Ron went on, preferring not to talk about his best friend's godfather. "Harry and Dumbledore fought him. The Minister saw, and they reprinted Harry's interview with Rita Skeeter. Nobody can deny his return now."

So much had happened, Hermione couldn't even believe it. Oh Harry. "What about the Prophecy?" Hermione asked, not wanting to talk about Sirius either.

"Shattered," Ginny answered simply. "Thankfully, he didn't get it."

Bless the little victories. She wanted to lie back down to ease the pain in her ribs but she had to ask one more, very important, question. Her conscience wouldn't let her rest if she didn't. "How is Harry? Truly?"

Ron and Ginny exchanged a look. It was Ron who finally responded. "He's been quiet," he said. "I don't know how much he told you..."

"Not much."

Ron sighed. "You-Know-Who tried to possess him, Hermione. He wanted Dumbledore to have to kill Harry to stop it, but of course Harry managed to fight him off all on his own."

"The Occlumency?"

"The grief," Ron said, painfully.

"And the love," Ginny added, making a point of looking at Hermione.

Hermione swallowed, clearly feeling uncomfortable under Ginny's heated gaze. "What else?" she managed to ask.

"We've been talking quite a bit about Sirius, but there's something he's hiding. I don't want to ask him about it, in case he stops talking entirely," Ron explained. "He still thinks it's his fault. This is Harry we're talking about so it's going to take some time."

"We'll get him through it," Hermione said strongly, almost daring the Universe to say otherwise.

Nobody would dare defy her.

That same evening, Harry visited Hermione after a somewhat tense dinner in the Great Hall. Ron had assured him that she would be under the effect of a Sleeping Potion so he was pleasantly surprised to find her still awake. Of course, his Hermione was reading a book of some sort, which immediately made him smile despite the looming darkness.

"Hey you," Hermione said as soon as she spotted him.

"Does Madam Pomfrey know you're being a terrible patient?" he asked, slipping into the chair he had claimed earlier.

Hermione closed her book. "I learn from the best," she said softly, risking a smile. "You've taught me well, Harry Potter."

He tilted his head, unable to see the humour in this moment. "I don't like that you're in here," he said, shifting his chair closer to her. "It's not supposed to be like this."

"How is it supposed to be, Harry? You instead?"

He looked at her for a moment, blinking innocently. How could she be so calm about such a thing? Didn't she know what it had been like for him, not knowing if or when she would ever wake up? "I can't lose you, Hermione," he said after a while. "I mean, I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"Sit here and just wait while I'm in that bed." He shook his head. "It's horrible. Is it always like this? I couldn't eat; I couldn't sleep. Merlin, I couldn't even breathe sometimes. Not knowing that you're okay, that you're completely healthy... I just, I can't..."

Hermione wanted to hug him; needed to hug him. She made a move to get up off the bed, but Harry put out his hands to stop her.

"No," he said, worry clouding his features. "Stop that. What are you doing? You're hurt, Hermione."

She pouted. "Then you come to me, Harry."

"I can't do that," he said, shaking his head. "If you hug me; if you so much as touch me, I won't be able to keep it in anymore. I'm just about holding it together. I can't... If you hold me, I'll break down, and there's no telling what will happen."

"Harry," she said strongly, her heart breaking. "Come here."

He didn't move.

Hermione started to move again, indicating that she would go to him if he didn't go to her. She was going to be painfully stubborn about this and he was quick to realise it.

"Okay," Harry finally said, relenting. "Okay, okay, just don't move. I'm coming."

Hermione hid her relief well. It was starting to hurt to sit up. She did manage to move to one side of the bed and patted the empty space beside her, making Harry just stare at her in utter confusion.

"Hermione?"

"Harry."

It was the tone of voice with which he could not argue. This was a big decision, he knew, but he didn't even want to think about why. This was Hermione. She would make it all better. He was safe when he was with her.

So, setting his worries aside, he climbed onto the bed and lay down beside her. He shifted onto his side to look at her, and she immediately put her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Harry immediately tensed.

"I'm sorry about Sirius," she whispered into his ear, warm breath against his skin. It sent a shiver down his spine. "I know my words don't mean much, if anything at all, but I'm still sorry."

It was enough for Harry. It didn't have much to do with her actual words but to do with the tenderness in her tone. He immediately hugged her back, practically clutched at her. He slipped an arm under her and buried his own face in the crook of her neck. He was trembling.

"You'll be okay, Harry," she said softly. "You're going to be okay."

"Because I've got you?" he mumbled.

"Exactly."

Harry pulled her closer and Hermione tightened her grip on him, determined not to let go until she had to.

"There's something I have to tell you," Harry said, his voice barely audible as his breath tickled her neck. "I want to tell you. I have to tell you, but I'm not quite ready yet." The truth was, really, Harry didn't want to give her an excuse to run, even if it was the safest thing for her to do.

People around him tended to get hurt. Or die. He'd seen both happen just in the last few days.

"Don't rush," Hermione assured him. "I promise I'm not going anywhere."

And that was the moment Harry started to cry. He couldn't hold it in anymore, and he didn't want to. He was safe here. He was safe with Hermione.

Absently, she started to run her hands up and down his back, soothing him. "You're okay, Harry," she cooed repeatedly, her heart breaking at the sound of his pained sobs.

A part of Harry was convinced that he didn't deserve her comfort. He had to be alone in this. It was his fault that Sirius was dead and so he had to suffer through it by himself. But he was too selfish to let go of her. Despite his own twisted thoughts, he needed her, sometimes more than everyone else.

Now that Sirius was gone, who else did he have anyway? Who did he want to have?

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Hermione pulled away from him so that she could look at him. She brought her hands up to his red face and wiped away his tears. "That is the last time you apologise, do you hear me?" she instructed, her brown eyes meeting his piercing green. "I won't hear it again, are we clear?"

He nodded dumbly.

"It's okay to feel guilt, Harry," she said softly, her fingers caressing his cheeks. "Listen to what Ron said though. Believe that, despite our best efforts, sometimes things just find a way of happening. Any one of us could have done one thing differently, and that one change in the timeline could have saved Sirius. So if you're going to blame yourself, you may as well blame me as well."

"But I don't blame you."

"Then my work here is done," she said, risking a smile. Then she did something she had never done before. She reached up and kissed his forehead, which warmed him from the inside out.

"Thank you," he whispered, placing his own kiss on her forehead.

Hermione felt her heart jolt at the contact. His lips were surprisingly warm and, as if she was suddenly allowed to, she relaxed into him. Harry enclosed her in his arms again as she settled her head just under his chin. He could smell her shampoo, something flowery that he couldn't place, and it was such a pleasant distraction that he found himself closing his eyes.

Hermione closed her eyes as well, and she snuggled further into him. It was so comfortable being in his arms that, for a moment, she forgot that she was Hermione Granger and he was Harry Potter.

But she quickly remembered, and her eyes snapped open. "Uh, Harry?"

"Hmm."

"Madam Pomfrey is going to hex you if she finds us," she pointed out.

He didn't move. "Why do you think I'm the one she's going to hex, and not you?"

"I'm the innocent patient, remember?"

"You're not that innocent."

Again, Hermione blushed and she was mightily glad he couldn't see her face. "Do you want to get hexed?"

"Do you want me to go?"

She didn't respond.

"Because I don't mind getting hexed if you want me to stay."

The truth really was that she didn't want him to go. It was too quiet and too gloomy being alone in the Infirmary; she didn't know how Harry had done it so often. No wonder he was so generous with the use of his Cloak of Invisibility.

But even she acknowledged that that wasn't the true reason she needed him to stay. It wasn't about being alone, but about being with him. This was Harry, and he was holding her in a way that she'd never dreamed he would. She didn't want to let go of this moment.

"Do you want me to stay, Hermione?" he asked, pressing his chin against the top of her head to get her attention, or make a point. She didn't know, but she liked it.

"Stay until I fall asleep," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I won't be responsible for what she does to you after that."

He chuckled and the vibrations of his body seemed to transmit to hers, making her smile. "It's good you said that," he said, holding her tighter and breathing her in. "Because I wasn't going anywhere."

"Should have known. You've always been stubborn."

"So have you."

"Quite the pair we are, aren't we?"

Harry made a sound of affirmation, which really signalled the end of their conversation.

"Goodnight, Harry," she whispered.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

And, as Hermione drifted to sleep, her last thought was: yes, they really were quite the pair.

When Harry returned to the fifth year dormitory the following morning, Ron was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of his own bed, absently staring at his best friend's still-made bed. It seemed odd that Harry wasn't around and he wondered if he'd failed his friend by not making sure he got to bed safely.

Ron practically jumped when Harry entered the room. "Hey, mate, where have you been?" he asked.

Harry made a beeline for the end of his bed. "With Hermione."

"All night?"

"I fell asleep," he admitted, bending to retrieve a set of fresh robes from his trunk.

"And Madam Pomfrey didn't catch you?"

Harry smiled at Ron. He actually smiled. "Almost did. It was a right mess trying to get out of there. She was coming out to check on Hermione but she halted in the doorway like she forgot something. Whatever she left behind probably saved me from a Stinger."

Ron just nodded, smiling at his friend's smile. Trust Hermione to get him to smile. "How is Hermione, by the way?"

Harry felt heat rise up his neck as he thought of the previous night, holding her close and kissing her forehead. It meant something, he was sure, but now was not the time to analyse that. "We didn't get much time to talk this morning," he managed to say. It was the truth, really, because Harry had all but fallen out of bed that morning. His side was still aching from hitting the hard ground. "But she seems to be doing fine. You said she was complaining about her millions of potions?"

"Something like ten a day," Ron said, visibly shuddering. "Can you imagine?"

Harry definitely could.

"Do you think Madam Pomfrey will release her in time to catch the Express?"

"I hope so," Harry said, gathering his toiletries. "I'm going to head for a shower. You go on to breakfast. I'll catch up."

"Are you sure?"

Harry stopped and regarded his friend. "I'm sure, Ron, but thank you. I'll be down in a bit."

Once Ron was out of sight, Harry felt the energy from before leave him. His smile faded and his shoulders dropped. When he was alone, the memories came back swinging. Harry doubted he would ever forget watching the light leave Sirius' eyes, or hearing Hermione's 'Oh' before she collapsed from Dolohov's Curse.

The Curse that could have killed her, had it been spoken aloud.

Harry shuddered at the thought. Losing Hermione in any way was definitely not an option.

Harry took his time in the shower, even though he initially didn't want to wash the Hermione smell off of him. It was comforting and grounding. In light of everything that had happened, he knew that she was now his home-base; his sounding board.

Only she could possibly handle all that Harry Potter had to offer.

Sure, there were the Weasleys, and he absolutely loved them, but even he had to admit that they had ideals about Harry Potter that he wouldn't ever live up to.

With Hermione, it was different. She could handle 'just Harry.' She didn't even blink at all the small things.

But, it was the big things he worried about. There were things, so many things, that he held inside. He had to keep them inside; he had to keep the darkness he was feeling hidden.

He couldn't do that to her. She didn't have to see what was within him if she didn't have to, and that was his vow.

When he was finally dressed to face the day, Harry did not go to the Great Hall. Instead, he made his way back to the Infirmary, consciously needing to see Hermione before he could even deem his day having begun. He wasn't even the least bit ashamed of it. She would make everything better. She already made him feel safe.

Only, Hermione wasn't in the Infirmary when he arrived. The panic he felt was only reduced by the fact that her book was still sitting beside her bed. Hermione would never have left without it, surely.

Resolving to wait it out, Harry sat down in his usual chair and lost himself in his thoughts. There was a lot going on in his mind but, really, all he could focus on was the feel of his female best friend in his arms. He'd never really held her like that before and he couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted to do it again. And again and again.

Harry had to wait close to fifteen minutes for Hermione to emerge from wherever she went. The bathroom, he deduced. Her hair was still damp and hanging loose around her shoulders when she approached him, still using a towel to dry it. To Harry, she looked completely refreshed, as if she hadn't faced a near-fatal Curse just days before.

If he were really being honest with himself, he would say that she looked rather beautiful. This was Hermione he was seeing; just her, nothing less, nothing more. And she was perfect.

"Morning, you," Hermione said, eyeing him rather curiously. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

He shook his head. "Have you?"

"I'm just about to. Will you join me?"

Harry merely nodded.

Hermione sat down on the edge of her bed just across from him. She was tempted to ask him what he was thinking but she supposed that it was best to allow him to tell her in his own time. It wouldn't do well to push him. For now, at least.

"Madam Pomfrey was quite suspicious this morning," she said instead. "Apparently it's unusual for patients to sleep on one side of a single bed."

Harry had to smile at that. "Fascinating."

"One would say."

"Have you got an imaginary boyfriend you're not telling us about?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "If I had a boyfriend, Harry; you would definitely be the first to know."

He cleared his throat. "Umm, and why is that exactly?"

"Because you're my best friend," she said easily. "We tell each other everything, don't we?"

Harry put a hand on her knee, his fingers warm through the denim of her jeans. "Eventually, yeah, we do."

Hermione placed one of her own hands over his and absently rubbed her thumb over its top. "Why aren't you in the Great Hall, Harry?" she felt she had to ask.

"I wanted to see you," he answered easily.

Hermione dropped her head to hide her sudden blush. "You're not hiding, are you?"

"If I were hiding, Hermione, then I wouldn't be here with you, now would I?"

She looked at him then, searching his face for what he was truly feeling. He had a habit of keeping things in, but she'd learned to read him over the years. The way he was unafraid to meet her gaze told her that he was telling the truth. He wasn't hiding. He just wanted to see her. Her blush only increased at that.

Harry shifted his hand off her knee and entwined his fingers with hers. He tugged ever so slightly to get her attention. "I feel like I'm drowning," he said softly, almost whispering.

Hermione didn't say anything, realising that, if she did, he would stop talking.

"Bad things are going to keep happening, aren't they?" he asked rhetorically. "The War has officially begun. These are going to be dark and difficult times, aren't they? They're going to try to kill us, and we're going to have to kill them. People will get hurt and people will die." He blinked a few times before he lifted his head to look at her. "I won't survive if you are ever one of those people."

"I won't be."

He turned incredulous quite quickly. "How can you even say that? Look at where you are, Hermione!"

She squeezed his fingers. "And look at where you are," she said. "I won't pretend to know what's going to happen in the future, Harry, but this is what I do know. You survive. Somehow, you always survive. I don't know if it's pure luck or you're just some other kind of wizard, but you always tend to defy death. And, seeing as I go where you go, I will as well."

Harry just stared at her for a moment before he started to laugh.

"What?" she asked innocently, unsure of what she said that was so funny. However unintentional, hearing him laugh made her feel a powerful sense of accomplishment. It was a wonderful sound, really.

"You really are very stubborn, aren't you?"

She shrugged.

"You do realise that your little explanation has done nothing to ease my worries about your safety, right?"

She shrugged once more, absently tugging on his fingers again.

Harry stood up and moved to stand right in front of her, the tops of his thighs touching her knees. With his free hand, he tucked some loose hair behind her ear and smiled ever so slightly. She really was quite beautiful, just like this. Right up close.

Hermione couldn't keep her breathing steady. He was standing so close. What was he doing?

"To keep you safe, I have to push you away," he said, making her frown. "It's what I know I have to do, Hermione. But I can't bring myself to do it. I don't want to. I don't even think I could, even if I tried. I watched you get hit by that Curse and the entire world stopped. Something happened to you and it felt like it happened to me.

"Everything has changed. What I feel about you; it's changed. It is so much more and I am trying to make sense of all of it. Because I really don't know what this all means but I have to know that you'll always be safe, and the only way I know how to do that is if you're with me."

Hermione couldn't find any words to say. What exactly was he trying to tell her?

He slipped his hand through her hair until he was cupping the back of her neck, his fingers soft on her skin. He would protect her, no matter what. It was decided. The most dangerous place for her was at his side... and yet, it was probably also the safest. Harry Potter was the most guarded wizard, second to the Minister of Magic.

Hermione took hold of the front of his robes in her right hand, fisting the fabric. This was a very important moment for them. Looking back, Hermione would probably call it the moment that changed everything about her relationship with Harry Potter.

Harry leaned forward and kissed her forehead just like the night before, automatically making her eyes close and her breath hitch.

Only it was different this time. The previous night's kiss came from a place of comfort.

This kiss, this one was a promise.