Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does.

Someone to Stay

"You've been fighting the memory, all on your own,

Nothing washes, nothing grows,

I know how it feels being by yourself in the rain

We all need someone to stay

We all need someone to stay

Hear you falling and lonely, cry out,

'Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope?

The end of the day, I'm helpless

Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?'"

-"Someone to Stay" by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Hermione had packed her belongings for Australia. She didn't know how long she was going to be, so she stuffed all of her clothes into her bottomless, beaded bag. She looked around her room at Grimmauld Place, not knowing when she was going to see it again. She debated on bringing the picture of her, Ron, and Harry that was on her nightstand.

No.

She needed something to come back to.

Making her way down the stairs and into the parlor, she found Harry and his thousand-yard stare, standing by the mantle, fidgeting with a pen.

"Harry? You okay?"

He looked up at the sound of his voice and forced a smile.

"Hermione! All packed?"

Avoiding her question.

Or he didn't hear her.

Hermione patted her beaded bag. "Yeah. All set for my trip. You going to be fine her all by yourself?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Don't worry. Just…focus on getting your parents' memories restored. I'll be okay without you."

A lie. It rolled off his tongue like vinegar and a bitter Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Bean.

His statement was like a punch in the gut to Hermione. How could he say something like that? Did he not need her like she thought he did? His nightmares suggested something different.

"I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you, too, Hermione. Now, go. Before we both start crying," he said with a watery smile.

Hermione gathered her best friend in her arms, hugging him tight, and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Write to me, okay?"

He nodded against her shoulder, placing a small kiss on her flesh. It wasn't that he was extremely dependent on her. It was that it was a mere couple of months since he had defeated Voldemort and he was still wracked with nightmares. He was scared to be by himself in that house. He was scared to be without her.

He was a drowning man.

And she was his life raft.

Hermione looked down at her watch. "I've got seconds. Take care of yourself."

"You, too." He handed her the pen, which was an International Portkey, and was transported thousands of miles away to Australia.

That had been a month ago.

"Stop crying. Stop crying," Harry whispered to himself from his usual spot in the corner of his bedroom. He was in nothing but his boxers, drenched in sweat, with tears rolling down his cheeks. "Stop crying. Get it together, Potter. She's not here."

'If she saw you, she'd think you were pathetic. Sitting here crying.'

He was skin and bones. He didn't eat much, no matter how much his house elf, Kreacher, insisted. His clothes were strewn across the floor. His bed in a disarray. He hated being in it. He hated the nightmares.

The blood. The screams. The spells. The explosions.

Hermione dying. She hadn't been hurt but his subconscious would not stop sending him that vision.

Kreacher had tried to get his Master to leave the house and see the Weasleys but they were still grieving over the loss of Fred and Harry did not want to bother them.

Andromeda Tonks was grieving the loss of her daughter and son-in-law and was patching things up with her sister, Narcissa, and nephew, Draco. He didn't want to ruin that, either.

Luna was with her father and he knew that she and Ron were now spending time together. He didn't want to intrude on new love.

"I'm alone…" he whispered. "I'm alone."

He wanted Hermione. More than he ever wanted anything in his life. He glanced over at the picture on his nightstand. It was of the two of them from Sixth Year. They were smiling and looked so happy.

He started to take deep gulps of breath and a panic attack set in.

The door opened and Kreacher walked in tentatively with a plate of food. "Master, I brought you something to eat. I think it's wise for you to eat."

He shook his head.

"Mistress Hermione would want you to eat."

"I miss her. I love her."

"I know, Master. I know. But she would not want you to do this to yourself."

Harry could do nothing but cry harder. Kreacher set the plate of food on the dresser and took the old, untouched one from breakfast and left the room, gears running in his head. He needed to do something about this. He couldn't let his Master whither away like this.

"That was a good breakfast, Mum. I'm stuffed," Hermione said with a smile as she picked up her empty plate and brought it to the sink to clean.

"I'm glad you liked it. You used to love French toast when you were younger, too."

"I remember," Hermione chuckled. "With maple syrup. And powdered sugar."

"We had to keep you away from that. We're dentists. We have a code."

Mother and daughter shared a laugh as they washed dishes together. Hermione had found her parents a week after she had arrived in Sydney, Australia. It was an emotional reunion but after a long, long talk, the family was happy to be back together. Hermione gave herself a little vacation: going to the beach, touring the sights, seeing shows at the Opera House.

She stared out the window with hope.

"I know that look. You're waiting for an owl from him," Charlotte Granger told her daughter. "I hear you worry for him, too, at night. You call out his name in your sleep."

Hermione sighed and blushed. "It's been a month. He hasn't wrote me back. I'm worried about him. He's in a fragile state. We all are. We were in a War. There are things we can't unsee. I used to hear him cry out in his sleep from the next room every night."

"PTSD?"

Hermione nodded to her mother. "I'm scared for him. What if he's dead? Or worse?"

"What could be worse than dead?"

"Depressed."

Both Granger women jumped at a loud pop, and Kreacher the house elf appeared. Charlotte dropped the plate she had been washing on the floor, shattering it. Without missing a beat, the house elf snapped his fingers and the plate flew back into her hands. Good as new.

"Kreacher!"

"Mistress!"

"Hermione, who is this?"

"This is Kreacher, Harry and I's house elf." She turned to the house elf and asked, "What is it? Is it Harry?"

"Yes, Mistress. It is most terrible. Master Harry refuses to sleep. Refuses to eat. He is falling apart. I can't get him to cooperate."

"Oh, my God. Harry." Tears came to her eyes and she looked to her mother, apologetically.

"Go, dear. He needs you more than we do. We'll be fine."

"Tell Dad 'I'm sorry' and I'll be back."

"I will. And tell that boy how you feel about him, will you?"

Hermione blushed as she grabbed her wand in one hand and Kreacher's bony hand in the other. With another loud pop, she was back home at Grimmauld Place.

"HARRY!"

"He's up in his room, Mistress!" she heard her house elf yell.

Taking the stairs two at a time, she ran up to her best friend and love of her life's bedroom. She threw open the door and gasped. It smelled dirty and like rotting food. T-shirts and pajamas and boxer shorts were everywhere. His curtains were drawn to blackout sun, but it didn't matter since it was the middle of the night.

"Harry?"

She heard a whimpering in the corner and found her best friend lying there, half-naked, curled up in the fetal position. "Stop crying..stop crying...stop crying...Hermione...I'm alone...I'm alone...I'm alone...Don't hurt them, please...I'm alone...Hermione..."

"Harry!" She rushed to his side and placed a hand on his arm. He flinched violently and looked up at her. His face was gaunt and sunken in. Cold sweat covered him and dark circles were around his eyes, which were red from crying. "Oh, Harry..."

"Hermione...? Is that you?" His mouth was dry. He look dehydrated.

"Yes, love. It's me. I'm here. I'm back." He smelled awful. She smoothed back his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"Hermione!" He didn't have much strength so he wrapped his arm around her waist and buried his face in her knees. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too. Why didn't you write to me?"

"I didn't want to be a bother," he said shyly against her leg. "I didn't want to interrupt your family time with your parents."

"Oh, Harry. You could never be a bother."

"I didn't visit the Weasleys because I didn't want to be a bother either. I've been here for a month. By myself. Thinking about how the War and how people have lost their families and how I have no family and how I'm alone."

Hermione grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. "What the fuck, Harry James Potter? The Weasleys are your family. Andromeda and Teddy are your family. I am your family. You say that again and I knock you into next week."

He kept quiet and didn't protest.

"Come on, let's get you in the shower. Everything feels better after a shower."

The brunette helped him up and led him over to the bathroom. She flipped on the light and got the shower running to a nice, warm temperature. Hermione ran her hand under it and once it felt nice, she beckoned him over, "Come on. Take off your boxers and your glasses, and get in the shower."

Neither of them really cared about nudity at this moment, so the both of them held their blushes. Although, Hermione did like what she saw. He was halfway in the shower, when he grabbed her wrist.

"Stay with me?"

She couldn't resist him. Finding her inner Gryffindor, she began to strip off her pajamas. He gave her a small smile and took her hand leading her into the shower with him. It was warm under the water and it washed off Harry's sweat and tears. Hermione reached up and wiped his red cheek.

"I just hate feeling like this, Hermione."

"Like what?"

"Lonely. Depressed. Sad. Angry. Too many emotions to fit inside of me. I want them to stop. I want to stop feeling them. I want to feel something else other than this."

Feeling bold, she grabbed the back of his neck and pressed her wet, naked chest to him, bringing her mouth to his. Their lips connected in a searing kiss. She was only going to give him a short, sweet one. But he had other plans once the shock of his best friend, who he was secretly in love with, was kissing him.

Harry's hands went to her neck, keeping her there. His tongue wanted entrance and she granted him that. He spun her around and pressed her against the wall and she gave out a small whimper, pulling him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Air was a necessity, and they broke apart. They stared at each other, panting, with water cascading down their bodies, making them slick. Something was poking Hermione in her lower stomach and she knew what it was. She blushed.

"S-sorry," he said, looking down at his erection.

"Don't be. I'm flattered."

"I love you," he blurted out. Like he was saying his favorite ice cream flavour.

She smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. "I love you, too. Do you still feel depressed?"

"Yes. But I also feel other things. I feel you. I feel loved. And that's better than feeling lonely, isn't it?"

After their shower, they laid in bed and held each other close. It wasn't one of those nights where they immediately slept together. They felt they didn't need to. It was just them. Together. Bare for each other to see. Both in mind and body.

And they had both found someone to stay.

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