AN: This is my first time posting anything on this site. Anyway, this is inspired by a conversation between Giles and Buffy at the end of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode, "Lie to Me".

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and the characters within all belong to the brilliant Jo Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. So uhm, please don't sue?

It was bitterly cold and at some point, Harry wasn't sure when, it had begun to snow. All he knew was his fingers were completely numb with cold, as were his feet. He could hardly feel the weight of Hermione's borrowed wand as he sat on the small cushion just inside the flap of their tent.

Shivering, he drew the quilt he'd pulled off his bunk earlier, closer around him, trying in vain to draw whatever warmth he could from it.

Snow hissed and whispered as it fell gently among the towering pines of the forest they were camping in. Harry shivered more, the quilt and seven Weasley sweaters doing nothing to actually make him warmer. They were no match for the bitterness of the cold around him.

He was just starting to wonder if maybe he could conjure those lovely warm bluebell flames of Hermione's when a noise from within the tent caught his attention.

He turned to look back into the opening, eyes searching for the source of the noise he'd heard.

After a few seconds, he decided that he'd just been imagining it and went back to stare out into the cold, snowy landscape. Everything was quiet and still.

It was a lie though. Everything wasn't okay or peaceful. Everything was chaos and confusion. Dangerous. People were dying every day. And here he was, in the middle of a forest without a clue.

He'd found a horcrux yes, but had no idea how to destroy it.

Or any of the others once they found them. If they ever found them. They had ideas and theories of what the objects could be. But no idea where those objects were. Fat lot of help that did them.

Meanwhile, the one they did have had already torn one friend's mind apart, and was slowly doing the same to the two that remained.

Terrors haunted their dreams at night, and fear plagued their thoughts in waking. Eyes always roving and muscles tense. They jumped at even the slightest of innocuous noises.

Fear was tightening its grip on them like a dementor. Ready to take their souls for its very own, leaving them twisted and insane.

He heard the sound from within the tent again. It was sharper, clearer than before. This time he was certain he hadn't imagined it.

Gripping Hermione's wand tightly, Harry rose from his cold, cramped seat and walked slowly into the tent. His eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light cast by the bowl of the very flames he'd briefly thought of casting himself to get warm. The bowl sat in the same place it had been earlier on the floor of the sitting room.

Harry made his way quietly to the small bedroom and looked in on Hermione. She was bundled under several layers of blankets, apparently asleep. The only light, that of a small oil lamp placed on a small table near her cot. He watched her for several minutes and turned away.

He was hearing things he thought irritably making his way back to his seat at the entrance of the tent to continue his watch.

That is until he heard it again; it was clearer and sharper now he was inside. It was the sound of quiet snuffling. And quiet sobs.

Harry froze, his heart breaking at the sounds. Doubt swelled. Should he go to her? How could he comfort her though? He was rubbish with girls. Especially crying girls.

This was Hermione though. She was much more than a girl. Letting out his breath, Harry turned and crept back to the bedroom and made his way to Hermione's cot, careful to make some noise so he wouldn't startle her.

The sounds abruptly went quiet and the air still. He reached the cot and knelt near where her head lay on the pillow. Gently, he pulled the blankets down from over her head. And what he saw broke his heart all over again.

Tears made wet tracks down her face, shining in the light from the small lamp near the cot. He saw that her face was puffy and blotchy from her crying and her eyes red rimmed and raw.

"Hermione?" he whispered her name the only thing he can think to say.

She stared at him as if she wasn't really seeing him there, but seeing something else. And the raw pain in her eyes tore at him. He wanted so desperately to make that pain leave her, so it would never darken her eyes again.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" he tries again, still whispering, afraid that if he talks louder it will somehow scare her into keeping everything to herself.

She seems to start slightly and her eyes focus on him for the first time and he sees it when she realizes he's there.

"Hermione, please, let me help you," he pleads, again afraid she will shutter away whatever is bothering her.

She looked away, avoiding eye contact. He saw her throat working furiously, trying to swallow fresh sobs. When she looked back to him, the raw intensity of the pain in her eyes hit him like a bludger.

"Does it get easier? Does any of it get easier? Do people stop dying?" she whispered her voice choked with emotion.

His first reaction was to say 'Yes' that it did. But that wasn't true and they both knew it. The truth was it didn't, it never got easier to deal with the knowledge that so many were dying. Harry smiled bitterly to himself; it seemed that his wasn't the only mind walking the path of those thoughts this night.

It was his turn to look away now, trying to give himself more time to think of something to say.

"What would you have me say?" he asked her quietly.

"Lie to me," she said just as quietly. "Tell me it's going to be okay, that we'll always know who the bad guys are, that we'll win. All the time."

Harry's heart lurched at her words. She wanted it to be all right. She wanted to believe that they'd win this. He just wasn't sure he could do that. Her eyes, when he looked back to them, were pleading with him. Pleading for comfort. For him to give it to her.

He swallowed hard. He couldn't lie to her. He just couldn't. "I-I can't, Hermione. I can't lie to you like that. Not even to comfort you. It wouldn't be right. I-I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling as though he'd failed her somehow.

More tears were slipping down her face as he finished speaking. She didn't speak for a long count of minutes. Finally, she said brokenly, "Please."

His heart lurched again. He hated seeing her look so helpless. And so desperate for comfort. She was always so strong. Always a fighter. She was better than this. But right now, her fear had taken control.

He thought of Sirius; and how he had once told Harry that the world wasn't split into good people and Death Eaters.

Damn you Voldemort. Damn you straight to Hell, he thought savagely.

Anguish painted itself across her features in deeper lines, and Harry made his choice. He wouldn't lie to her, he couldn't. But he could make her a promise. And hoped he could keep it.

"It doesn't get easier, not really. But you do learn how to deal a little better as it goes along. It hurts just as much as before, sometimes more, but, I don't know how to explain it, somehow you figure out a way to deal. Because you have too, to keep yourself going despite your fear and the odds. You have to make yourself believe that you can do it. That you're better than the fear.

"You have to remember that you have something worth fighting for. And that your future, should you succeed, will be brighter. The good guys don't always win, no. And we don't always know who the bad guys are. Not all bad guys wear a mask and robes after all. In fact, as Sirius once told me, the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters.

"And yes, unfortunately, people do die. But never in vain. They lay down their lives because they believe so strongly in what they are fighting for. That by dying, they are hopefully leading the world to a better place than when they left it. And that's more than what You-Know-Who and his followers have. All they have is fear and hatred. That's their only real power. And we can defeat that. We can. I promise you Hermione, no matter what, we will. Even if we have to give our lives to do it. We will."

A deep silence followed this speech and Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable. It had been a rather thought provoking and drawn out speech for him. He usually didn't do such things, that was usually Hermione's area. But he felt he'd had too. He couldn't fail her. He had to try.

As the silence began to spin out, he looked at her and saw that she was staring at him with something akin to wonder. He shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know what to say now.

"Hermione?" he asked tentatively after several more minutes had gone by. "Are … are you okay?"

She seemed to come back from wherever her thoughts had taken her and she looked up at him and said, "I-I think so. What you said, it was, inspiring. And true. I'm just. I'm scared. I'm scared to die, Harry. I don't want to die."

She started to cry in earnest again, her sobs shaking her small frame. Without thinking, Harry reached out and wrapped his arms around her. She came to him easily and without question, giving easily. Her head against his chest as she cried. And he found that comforting her wasn't as hard as he'd thought it would be. It was easy in a way.

"I'm scared too," he told her after a few minutes. "I don't want to die either. But if it that's what it will take to stop him, I'll do it."

She lifted her head at these words, tears still spilling like rain from her eyes as she said, "You're scared?"

He nodded not trusting himself to speak now. Something in her eyes had changed in the last few minutes and he wasn't sure what it was. There was some nameless emotion in them now, something he couldn't place. Something he'd been seeing a lot lately. And it was driving him mad.

"Oh, Harry," she said and hugged him fiercely. He hugged her back, just as tightly. And just like that, Harry Potter realized what that emotion was in Hermione Granger's eyes. It was love. Love for him. And he realized, with something more like a final puzzle piece being put into place in a puzzle he already knew well, that he returned that love.

It was as he was becoming aware of this, that Hermione saw it too. She saw when he finally understood. She smiled a watery smile and said, "I'm glad you've finally seen it. Took me longer to see. But, I know … I know we … that we can't … not now. But after? If we survive? Can … can we?" she asked him embarrassed.

Harry smiled, filled with a sense of peace that he hadn't felt before. He kissed the top of Hermione's head and said, "I promise, when this is over. We will. We will."

Hermione nodded, "I'll hold you to it. And, Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

He gave her a tentative smile in return and said, "You're welcome Hermione. Now, try to get some sleep, okay? I'll keep the rest of the watch."

Hermione opened her mouth protest but Harry held up a hand to forestall her, "You need to sleep Hermione. You're exhausted. Sleep now okay? I'll wake you when it's morning."

She sighed but gave in anyway, muttering quietly, "Just this once."

Harry chuckled and went back to his place at the tent entrance, wrapping the forgotten quilt around him once more, and silently replaying what had just transpired between them.

He knew they still had a lot to talk about, the biggest of which was Ron. He knew his best mate had feelings for Hermione. And until a few minutes ago, Harry had assumed those feelings were mutual.

Now, now he knew better. Letting out a sigh, he settled into the rest of his watch and let the question sit until morning.