Work Text:
Harry couldn’t blame Ron for leaving him behind. He really couldn’t. Not when they were being hunted across the country like dogs. Not when he had led them into this ‘quest’ with virtually no leads to go after. And certainly not when they were forced to live out of a tent with barely any supplies.
No, he couldn’t blame his so-called ‘best mate’ for abandoning him.
But Harry could blame the arsehole for abandoning the woman he claimed to care for. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
The only mistake that Harry was willing to concede she’d made was perhaps staying with him when it was obvious he was leading them on nothing but an aimless hunt. Still, that didn’t justify Ron abandoning her. Nothing could ever justify that.
Hermione was a mess. No, she was a bloody wreck. And Harry didn’t know what to do. If she wasn’t crying herself to sleep every night, she was punishing herself by trying to take over the watch from him. And if she wasn’t doing any of that, she was pouring herself into research while doing nothing to take care of herself.
It hurt Harry to see her like that.
This wasn’t who his best friend was. She was always the strongest out of the trio they’d formed with Ron. They didn’t take care of her as much as she took care of them. She’d never let them take care of her the way they’d let her do for them.
He hated that.
As Harry sat alone on his broken tree stump a few feet away from the tent, he decided that he was going to fix things. Seeing Hermione so miserable, so numb, so… broken, just didn’t sit right with him. He was prepared to do whatever it took to get her back to normal.
Or at least, close to normal.
After all, she’d do the same for him. If their roles were reversed, she’d stop at nothing to pull him out of his misery. It was time enough for him to start repaying her for the many times she’d done just that. He owed her that. She was his best friend, and it was time enough for him to treat her as such.
Merlin only knew he’d been quite the shitty best friend to her for years now.
———
Fixing things proved to be harder than Harry thought it would be. It was one thing to know that he had to fix things, but it was another to know how to do so. When he’d set out to make things right a few nights ago, he hadn’t figured out exactly how he was going to do so.
Time was of the essence though, and that meant he had to try whatever he could to lighten Hermione’s misery. Harry knew he couldn’t take too much more time trying to understand how best to approach things because she was getting worse by the day.
Something in his heart tightened as he remembered just how pale and weak she was starting to look. There were bags under her eyes now from the lack of sleep she was getting. Her body had become thinner, almost like paper, and it looked like nothing more than a stiff breeze could knock her over.
Add to all of that the fact that she barely talked to him and still cried over Ron when she thought he couldn’t listen, and Harry felt like he was running out of time. The only thing he knew for sure was that this problem couldn’t be solved with mere conversation.
If he was going to make things right, he’d have to actually do something.
All he wanted was to see her smile at him again. It didn’t have to be a big one. Heck, it didn’t even have to be a real one. He just wanted her to at least put in the effort to show him that she was fine. Did that make sense? Meh, it probably didn’t.
In any case, Harry was getting desperate now. Every avenue he’d sought out for the solution to his problem had turned up empty. There were only a few more options left to him, and he didn’t know how effective any of them would be.
He sat alone in the brisk winter air of the forest, again on his broken tree stump, and continued to wrack his head in search of the ‘right’ way of doing things. As he worked his mind almost to a halt again, a little memory popped up.
It was one of Hermione explaining the basics of problem solving to him. She’d told him that any problem could be solved if one was able to reduce them to their basest level. According to her, knowing the root of the problem was as good as solving the problem.
“Huh…” Harry grunted, watching his warm breath vapourise in the icy air.
What was the root of his problem?
Hermione. That was the easy answer. That was the right answer.
Harry thought long and hard about the specifics of it all before it hit him like a bludger to the head. He was worried about her. That was his issue. And why was he worried about her? Simple.
She wasn’t taking care of herself. She wasn’t sleeping. She wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t talking to him. The list went on. Those were the roots of his problem.
He smiled to himself at that discovery. She was right. Knowing the root of his issue was as good as fixing it. Because now, Harry knew what he needed to do. He finally knew how to make things right.
All he had to do was tackle each root of the problem one by one until they were fully healed.
———
Years of spending time with Hermione in Hogwarts had opened Harry up to the many different likes and dislikes of her. For example, he knew exactly how she liked her tea made along with knowing exactly how she disliked having it.
It was to that end that he committed himself to making a warm cuppa the way she liked before leaving it on the small dining table for her when she woke. He’d also left a note that simply said ‘don’t forget’ with a crudely drawn smiley face on it too.
The note was probably a bit much, but he was desperate. And after he was done with that, he knew well enough to bugger off to let her have her tea in silence. Hermione was never a morning person despite popular assumption being that she was.
A few days had gone by since he’d started doing that, and, while he’d been saddened to see the teacup untouched when he returned to the tent, she’d finally ended up drinking from it yesterday.
Progress was sweet.
———
The morning Harry returned to the tent and saw that Hermione had actually finished her tea before settling herself into what he now dubbed as ‘her chair’ was beyond pleasant. Bright sunlight was shining down on them, the chilliness of winter had eased somewhat, and it felt like he was getting that much closer to getting his best friend back.
There was still the matter of her silence towards him, but he didn’t want to dwell too much on that. She’d taught him that small steps were still significant. All progress was good progress no matter how little or large. He just had to keep doing what he was doing.
So Harry committed himself that morning to his next task. Getting her to eat and actually take care of herself.
He was by no means a hunter, but he liked to think he was a fair enough scavenger. Living with the Dursleys had sometimes made him resort to foraging and scraping for any form of sustenance. He wasn’t ashamed of that, and was now actually grateful for that bit of ‘training’ as it were.
It didn’t take him long to go around the forest to pick out little bits of mushrooms, berries, and whatever else he thought was edible. Hermione didn’t ask any questions when he left her, nor did she leave her chair, and it seemed like she had no intention again of having lunch.
When he returned to the tent, she was still exactly where he left her. He shook his head before departing to the kitchen to build her a mixed berry bowl with some cooked mushrooms on the side in case she wanted something more savoury.
She again didn’t make a move when he returned from the kitchen with the dishes in hand, but she did move to look at him quizzically as he sat them down on the coffee table in front of her. Harry only gave a smile in return before leaving her to her devices once again.
If she was now drinking her tea in the morning, he figured he wouldn’t have to wait too long for her to start eating again. That assumption ended up proving true when he glanced back at her as he took watch at the entrance of the tent. She’d taken a tentative forkful of the berries before munching them down.
Small victories.
———
His next order of business in the mission to get Hermione out of her misery was likely going to be the hardest one. She still wasn’t talking to him, but that still wasn’t his concern either. No, Harry’s main concern was getting her to sleep.
Sleep without having to cry to do so, and sleep without waking up only an hour later to then cry again.
He genuinely detested her sobs. The sound of them, muffled and weak as they were, always went through him like physical pain. They also made him feel something else that he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge too. He ignored that though.
How he was going to get Hermione to sleep was a mystery to him. Harry blew a deep breath into the cold air as he once again wracked his mind for answers. The only thing he could think of doing was to make sure she was as comfortable as possible while she slept.
The idea was that, if she was comfortable enough in her cot as she slept, she wouldn’t wake up too often. He was hoping that all her body needed was a comfortable and warm place to finally succumb to the lack of rest it’d gotten over the last few weeks.
It was probably stupid and way too hopeful to think that would work, but Harry was running out of options short of giving her a sleeping potion. And there was no way he could get any potion, so that point was moot.
There was also still the matter of her crying as well. He thought he found at least a partial solution to that, however. It would start with him allowing her to cry herself to sleep, painful as that was for him to even think of doing, before leaving something nice for her when she woke up.
Harry knew Hermione well. He liked to think he knew how her mind worked. That was what being her best friend was for. He knew that her overly analytical mind would immediately start examining the little gift she would find each time she woke up before it would remember what happened with Ron.
And if that happened enough times, maybe the sting of the git leaving her behind would eventually be nothing more than a dull ache for her.
Again, this was all very optimistic, but there was really nothing else he could do.
He repeated that final bit to himself as he set about finding a fitting present for his best friend. She deserved something pretty, something that showed how much he appreciated her. As much as he wanted to lessen the ache of Ron leaving, Harry also wanted to give Hermione a token of his endless gratitude.
Nighttime fell all too quickly for Harry’s liking a few hours later, but he resolved to take the opportunity to exact his sanguine plan. Heh. He chuckled to himself. Sanguine. That was a word Hermione’d taught him. Sometimes, he felt like there was a truly endless amount of her influence on him.
Lips settling into a smile, Harry stepped back into the tent before noticing that the main sitting area was empty. Hermione was already in bed. He’d made it a point to return as early as possible after nightfall in case she started to worry, but it seemed like she was too tired to wait for him.
That was perhaps a good thing. He crept closer to the flaps that separated her ‘room’ from the rest of his tent before training his ears to listen for any signs of her sobbing. A small breath of relief left him when he heard none. Afterwards, he took the slightest of peeks through the flaps.
“Alright,” Harry whispered in relief to himself once he saw that Hermione had already fallen asleep.
He waited for another twenty or so minutes until he felt she was deeply asleep before making his move. Some nervousness filled him as he entered her room, but he maintained his composure to silently pad over to her cot.
The gift he’d gotten her was a pretty flower that he didn’t know the name of but suited her all the same. There was a nice violet colour to it that he thought she’d appreciate because of how vibrant yet subtle it was. Vibrant but subtle was also the phrase he’d use to describe her.
Harry gently tucked the flower under the neckline of Hermione’s sweater, making sure its petals wouldn’t irritate her skin as she slept, before looking down at her peacefully sleeping form with a small smile. He carefully got to work on securely wrapping her up in her blanket after that.
“Sleep well, Hermione,” he whispered under his breath after silently casting a warming charm once he’d fully tucked her in under the blanket.
———
The first morning after Harry had so carefully executed his plan to get Hermione to sleep more showed him that he’d succeeded in doing just that. She’d slept through the night before waking up without immediately falling into tears. Even better, she ended up not crying for that whole day.
That small victory filled Harry with so much joy and resolve. He was doing the right thing, and he wasn’t failing at it. It inspired him to keep going, to keep taking care of the wonderful girl who’d taken care of him for so damn long.
And that was exactly what he did.
Day after day without fail, he stuck by his routine. He prepared Hermione’s cup of tea to her exact specifications, he cooked her lunch and dinner, he tucked her into bed when she was asleep, and he always left a pretty gift for her to analyse and marvel at when she woke up.
He had to smile at himself again when he remembered entering her room one night to see that she hadn’t gotten rid of her gifts. The memory of seeing all the pretty flowers and beautiful stones decorating her room filled him with warmth.
Even though they barely spoke, Harry was happy because it was clear that she did appreciate his efforts in some way. At the very least, she’d recognised his efforts and hadn’t shunned them. That meant a lot to him.
But the thing that meant the most to him was her smile. It had taken a while as he kept to his strict routine of taking care of her, but he’d finally been able to catch just the faintest of smiles on her lips a few days ago.
He still hated that it was now considered rare to see Hermione smiling, but he cherished the small victory of managing to get one to appear on her face. It’d happened so easily as well.
She’d been once again doing research into the horcruxes, reading as much material as she could, while he’d been stealthily glancing at her from his spot just outside of the tent. Her body was comfortably curled up on her couch with a book in one hand, and one of the pretty stones he’d given her in the other.
It happened in a moment that he easily could have missed had he not been watching her already. Harry had noticed the curious tilt of her head as she read through a passage in the book before her lips stretched into a soft, faint, and familiar smile afterwards.
The sheer relief coupled with happiness that had filled him when he saw that was amazing. He was quite certain he would probably never feel those emotions as intensely as he had ever again. That was fine though. Once was enough.
His mission had been a resounding success, but it wasn’t over yet. Hermione had gotten her smile back, but the job was still not done. Harry knew he couldn’t stop taking care of her now regardless. Not just because he wanted to keep doing so, but because she still needed him.
And to be needed by Hermione was the best feeling in the world.
———
Nothing lasted forever. Everything had a beginning and an ending. Harry had always known that truth. It had been ingrained in him since the moment his parents were taken from him. It had been burned into his heart from the day he’d lost his godfather.
Nothing lasted forever.
In hindsight, he should have seen it coming. It was his own fault that he couldn’t imagine an end to… it.
Ron had returned.
Not only had the git returned, he’d also managed to save his life. Harry couldn’t even be mad at him because of that. Without Ron, he’d likely be dead. Still though, a part of him felt a touch of resentment for his red-headed best mate.
Hermione was talking more often. She hadn’t hesitated to dress their mutual friend down for his behaviour, but she also hadn’t pushed him away afterwards either. Not that Harry wanted her to do so anyway. Or… he didn’t know.
He supposed that he couldn’t be too bothered by the fact that she was talking more now though, because she’d broken the silence between them around Christmas before their trip to Godric’s Hollow that went to hell.
Had that trip not happened, Harry wanted to believe that he and Hermione would have been back to normal. It was the aftermath of that trip that led to them once again having a wall of silence between them. In any case, however, that didn’t matter now.
Ron was back.
And she was back. The bossy and sometimes outspoken best friend he’d always known was finally back. That should have made him happy, right? It should have. That was the end goal of his mission after all. Get his best friend out of her misery.
Maybe it hadn’t happened the way he thought it would, but it happened anyway. He no longer needed to worry over her. No longer needed to make her tea for her. No longer needed to make lunch and dinner for her. No longer needed to tuck her into bed. No longer needed to give her cute little gifts to distract her from her pain.
Everything had a beginning and an ending.
This was the ending to his little self-imposed mission. Harry didn’t want to keep hovering over Hermione anymore when it was clear that she didn’t need him to do so. She’d gotten her life back now, and that meant his duty was fulfilled.
If she needed anyone, she’d turn to Ron now. It wouldn’t be fair for him to try to fill that space that she’d already reserved for someone else. She had needed him when Ron was gone. Now, she didn’t. It would have been selfish of him to not want that.
And Harry could never allow himself to be selfish.
——————————————————————————————
Hermione had never felt so much relief when Ron had returned to help with the hunt. She and Harry finally had a fighting chance again. Her fear of failing her best friend was now abated. There were three of them now to take on the darkness the world had to offer.
Ron had been trying to get back into the same sort of ‘flow’ they’d had prior to his abandonment of her, but she remained firm in her reticence to that. It was too soon to even think about that. Especially now because she just didn’t know what to feel for him.
Things were back to normal for the most part though. Ron’s return had been a real shot in the arm for both her and Harry, and their progress in hunting for the horcruxes was picking up steam. Hermione was finally feeling some optimism for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
She rose from her bed after that last thought, stretching her body out languidly before noticing the slight chill that had crept over her. That hadn’t happened in a while.
Figuring that she must have been moving around enough in her sleep to dislodge her blanket, the witch rose to her feet before heading to the tent’s washroom to clean herself up. There was so much to do, and she now had more than enough motivation to get it all done.
Harry and Ron were already busying themselves outside when she was done with her morning ablutions, and Hermione quickly took up her usual position on the couch before beginning to sink into another book on dark rituals.
It was when she reflexively reached for her cup of tea after reading a few pages that she was left feeling confused. The usually steaming cup wasn’t there waiting for her like it always was.
That was… odd.
Not wanting to lose track of what she was focused on though, Hermione only shook her head and returned to her book. She had a hunch that she was achingly close to a breakthrough in determining the best methods to destroy a horcrux. That took precedence now.
Merlin only knew Harry needed her to make up for all of the lost time she’d spent mourning over her failure to keep their trio together and not doom them to inevitable failure.
———
Three mornings later was when Hermione started to notice it again. There hadn’t been a sweet little gift waiting for her when she woke, there was no blanket thrown over her that she had to wrestle her way out of, and her morning tea was mysteriously absent.
None of it made sense to her. Those things had been so ingrained in her daily routine now that it’d been impossible not to notice their absence. Today was especially proof of that because she’d woken up colder again than usual before absently clenching her hand to feel the rough edges of whatever rock was going to be her gift this morning.
That all could have been forgiven, and perhaps even rationalised, had it not been for the fact that her morning cuppa was once again nowhere to be found after she was done washing herself up.
This… problem… demanded her attention now. Something was clearly wrong. Everything she’d grown accustomed to over the last few weeks had disappeared without so much as a preamble. How? Why?
It hit her right then that all of those things were from Harry. Hermione realised with a gasp that Harry had been the one doing all of that for her. Well, she’d already known it was him. Kind of.
Gods… it had taken her so long to fully realise what he was doing for her. When it was just them, it was easy to get used to the convenience of everything as she tried to fight the pain and misery of Ron leaving. It was too easy to just… ignore… the fact that she was being taken care of by her best friend.
Hermione winced at that. ‘Ignore’ sounded like it was way too harsh a word to use. She hadn’t ignored Harry's care of her, but she also hadn’t really acknowledged it either. It was just… there. And it was something she’d gotten used to without asking where it was coming from.
Even so though, why had he stopped?
Ron’s return had certainly changed things, and maybe Harry was a little too busy now to properly do everything he’d been doing for her. No, that didn’t seem believable. It wasn’t like the two of them were in each other's paths often anyway.
Supplies had probably been running low since their mutual friend’s return then. Everyone knew Ron sucked up food like a muggle vacuum cleaner. Then again, the redhead never drank tea in the mornings. And he’d also been a lot more cognizant of the fact that supplies were low, adjusting his eating habits because of that.
None of those explanations made sense. Hermione felt like she was nowhere close to answering why Harry had just stopped everything he’d been doing for her. It stung her to think that he maybe now found it too much of a fuss to keep taking care of her the way he’d been doing.
No, that didn’t make sense either. There were any number of sensible explanations as to why he’d stopped. He was a practical person after all, more so than he usually received credit for. He wouldn’t just stop without any good reason.
The witch sat quietly at the coffee table, staring a hole through the empty spot on it where her morning cuppa should have been, and tried to think of every possible explanation she could to explain her best friend’s behaviour.
Perhaps the simplest answer was the best one. Harry was probably just exhausted from having to keep up that strict routine of care for her. It’d been a great many weeks, and it made sense that he’d gotten tired and needed to take care of himself first.
It didn’t take her more than a split second to disregard that thought, however, once it settled in her mind. Harry wouldn’t stop for that reason, and to think he would was stupid. He was the type to give and keep giving no matter the cost to himself. That was who he’d always been.
Her other explanations came down to the idea that he didn’t think she needed him anymore. That made the most sense the more she thought about it. She was sleeping better, she was eating a whole lot more, and she’d stopped crying whenever he wasn’t around.
He’d finished taking care of her then. Not stopped. Finished. Because she no longer needed him to. She was back to normal now, so it made no sense for him to keep doing what he’d been doing for the last few weeks.
Yes, that seemed like the answer to her question. There was nothing more to think about then. Harry was just stepping aside now because he didn’t want to be overbearing.
But… what if it wasn’t just that?
Hermione felt something nagging at her. A stray thought of sorts that felt determined to slide its way into her mind. An explanation that fit too well. One that made too much sense. The answer that she wasn’t sure if she should acknowledge.
Ron had returned. And Harry had stopped because of that.
Because that was what he’d do. He would stop everything he was doing for her because of some kind of… respect… he had for his best mate. Gods… Hermione felt a pang in her heart at that realisation.
Harry hadn’t wanted to reap some kind of reward for taking care of her. He wasn’t doing any of it to be seen, hadn’t wanted any recognition from her. All he’d wanted was for her to be taken care of and happy again. And now that it seemed like she was with Ron’s return, he’d stepped aside.
Because he thought that was the right thing to do.
———
Another two days passed as Hermione worked through the absence of Harry’s tender care of her. She missed it. Had missed it from the moment it was gone, if she was being honest, but it was more magnified now because of how long it had left her.
She knew one thing for certain now. She wanted him to keep taking care of her.
More than that though, the witch wanted her best friend to understand that she never saw him as a replacement for Ron. He wasn’t, and could never be a replacement because she never wanted him to be one. She just wanted him.
Harry was far too noble for his own good. Always so willing to martyr himself, to give everything he had and get nothing in return. She both loved and hated that about him. Right now though, the scales were definitely tipped towards hate.
Hermione understood that Harry probably didn’t outright think she was relying on his care because Ron had deserted them, but his actions made it seem that way. It made her seem… shallow… in a way. That she would just stop needing him because the one he thought she really wanted was back.
But this wasn’t about her. This was about him. It hurt that he was thinking like that, but the witch knew it wasn’t a slight against her. It was just a product of how trained he was to sacrifice himself for the betterment of others.
So, Hermione knew what the next logical course of action was. She’d wanted to beat herself up for not noticing how Harry had silently loved and cared for her over the last few weeks, but that would serve no purpose now. He needed her more than she needed to self-flagellate.
After so many weeks of relying on his care for her, it was high time for her to reciprocate.
She wasn’t going to put on a label on this yet because the time for that would come later. What she needed to do first was let Harry know that she’d seen him. That she had appreciated him. That his silent love and care hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Whatever happened after that would happen in due time. All she knew for certain was that she wasn’t going to let Harry go a second longer thinking he wasn’t the first person she wanted to love and take care of her.
———
The morning after Hermione’s resolution to clear the misconceptions from Harry came soon, but not soon enough for her liking. She hadn’t been able to sleep all that well with her mind having run rampant with the many things she wanted to do to show him the same appreciation and care he’d shown her.
Only until the wee hours of the morning did she realise the answer was right there all along. All she had to do was do the same things he’d done for. Everything he’d done for her was proof of how well he knew her. And to know someone so well was to love them unabashedly.
Hermione had decided that Harry had already given her the manual on what she needed to do, and she’d begun counting down the hours until she’d hear him shuffle out of the tent to check the wards before taking watch.
When that moment came, she was out of her bed in a hurry. Now, she stood over the kettle of tea as she waited for it to finish. Ron was still sound asleep with his snores practically shaking the tent, but she paid that no mind.
Harry liked his tea with no milk and only two spoons of sugar. She remembered him telling her in Hogwarts that he’d never liked his tea too sweet because he’d gotten used to drinking it without sugar when he lived with his relatives.
It was a memory that always filled her with aggravation at his vile relatives. Now though, the witch found herself being somewhat grateful for having managed to remember it. Knowing the little things about her best friend was a gift she wouldn’t trade for the world.
She smiled to herself in fondness at that thought while she stirred the sugar into the piping hot cup of tea. Afterwards, she listened for the signs of Harry’s return to take watch. He came back only a few short moments later, and she was all too eager to go out and greet him.
He’d taken up his usual spot near the entrance of the tent, dutifully holding guard until Ron would come to relieve him of the duty. Hermione couldn’t stop the smile on her face from appearing as she stepped outside with the hot cup in hand.
No words were said by her when she gracefully took her seat next to Harry before he turned his attention to her. The look of surprise in his wonderful jade eyes was almost too adorable for her, and she felt her smile stretch into a full grin because of it.
When she handed him the cup of tea afterwards, the surprise in his eyes changed to confusion. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling at him before motioning for him to take a sip from it.
The momentary shock that crossed his features as he tasted the tea was so damn satisfying for her. And when that shock turned into fondness and familiarity, her heart lightened that much more.
“Thank you,” Harry murmured to her as he cradled the warm cup in his hands like it was a precious treasure.
A comfortable silence settled between them after she nodded at him, still smiling widely. She didn’t move from her spot next to him after that either. Research into the horcruxes could wait a day longer. Today was about her and her best friend.
If Harry’d thought it odd that she’d chosen to take the watch with him, he didn’t say. He simply basked in the warm silence with her as the snow began to fall around them. It took her back to that fateful night at Godric’s Hollow.
Hermione remembered how solemn it’d been between them when they’d visited his parents’ graves, but she also remembered how he’d welcomed her presence. How he had allowed her to be the person that steadied him.
She decided to do the same thing she’d done that night now as she sat with him. This time though, it was her allowing him to steady her. It was her telling him that she welcomed his presence.
Laying her head gently on his shoulder, Hermione settled in next to Harry again and allowed herself to just… rest with him. He didn’t flinch or react to the movement, but she knew he’d felt the weight of it.
And he chose to stay.