Disclaimer: All characters are of course not mine and belong to J.K. Rowling

Author's notes: Just for those who might get a tad bit confused in the beginning of this: The paragraphs in bold are words from Harry's mind, and those in italics are from Hermione's mind. Once Hermione's final thought ends, the true story begins.

*****

Torn: A Stolen Kiss

I didn't mean for it to happen. It was sort of a spur of the moment kind of thing. I wasn't imposing anything, just comforting. I was comforting her. I wasn't prepared for the consequences.

I was foolish. I had made such a scene. I bet everyone had heard me from the Gryffindor common room all the way down to the Great Hall. But I couldn't help it. It hurt so badly. What do you expect a person to do when she receives an unwanted letter? How do you expect a person to feel when her greatest fear has come true in the worst possible way? Now the situation is far worse.

Her parents are dead. Like mine. Yet their deaths had a bigger impact. She had known her parents, unlike me. She had spent each waking day of her childhood with them. Unlike me. And it's all my fault. She's one of my best friends, and because of that she has to suffer.

It isn't his fault. It was never his fault, and yet he still blames himself. But I can't deny the fact that because of this, because of my parents' death, the unspeakable happened.

I kissed her. I didn't mean to. At least I think I didn't mean to. I was just filled with so much emotion at that moment. What she had said angered me, and I wanted to make her understand. I guess there's no excuse. The truth is, I've loved her ever since fifth year. The moment I thought I'd lost her, I knew. I knew that if she died, a part of me would have died with her. I realized how important Hermione is to me. I love her. I really do, and that night I guess I just couldn't keep those feelings hidden from her any longer.

We were waiting for Ron, who was still out for Quiddich practice. We were alone, both silent. I was just feeling too much at the moment for any words. I guess he didn't know what to say. Well, what does one say when one's best friend's parents just died because of their friendship?

I didn't know what to think, or to say. I didn't know what to feel. All I felt at that moment was anger towards You-know-who for killing them, anger towards Harry for unconsciously making me feel the way I do for him. Angry at Harry for taking them away. Angry at myself for feeling this way, and blaming Harry for my misfortune. They were innocent and because Harry was my best friend, because I cared for him, and challenged You-know-who, they were taken from me.

We were sitting in the armchairs, just the two of us. Her staring at the fire, me staring, transfixed at her.

I remember feeling his eyes on me. We were silent. What was there to say?

******

The common room was silent, save for the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth. The dancing light bathed the dark, quiet room, and cast eerie shadows. One of the shadows shifted. Harry Potter, sitting in a large armchair, turned to look at the flames rather than having to stare at the figure sitting before him.

Hermione Granger's eyes bore into the fire, obviously in deep thought. The silence in the common room was uncomfortable.

Harry, wanting to break the ice, tried to speak first.

“Hermione,” he began, but was cut off from the intense stare of his best friend's eyes. She had never looked at him like that. Such sadness emanated from her eyes, such confusion and loss that Harry never knew existed within her made him forget what he was going to say and just stare wonderingly and worryingly into those brown orbs.

Her eyes shimmered slightly and she blinked back tears, once again turning towards the fire.

They were silent; Harry couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do, so he just stayed silent and stared at the dancing, crackling flames. He sighed inwardly.

I'm sorry Hermione. I'm sorry for being your friend. I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I'm sorry for your parent's deaths. I'm sorry for everything you had to go through because of me. I'm sorry for loving you, and I'm sorry for not being able to let you go. I'm sorry Hermione. I'm so sorry. Harry thought to himself in anguish. He looked up at her, and voiced his thoughts.

“I'm sorry.” he croaked.

The sound of his voice broke the uncomfortable silence that hung over them.

Hermione turned her head to face him. Gone were the sad, lonely eyes, now replaced with sudden anger and disbelief.

“You're sorry?” Hermione's voice came out in a harsh whisper. A jumble of emotions flew across her face, from despair, to anger, disbelief, then wrath. Her voice rose as she slowly stood. “You're sorry?!”

“Hermione-” Harry's voice was edged with pain and confusion.

Hermione cut him off. “Is that supposed to make everything better? You're sorry? Is that supposed to make all the bad things go away? Are they now supposed to miraculously rise from the dead because the strong and mighty Harry Potter says he's sorry?!”

“Hermione, I know you're going through a lot right now. I know that you might think that you're alone, and that you have no one who knows what you're going through, but I know how you're feeling and I-”

“No Harry, you can't even fathom an inkling of what I'm feeling right now. You go through life with a sad story over your head. 'Oh, I'm Harry Potter, my parents were murdered before my eyes. I miss them so much, I really do!'

Well boo fucking hoo. You have no idea what it's like to miss your parents. You never even knew them! Sure you miss having them around. Sure you wonder what your life would have been like if they were alive, but you never grew up with them. You never depended on them. You never saw them at every waking moment of your life. You never got to know them! So don't tell me that you how I am feeling right now, Harry James Potter because you don't! You have no idea what it's like to lose someone you love.”

“Now that's where you're wrong, Granger,” Harry snarled.

During her speech, he had stood up and walked over to her. Now the two of them were standing face to face, dangerously close.

Hermione's hands were balled into fists. Tears were streaming down her face, and during her speech she had continuously and angrily brushed them away.

Harry knew that she really didn't mean to say all of those things. He knew that later on when she cooled down, she would regret the words that had come out of her mouth. Yet knowing this, he still felt angry. And in his anger, he only loved her more.

His green eyes sparked with barely uncontrolled rage. He took another step towards her, towering over her.

Hermione took an involuntary step back, feeling slightly intimidated and scared. She had never seen Harry this angry before, and it scared her.

“I may not know what it feels like to lose my parents because frankly, I never had the pleasure of actually living with them, knowing them, seeing their smiles, or hearing them laugh. God, Hermione, I never even got to talk to them!”

His eyes darted to the floor and he frantically ran a trembling hand through his hair. “But I do know what it feels like to lose someone I care about. I do know what it feels like to have your heart ripped from your body. I know what it feels like to have your very soul ravaged and torn to shreds. I know the feeling of unbearable sadness and utter despair that at times I want to end my life just to get the chance to see the ones I love again. Just to have one last glimpse of their face, or hear their voice. I know that feeling. I have drowned myself in that feeling time and time again.” Harry's voice now pent up with raw emotion, broke and he just stared hard at her before he continued.

“Sirius was like a father to me,” he said. “He was everything that I couldn't have. Everything that I've always wanted. And when I thought I had lost you in the Department of Mysteries, I just-” His voice choked up and he couldn't go on. He looked down at his feet.

Hermione swallowed hard. She felt her anger ebbing away, only to be replaced with shame.

“Harry…” she began, but was cut off when he once again looked into her eyes. The angry sparks were gone. The piteous look had disappeared. His eyes were now filled with sadness, understanding, and something else that she couldn't make out. They sparkled with unshed tears and looked into hers so intently that she could not force to tear herself away from his gaze.

Harry took a step closer to her and placed his hand on her cheek. His touch burned her and she broke his gaze and looked away, but couldn't manage to step back and away from his intoxicating presence.

She could still feel his eyes boring into her, and felt his hand trace delicately down to her chin to tilt her head up.

Hermione was lost in a sea of green.

“You have no right Hermione,” he said in a broken whisper. The light of the flames danced off the two of them, casting tall shadows in the room. Hermione swallowed.

“No right at all.” he repeated.

“I know,” she said. “I'm sorry.”

Harry shook his head.

“No.”

He ignored the silent question in her eyes.

“I am.”

And he kissed her.

*****