White Flag

A/N:

This is based off of Dido’s song “White Flag” and belongs to her and her alone. I use some direct quotes Dido’s White Flag, (these will be underlined) and I know that they are not mine. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling and are merely being used in this story.

It was early in the morning when Hermione Granger awoke. The sun was streaming in through her window and she could faintly hear the sweet singing of birds. She rolled over in her bed, her curly brown hair covering up her face from the blinding sunlight.

It had been a good dream. She and Ron were back in Hogwarts – more specifically in the Common Room, she reading … he playing chess. But that wasn’t what made it so blissful and beautiful to her mind. Harry had been there too.

“I say Ron, can’t you give a chap a break every now and then?” Harry asked jestingly as he scanned the chessboard for any more moves.

“For a chocolate frog we’ll make that a deal,” Ron said back in just as jesting a tone.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to her book, “Play nice boys!”

Hermione rolled over again, the sun streaming in through the cracks of her fingers and still weaving its way into her eyes. Sighing, she stretched and rose up from her bed, making her way to the mirror.

“So, do you guys want to come with me to Honeyduke’s?” Ron asked.

“I’ve got some studying to do,” Hermione retorted stubbornly, “That’s far more important than eating some dumb candies.”

Harry laughed, “Come off it you two. Ron, you need to do more than think about just your stomach, and Hermione, you already study too much.”

Hermione looked as if she might change your mind, “If you say so Harry…”

“Well I do. It’s unhealthy to spend so many hours in a library away from the sun,” Harry said grinning, his green eyes sparkling.

“Will you be coming mate?” Ron asked.

Harry shook his head, “No you two go, I’ve got a date with Ginny.”

Ginny. Hermione gasped when she saw her reflection. Unkempt brown bushy hair drowning out her olive skin and dark circles under her eyes. Tear stains running down her cheeks. Ginerva was responsible for it all. But could she hold it against her? Hermione thought, Ginny has the only thing I ever wanted. It was her or me, and she was the one he picked.

The trio graduated Hogwarts happily, smiling into all their pictures taken by family and Harry trying to avoid the tabloids questioning him on the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Ron had started to date Luna and Harry was starting to take Ginny on a date a week. Hermione was the only one left behind, standing on the sidelines, alone even though she was surrounded by friends and family, mournful even as wizards and witches danced with the defeat of Voldemort, ominous despite the evident wedding bells to peal.

Hermione picked up her brush, viciously squashing the rebellious thoughts that rose up, demanding why she should even try fix her appearance; in the end, who would care? She was not the woman of the hour, but even more importantly, she was not the girl in Harry’s life.

“Ron!” Ginny squealed, gathering him in a hug in the Burrow as everyone else watched, smiling, “I’m so happy for you and Luna! When is the wedding?”

Ron grinned happily, “Two weeks-!”

Fred and George spat out their food.

“I know it’s rather quick,” Ron was continuing, “but Luna wants to go to Norway for our Honeymoon in time to catch the annual migration of the mountain goats.”

Ginny was still grinning as she sat down on the couch in between Harry and Hermione. Snaking her arm about his neck and looking into his eyes she continued to speak, “That’s good isn’t it Harry? We can go to the wedding together!”

Harry smiled and hugged her, “Yeah, we can.”

Hermione clenched her hands in her lap and stared resolutely at the floor. She was twenty now; she could not give way to foolish bouts of jealousy. She had learned to hide her feelings over the years. She had had her fair share of happiness by simply knowing Harry and having the privilege to call him her friend – now it was Harry’s turn to have some happiness for himself.

Hermione slipped into the pale green dress. It was quite elegant, but Hermione felt undeserving of its beauty. With no sleeves and a V-neck, it fell about her feet in delicate, silky layers of pale green and light gold before settling over her sandals. Hermione fastened a golden bracelet onto her thin wrist and hung an emerald necklace about her head.

Hermione sat at the table with Harry and Ginny while Ron and Luna took to the dance floor.

“I’ll be back in a second,” Harry said, rising up, “I just want to go get a quick glass of wine before Arthur takes it all… he seems intent on getting drunk on his own son’s wedding day!” Harry paused and looked at Ginny who was stunning in her midnight blue dress, “Would you like some?”

Ginny shook her head, “No thank you, I intend to keep my wits about me tonight. Fred and George have gotten a hold of the wedding cake.”

Harry laughed and looked at Hermione, “Any for you Herms?”

Hermione smiled in spite of herself and looked away, “No thank you, Harry.”

He walked off in the direction of the refreshment table and Ginny looked at Hermione,

“I feel sorry about you not having a date for tonight. You could borrow Harry for one dance?”

Hermione shook her head emphatically, “No he’s your date, Ginny, don’t worry about me.” Hermione sighed sadly and stared at her hands.

Ginny was concerned, “Are you alright Hermione?”

Hermione looked up quickly, “No, no, I’m fine. I’m just drowning on my own ship, that’s all.”

Hermione quickly rose from the table and passed Harry on his way back to the table.

“Woa, Hermione, where are you headed?” He asked, holding her arm gently.

Hermione pulled from him, “The lady’s room!” She gasped out unhappily before fleeing, a silent tear falling down her cheek.

“Hermione!” Harry called, following her as she ran to abandoned Weasley kitchen. “Hermione! What’s wrong?”

Hermione’s back was to him, “It’s nothing, Harry.”

Harry turned her around to face him and was shocked when he saw her tears. He quickly wiped them away, “Tell me,” He stated firmly, “What happened?”

Hermione shook her head, looking away from him, “Everything is fine, Harry, truly. I just need time by myself.”

“Is it Ron?” Harry asked quietly, “I knew you liked him back in 6th year but surely…”

Hermione stared at him in disbelief, her tear rimmed eyes wide open with shock, “No!” She exclaimed, “I never cared for him that way! I never have and I never will! I’m happy for him!”

“Then why are you crying?” Harry asked.

Hermione finally settled on leaving her hair down. It didn’t matter much anyways. She put on just enough make up to cover the circles under her eyes before walking over to her chair and picking up her purse. Walking back in the direction she came from, intent on making her way to the door, she froze, her eyes on the dresser. Harry’s rose. The one he had given her all those months ago at Ron’s wedding in an effort to make her feel better which she had cherished and preserved by use of magic ever since. And beneath it a simple scrap of seemingly meaningless paper…

“Hermione, if you won’t tell me what’s wrong,” Harry continued, “at least tell someone, it’s not good to keep it bottled up inside.”

Hermione nodded slowly, “Ok, Harry, I will.”

Harry smiled sadly and hugged her, “I need you to be my Herms again. Do you understand? These last few years, ever since Hogwarts, something’s been wrong with you. You’ve gone all silent and reclusive. Where’s my bookworm?”

She couldn’t help but laugh softly into his thick hair.

“See?” Harry asked, pulling away from her and holding her at arm’s length, “You’ve already started to come back.”

Hermione smiled weakly, “I guess. If you say so.”

“Oh stop saying that!” Harry said angrily, “Where’s the Miss-I-Know-Everything gone? You’re the one always telling me to make up my mind! Not the other way round.”

Hermione shrugged flippantly, trying to hide her sadness.

Harry began to dig into his pocket, “Ok, I wasn’t going to ask you until later, but I need someone’s opinion, and since you’re in the area (and I want you to start making up your mind again anyways)…” he withdrew a small, black box, “tell me what you honestly think of it.”

He handed the box to Hermione, and she felt her fingers turn cold as she clasped the smooth velvet and opened it. Inside was the most beautiful, silver ring she had ever seen. A phoenix and a firefox both ran along the circlet of the ring before both grasping a large diamond in the center of them. A phoenix and a firefox. Hermione felt her head swim, Harry and Ginny’s Animageous forms. “It’s wonderful,” Hermione gasped, “Ginny will love it.”

Harry smiled, “Good. I’m planning on asking her tonight.”

The blood drained from Hermione’s face and she forced a stilted smile to cross her face, a deep crack forming across the heart of ice she had been forming for the past three years, “Good luck.”

Harry hugged her again, “Thanks Herms. I’ll tell you what she says tomorrow.”

Hermione had watched him go before fleeing the party, tears streaming across her face and her hands as cold as ice. She had scribbled down onto a single scrap of paper that night:

Harry,

I know that this isn’t what you expected, nor will you ever see this paper, but I find myself compelled to pen it. Harry, I love you. I know you’ve never seen it, nor will you ever, but all the same, the love is there, and it’s killing me to see you with her. It started as a crush in First Year (didn’t you ever wondered why I kept hugging you?) and grew into so much more. I tried to get your attention, Harry! I did! I tried to help you in the only ways I could – I made you study and covered it up by making Ron as well. I tried to make you jealous, Harry in the Fourth Year, but it turned out all wrong. I got Ron on my tail instead. Then you went for Cho, the absolute opposite of me, but I still couldn’t give you up. Harry, you’re the only one I can ever be with or see myself being with! That is the ship I have chosen, and I won’t string up a white flag above my door and surrender you.

In sixth year you got Ginny. Still, I didn’t give up on us.

Until tonight. You showed me her ring, and I know she’ll say yes. She’s in love with you, Harry, and she’s more interesting than I am, and prettier, and she’s better at fighting too. All I have to show is knowledge, but you (and especially Ron) never thought much of that.

You and Ginny will ask me to be the Maid of Honor, I know that, and I’ll be there at the wedding to see you stand at the altar with her and place that ring on her finger. But even then I won’t give up. You will not ever take me, but I still won’t stop loving you. You see, I can’t give up this ship or throw the world a white flag to show that I have released you from my heart’s grasp. Believe me, I would if I could, but I know I can’t. I’m in love, and I always will be.

Hermione Jane Granger angrily picked up the paper and crumpled it up, hurling it into her trashcan before making her way out the door.

“Hermione!” Harry exclaimed, running up to her, “She said yes! The wedding will be in a year!”

Hermione smiled even as a second crack found its way through her heart, “Really?” She said tremulously, “That’s wonderful, Harry.”

He continued to grin, “You’re to be the Maid of Honor of course.”

Hermione laughed unhappily, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Harry.”

Harry’s smile became serious, “But after that no more weddings for you, Herms. Go get yourself a man. You know the saying…”

Hermione shook her head, “No, Harry, I’m not going to ever get a man.”

Harry’s eyes crinkled with laughter, “What is this some type of vow all female hermits have to take?”

Hermione let out a stilted laugh, “Yes – exactly!”

Hermione focused on keeping her thoughts zeroed in on one subject – the Burrow. No Harry James Potter, no Ginerva Molly Weasley-About-To-Be-Potter, no silvery cold wedding rings…

She squeezed her brown eyes shut even as a frigid tear escaped. With a crack she appeared in the Weasley’s back yard.

Molly Weasley came running out to meet her, “Oh Hermione! Ginny’s just finishing getting ready! You must go see her, she looks wonderful-!” Mrs. Weasley cut off at the sight of the tear, “Oh my, is that… are … were you…?”

Hermione flicked away the annoying drop of water, “I was itching my eye. There was an eyelash in it,” Hermione lied, ducking her head and walking into the house, “I’ll go…”

“…see Ginny of course.” Mrs. Weasley completed her sentence, “Ron’s helping Harry get ready now. Oh good Lord I can’t believe it, my little girl’s getting married!”

Hermione made her way up the stairs, trembling, and paused in front of Ginny’s closed door. From within the room she could hear the sound of a brush going through thick, auburn hair and a metallic ring being placed on a table. Stifling a gasp and attempting to maintain her vision which was swirling, Hermione leaned against the wall, gasping.

Today was her day. The climax of all those nights spent weeping, alone, in her room and the unnoticed stares she gave the happy Potter couple. This was the day she had been preparing for all those years; the day Harry would make Ginny his own and the same day her heart of ice would shatter…

And then, as she leaned against the simple wooden walls of the Burrow, a sudden, cold and chilling calm stole over the 21 year old girl and she realized, with a sickeningly calm thought that she was ready. Nothing they gave her could bring her down further.

Hermione reached for the doorknob just as Ginny opened it. Her red hair fell about her shoulders like a flame against the stunning white of her wedding dress.

“Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed, her smile vanishing as she looked at the older girl, “You’re as pale as a ghost!”

Hermione smiled coldly, “Nonsense, are you ready?”

Ginny nodded, “Harry told me he loved it when I left my hair down, so I’m leaving it this way. We’ll look just like Lilly and James.”

Hermione nodded, “Let’s go down then,” she said in a crisp voice, “He’s waiting.”

Ginny smiled tremulously, grabbing Hermione’s icy hand, “I can’t wait.”

They made their way downstairs and into the lawn where the Weasley family was gathered. Professor Dumbledore stood at the altar, ready to marry Harry and Ginny. Harry stood at the altar, looking overjoyed at the sight of Ginny; a man truly in love. Ron stood behind him, smiling idiotically throughout the entire ceremony. Mrs. Weasley dabbed at her eyes, and George whispered something to Fred who sniggered. Hermione alone was outwardly impassive to everything that happened.

“He will think I’ve moved on,” Hermione whispered to herself the night before the wedding, “he will never know how I feel. I won’t do that to him. I won’t let my unhappiness could his joy.”

Ginny stood at the altar with Harry, while Hermione stood unhappily behind them, a fake smile plastered across her face. Harry handed Ginny the ring, and she slipped its golden band over her finger.

Hermione swayed and then steadied. He must never know, she told herself sternly, you can do this. But even as she whispered this to herself, the final crack began to rent its way through her heart.

“And do you, Harry James Potter, take Ginerva Molly Weasley as your lawful wife?” Dumbledore was asking.

Harry gazed at Ginny happily as she blushed. Without removing his emerald eyes from her he said clearly, “I do.”

Hermione swayed a little more this time, the crack traveling towards the center of her glass heart.

“Do you promise to care for her through sickness and death, for better or worse…?”

“Yes.”

Hermione’s hands went cold and she shut her eyes, but still, the image of Harry looking at Ginny was etched into the icy shards of her mind… she could not escape them.

“Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Hermione continued to seal her eyes shut, trying to veil the horribly sweet and tragic sight of Harry kissing Mrs. Ginny Potter.

That should have been me! Hermione screamed inwardly, the crack continuing across and through her heart, I love him!

“Quiet,” She whispered sternly, clutching the flowers with her chilled fingers and opening her eyes slowly, “He must not know.”

Harry and Ginny were looking around themselves happily now, and laughing, but Harry’s eyes caught hers, and she saw a flicker of sadness and shock pass through them. Her eyes locked with his, and try as she might, she could not look away.

Harry, she started, her pale lips trying to form out his name. But Ginny was laughing loudly and pulling Harry towards her as Arthur Weasley took a picture, and Ron was slapping Harry good-naturedly on the back.

Hermione took a step back, the words she had written on that paper so many months back etching themselves into the shards of her shattered icy heart, I will go down with this ship. I won’t put my hands up and surrender. There will be no white flag above my door. I’m in love, and I always will be.

A/N:

I love tragedy.