Note: Hiya, people! I would like to thank all of you who have read my story: Beautiful and reviewed or added it to their favorites list! :D You all make me so happy! Here's another one-shot that has been running around in my head. I just needed to take it out. Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter! :(
Yours or Theirs?
Harry Potter ran a hand through his messy, black hair tiredly, looking at Ginerva Weasley with annoyed, yet tired green eyes.
"For the last time, Gin, she's just a friend—a best friend. Our relationship is completely platonic."
"Oh?" Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Then why was she bloody hugging you?"
Harry looked at her incredulously. "I was having a bad day and was talking with Hermione about it. It was a friendly hug of support, for Merlin's sake!"
"I am your fiancée, Harry," Ginny hissed, the legendary Weasley anger finally breaking through. "I should be the one there for you to talk to on your bad days. I should be the one to comfort you—"
Harry winced. He knew. Merlin knew how much Harry knew that Ginny should have that role.
"—but no! You go to Miss Perfect Hermione for your problems. You talk with Hermione when you need an advice. It's always Hermione bloody Granger that you turn to for everything!" Ginny screamed, enraged.
Harry's eyes narrowed, but his voice remained calm. "Hermione is my best friend—will always be my best friend. And I can talk to her about anything whenever I want or wish for."
Ginny's eyes blazed. "Is that how it is going to be?"
"Well then, choose."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"I will not take this anymore." Ginny hissed. "You have to choose. It's me or her."
"Gin, you're kidding, right?"
"No. I am not."
She turned around and stormed away without another word.
Curiously enough, Harry found himself at the edges of the Forbidden Forest an hour after his fight with Ginny. He still could not comprehend what she wanted him to do. It was insane.
Harry couldn't possibly choose between Hermione and Ginny.
Hermione Granger is his best friend—has been his best friend since he was eleven and had entered Hogwarts. She had always been there—when he needed help with his homework, when he had a bad day, when he needed someone to lean on, when he fought Voldemort and defeated him. She was his rock to lean on, his strength that allowed him to continue, and the guiding light that led him through the darkness.
Ginny Weasley is his fiancée—the woman he would spend the rest of his life with—maybe even start a family of his own with. She was fun to be around, she liked Quidditch, and she was a smart witch—
—but not as smart as Hermione, Harry thought, immediately.
He sighed, annoyed, and shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to sort his thoughts out.
This is bloody insane, he thought, angrily.
Both women were important to him. He cared about them both too much.
The question, Potter, is who do you care about the most?
Harry ordered the mocking voice in his head to go and die.
Luna Lovegood stood a few feet away, bare-footed, a small bag slung over her shoulder. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders and her face was as dreamy as it was when Harry had first met her.
"Hello, Luna," he noted her bare feet, but did not comment. "What brings you out here?"
She smiled dreamily. "I have been told that Snorkack creatures might show up here. I would like to catch one. Papa would love that."
"What brings you out here, Harry?"
Luna regarded him with her dreamy eyes. "The Nargles tell me something is troubling you."
A light blush covered his cheeks. He would never—for the life of him—understand how Luna could be so perspective. Nevertheless, he found his mouth telling Luna his recent fight with Ginny and her insane demand.
Luna listened carefully, all the time her eyes were thoughtfully and dreamy. When Harry had gotten it out, Luna looked at him, smiling.
"Do you love Ginerva, Harry?"
Harry blinked, astonished by her question. "Of course I do."
Luna shook her head, gently. "I am aware that you love her. What I meant: are you in love with her?"
He paused. "Is there a difference?"
A sudden gust of chilly wind blew around them. Harry ran his hand through his messy hair.
"It does not matter. She's my fiancée. I'll be marrying her in less than six months."
"Is that what you want or what is expected from you, Harry?"
He stared, and asked again, "Is there a difference?"
Luna smiled dreamily at him. "What you want will make you happy. What is expected from you will make the others around you happy."
Harry Potter stood still, looking at his friend with wide, green eyes behind the frame of his glasses.
"Which happiness would it be, Harry? Yours or theirs?"
Hermione Granger looked up from her book Hogwarts: A History when her best friend, Harry Potter, entered the Gryffindor Common Room and marched towards her.
She smiled, laying her book down. "Hey, Harry."
He simply stared at her for a whole, long minute before blurting out: "I am not doing what's expected from me."
Hermione blinked. "What?"
"The people around us." he swung his hand at the direction of the whole common room although they were the only souls there. "They expect things from me and I am not doing them."
"Harry." Hermione said, soothingly. "Sit down."
He sat beside her.
"Harry, it is true that people had great expectation in you. You are the Boy-Who-Lived. You were expected to defeat the darkest wizard the Wizarding World had known. You were expected to be as great a wizard as Dumbledore. And you accomplished those expectations. But that's in the past now. We'll be graduating soon and you can do whatever you want."
He snorted. "I beg to differ."
Hermione looked at him, worried. "What is really wrong, Harry?"
"People still expect me to do things, 'Mione. They expect me to work at the Ministry. Or they expect me to become a Professor here in Hogwarts. They expect me to marry Ginny. Bloody hell! Even Ginny expects me to live in this large, lavish castle or something where she could hold parties every now and then after we are married!"
Hermione bit her lip. "Is that what you want, Harry?"
She knew that everything he said—except for marrying Ginny, she thought, bitterly—was not what he wanted.
She smiled. "It's okay, Harry. It does not matter what people expect from you. You should do what you want."
"Do you know what I want, 'Mione?"
"I suppose." She smiled playfully. "You want to become an Auror. You want to live in a small cottage at the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. You want to marry Ginny and start a family."
The last sentence was voiced too quietly, the playful smile slid off her lips.
Harry stared at her. "No."
"No. That's not what I want."
She was shocked. She was sure the first two things she pointed out were what he wanted for he had told her so himself. So, it was the last...?
"Harry, what are—"
"I do not want to marry Ginny."
She gaped. "Harry, are you okay? Are you ill, love? You are engaged to her! And everyone is talking about how you and her are—"
"That's bloody it!" he stood up, irritated and angry. "Everyone. Everyone wants me to marry Ginny. Everyone wants me to work at the Ministry. It's all what they want me to do. But none, none of them, knows that the only thing—person—I have ever wanted has been right next to me for the whole seven years of my Wizarding life. Who I want is sitting right before me now!"
Her hands sweated and her heart hammered in her chest.
Was he implying what she thought...?
"What?" she breathed confused and stunned.
"Hermione, I do want to become an Auror. I do want to live in a quiet cottage at the outskirts of Godric's Hollow and start a family. But I want you to be there by my side when I do."
His beautiful, emerald green eyes stared back at her chocolate brown ones sincerely. He was not lying, Hermione was sure.
"But, Harry, you love Ginny." She whispered thickly.
"I do." he said, pausing. Her eyes filled with tears. "I do love Ginny. But I am not in love with her."
Hermione's eyes widened.
Harry's eyes gazed at her chocolate ones once again. "However, I am in love with you, Hermione."
Hermione stood up, turning her back to him, trying desperately to regulate her breathing and analyze her thoughts and emotions. Was this really happening to her?
She stiffened when Harry took hold of her wrist gently, rubbing circles with his thumb on her smooth skin.
"What do you want from me, Harry?"
He turned her around so that her sparkling, teary eyes were gazing right into his sincere, determined, gentle eyes.
"I do not want anything from you, 'Mione. I just want you." Harry paused. "Will you...be mine?"
Hermione allowed herself to be drawn into his loving, passionate embrace as the fire cackled loudly in the fire place, sending their entwined shadows over the walls of the common room.
Harry Potter chose his happiness. And he would not let go of her.
Note: Done! I feel great getting it out of my mind. :) Your opinion matters the most! :) Let me know what you think. And thank you again for reviewing my first story.