Title: Scenes From A Camping Trip
Author: sdk
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron (unrequited Harry/Hermione)
Rating: PG
Length/Word Count: One-Shot, ~1k
Warnings/Content: Slightly AU. Angst.
Summary: One day, Hermione promises herself, Harry will give her a real smile again.
Notes: Written for snegurochka_lee, who correctly guessed which fic I’d written for smutty_claus 2011. She requested a prequel/extension of that fic, Scenes From An Affair, focused on Harry and Hermione. This takes place during the camping trip from hell in DH and several lines of dialogue in the last section are taken directly from the book. Thanks to roozetter and torino10154 for the beta! <3
Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world I did not create. No copyright infringement intended.


Scenes From A Camping Trip

Harry has the kind of smile that makes Hermione’s toes curl and her stomach feel all light and airy. It’s a happy feeling; Hermione misses it. Harry still smiles now and then: a forceful grimace, an everything’s-gone-to-pot-so-I-might-as-well smile, ones that are designed to make her feel better when he can manage it. But they never reach his eyes and the skin at the corners never wrinkles like when he’s happy and truly can’t help it. He never smiles big enough for that anymore.

One day, Hermione promises herself, Harry will give her a real smile again.

~

Hermione shifts on her small cot and pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders, watching the wall of the tent sway with the wind whirling outside. Tiny pinpricks of water come soon after, spraying against the canvas, then rolling down, out of sight.

She should try to sleep. She only has another hour and then it’s her turn at watch. It shouldn’t be this hard to sleep. Ever since it’s been just the two of them, she gets less every night. Exhaustion and cold have seeped into her bones and set up camp. There’s never a reprieve.

Until Harry comes.

The mattress dips and she feels the press of a body against her back, arms sliding around her waist. She opens her mouth to argue that someone should be on watch. They are the same words she repeats every night, but he cuts her off before she can begin.

“Just for a minute. It won’t matter for a minute.”

She closes her eyes and feels his heartbeat against her back. Finally, sleep comes.

~

They’ve moved to the Forest of Dean, but Hermione wouldn’t know the difference if her spells hadn’t told her so. It looks just like every other place they’ve been, and a small part of her, a secret part of her that she will never acknowledge, wishes she’d run away too.

But she can’t leave Harry. She’d never leave Harry. She could however petrify him, bind him with ropes and stuff him in her ever-expandable purse, then somehow make way to Australia and join her parents. They could spend their days on the beach and their nights in a proper bed, bellies full, bodies warm. It’s a common daydream she has. She’s ashamed how often it fills her thoughts now. Not very Gryffindor-like of her, but she can’t stop.

She used to think of the three of them escaping. It’s always been the three of them together, after all. But now, there’s just two. And somewhere along the way, she’s gotten used to them just being two.

~

Harry slides in the bed behind her, but this time she turns and buries her head in his chest. He stills, lets out a heavy breath, then tentatively lays his palm flat against her back. His heart beats beneath her ear. She doesn’t try to tell him to go.

~

He finds her at the opening of the tent huddled over The Tales of Beetle the Bard. It will be dawn soon. She slides a piece of string between the pages to hold her place and closes the book. She’s read it a thousand times by now, she’s sure, but still doesn’t know what she’s looking for.

Hermione looks at Harry and his lips turn up out of habit, but his eyes are dull and tired.

“Time to go,” he says. She nods. They leave another forest behind.

~

Harry’s heart thumps steadily beneath her hand. She raises her head and looks at him. His eyes are closed, breath moving in and out at an even keel, but he’s not asleep.

Hermione makes up her mind and kisses him.

Harry’s lips open, but stiffen. His eyes follow and he stares straight up at her. She wonders if he can see her clearly this close without his glasses or if she’s just a fuzzy shape hovering over him. They’ve been still for too long; Hermione doesn’t know what to do, so she kisses him again.

“Hermione...”

Her stomach drops, rolls, and ties itself into a tight knot with each syllable of her name. He hasn’t tried to move away, but he’s grabbed her shoulders, holding her at a distance. She feels his heart race.

“I know you miss him. But I can’t.”

Tears spring up in Hermione’s eyes before she can stop them and she presses her face into Harry’s chest, hoping he hasn’t seen. She tries to breathe, but the soothing palm running up and down her back makes her want to vomit.

She should miss Ron, but she doesn’t. She can’t remember the last time she did.

~

Someone presses on her shoulder. She can hear her name like an echo in the back of her mind, pulling her from sleep. It’s Harry.

Hermione jolts awake, pushing her hair out of her face.

“What’s wrong? Harry? Are you all right?”

“It’s OK,” Harry says, eyes bright in the dim light of the tent. “Everything’s fine. More than fine. I’m great.” He speaks in quick excited punches, an energy pulsing off him like she hasn’t seen in a long while.

“There’s someone here.”

“What do you mean? Who-?”

And Hermione sees him. Ron. He stands there, holding a sword and dripping from head to toe.

And next to him is Harry, smiling. Beaming. Eyes crinkled, lips stretched wide from ear to ear. He backs into a shadowy corner, but she can still see his smile, brightening up the whole area.

It should make her happy. It should send her stomach bouncing and flipping with joy. But all Hermione feels is a loss sinking deep into her belly.

No matter how long she screams and hits Ron, it doesn’t go away.


-Fin-







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