Heart-Skipping Beats

Dear Reader,

Well, this is the final installment of this three-part fic. I enjoyed writing this whole thing very much. Both Harry and Hermione's journals were fun to write, as was this final chapter. I'd like to thank everyone that's reviewed, and you can probably guess what I'm going to say next. It's the final chapter, so please review if you haven't (and of course if you have). We'll say this takes place months after Harry's defeated Voldemort. Let's say…around sometime in October of 1998. Yes, that works. Oh, and Ron's moved into a flat with Luna and Hermione's moved back into her parents house, leaving Harry alone at Number 12. Anyway, thank you for reading and please review.

Sincerely,

Ink.Slinger

Culprit behind the Crime

& & &

“Harry, so glad you could make it for dinner!”

“Hello, Mrs. Granger.”

“Oh, Ron! I'm glad you could make it, too, of course!” Mrs. Granger said, patting Ron on the shoulder.

Hermione smirked to herself as she came in from the dining room.

“Table all set, Hermione?” Mrs. Granger asked.

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Excuse me you three. I have to check on the roast beef. It should be ready soon enough,” she said with a kind smile. She disappeared from the Granger living room a moment later.

Hermione turned to Harry and Ron, and grinned.

“So you both made it after all,” she said, putting her hands to her waist.

“You know me, I'd never turn down a free meal!” Ron exclaimed, winking. He dropped down on the sofa and picked up one of the Muggle magazines lying around on the coffee table.

Hermione looked to Harry, blushing faintly.

“Glad you could make it, Harry,” she said shyly.

The same sort of faint blush appeared on Harry's cheeks.

“Thanks, Hermione,” he replied.

“…So - so how's life been at Grimmauld with Ron and me gone?”

“All right, actually. Of course I miss Ron's messiness and your tidiness, but I'm adjusting,” Harry replied, though deep down inside he was dying of loneliness. He missed them both immeasurably. But he missed Hermione so much more. Ron had Luna. Harry wanted Hermione.

If he didn't know any better he would have guessed Mrs. Granger were watching them; his eyes traveled over Hermione's shoulder and he thought - he would swear for the rest of his life - that he thought he saw her peeking through the kitchen door at them.

A second after the door closed fully and she was no longer visible through the small crevice of the wall and the door, but he frowned slightly in suspicion.

“Harry, what is it?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Harry turned to look at Ron. “What's that you're reading?”

“Wha? This? It's some Muggle sports magazine. These Muggles are funny!” Ron snorted with laughter.

Hermione left her two best friends in the living room and entered the kitchen, to find her mother indeed checking up on the roast beef.

“Need any help, mum?” she asked.

“No, no everything's running smoothly.”

Hermione nodded and was about to leave again, when her mother's next comment surprised her.

“So, how are things between you and Harry?”

Hermione froze.

“M-Me and Harry?”

That was an odd thing to ask.

“Yes, that's what I asked.”

“Fine as ever, mum. Why? “

“No reason, I'm simply asking, Hermione,” replied Mrs. Granger, giving off an innocent laugh.

Hermione's eyes narrowed; she knew that laugh. It was the laugh Mrs. Granger used when she was trying all-too hard to seem innocent. Hermione didn't know what she was up to, but she knew her mum was definitely up to something.

“I think I'll go up and change for dinner now,” Hermione said.

“Okay, dear. By the time you come down the roast beef should be done.”

Hermione nodded and left the kitchen. She went up the narrow flight of stairs that led to the second floor of the Granger house, and headed to her room. In less than six minutes Hermione was changed completely, even having time to brush her hair and pull it back into a twist.

She closed the door to her room and started toward the staircase when she stopped. The guest bedroom where Harry was staying was not too far off.

Dare she be nosy and intrusive and snoop through her love's things?

Well, it couldn't hurt to take a peek, could it?

Yes, Hermione definitely decided, it couldn't, so she edged her way to the room and pushed the door open. Harry's luggage was on the bed, mostly unpacked though his suitcase was open.

Hermione made her way over to the suitcase and took a peek inside.

She smiled sappily at the way he folded his clothes messily, and at the total unorganized manner of the suitcase.

That was Harry, her Harry. He wasn't orderly and it was another thing she loved about him.

The full list comprised of about a million and three other things…

She had just had enough momentary reflection about her hopeless love for Harry, and was about to turn and leave, when his voice startled her.

“Err, Hermione what are you doing?”

She jumped and bumped into the nightstand nearby. The alarm clock residing there fell and crashed to the floor. Her whole face went a Weasley-red.

“Ha-Ha-Harry,” she stuttered, petrified. What a humiliating situation to be caught in.

“Looking for something?” he asked.

“N-No, I just…got lost,” she fibbed stupidly.

“…In your own house?”

“Well, haven't been here in a while, you know; I barely moved back in last week, remember,” she said with a cheesy laugh afterwards.

Harry's expression was hard to read. He walked past her to his untidy suitcase and went to close it.

It was then that Hermione's eyes fell on it: the journal lying atop a fresh pair of folded pajama bottoms.

It was the exact same journal she had. She frowned and looked up at him.

“Harry.”

“Hmmm?”

“Is - is that my journal?”

“What?” He peeked inside and nodded. “No, no that's mine.”

“You keep a journal?”

“Yeah, yeah I suppose I do,” he said embarrassedly. Now he was the one that had turned a shade of Weasley-red. It was embarrassing to admit he had a journal; it was seen as such a feminine thing…

“Oh. Where'd you get it?”

“Your mum gave it to me for Christmas, why?”

“I have the exact same one.”

“What? Really? Well, that's…interesting.” He couldn't think of another word to describe it as.

“It certainly is!” Now she knew what her mother was trying to do. The whole words of her mum replayed suddenly in her head:

“I had a journal just like this when I was your age. Wrote in it everyday and it was through this journal that I discovered I was utterly in love with your father.”

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

“Mum,” she muttered.

“Huh?” Harry made a confused face.

“My mum, she purposely gave us journals!” Hermione said, crossing her arms. She didn't know whether to think her mum had done her a favor or whether her mum had just caused her a whole lot of confusion.

Before she had discovered her feelings for Harry she had been a whole lot content being in the dark as far as where her affections lay. Now she knew she loved him and she couldn't just get rid of that knowledge.

“No offense, Hermione, but I'm really failing to see the sinister plot.”

“My mum gave us journals in hopes that we'd write down all of our feelings and thoughts and discover we're in love with each other! The nerve of her!” Hermione explained, sighing.

She went straight to the door, desiring to go confront her mum about this whole thing. Her hand was reaching toward the doorknob when Harry said, “Oh. Well, did it work?”

Hermione stopped in her tracks and looked over at Harry.

“What?”

“Did it work? I mean, for you?”

She went a gauche pink and wanted so badly to tell him it did.

It did, it did, it did…

But she couldn't tell him that; doing so would be setting herself up for one great, big letdown. Harry's heart belonged to Ginny and…and it always would.

“No.” The word left her mouth slowly and simply, and the moment it did she regretted them.

“Oh, right.” Harry stood there awkwardly, scratching the back of his messy hair.

She pulled open the door and left without another word. The door slammed shut behind her, and Harry couldn't have felt worse. He felt like a complete fool for the way he felt about her.

The door burst open and suddenly Hermione was right back inside the room, looking breathless.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Yes, Harry! Yes, it worked!”

Somewhere along the lines they met halfway across the room, and without hardly any thought at all his lips were on hers and hers were on his, and they were kissing each other with desperation. Harry pulled her closer, he pulled her into his arms, and he kissed her again, their tongues meeting as her own arms came around his neck. Both of their mouths were open, sliding over each other, and his tongue was enjoying the sweet taste of her lips.

Far, in the distance of their minds they both registered the fact that beginning with this kiss - this one single kiss - they were crossing the line from friendship to something more, and now they could never go back; they didn't want to go back.

After what felt like a blissful eternity they broke away from each other, panting and shocked yet content.

“Erm,” Harry said, running a hand through his ruffled hair. “That was…great.”

“Yes,” Hermione said, nodding. “Yes, it was. Ginny was right. You are a good kisser.”

Harry fought the blush, but ultimately it won and soon his cheeks were a bright red.

“T-Thanks,” he answered.

There was hesitation on both of their parts. Neither wanted to say the next words.

“Ha-Harry, as much as I want things to always stay the same,” Hermione began meekly. “I…the journal that my mum gave me helped me see a few things that have been right in front of my face all along.”

“Me too.”

“I'm in love with you. Not Ron, not Viktor, ha, definitely not Terry Boot! It's you, Harry. I'm in love with you!” she confessed, shrugging as she wiped her watery eyes. She knew she couldn't keep the tears away.

Harry's hand gently brushed against her cheek.

“Hermione, the journal helped me realize a few things, too, me the thickest git alive when it comes to romance,” he said, chuckling mildly. “You mean everything to me, Hermione. I…I think a part of me always knew how I felt about you without the journal, but - but the other half of me wouldn't let me feel this way about you. The other half always told me you were my best friend and only that and it had to stay that way, but - but it can't. Because you're everything I want and need, and I l-love you.”

It was the first time he had ever said those three words to anyone, and Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and savored this memory, knowing she'd remember this for the rest of her life.

Suddenly, through the satisfied silence, she couldn't resist a small laugh.

“What?” Harry asked, showing off that famous lopsided grin of his.

“I was just thinking about how much of a story this'll be to tell our kids someday,” she said, grinning too.

“Our kids? Mmmm, thinking a little ahead into the future, are you?” he asked mischievously.

Hermione flushed and desired to faint right then and there, but managed to control herself.

“We'll see, won't we?” She bit her bottom lip again, and took his hand. “Err, I think the roast beef is more than ready by now.”

Harry laughed. “You've got a point. They probably really do think you got lost in your own home.”

“C'mon, let's head downstairs. I'm actually starving and wanting some of my mum's cooking. We'll talk about us and about me moving back into Grimmauld after some dinner and dessert.”

Harry grinned at her and let her lead the way out of the guest room. They then made their way downstairs into the dining room. Mr. Granger had just come home from the dentistry, and he and his wife and Ron were already taking their seats.

As soon as they entered the dining room they let go of each other's hand, realizing it'd be a bit awkward if the three all knew what had happened a floor above.

But as they sat down, they both blushed and smirked at the knowing look Mrs. Granger gave them both.

& Fin &

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