Never Yours

A/N: I know it's been forever, and I have excuses why I haven't updated in over a month…it's just, well, all of them are overused by pretty much everyone else, therefore I think they're too stupid and overdone to be worth mentioning. I'm mad with myself for taking so long, but there's really nothing to be done about it unless I somehow get my hands on a Time Turner. But I don't think that's too probable…

& - 11

Hermione didn't realize it, but she had been staring out the window for the past ten minutes.

The February night was wintry and dark, and still it was difficult for her to comprehend what had happened just a few short hours before.

Her eyes rose from the street below, dimly lit by the streetlamps, and rather they rose to the sky.

It was almost completely starless. She had to search for the few stars scattered about. But really as she gazed up at the sight from the windowsill she rested on, she thought about all that had happened in the past few weeks.

She thought about Harry, about Ginny, about the dark wizards and witches in Knockturn Alley that wanted to hurt all Muggleborns, but particularly her because of her connection to Harry Potter.

She thought about it all as she stared dazedly at the night outside.

It felt like so much had happened to her in the matter of weeks, and she wasn't sure how to handle things or even how to feel.

Harry.

He was always on her thoughts, but that night it was worse than ever. She could hear the distant sounds of the shower, and she thought of him.

An hour ago he had told her he loved her.

After two years of waiting to hear those three words's from Harry James Potter, now that she had finally heard them she had no idea what'd happen; she hadn't the faintest clue what to expect to happen.

Were they going to date now? Or did they even need to date after nine years of friendship and mutual professes of love? Worst of all, was Harry going to ignore it all again, was he going to act as if it had never happened? Was it going to be a repeat of two years ago?

Merlin no, Hermione thought with worry. I can't handle the awkward friendship anymore…I need to be more than friends with Harry. I can't go back…I won't.

It really was, by now, all or nothing. Either she and Harry gave a romance a try, or they could never be best friends again - at least not like before; it just wasn't possible.

But the very realistic possibility that it was going to be nothing scared her. She needed it to be all.

She was completely in love with Harry. Her love ran so deep for him that it sometimes scared her. Never had she cared for a person so much, and never did she want to devote herself, for the rest of her life, to someone. And never would she even want to care about anyone as much as she cared about Harry. She couldn't, anyway, even if she tried.

It was Harry, or it was live alone in misery in her dark and cold flat with her shelves of books.

The sounds of the shower died out.

It was this that brought Hermione out of her deep reverie. She shook her head, tearing her eyes off of the wintry scene outside, and she looked around. The present came crashing back down on her.

She was in Harry Potter's bedroom.

It was no longer safe at her home; it didn't even feel like her home anymore.

She didn't feel safe there nor was she.

So here she was, about to spend the night at Harry's, wearing a pair of Harry's pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt of his. Before going into take a shower, he had pointedly mentioned she could take the bedroom and he'd take the couch. Being Hermione, she had told him it was all right…it was his place, he should sleep in his own bedroom, and she certainly didn't have a problem taking the couch. But, being Harry, he had told her right back she was the shaken one; she needed rest.

And he was right. Her eyes itched with tiredness and her back ached from where the cold bricks of that alley wall in Knockturn had cut into her spine; she suspected there were probably bruises there.

Hermione stood from the windowsill and walked over to the bed that was Harry's. It was a very comfy bed. She soon found herself yawning.

By the time the bathroom door opened and Harry walked down the hall into his bedroom he found Hermione on his bed, an arm tucked beneath her head as she dozed off. She looked so peaceful laying there it entranced Harry for a moment.

He loved to watch her sleep. She was so beautiful and peaceful it was perplexing.

Harry sighed and moved from the doorway, wondering what she was dreaming about. It must've been something pleasant, and that pleased him.

Only a few hours ago she had been in so much danger; he couldn't express his relief that she was okay, that she was here, with him that no one else would ever harm her.

Harry grabbed a blanket and covered her. It was a chilly night; he didn't want her to be cold.

Hermione's eyes fluttered to a slow open. It was an indescribably pleasant feeling to wake and see Harry.

“Harry,” she whispered sleepily. “I…I'm sorry, I dozed off…”

He had sat down next to her. “Don't apologize for sleeping, Hermione. You need rest. You've been through something incredibly traumatic…twice. I'm just…” He released a small sigh of relief. “I'm so happy you're here…that I know you're all right.”

She sat up, wanting to have a better view of him as they talked. As she did, the rational, logical side of her felt the need to remind her to keep calm, to accept what had happened and move on. But…it was hard.

It wasn't the first time she couldn't control the tears coming to her eyes.

Seeing her tears, Harry reached for her, pulling her closer to him, into his arms.

“I know,” she said, feeling silly. “I know…I need to stop crying about it.”

“No, Hermione, you need to cry,” Harry told her, “You can't bottle it all up…”

“I don't like being so pathetic. I've never felt so weak in my whole life than I have these past six weeks…”

“You're never pathetic, never. You're the victim. You did nothing wrong. No one should ever have to go through what you did, and you went through it twice and both times you survived. If anything, Hermione, these past six weeks should make you feel proud. You're not weak, you're strong.”

Hermione frowned slightly and looked down at her hands. She knew he was right. It was just that vulnerability did not suit Hermione Granger well.

Harry lifted her chin forcing her eyes to meet his.

“You need rest,” he said sternly. Deciding his sternness was never as good or convincing as hers, he said quietly, a slight plea in his voice, “Please?”

A smile broke out across Hermione's face, and she nodded.

”Okay,” she agreed. “But…Harry?”

“Hmm?”

In that instant she felt timid.

“C-Can…I mean…I'd feel safer if…I dunno you stayed in the room with me,” she said, blushing furiously.

Though it was dark she could make out the small smile on Harry's face.

“Of course, Hermione,” he said. “I'll do anything to make you feel better.”

Her heart almost skipped a beat, but then she remembered there was still that one unresolved thing between them…

“A-About earlier…about us,” she said.

“Shhh,” he hushed. “In the morning, Hermione. You need a good night's sleep.”

She'd be getting one tonight, she knew. When with Harry she had the best night's sleep imaginable. And the safest.

&

The very next day was Valentine's Day.

Unlike the previous gloomy days of February, it was a bright day full of warmth from the sun's rays.

Hermione had never slept better.

It was true; she did get the best sleep when with Harry.

“Good morning,” he said to her when he spotted she was awake. He seemed to have already been awake for at least an hour.

It is a very good morning, she thought, blushing at the thought.

In fact every morning would be a good morning if every morning she woke to Harry.

“Morning,” she said at last. “I'm rested now, are you happy?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I am. But I won't be happy until the Aurors find the bas - I mean…until the Aurors arrest the git that attacked you last night. I spoke with Kingsley. Says they've got a warrant from Bones to arrest him. They're out after him now as we speak.”

Hermione breathed with relief. Of course it wasn't over yet, but this news was good news.

“Good,” she said. “You don't know how wonderful it is to hear that.”

“I have a small clue,” he remarked. “He deserves to rot in Azkaban for all he's done to you.”

Hermione nodded, feeling as if it were better to think of something else; at least at the moment. She didn't want to think of that horrible man - Scottie as the bartender of that pub had referred to him as. She didn't want to have to remember his awful laugh and the painful grip of his rough hands and that crooked, yellow-toothed smile he had given her.

She shook her head again, this time to chase away the memory. She wasn't going to dwell on it any longer. It was over; Harry was right, she had survived it. That said something about her strength, didn't it? Perhaps she wasn't so pathetic after all…

She looked over at Harry, and slowly a smile lit up her face.

“So, Mr. Potter,” she said slowly, “Do I get breakfast?”

Harry looked to be considering her words for a second.

“Well, that depends on whether or not I burn down the kitchen first.”

“Oh, shut it! You're not that awful of a cook…in fact, I think you're a better chef than me. Those eight months we lived together, Ron and I would've starved to death if it weren't for you fixing us breakfast, lunch and dinner!” she reminded, laughing.

Harry was glad to see her smiling and laughing again.

He grabbed both her hands, pulling her to her feet, and he led the way out of the bedroom and to the kitchen.

&

After breakfast they decided to take a walk, eventually ending up at a local park.

The children were all over the playground equipment playing games with one another. Their laughter could be heard from faraway, as Harry and Hermione walked by the nearby sycamore trees. Not very far off there was a pond with ducks and a bench just by it.

“I suppose it's time we talk about us,” Hermione said awkwardly. She stopped walking. Harry did too. “I love you, Harry, but…I need to know that what you said last night after I was attacked was real…I want to know it was the truth.”

He looked down at her, nerves almost getting the best of him. Yet he wouldn't and couldn't let them. He couldn't run from his love for Hermione anymore. Last night had made him see that. He didn't need to be afraid of love anymore…

“It was,” he told her. “I'd never tell you I loved you unless I meant it more than anything I've ever said. I've never told anyone I loved them…it's not something I go around telling anyone, except for you, because it is the truth. I love you.”

She stared at him with mild surprise. Part of her had really been expecting him to continue to dance around his feelings for her like he'd been doing for all these years. But he wasn't; Harry was finally learning to express himself, and sure it was still slightly difficult for him, but all that mattered was that he was trying.

“Well,” she let out a small laugh. “Does that make us a couple?”

He shrugged, grinning. “I think it does, Hermione.”

“Well,” she said again. “I've been waiting for this for so long I don't know what to do now that it's happened.”

He smiled and then pressed his lips to hers in a gentle little kiss. He smiled again and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Remember before how you said I shouldn't do things like that?” he reminisced. “Well, it feels so wonderful now that I can.”

“Yeah, it does,” she beamed.

“It's Valentine's Day, you know,” he said quietly. “I mean…what do you want to do today, Hermione? I want to make you happy, particularly after everything you've been through recently.”

“I don't want to do anything,” she replied in a whisper.

The sun seemed to be growing shy, for it was now hiding behind a group of some puffy clouds. The outside went a little darker.

“What d'you mean?” Harry asked bemusedly.

Hermione smirked. “I mean I just want a simple day, only me and you. I want a day without even thinking about Ron or Ginny or…anyone else. I don't want to think about them. I want to think about you, and I don't want to do anything fancy or special. I want to simply do nothing with you.”

Harry stared. Well, that was an unexpected request.

“Are…are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure. A day without anyone but me and you is what I need,” she said softly.

“Then a day without anyone but you and me is what you'll get,” he remarked. He was glad he was what she wanted.

Their fingers threaded together and they turned and walked from the park, leaving the playground and the children and the rest of the world, for that matter, behind.

&

Harry and Hermione returned from their walk at the park to Harry's flat.

Hermione settled down on Harry's sofa, her long and coiled locks splayed out beneath her on one of the couch pillows. She watched as Harry lit the fireplace and walked about the apartment. She liked to just watch him sometimes, and now it felt better than ever, now that he was hers.

“Are you sure it's all right for me to stay here?” she asked him again for what felt like the millionth time.

“Of course it is, Hermione. It'd be even better if you moved in,” he hinted.

She smiled. “I'll think about it. I like it here. I feel safe.”

“Good,” he said as he busied himself with the radio on the mantel of the fireplace.

“What are you going to listen to?” Hermione asked, watching as Harry tuned into the Wizarding Wireless Network.

Harry looked over his shoulder at her and then back to the radio.

“There's a Quidditch match on today,” he replied. “Canons versus the Tornadoes. They play each other every Valentine's Day.”

“Quidditch!” Hermione repeated with a groan. “Is that all you men think about?”

He didn't answer. He only smiled at her.

”I thought you liked Quidditch. You used to come to every one of my games, remember?” he inquired.

“That was only because you were my best friend and I was trying to support you. That and because you looked so handsome in those Quidditch robes,” Hermione said with a reminiscent smile at the memory of Harry in that scarlet Quidditch uniform. “You were quite the eye candy on that field, Harry.”

He blushed the color of a Weasley's hair.

Harry started toward the sofa she was lying on. He lifted her legs and sat down, setting them back down again over his lap; Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed.

“What?” he asked, perplexed. “Is it such a crime to want to be near my girlfriend?”

“Oooh, you're girlfriend. I like the way that sounds.”

“Me too.”

“I'm Harry Potter's girlfriend. Imagine that.”

“You're lucky enough to be, yeah,” he joked. “You know how many women would date me at the drop of my hat, Hermione. You're a very lucky woman.”

She scoffed. “Oh, don't make me kick you!”

“Go on, kick me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You only say that `cause you obviously think I'd never actually do it.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“I should do it, too, just to shock you.”

The commentator of the Quidditch match over the WWN announced that the Canons had scored for the fourth time.

“Oh no! See, Hermione! I'm missing the match! Merlin, no wonder you women don't understand Quidditch!” he said, knowing she'd find offense in his words.

She sat up and folded her arms. “I do understand Quidditch quite contrary to popular belief! I still remember what Ginny said about me making a fool of myself by pretending to know about Quidditch!”

“Well, do you?”

“I do! I know all of the rules and regulations and I know a fair amount of teams,” she said proudly. “After hearing you and Ron gab about it all those years it's stained my memory.”

“You've proved your point, love. You are now officially a Quidditch expert,” Harry mocked.

“Now, really, I am going to kick you if you keep on with the smart remarks, Mr. Potter!”

He only laughed and continued to listen to the match. The Tornadoes were getting crushed.

Hermione sat up from her lying position on the couch, and she scooted closer to Harry. His arms enclosed around her and she nestled close to him. Harry kissed her on the forehead, and when he looked down at her he couldn't believe anyone would ever want to harm her. She was so beautiful and caring and precious, fury filled him to the core when he thought about it. He forced the anger away; justice would be served soon, and Hermione was here in his arms where she was safe.

What a lovely Valentine's Day this was. It wasn't complicated, full of red roses or dinner dates or expectations of fine jewelry. She didn't need any of that and she certainly didn't want it. Not then, now, when she was the most content she'd been in years.

After all the tears she had cried and all of the fear and pain she had endured over the past few weeks, she was so pleased with such a simple day.

Hermione didn't know what it was, but suddenly it was as if something new had washed over her. All thoughts of the Quidditch match on the WWN, and of the past few weeks left her mind. Suddenly there was only one thing on her mind, and she felt silly for forgetting she and Harry were an item now; she didn't have to think about it, she could do it.

Feeling bold, Hermione captured his lips in a kiss. She caught Harry quite off guard, nevertheless did he hesitate in kissing her back with just as much affection. Right when Harry was getting the urge to slide his tongue past her lips and into her mouth, Hermione ended the kiss just as quickly as it had begun.

He was slightly dumbfounded. She was smirking mischievously as if about to commence her own brand of torture on him.

“That was good,” Harry said hopefully. “Very good. It's a shame it - ”

She silenced him with another kiss, this one unlike the first, this one hard and demanding. Harry forgot all about the Quidditch match.

A new sensation planted itself within Harry, and it burned throughout him like a dancing flame. Hermione broke the kiss a second time as she moved onto his lap, in a straddling position, and Harry's hands came to her waist as they resumed their snog with renewed fervor.

Harry touched his tongue to her lips, and he licked her bottom lip, savoring how soft it was; Hermione had the softest lips of any girl he'd ever kissed before.

She parted her lips, allowing his tongue entrance into her mouth. She couldn't quite remember when - actually, she couldn't quite remember anything at the moment - but somehow her hands had made their way to the unruly strands that were Harry's hair, and now her fingers sifted through the threads of his raven locks. One of Harry's hands had slid underneath the fabric of her white blouse, and the feel of his hand on her hip caused a strong warmth to spread through her.

They kissed over and over, Harry's mouth finally leaving hers, and his lips grazed against her jaw line. Hermione shivered and tilted her head back to allow him better access. She couldn't help but gasp when his tongue touched the skin of her throat. His lips had left a trail of fire behind them as they moved down her neck, then her collarbone. Goosebumps rose onto her arms when she felt his teeth gently scrape against her skin. Her hands had dropped from his hair and rested on either side of his shoulders.

She had never been this turned on before, not in any of her snogs with Ron, and she knew Harry was, too. He hadn't been this aroused in his life; she could feel it in her straddling position.

Harry's mouth had found hers again and they kissed once more, both claiming each other. Hermione was finding it mighty difficult to breathe; she had snogged gits before, but never like this, like the world would end in the next five minutes.

When they pulled away, looking into each other's eyes, Hermione was glad to see she wasn't the only one breathing heavily; so was Harry. She smiled slightly, knowing her lips would be sore tomorrow, but not quite caring at the moment.

In the past two years she had pictured making love to Harry so many different ways. She had always thought herself silly to even think about such things; back then it seemed so unlikely that she'd ever do anything of the sort with him. But now, after waiting so long, it felt as if it had finally arrived, and she was so proud she had denied Ron, that she had waited for her true love.

Harry kissed her softly on the mouth, this time a slow kiss full of tenderness, and then Harry scooped her up in his arms, standing from the sofa. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his chest.

It was only a few steps later before they were in his bedroom, and he had set her down gently on her back. Hermione reached for him, pulling him down toward her for another kiss. Kissing Harry felt more right than anything else in the world.

Hermione tugged on his shirt and Harry quickly getting the clue, pulled it up over his head. It fell onto the floor somewhere below. Harry was never the macho, muscular type, but he certainly wasn't the scrawny little boy Dudley Dursley had once preyed on either. He was lean and fit, just as she had always imagined.

She began to unbutton her own blouse as Harry kissed her in too many places to keep track. She shrugged the shirt off her shoulders, the only material covering her torso being her simple and lacy black bra from which the very top of her breasts peeked out.

She was only mildly surprised that she felt so comfortable with Harry. Her cheeks were free of blush and mind void of worries due to her lack of experience. She didn't feel ashamed or embarrassed of anything, but she felt comfortable and she felt sexy when she looked into Harry's bright green eyes.

He was looking at her as if she were the sexiest thing on earth, and right then she did feel like she was. Harry made her feel this way; he made her feel beautiful and cherished, something Hermione Granger wasn't quite used to very often, especially recently.

“I love you,” she breathed in his ear as he left soft and delicate butterfly kisses along the tasty skin of her neck. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. She could barely form a coherent thought. But then she remembered something, something that was actually rather important. She put her small hands on his shoulders to stop his assail of kisses. She gazed into his eyes as she said quietly, “Harry, I - I want you. B-But I think you should know…I mean…well, I've never really, erm, done this sort of thing before.”

Harry didn't quite understand what she meant for a second, but when he did he looked lovingly into her eyes, raising his hand and cupping her cheek.

“I thought Ron and you…” he trailed off awkwardly.

“No, never.” She blushed then, a bright red. “Almost but never. And…I was always sort of…I dunno…waiting for you, I guess as pitiable and sad as that is.”

Harry smiled at her, kissing her forehead and then the tip of her nose. “You're too cute sometimes, Hermione. That's not pitiable at all, I'm just honored that you wanted me of all people,” he said with surprise.

“I know, surprising isn't it?” she teased. “But someone's got to have you.”

They shared a small laugh together until Harry's smile slowly disappeared and he stared at her with such intensity that she blushed again under his gaze.

Truth was he was more honored than he could ever express with words that Hermione had been waiting for him all this time. He loved her so much and he regretted that he hadn't embraced his feelings for her sooner; he regretted that he had ignored them and shoved them away; he regretted so many things and moments from the past few years that they all seemed to flash before his eyes.

But not this one. He would not regret this, because this was going to be right and meaningful and unforgettable.

He had never even remotely felt this way about Ginny. He had never cared enough to regret what they did, or the lack of adoration in their lustful and immature relationship. The only thing he did regret was dating Ginny in the first place.

But Hermione was different from Ginny, because Hermione was the most precious thing in the world, and he loved her.

“We can't,” he said finally.

She looked at him confusedly.

“Not now,” he clarified. “This isn't good enough for you.”

Hermione frowned, now realizing what he was talking about.

“Harry, of course it is,” she began.

“No, Hermione. I love you and I don't want to regret anything with you,” he said softly, looking caringly into her eyes. “I mean it. This would be great, yeah…amazing. You don't know how badly I…want you, but - but not like this. It's not good enough for you.”

Hermione was faintly aware that she was smiling at him.

“Besides,” he continued, “You're still in a bad state of mind after what's happened to you. And I think it's important that you come to terms with what happened and begin the healing process, and I'll be here everyday, Hermione…with you, for you.”

It was extremely difficult for him to walk away from this opportunity, it was hard to deny the needs Hermione had awoken within him, but it was for the best of Hermione's well-being, and her welfare meant the world to him, even if he'd have to wait longer to quench his thirsts.

“Harry, you are so infuriating,” Hermione said still with a smile. “I think you're just about the most thoughtful git in the entire world…” She kissed him softly. “But I love you for it,” she whispered.

“And I love you, too, Hermione, with every part of me.” His hand slid up and down her arm. “Aren't you cold?” he asked teasingly, eyeing her. She blushed and shoved him playfully.

“Yes, I am cold!” she replied. “It's winter and I'm only wearing a bra for a top!”

He chuckled, standing from the bed, only to return from his closet with a heavy sweatshirt. It was a Quidditch sweatshirt with the Chudley Canon's logo imprinted on it; he had bought it at a Quidditch game with Ron and Neville.

“Here,” he said. “Wear this. I like when you wear my sweatshirts.”

Hermione beamed. “Me too. They're so comfy and warm and they smell just like you.”

She lifted her arms for him and he put the sweatshirt on her. She continued to beam at him, and he inwardly noted how beautiful and adorable she looked resting on his bed, legs bent at her sides, her long and brown mane over her shoulders, as she wore his sweatshirt.

He wondered if she had the faintest idea how precious she was.

“Want to finish listening to the Quidditch match?” he asked instead.

“Men,” she huffed, the beam lingering on her face. “Quidditch is all you men think about, isn't it?”

Harry took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. He grinned.

“Oh, it isn't all we think about,” he remarked vaguely. His grin only widened when she looked up at him with curious eyes. Hermione smiled knowingly, and quietly and together they went back into the other room.

&

A/N: So my ending is vague. Purposely. Feel free to draw your own conclusions about what happens next and whatnot. Anywho, it's been a fun ride, for me anyway. A fun yet way-longer-than-expected ride. This story was a joy for me to write (most of the time, LOL), and hopefully it was at least a decent read for you. Nevertheless, whether it was or not, thank you for reading. Now be nice and review.

Bye!

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