I know, that was a big cliffie. I almost gave my beta a heart attack when she read it. Thank you again for all the reviews. There is nothing but good ole H/Hr in this chapter, which is good since they're the stars of the show. I have two more chapters after this one already finished, and then my posting will slow down. I'm working on the new one right now, and hope to have it finished by Christmas.
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Hermione had set her bags down on the front porch after knocking on the door and turned around to look around the neighborhood. It was a warm Saturday morning, and the neighborhood was calm and quiet. In fact, Hermione couldn't really imagine it being anything but calm. Soon she heard the door opening and turned around just as it opened.
When she saw him standing there, her heart rate increased and her breath hitched. He looked better than she imagined. Ron had made a comment that he looked sleep-deprived, but Hermione couldn't see a trace of it anywhere. And now, as he stood ogling her, she felt her stomach give a familiar lurch.
Hermione wanted to hold him and never let go. She even thought about kissing him just from being happy to see him, but she held back. That was thanks to the feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her not to be so forgiving. She had even considered breaking his nose with her fist, but what good would that do? She would feel better, but then Harry would be in pain, and that was a sight she'd rather not see.
Harry looked back at the sight of Hermione standing at the door, and was overcome with emotions. She was more beautiful than he remembered. He was vaguely aware that he was staring, but he couldn't help thinking about the last time he had seen her. There had been pain in her eyes that night. A pain he only now recognized as fear of losing him. The pain was gone now, but was instead replaced with a myriad of feelings. Was it just him, or was she contemplating slugging him? She hadn't done it yet, so he figured that was a good sign. The thought brought a smile to his face, and he was able to find words for the first time since she showed up five minutes ago.
"I see you found the place."
Hermione seemed relieved that he had spoken first. She smiled and replied in a somewhat sarcastic tone. "I don't see how I could mistake 'large blue house at the end of the street.'"
"No, I suppose not." Harry reached down and picked up her bags and showed her in the door. After setting them down in the foyer and closing the door, he turned her around and looked into her eyes. "I'm glad you're here. You have no idea…"
"How much I've missed you." Hermione had cut him off and finished his sentence down to the last word. She then wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him deeply. His arms slid around her waist to draw her closer.
They stood in silence, each of them content in the other's presence. When Harry drew back and looked into Hermione's eyes once again, he froze. There was no doubt in his mind what he wanted to do more than anything at that moment, and it took all of his willpower not to do it. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. Instead, he smiled at her and took her hands in his, making her smile as well. "Let me show you around, and then I'll give you some time to get settled."
Hermione nodded, and Harry led her through the house, their hands still locked together. It was a small showing of affection, but one that Hermione was content with at the moment. She couldn't deny the fact that it made her feel safe, even though she wasn't in danger. Harry had always had that effect on her.
"And this is the library," Harry said as they entered the room. He immediately felt Hermione's hand leave his and looked up to see her face. The small smile that had resided there since he had answered the door was now gone, and was replaced by a mixture of shock and laughter. Harry gently stood in front of her and grasped her wrist. "What's the matter, Mione?"
"Oh, nothing. But I think I need to find out if hell has frozen over."
"Why do you say that?" Harry asked, as a small chuckle escaped Hermione.
"I simply never thought I would see the day that Harry Potter would have a library."
Harry smiled and felt relieved that she found it humorous. Now that he really thought about it, the fact that he had a library in his house was quite laughable. But he couldn't very well tell Hermione the subliminal purpose that the library held right now, so he quickly came up with another explanation.
"Yeah, well, when I moved in I quickly became aware of just how many books I owned. I'm quite certain that I won't have a use for Unfogging the Future any time soon, but one never knows when they'll need to find a good cleaning spell."
"Really, Harry, if you paid attention in class, you would know that cleaning spells are covered in Standard Book of Spells, Chapter 12. I believe they start on page 250."
"I tried to pay attention, but there were too many distractions. Namely the one that sat on the left side of me," Harry said with a devilish grin. He wondered how long it would take her to realize what he was trying to say.
"That's no excuse, Harry. I'm actually quite surprised you-wait a minute. I sat to the left of you in Charms." The smile that had crept onto her face from her usual banter with Harry was now gone. He was subtly letting her know just how deep his feelings ran. Hermione didn't know what else to say.
Harry leaned in closer before whispering in her ear, "I must say, you were a wonderful distraction." And with that, he led her into the kitchen.
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After Harry finished showing Hermione the rest of the ground floor, he took her upstairs and showed her the guest rooms, as well as the master bedroom. He had carried her bags upstairs for her, and deposited them in the guest room just off from his room.
"Here you go, Hermione. Let me know if you need anything. I'll just be downstairs," Harry said as he began to walk out. But just as he reached the door, Hermione's voice stopped him.
"Harry, will you stay? I need to talk to you, and I'd rather get it out of the way now and not have it hanging over us all week," Hermione asked, looking at him with hope. Harry didn't hesitate, instead going back into her room and leading her over to the squishy armchair that sat across the room from the bed.
Once he was seated, he motioned for her to sit on his lap. Hermione paused, not sure if sitting on Harry's lap was the best idea right now. More than anything, she was afraid of losing her focus and not saying the words she had been practicing for over a week.
"I promise I won't bite, Mione," Harry said, almost pleading her to join him. He held out his hand, and she accepted it while gently sliding onto his lap and getting comfortable.
"I know, Harry. It's just…" she began as her voice trailed off. She was afraid to look at him. He seemed to have no problem showing her how much he loved her, so why was she having such a hard time. She loved him, so why was it so hard?
"I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?" Harry asked, trying to catch her eye once again. He gently wrapped his left arm around her waist, and was relieved that she didn't pull away.
"That's not it at all. It's just weird for me to see you acting this way. Not that I don't enjoy it, but after seven years of friendship, I find it unbelievable at times. The fact that you're so much more to me than a friend to me is going to take some time, but it's time I'm more than willing to spend. I don't know that I've ever really told you that."
Hermione was relaxing in his embrace now, and she slowly leaned back to rest her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a moment, until Harry sat his head up slightly and looked at her.
"Thank you for telling me. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't get worried that I was scaring you away," Harry began. "Can I tell you something now?" Hermione nodded, and he continued. "Looking back at everything that's happened, I realize that I don't deserve you being here right now. Wait, I'm not finished. I messed up big time by not telling you sooner how I felt about you. I messed up our friendship, not to mention our own lives in general. I honestly wouldn't blame you if you wanted to walk out right now and forget any of this ever happened.
"I made a promise to myself while we were still in school that if we ever got together, that it would be forever. I would do whatever it takes to make sure that you were safe and that you would be happy. I realize now that parts of my plan were in direct conflict with each other. I kept you safe by staying away from you, but in doing that, you were miserable. I never want to see you sad, Mione, never. But there was one part of my promise that I'm keeping. You've been gracious enough to give me a second chance, despite the fact that I've been the world's largest prat for the last four years. With that being said, I plan to make the most of this chance and make sure that you never once regret your decision."
Hermione was truly touched by his words, and a single tear began to slowly run down her cheek. She looked into Harry's eyes and sensed that he meant every word that he had said. That was when she noticed it. A tear had formed in his left eye, and she could tell that he was trying to hold it back. She slowly lifted her right arm from where it had been resting around his neck, and moved her thumb under his glasses to brush it away.
"It's okay, Harry. Don't hold it back." She had half-expected him to break down, but instead he looked at her and covered the hand that was still on his cheek with his.
"Would it be terribly inappropriate if I kissed you right now?" he asked, almost whispering.
"If it is, I'm sure I would get over it."
That was all the permission Harry needed, and he slowly pulled Hermione's face down to his and kissed her gently. It was slow and methodical, as if they were both trying to commit this moment to memory. She shifted slightly, and wrapped her arms around his neck, while his arms found their way around her waist. Neither made an attempt to go any further than that. A short time later, they broke away and looked at each other.
"Are we okay?" Harry asked. Hermione blinked her eyes slowly and nodded. Somehow he knew that they would be just fine. "I'll let you unpack."
Hermione stood up and walked over to the bed to begin unpacking. When she noticed Harry leaving the room out of the corner of her eye, she called to him.
"Harry?"
"Yes, Mione?"
"I love you."
Harry smiled at her from the doorway. It wasn't the first time she'd said those words, but it was the first time he'd heard them. "I love you, too."
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Hermione had returned down to the kitchen after unpacking and getting settled in her room. Harry had fixed her a nice meal of baked chicken and potatoes, and they sat in the kitchen eating silently, unable to take their eyes off each other.
Once the dishes were cleaned and put away, she wandered into the library to survey the books Harry had collected. They were arranged meticulously, much to Hermione's surprise. All their books from Hogwarts were on a shelf together, as were biographies and autobiographies, and fiction. After wandering around for half an hour, her eyes fell upon a book that almost seemed hidden. Once she read the title, she knew why: The Rise and Fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named by Bernard Hawkgaup. Hermione took the book, crawled up on the couch that sat in front of the fireplace, and began reading.
When Harry came up behind the couch almost four hours later, he couldn't help but notice what Hermione was reading. The heading on the particular page she was currently reading was "The Boy Who Lived." She had yet to notice he was standing behind her, so when he knelt down and placed his head right next to hers, she jumped.
"Learn anything new?" he asked. Realizing what she was reading, she quickly closed the book and looked at her watch in hopes of changing the subject.
"Look at the time. I can't believe I spent the whole afternoon in here reading."
"Hermione, it's okay. I saw what you were reading, and it doesn't bother me. Half the things I know about my parents I actually learned from that book. It's the product of everyone trying to protect me. When in doubt, look it up in a book. You taught me that."
Hermione smiled at Harry's attempts at flattery. In reality, they weren't just attempts; he was doing a good job, and it almost made her swoon. Maybe she would be okay if she didn't look directly at him. She just couldn't help it, though. If there was one thing Hermione couldn't get enough of, it was Harry looking at her like that.
"I almost forgot," Harry said, "I have something planned for tonight, so I came to tell you it will be ready in about half an hour."
"Really? Do I need to change my clothes?"
"I would maybe put on a pair of jeans. It's supposed to cool down later. Come down to the kitchen when you're ready."
Hermione agreed and went up to her room to change. What could he possibly have planned? There was no doubt they were going to be outside, but that didn't really narrow down the possibilities. After changing into a pair of jeans and straightening her hair, she walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she saw Harry beaming at her.
"What are you up to, Harry?" she asked, and he simply walked across the kitchen to grasp her hand, making her even more curious.
"Just follow me."
Harry took her out the back door and led her into the large clearing that was the backyard. He had set up what appeared to be a picnic. A large blanket was spread across the ground, and there were various foods mingled together with a few bottles of butterbeer.
"A picnic?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound disappointed.
"Not just a picnic. A picnic at sunset, mixed with a bit of star gazing."
"I see. And where exactly did you come up with such an idea?" she inquired, as they sat down on the blanket and was handed a butterbeer.
"A year of solitude makes a person think. This is a direct result of that thinking," Harry replied. Hermione was now thoroughly intrigued.
"I'm not sure I follow you."
Harry took her hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of it. Tonight was a big step in showing Hermione just how much he loved her, and he wanted everything to be perfect. The weather was nice enough to cooperate, and now it was up to him not to screw it up.
"I have a mental list of all the moments we missed out on because I was such a dunderhead. I can't tell you how many times I've just wanted to sit out under the stars with you, happy just to be in your presence."
"So is this number one on the list?"
"No, but it's towards the top. I know we've sat out under the stars together before, but this is different. No secrets anymore. Ever."
"That sounds good to me."
They sat in silence while they ate, each stealing glances at the other from across the blanket, and not worried if the other caught them.
Hermione couldn't help but feel like she was dreaming. She worried for so long about seeing Harry again and how she would handle it. But now that she was there and things were going so well, she wondered why she was worried in the first place. The kiss they shared earlier had swept away all frustrations she had, replacing them with an intense feeling of need. She looked over at him again, and she was certain that her knees would have buckled underneath her had she not already been sitting down. What amazed her the most though, was that all the adjectives she could think of to describe Harry didn't do him justice. Handsome, adorable, charming, and loving weren't enough. He was just Harry, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
When they finished eating, Harry drew Hermione close to him to watch the sunset. It was getting cooler now, and she now knew why Harry suggested she wear jeans. She was currently sitting in front of Harry with her legs tucked under her. Their fingers were intertwined, and Harry's arms were wrapped around Hermione's waist as his head rested lightly on her shoulder. As the sun went down, a question formed in Hermione's head, and she turned slightly to ask Harry.
"Why did you move here, Harry?"
"That's a question I'm still asking myself. I don't know really, it just felt right."
Hermione turned to face him completely, while kneeling in front of him. "Doesn't it bring back bad memories, though?"
"Mione, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that I can't run from my problems. You know better than anyone that the memory of Voldemort killing my parents has haunted me for a long time. Moving here is a small step in reclaiming my life from that parasite. Just being in the same town makes me feel closer to my parents, like they're watching over me. I refuse to be afraid of the future anymore, and to do that, I have to make peace with the past."
Hermione squeezed his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck. In an instant, she brushed Harry's hair to one side of his head, and traced his scar with her thumb. Harry closed his eyes at her actions, and just then he knew that there would never be anyone else. She knew him better than anyone else. She knew his fame, but didn't care. To her, the Boy Who Lived didn't exist, only Harry.
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The silence of that July evening was peaceful, and Harry wouldn't have it any other way. He lay on that blanket in the backyard with Hermione nuzzled close to him, content to do nothing but stare at the stars. In his mind, he spoke to his parents and told them just how much he loved the girl next to him, even though he was sure they already knew.