A Darkened Doorway
by cheering charm
Chapter 2
Harry stood in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall for support. It had been a week since it had happened and Harry still felt weak every time he saw her.
He couldn't get it out of his mind.
Any of it.
The taste of mint in her mouth as she ran her tongue around his…
The feel of her breast in his hand, her nipple hard under his fingers…
Blood gushing out of her mouth as she said what he had been thinking only minutes before when they stopped kissing…
Her eyes rolling back in her head as her body went limp…
The feeling in his stomach when he realized she was dead…
He moved his glasses up, pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes tightly, willing away the persistent headache he'd had for a week. He opened his eyes, hoping for a different scene. Instead he was met with the same one: Hermione lying comatose and lifeless in a hospital bed. Her boyfriend was slumped in a chair beside her, worry and anger etched on his face even as he slept.
Hermione lay motionless in her bed, diminished and frail in repose. Gone was the quiet energy she brought to a room, energy Harry had never appreciated before. Harry wondered if her hair was the source of this energy as it too lay limply on her pillow.
Despite their pasty, dry appearance, Harry couldn't stop himself from staring at her lips for long periods of time. He would catch himself running his fingertips across his lips trying to grasp the feeling of her lips on his that his mind repeatedly conjured. He had kissed many women and enjoyed each as much as the other. But he had never been so distracted by the memory of a kiss as he was by his kiss with Hermione.
He had enough first kisses to recognize the feelings associated with it. And, he reassured himself, these were the same feelings he had when he kissed Hermione. There was nothing different in this kiss at all.
Pulling her into the doorway and kissing her was a ruse, a means to an end, and she knew that as well as he did. Over the years they had even joked about one day being put in a position on assignment where they had to act as more than friends. Each time it had ended in playful ribbing about icky boy germs and kissing a sister.
Harry didn't have a sister, but he didn't imagine that kissing Hermione resembled that in the least.
He dreamt about it every night, each time the dream progressing a bit further, until he had a difficult time remembering where the memory stopped and the dream began.
He pushed off from the wall, wanting desperately to leave the room - to get away from the reminder of what he had for a brief moment in a dingy doorway, and to get away from the reason, sitting asleep in the chair, he would never have it again.
**
Hermione's eyes fluttered open, then closed at the harsh bright light that greeted her. She raised her hand to her eyes, thankful that this time it responded. She took a deep breath and didn't feel the pain in her side anymore. Wondering what Harry had done to take the pain away, she attempted to open her eyes again to ask. She held her hand over her eyes, wondering why in the world it was so bright when it should be nighttime, and turned her head, saying "Har…"
The word died in her mouth as she saw Ron slumped in a very uncomfortable looking chair, asleep. She looked around and realized she was in fact in a private room in St. Mungos.
"Ron," she croaked, her throat dry and scratchy. Ron awoke with a jerk, looking around mindlessly, apparently trying to process where he was. His eyes landed on Hermione and relief swept across his face.
"Hermione! You're awake!" he said, sitting forward in his chair, reaching gently for her hand. "I was so worried." He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it.
"I'm fine," she said automatically before stopping to wonder if she really was. Granted, she wasn't in any pain, which was a good sign. As she smiled into Ron's worried face, the fight with Crabbe and Goyle came back to her, followed quickly by what happened between Harry and her.
She looked away from Ron's face and shifted in the bed. "Don't move!" he ordered. "Let me get the Healer! She'll want to know you've finally woken up."
"Finally? How long have I been out?"
"Two weeks," Ron said as he poked his head out the door and yelled down the hall. "Susan! She's awake!"
"Two weeks?" Hermione said softly to herself.
"Yes, you gave us quite a scare. When the mediwizards brought you in, they thought you were dead. Apparently Harry went ballistic and threatened all types of unforgivables and torture if they didn't revive you. They did, of course. I guess being Harry Potter was a good thing this one time," he said with a grin.
"I guess so," she said with a weak smile.
"Well, look who's awake!" Susan Bones said cheerfully as she walked through the door.
"Hello, Susan."
"You gave us quite a scare, Hermione."
"So I hear," Hermione said.
Ron squeezed her hand and stood up. "I'm going to floo everyone the good news!"
As the door closed behind Ron, Susan turned to Hermione with a smile on her face. "You are a lucky woman, Hermione," she said, pulling the thin bed sheet down, and gently pressing on her abdomen. "Ron's been here every day, all day for two weeks," she continued, pulling an overlong wand out of her robe. She passed the wand up and down Hermione's body, the gauges and dials set in the handle clicking and whirring.
"Yes, I am lucky," Hermione said in a small voice, guilt consuming her.
Susan stopped the wand over Hermione's abdomen, and the whirring of the dials increased dramatically.
"That doesn't sound good," Hermione said.
"It could be worse considering the state you were in when you arrived." Susan pocketed the wand and asked, "Do you have any idea what curse was used on you?"
"I didn't hear the incantation."
"Neither did Harry."
"You've never seen this before?"
"No, and neither have the older healers. It is either a new curse, which I hope not, or a sub-par wizard tried an unforgivable on you."
"The second sounds about right."
Susan looked at her questioningly, waiting for more information. Hermione smiled at her and said, "I can't tell you anything more, Susan. You know my job."
Susan smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I know." She held Hermione's hand.
"Has Healer Bones been replaced by my friend Susan?" Hermione asked jokingly.
"Temporarily," Susan said, smiling before turning serious. "You were dead when they brought you in, Hermione."
"Ron said something like that but I thought he was being dramatic." She could see from the look on her friend's face that he wasn't. "I was dead?"
"Yes. I was here and checked you myself. That is one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. It was made even more difficult with Harry in the room."
Hermione looked away from Susan, attempting to hide any alteration in her demeanor the mention of Harry's name might reveal. Instead she focused on her stomach, which underneath the still white sheet was churning and fluttering uncontrollably.
"He was quite adamant that we try to revive you. He wouldn't leave the room until we did. He kept mumbling something about 'waiting too long' or something."
Hermione had to remind herself to breathe as her statement to Harry before she lost consciousness came back to her. She didn't want to have an audience while she attempted to sort her feelings out.
"So what is the prognosis? When can I leave?"
Susan gave her a curious look before answering her questions. "Your organs are healing nicely. You should be back to normal in four to six weeks."
"Four to six weeks? I have to stay here that long?"
"No, of course not. But you will have a load of restrictions on what you can do for a while."
"Well, I guess if the alternative is being dead, I can't complain too terribly much."
**
Harry stood outside the door to Hermione's room, debating whether or not he should go in. He could hear a multitude of voices on the other side in what sounded like a grand party, no doubt being hosted by the twins. Part of him wanted to see her for the first time in exactly this situation, surrounded by a throng of people in an effort to keep the inevitable rejection at bay. Another part, the larger part of him, wanted to see her for the first time alone so he could pull her in his arms and confess his feelings for her. Still another part wanted to take the easy way out and never see her again.
He looked down at the bouquet of tulips he brought before sighing and turning to leave. He couldn't do it. There was no way he could pretend to be happy in front of his family and friends. Because, despite the fact that he was overjoyed that she was alive and awake, he was not happy at the prospect of seeing Ron fawn over her. He stopped halfway down the hall and turned around, walking briskly toward the room and opening the door before he could change his mind.
The sound increased exponentially and he was greeted with an unmistakable Weasley scene. People were everywhere, talking, laughing, eating and drinking. Gaily lit balloons were floating lazily around the room and music was coming from somewhere. It took a moment before anyone realized he was even there, but when they did, the back slapping and hand shaking began in earnest. Harry was moved forward through the crowd of Weasleys, friends and co-workers, until the bed that held Hermione stopped him. Ron was perched on the opposite side of the bed, a large smile plastered on his face. Hermione's bed was tilted up so that she was almost sitting up. A tiara adorned with flashing, multi-colored lights was sitting askew on her head. Harry laughed as the lights changed from flashing randomly to flashing "Sleeping Beauty" three times in succession before reverting to its random pattern.
His eyes met hers and the smile froze on her face. Harry's stomach dropped when he realized that she had been dreading this meeting as much as he had. He hurriedly pasted a smile on his face and thrust the flowers toward her. "Welcome back, sleepyhead."
She reached for the flowers. "Thank you. They're lovely." She pulled them to her nose and took a deep breath. Harry looked over at the window ledge and saw a plethora of bouquets, each dwarfing his by at least half. He looked back at her and caught her watching him. He shrugged. "It's the thought that counts. At least I didn't buy them at the hospital gift shop."
"Hey!" Ron said indignantly. "It's a nice gift shop," and Harry knew immediately that Ron had bought the largest bouquet at the gift shop.
"Ron! Come here for a sec!" Fred called from the other side of the room.
"Be right back," he said, lifting Hermione's hand to his lips for a quick kiss. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away, his stomach churning.
When he had looked everywhere but where he wanted to look, he dragged his eyes back to Hermione. She shifted her legs under the blankets and patted the side of the bed. "Sit down."
"How are you?" he said, sitting down.
"Alive, thanks to you. I hear you threw a little weight around to get them to bring me back to life," she said, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
"Maybe a little," Harry said sheepishly, color creeping into his cheeks.
"I thought you hated using your name to get special treatment."
Harry locked his eyes on hers. "I was desperate."
She placed her hand over his resting in his lap. "Thank you," she said softly.
Harry looked down at her hand, shifting his so that he was holding hers. "Anytime," he whispered. He felt her fingers tighten on his, giving him the courage to broach the subject hanging between them. "We need to talk."
"Yes, we do."
Harry looked around the room. "Now…"
"…isn't the best time," Hermione interrupted. "Can you come back later? When everyone has left?"
"Does Ron ever leave?" Harry said with what he hoped was less bitterness in his voice than he felt.
"He will tonight," Hermione said firmly.
**
Three hours later, Harry was still waiting for Ron to leave. He had been sitting in the back corner of the packed waiting room, watching for any sign of Ron. His bum was starting to hurt from the uncomfortable plastic chair. With his upcoming conversation with Hermione weighing heavily on his mind, he never even considered conjuring a cushion to provide himself with a modicum of relief. Instead, he wiggled uncomfortably, changing positions in a futile attempt to ease his pain.
He jumped up out of the chair, his arse chapped in more ways than one. He was tired of waiting; he had to move. Just as he left the anonymity of the sea of faces, Ron emerged from the elevator and spotted him. He waved and called to Harry with a smile.
"Hey! What are you doing back here?"
"I thought I would come see her without so many people around. You know, work stuff," he said, thinking quickly.
Ron's face darkened a little. "She's very tired. I think that can wait until tomorrow, or even later."
Harry knew from the tone of his voice that there was no way Ron was going to let him go back upto her room. He wouldn't be surprised if he escorted Harry home and sat outside his door to make sure he stayed put.
Harry kicked himself for mentioning work, a sore subject between Ron and Hermione for some time now. For the past few years, as Hermione's assignments became more dangerous and her hours more unpredictable, Ron had begun grumbling about her job more and more. Harry suspected that Ron had always been a bit jealous of her job, especially considering the fact that he hadn't had the exam results at Hogwarts to pursue a course of study as an Auror, while Harry and Hermione had.
Of course, over the last eight years, Ron hadn't done too badly in his chosen field. After working with his brothers for a couple of years and learning the ropes of managing a store, Ron had persuaded them to invest in a Quidditch supply shop in Hogsmeade, with him as manager. They agreed, and with the sweat equity Ron put into it, he was now majority owner of a very successful business. But, despite his success, the sting of not being able to work with his two best friends was still there, surfacing from time to time.
Now was one of those times.
"Want to get a drink?" Ron asked.
"Sure," Harry murmured.
Arriving at the Leaky Cauldron, Ron walked up to the bar and ordered their drinks while Harry searched the crowded pub for a table, realizing by the size of the crowd that it was Friday night. Harry grabbed a booth being vacated by a very drunk couple just as Ron arrived loaded down with drinks.
"Who's joining us?" Harry asked.
"No one. We're celebrating!" he exclaimed, placing two shots and a pint of ale down in front of Harry.
Harry groaned inwardly. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was to get drunk with the boyfriend of the woman he was afraid he was in love with. No telling what would come out of his mouth after he consumed the minibar Ron was lying out in front of him.
He reluctantly lifted a shot glass, Ron's beaming face greeting him across the rim.
"Cheers!" Ron said.
"Cheers," Harry mumbled throwing the shot back. The liquid burned his throat and his face screwed up in response. He grabbed his pint of ale to wash it down.
"She looked good, didn't she?" Ron said, absolutely hyper with energy.
"Yeah, she did," Harry agreed.
"Susan says she can go home in a couple of days. Of course, she's going to have to take it easy for a couple of weeks. Bed rest for one, no heavy lifting, etc.," Ron said, waving his hand. "That's going to be torture for Hermione, having to stay in bed. Whatever the curse was, it made a mess. Something the healers had never seen before."
"Hmm," Harry said, looking anywhere but at Ron. He knew what was coming.
"Who did it to her, Harry?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Why not, damn it?!"
"Because it's our job and it's classified."
"I'm your best friend and her boyfriend!"
"I'm sorry Ron. Even if I knew who it was, I couldn't tell you," Harry lied.
"So, you don't know who it was?"
"I can't talk about it, Ron. Really."
Ron stared at him for a long while, before picking up his second shot. Harry picked his up and toasted Ron, who had downed his before Harry even began. As the liquid filled Harry's mouth and began sliding down his throat, Ron announced, "I'm going to ask Hermione to marry me."
Harry choked, liquor squirting out of his nose and mouth. His entire face was on fire, the alcohol burning his throat, nose and mouth, along with the flush of red from anger running up his neck and face. He slammed the glass down on the table, bracing himself for the coughing fit that was coming in an effort to rid his lungs of the burning alcohol.
Ron stood up and leaned over the table, whacking Harry uselessly on the back. Harry had the urge to punch his face in at that very moment, if only he could catch his breath.
"Are you okay, mate?"
I'll be fine once I kick your arse, Harry thought bitterly.
Instead of giving into his suddenly violent urge, he pulled his pint toward him and took a long pull. He sat it down, looked at Ron and was reminded of his announcement. He grabbed his ale again and downed the rest of it, the prospect of getting drunk beginning to sound more appealing.
He waved his glass at a barmaid. "Congratulations," he said to Ron with a fake smile on his face.
Ron grinned. "She hasn't said yes. Yet."
"Do you have a ring?"
"No, I'm going to get one tomorrow. Will you come with me?"
"Oh no! I don't think so. That's something you need to do on your own."
"Yeah, you're probably right."
Harry pulled the glass of ale out of the waitress's hand and began drinking it before she turned to leave the table.
"Hey, slow down," Ron chided.
Harry stared into his half empty pint. I wonder if there is enough liquid in there to drown myself with.
"As much as I hate seeing her in pain, I think this might have been good for us, you know?" Ron said thoughtfully.
"How do you figure?"
"Well, I've been thinking about asking her to marry me for years, but I just haven't. First she was in training, then I opened the store - things just got busy. And we both got a bit comfortable in the relationship, I guess. Why get married? We aren't ready for sprogs, and that is really the only thing we don't have, you know?"
Harry grunted, not particularly wanting to be reminded that the Ron and Hermione had sex.
"I'm hoping when she says yes that we can talk about her job, and her quitting it."
Harry leaned back in the booth, appraising his best friend. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why?"
"She loves what she does. She isn't going to want to leave."
"She may not have a choice," Ron said defiantly.
Harry smirked at Ron. The thought ran through his mind that if Ron took this approach to everything that Hermione would be single in no time. "You say that to her and I would expect a ring to be thrown right back in your face."
"You think she loves her job more than me?"
I hope so.
"No, I think she will resent you asking her to choose. And, she will choose her job just to prove how independent she is."
"I'm not trying to take away her independence! I don't want her to die! That is a possibility every day she goes to work." Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry. "You think I'm being selfish, don't you?" he challenged. Ron cut Harry off before he had a chance to speak. "Before you answer that, just think about how you would feel if you were in my situation, watching the woman you love lay comatose in the hospital, wondering if she is going to ever wake up. All that runs through your mind is missed opportunities, things you should have, but never said to her or did with her. It is the worst feeling in the world."
Anger welled up inside of Harry. He wanted to scream at Ron that that was exactly the situation he had been in for the past two weeks. The only difference was Harry was thinking about the opportunities he would never have, while Ron was lamenting about the opportunities he had and squandered. Harry felt very little pity for him at the moment.
He took a deep breath. "Look, Ron, I think you should wait a while to ask her to marry you. She has just had a major trauma. I'm sure she is a bit dazed about it all still. Let her get her bearings for a week or two, then ask her."
Now Ron looked like he wanted to drown in his ale. "I just want her to be safe. That job is not safe. I can't imagine being married to someone and not knowing where she is, whom she is with, what she is doing or when she will be home. What kind of life is that?"
Harry avoided Ron's gaze. It was a question that plagued many of his coworkers and the reason many were unmarried or divorced, and one of the various reasons for his bachelorhood.
"It'll all work out," Harry said halfheartedly. He downed the rest of his ale and stood up. "I'd better go. Early day tomorrow."
"Yeah," Ron said, standing up. "I'm going back to the hospital. Hermione will be asleep by now, so I won't disturb her."
"Isn't that chair uncomfortable?"
"You have no idea," Ron said, as they threw their money on the table.
"Why don't you go home and get some rest in a real bed. I'll go sit with Hermione."
Ron looked at him sideways. "You just want to talk to her about work."
"No, I don't. I swear. I won't even wake her up. Just sit in that uncomfortable chair and try to sleep."
"You sure you don't mind?" Ron asked. Harry could almost see the joy in his eyes at the thought of sleeping on a real mattress.
"Positive."
**
"Visiting hours are over."
"Yes, well this is a special case," Harry said in his most charming voice.
"Oh, really? And why is that?"
Well, you see, I have to find out if my best friend feels the same way about me as I do about her, or if she is in love with our other best friend.
Harry ran his hand through his hair, in a shameless attempt to show his scar without having to actually say, "I'm Harry Potter, let me in."
The things I do for this woman.
Apparently, this witch wasn't impressed. She stared at his forehead with a bored look on her face, slowly chewing the gum in her mouth. "Visiting hours are over," she repeated tonelessly.
Harry dropped his arms and decided to beg. "Please. I'm begging you. I need to talk to someone alone, tonight. It is very, very important." The witch stared at him and blew a huge bubble in his face. "You could even say it is a matter of life or death," he said seriously.
She crossed her arms and stared at her fingernails, supremely unconcerned for his plight.
"Come on! I'll do anything!"
At this statement, she perked up considerably. "Anything?"
Uh-oh, I think I'm going to regret this.
**
Harry crept into Hermione's room, closing the door soundlessly behind him. He padded softly over to her bed and sat down in the chair vacated by Ron. He sat for a moment, watching Hermione sleep. Her face was turned toward him affording him a front row seat to watch the woman who had been monopolizing his thoughts for the past two weeks.
He pulled his chair as close as possible and leaned toward Hermione. Hesitantly, he reached up and pushed a strand of hair from her face, gently running his fingers down her smooth skin. He balled his hand into a fist and rested his chin on it, part of him wanting her to continue to sleep and part wanting her to wake up. Placing his arm on the edge of the bed, he laid his head down and let his eyes droop closed.
In his dream, she was smiling at him and running her hand through his hair. He smiled back at her and said her name softly, reaching up to touch her face.
"Harry?"
He lifted his head slightly and opened his eyes realizing the sensation of Hermione's fingers running through his hair was real.
"Now who is the sleepyhead?" she asked.
"Have I been asleep long?"
"I have no idea. I just woke up." Hermione smiled at him and dropped her hand to her lap.
"Don't stop," Harry pleaded.
"Harry…" she started, running her hand through his hair again.
"Shhh," he said, placing his fingers on her lips. "Don't say anything. I want to tell you something before you break my heart."
She opened her mouth again, but Harry pressed his fingers firmly against her lips. "Please."
She acquiesced and closed her mouth.
"I've been telling myself for two weeks that the snog meant nothing, that none of the feelings I felt were unique. And I've almost convinced myself of it. But there is just one problem: I can't stop thinking about you. I dream about you at night. I think about you all day. I can't get you or our kiss out of my mind. The way your lips felt, the mint I tasted on your tongue, the feel of your breast." Harry stopped and looked away from Hermione's gaze, hoping that she didn't see the evidence of his desire that was making him so uncomfortable now. He scooted his chair closer in an effort to move anything incriminating from her view.
He grasped her hand and stared at it as if his life depended on it. "I don't know what I feel for you. I've always loved you, but never in a romantic way. Am I in love with you now? I've never been in love, so I don't know. Do I want you?" He pulled his eyes to hers. "More than anything," he whispered.
Hermione's eyes widened and her hand stopped stroking his hair. She ran her hand through his hair down his neck, cupping his chin in her hand. "Why do you think I'm going to break your heart?" she whispered.
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. "Because Ron is going to ask you to marry him."
**
The words hung in the air like an anvil, their weight reminding them of the rest of the world beyond the walls of her hospital room.
"Oh," she said lamely, her hand dropping to her lap again.
A part of Hermione marveled at how she could go from such a state of elation to despair in the span of seconds. Harry had just said the words she had been hoping to hear all day. She wasn't alone; Harry had felt something in their kiss, too. For a few blissful seconds, her mind had been filled with nothing but Harry, the sensations she felt in that doorway racing through her body. It was absurdly easy to forget the rest of the world existed when she looked into Harry's green eyes.
The world came hurtling back to her when he mentioned Ron's name. The shame she had felt all day quickly replaced the euphoria Harry's declaration brought. She had been battling herself for hours, alternating between her apparent desire for Harry and her commitment to Ron. If Ron had treated her poorly, or their relationship wasn't as strong as it was, there was no doubt in her mind that her longing for Harry would win hands down. Her feelings were that strong. Every time she had a sudden craving for Harry, she had looked at Ron and was enveloped in guilt.
"What are you going to tell him?" Harry asked tentatively.
Hermione leaned her head back against her pillows and stared at the ceiling. "Two weeks ago, I would have jumped in his arms shouting 'Yes! Yes!'"
"And now?"
Hermione looked down at Harry's face. "Now, I would always wonder."
She heard a slight sigh from Harry and saw his shoulders relax a bit. Harry bowed his head and squeezed her hand. When he lifted his head, Hermione saw tears rolling down his cheeks and a slight smile on his lips.
"I know I shouldn't be so happy that my best friend is going to have his heart broken, but I can't help it."
"Don't get too cocky. I'm as confused about my feelings as you are about yours. This whole thing may be a bloody train wreck."
"God, I hope not."
Hermione stared at Harry for a moment, the feeling that her life was about to veer out of control slamming into her. What was she doing? More importantly, why was she doing it? She and Ron had a good relationship and they loved each other. Marriage had been a given, although they hadn't talked about it specifically. She was in a comfortable, stable, loving relationship. Was she honestly considering throwing that all away because of a passionate kiss that could very well have been a fluke?
I think the curse addled my brain, along with my intestines.
Wanting to get her mind off of her newly acquired self-destructive behaviors, Hermione asked, "What happened to Crabbe and Goyle?"
"I promised Ron I wouldn't talk to you about work."
"You'll just try to steal his girlfriend."
Why did I say that?
Harry sat back abruptly, his eyes widened in shock. "That's not what I'm doing. I came here to tell you how I feel. It's up to you what happens from here." Harry folded his hands in his lap. "What do you want to happen?"
"I don't know," she said quietly.
Harry stood up abruptly. "I should go, let you rest."
More energy than she realized she had shot through her arm as she grabbed Harry's hand. "No! I don't want you to go."
"I don't want to go!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "But this conversation isn't quite turning out like I thought it would. I was expecting complete rejection, but hoping for undying love. Instead I get something in between. I'm not exactly mentally prepared for ambiguity."
"What do you want me to say, Harry?" Hermione asked, getting angry. "I've been with Ron for years and I love him. I don't want to hurt him. But, I'm not stupid; I know there was something more to that kiss. I want to forget it happened, but I can't."
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "Someone is going to get hurt, no matter what we do."
Hermione patted the bed beside her, and Harry sat down. "Let's be honest here, Harry. If this were anyone but you, the decision would be easy. But it is you, and I, and Ron. Our history makes it complicated."
"Isn't it just great that the one woman I can't get off my mind is the one woman I can't have?"
"We just have to give it time, Harry."
He closed his eyes and turned his head towards the hand she placed gently on his cheek, lightly kissing her palm. He placed his warm hand over hers, his striking green eyes meeting hers in a meaningful look. The fluttering that had begun in her stomach when she woke up to find Harry sitting beside her bed increased dramatically. His eyes were temporarily obscured from her view by light reflecting off the lenses of his glasses as he moved toward her. She blinked, blinded for a second, and opened her eyes to see Harry's face only inches from hers. She felt his fingers gently rub her chin as he pulled her lips to his.
Damn! It wasn't a fluke, was the first thought she had as his lips gently nipped at hers, sending shockwaves down her spine. "Okay," she said, pulling away quickly. "So that question is answered."
"I'm not so sure," Harry replied, sliding his hand around her neck and pulling her into a passionate kiss. She framed his face with her hands, her need for more matching his. They frantically explored each other's mouths, Hermione turned on despite herself at the possibility that they could be disturbed any minute by a nurse or a healer. Or even Ron.
When they finally broke apart, they stared at each other for a long while without speaking.
"What do we do from here?" Harry asked quietly.
"I have no idea."