Author's Note: For the Harry/Hermione FQF on Live Journal. Challenge: Hermione proposes to Harry. Title and lyrics taken from REO Speedwagon's "Can't Fight This Feeling".
April
It had been three months this time. Three months without word, without seeing him, without holding him. He knew nothing of the accidental pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage. She didn't even know if he wanted children.
When he did return, it was in the dead of night. He woke her with frantic kisses, whispered pleas and promises and a soft moan as he drove into her welcoming body. He cut off her words with a fierce kiss when she tried to say, "I love you."
He was gone by morning. She wondered if it had been a fevered dream.
June
She read the reports of battle in the Prophet, though didn't set much store in their accuracy. They said she was still involved with Viktor Krum, for Merlin's sake.
This time when he visited it was the middle of the day. He had a bandage around his ribs and his left arm in a sling, his scar a blazing red. He made no promises, but sought solace in her welcoming embrace. He again refused her words of "I love you."
He stayed for three days.
August
He didn't make it back for his birthday. She had made a birthday cake, which she shared with Neville, who was recovering in St. Mungo's. As August dragged on, she was sure she wouldn't see him.
He returned in the dead of night again, shaking her awake this time, holding her tightly. Whatever it was he wanted, she would give if it was within her power.
The only thing he refused to take were her words of "I love you."
December
He didn't return this time. Ron Apparated into their flat - one of the few other than themselves who could - bloodied and exhausted, to say that it was all over and he'd been taken to St. Mungo's. She said nothing, merely grabbed her wand and Apparated to St. Mungo's right behind Ron.
It took nearly an hour for her to calm after talking to the Healers, to be ready to walk into that room and see him. To see him nearly broken.
She took a deep breath and opened the door. She'd seen him in hospital many times - one couldn't be his friend without it - but never had he looked like this. His dark hair spilling over the pillow and making him look even more pale than usual. Even his lips, his full lips that she loved to kiss, were a pale pink. There were bandages over a good portion of the rest of his body.
She turned to Ron, questions filling her eyes.
"I don't know. When I found him he looked even worse."
"From what?" she whispered hoarsely.
"Burns."
With a gasp, she pressed her hand to her mouth. The bandages covering him now took on a sinister air.
She stepped closer. His eyes were closed, but she was fairly certain he wasn't asleep. She moved his hand so she could sit on the edge of the bed.
His tongue slid over his lips, wetting them. "Hermione?" he croaked.
There was a cup with a straw on his bedside table, which she grabbed and held for him to drink from. Before she could return it, he opened his eyes.
She didn't think they'd ever been quite that green. Then again, it could have been the paleness of his skin and darkness of his lashes accentuating their color.
One thing she was sure of, however, was that she had never seen that expression in his eyes. It was at once apologetic, loving and sad, making her wonder what was going through his mind.
In the periphery of her awareness, she heard the door close behind Ron, leaving the two of them alone.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, wincing slightly. It was obvious that it hurt for him to talk. She held a finger over his lips, then let loose a startled gasp when he took that finger into his mouth.
Pulling it free, she said, "Don't talk. It's about time you listen for once."
His eyebrows shot up, but he stayed silent. Shifting slightly, and wincing, he made a motion with his unbandaged hand for her to continue.
"I've been by your side for more years than I care to recall," she began. This was a speech she'd practiced many times in the last year, waiting patiently for the time when he would be still and silent long enough for her to tell him.
"I know," he rasped.
She covered his mouth with her whole hand this time, merely raising an eyebrow when he licked her palm.
"You're in no condition to be making promises like that," she warned, amused by the contrition in his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she continued, "And in all those years, especially the last four when we've lived together, there is one thing you've not allowed me to say."
She felt his mouth open, but held her hand over it so he couldn't speak.
"I love you."
He stilled. Were it not for his open eyes conveying mild panic, she would have thought him in a coma by his stillness.
"I love you, Harry."
He blinked several times before lifting his unbandaged hand, trying to cover her mouth as well. She pulled back out of his reach.
"I love you, Harry Potter."
She felt his gasp against her damp palm.
"I love you, you miserable prat."
At that, she felt him smile.
"Can I take my hand away now?"
He nodded slowly. She removed her hand, meeting his eyes and saying nothing further. The ball was in his court this time. Their eyes stayed locked for a good minute, her brown ones holding his green hostage.
Then he looked away.
She barely heard his whisper when he spoke. "I'm sorry I haven't let you say the words." Her heart nearly broke when she saw a tear on his cheek, but she refused to move. "I've been afraid."
"Afraid?"
His eyes met hers again, silently begging her to understand. "Afraid that if I allowed you to say the words that you'd be in danger."
She blinked twice before bursting into laughter. "You stupid prat." But there was no heat in her words; in fact it sounded more like an endearment. "I've been so close to you for so long, I've always been in danger."
She was amused to see the blush rise in his cheeks. "I know that now," he murmured, trying to turn away.
Laying a hand on his cheek, she turned his face back to hers. "I haven't finished what I was going to say." His eyebrows rose and a smile played at the corners of his lips.
"Bossy, aren't you?"
"Yes," she replied shortly. "I've been in love with you for a long time, but I knew you would never discuss this, never contemplate it, so I have to.
"Harry James Potter, will you marry me?"
The silence was deafening. She didn't know what she'd expected, but it certainly hadn't been the stunned shock in his eyes or the gasp once he realized he'd been holding his breath.
"Harry?" she asked, voice quavering tenuously. "I have a ring." Reaching into a pocket of her robes, she pulled a plain gold band.
That elicited a smile. "Of course you have a ring. Always prepared, our Hermione."
He maneuvered himself into a sitting position, wincing and grimacing as he did so. Slowly he took both her hands into his and met her eyes.
"I have a ring of my own for you back at our flat. I've had it for two years now. How does that Muggle song go? You're my candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night." She gasped in shock. She'd had no idea. "I love you. You mean everything to me. My answer, Hermione Jane Granger, is yes, I'll marry you."
Ron reentered the room at her shout of joy, thinking something had happened. Something had, just not what he thought. He laughed when Harry showed off his ring.