Chapter 16: Beneath this Skin
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He was in daze, feeling strangely feverish as Hermione guided him by the hand toward the East terrace. She moved aside one of the wine-colored hanging curtains to reveal the door to the balcony. She looked at him over her shoulder, giving him the softest of smiles, before twisting the doorknob and stepping into the balcony.
Two steps behind her, Harry had no idea why Hermione suddenly stopped and released a surprising gasp, nor he knew why she had released his hand to cross her arms over her chest.
"Ahem," coughed Hermione rather dramatically, a rather mischievous expression on her face. Harry heard a flutter of movement before he reached her side, only to see Parvati and Dean, with bright cheeks, puffed lips and messed up hairdos, trying to appear as if they hadn't been snogging each other senseless just a few seconds before.
"The party is inside," she said in her best Head Girl voice, still looking rather amused with the embarrassing situation, "You don't want to miss it". Parvati just shot her a very nasty look while Dean mumbled his apologies and, straightening their clothes, walked by Harry and Hermione on their way out.
Harry was about to ask Hermione if she had had trouble keeping in check a lot of couples tonight, but was caught short when she placed her finger over his lips and shushed him softly. He barely had time to register her action when, still with that rather cocky grin, Hermione walked toward one of the hanging curtains that decorated the terrace and quickly moved it away to reveal Seamus and Lavender, caught in the same peculiar situation as Dean and Parvati just moments ago.
"Hermione, we… we…" Lavender tried to explain, straightening her dress and standing up from the floor. Seamus was so red he looked like an Irish Weasley as he searched the floor for his discarded bowtie.
"You obviously got lost," Hermione said with ease, pointing toward the door, "The ball is that way". Judging by the relieved expression in their faces, they were thinking they had gotten away with it easily. Mumbling things unintelligible to both Harry and Hermione, Seamus grabbed Lavender's hand and started leading her out of the terrace.
"Oh, Seamus," Hermione called in a singsong voice just before they stepped outside. Both Seamus and Lavender jumped a bit at the sound of his name, but finally looked at Hermione over their shoulders. "Your fly is open," she added with a serious expression. Seamus' eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of their sockets at any moment while he released Lavender's hand and zoomed into his crotch… only to find his fly zipped all the way up.
"Made you look," Hermione winked maliciously at the pair, who were so embarrassed they were obviously not going to try anything else tonight. They finally left, allowing Hermione to turn her attention back to Harry.
"That was rather wicked of you," Harry said, his smile showing both amusement and pride over her. He absolutely loved it when she showed her impish side.
"It works better than a cold shower. Don't you think?" replied Hermione, as she walked toward the door and closed it, drowning out the noise from the party they had left behind.
He didn't know if it was because he was anxious and incredibly nervous, but his heart started beating twice as fast when he heard the door click shut.
"That it does," mumbled Harry, thinking that a cold shower didn't sound like a bad idea at this moment. He watched in silence as Hermione turned around and reached the balcony's edge, resting her elbows on the rail and looking up into the night.
He followed her until he found himself leaning on the rail next to her. Harry didn't dare to look at her for fear his courage would fail him once more, so he settled in mimicking her movement and looking up into the sky.
"Beautiful night, isn't it?" she whispered softly. Harry took a good look, and couldn't help but agree. There were no clouds to shield the night from their eyes. The sky was filled with stars, some twinkling silver, others with tinges of blue and pink, small compared to the breathtaking full moon that now hovered directly above them.
`But not as beautiful as you.'
"It is," he sighed, looking down at his hands. They felt unusually cold and clammy at the moment; he resisted the urge to wipe them on his trousers, and settled for slightly drumming his fingers on the rail.
After a long silence, Hermione mumbled, "So… we are here… alone," turning slightly to her side so she could face him. A shiver ran down his spine when she heard her asked, "What was it that you wanted to tell me?"
"Right," he mumbled, attempting to clear his throat of an imaginary obstacle. He clamped his hands together and leaned all his weight on the rail. "Hermione," Harry started, hoping the quaking in his voice was noticeable only to him, "… as you know, I've been acting a bit… well, a bit queer this week."
"Queer? Honestly, Harry!" she replied. He saw out of the corner of his eye as Hermione cocked her eyebrow and, added, "You've been downright mental." The humor in her voice and the wry grin on her face was enough to get him laughing genuinely. He thought it was a very good sign that he could still laugh in his particular emotional state.
"Alright, I'll admit it. I have been kind of mental," he said when Hermione nudged him playfully, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Her wry expression morphed slightly, until her brown eyes shined with sympathy and she whispered comfortingly, "I know there's something on your mind."
"You ever wondered what it is?" he mumbled, trying to buy time to organize the chaotic thoughts in his head.
`Maybe I should have thought about this a bit better.'
`So you could have talked yourself out of it?'
"Constantly," she answered with the honesty that so distinguished her, "And I'm constantly hoping that you will tell me when the time is right."
"Yeah… I…" Harry started saying, when he chanced looking at her. He hadn't been expecting her to be standing so close, to have her penetrating eyes focused solely on him, and it distracted him from his next words. His mind drew blanks over and over again as he tried to recapture his line of thinking.
"You what, Harry?" Hermione urged.
"I-I… and who are you supposed to be?"
Hermione tilted her head to the side, frowning in genuine puzzlement, "You already asked me that."
`Damn!'
"Right… Right… Helen… beautiful witch… men die for her… right… I knew that…" Harry mumbled rather incoherently, his eyes going back to watching the moon, for staring into the cinnamon pools that were her eyes left him dizzy and helpless.
`Great. Just add a bit of drool and she'll think you are having a stroke.'
All trace of amusement had left Hermione's face. Looking rather worried for her best friend, he heard her ask, "We didn't come here to discuss my costume, did we?"
"No," he chuckled without humor, for he suddenly realized that his situation would be funny if he weren't in the starring role.
"Harry, what is it?" she pleaded in a whisper, "You know you can trust me with anything, right?"
"I know I can trust you," Harry nodded, gulping down hard. With a sigh, he added, "I've known it for what feels like… like forever."
More silence. This was an insanely uncomfortable situation for him. He had never been good with words, and knew he was even worse when it came to feelings. How could he have expected this to go any different?
When he was a child, he came to think his name was "Freak" and that "I love you" was a phrase only used in TV dramas. He had never said to a girl that she was "beautiful" or that she was "nice" or even that he even "liked" her.
How was he supposed to tell his best friend of almost seven years that he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world, that she was the nicest thing that ever happened to him, and that he liked her as more than friend?
How was he supposed to tell her he loved her?
"Are you okay?" Hermione finally asked when the silence became intolerable to her, leaning a bit closer to him in what he knew was another way of saying that she was there for him.
"Yeah… I'm… fine," he lied. And he thought all Gryffindors were supposed to be courageous… the Hat had really messed up his sorting.
"Then what's wrong?" the young woman whispered, resting her small hand in his left forearm.
That was the trigger.
His eyes fell on her hand. Like the frames in a movie reel, images started playing in Harry's head, memories of all the times his best friend had done that seemingly unconscious gesture of holding onto him… moments of fear, of courage, of pain, of happiness, of anger, of kindness, of loss, and of hope…
And moments when there was no other reason or motive but to let him know that he wasn't alone.
And he wasn't alone now, for he realized that, no matter what the outcome of this conversation turned out to be, Hermione will always be by his side.
"You are smiling," she stated plainly, pleasantly surprised by his sudden change in mood.
"I was just… I was thinking about the past," he whispered, his eyes still locked on her small hand.
"Why don't we start with that? Tell me what you are thinking about," said Hermione, her thumb now tracing circles on his arm. Absently, he shifted until he was facing her, but his head remained lowered and his eyes locked on his arm and the impression of her hand, a whiter shade of pale against the dark material of his tuxedo.
"I'm thinking… I'm just thinking about the first time I held this hand," Harry started, his voice sounding strangely calm, as if he were a mere spectator in this terrace, and not the reason why they were here.
"It was the day they found you on the hallway… after your encounter with the basilisk," he continued. Unconsciously, he reached with his right hand until he touched the back of her hand with his fingertips. "You felt so cold… so still… as if you were carved from stone… as if you were dead."
His voice shook with his next sentence. "I remember looking at you and feeling scared… terrified really… at the thought of losing you."
His hand started moving of its own accord, drawing figures over the delicate skin of her hand while he continued, "I remember there was one night… I couldn't sleep. So I took my Invisibility Cloak and decided to wander around the castle. My feet had other plans though, for they took me straight to you. I sat on the bed next to you… and held your hand one more time. And I just started to cry…"
Harry heard her trembling sigh, but it was muted… distant. His own voice sounded distant, for the only immediate thing for him was the soft glowing skin he felt under his fingertips, "I felt so guilty, Hermione… guilty for not being there with you when it happened… felt helpless… helpless because I couldn't do anything about it… and I felt lost, Hermione, so lost… because I thought you weren't there anymore to help me… to guide me."
She remained silent, but it was a silence that spoke volumes. The way she was holding onto his arm, the way she breathed, the way her hand was trembled… they were all a testament to the emotion his words caused on her.
"And then," he continued, "I found the answer to the mystery of the Chamber in your hand. You were there with me, Hermione… even if you were petrified… you were my helper… my guide."
Harry finally seized her hand in his own, "And you've been my guide, Mione… my anchor… ever since. You stood next to me when we thought Sirius was coming after me to kill me… you stood by me when we found out that Pettigrew had betrayed both my parents and Sirius, and was a servant of Voldemort. You were by my side during our fourth year… even when Ron doubted me… even when your friend Viktor was one of the champions competing against me…"
His voice did not sound anymore like the voice of an spectator, for it shook with unconcealed feeling as the words kept coming out, "And you were with me during our fifth year, when I behaved like a stupid brat, angry with the world and everyone in it for the hand that faith had dealt me… even when my own stubbornness led to Sirius' death."
"Harry, don't say…"
"You help me deal with my guilt, my pain, my anger… even when your own life is in danger… And when you don't agree with something I'm going to do, you try to stop me, and you don't back down even if I am stupid enough to get angry or treat you badly… and even if that doesn't work, you still stand by me… you still guide me."
In an unintentional gesture, Harry guided her hand to his chest, where it rested flat just above his heart. It felt as if they were touching skin to skin, as if no layer of clothing existed between them. He knew she could feel his heart hammering wildly his chest, and it was comforting to know she didn't pull away. The sensation was so intense his eyes fluttered shut, and for a few moments the only thing he could do was to feel.
That was how he felt with Hermione… how he had always felt with her. With her, there were no pretenses, no hidden secrets, and no lies.
He was naked in front of her. And it didn't make him feel vulnerable, but safe.
"You keep me honest… you keep me alive," said Harry with solemnity, reveling in the warmth her comforting touch provided him. He rested his hand in top of hers on his chest, his fingers curling around hers, silently wishing never to let go.
"Harry," Hermione breathed in a trembling voice, "why are you telling me this?"
"Because something happened this week that made me realized something I had refused to acknowledge," said Harry, drowning in emotions and sensations he never thought he would experience.
"What?" she whispered, her hand caressing his chest absently. The gesture made Harry's insides flare, and he had to stifle the desire to reach and run his fingers through her glorious hair, to touch her lips to see if they were indeed as soft as they looked.
But he didn't want to scare her. What he did do, thanks to his newfound bravery, was something he had not done during the entire course of his confession: he raised his head and allowed his eyes to connect with hers in that mystical bond only the two of them shared.
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, leaving him no doubt that she was as overwhelmed with his words as he was, "That I need you… that if it wasn't for you, I'm not sure I'd be here."
"Don't say that," she protested, shaking her head as an errand tear fell down her cheek, the glitter on her skin sparkling brighter than ever before. He used the hand that had been resting over hers to wipe it before it reached the corner of her lips. She lowered her head, and he watched her bite her lower lip in that uniquely Hermione way, trying her best to gain control of her emotions.
"It's true," whispered Harry, his other hand traveling to her chin, tilting her face up until she could see into his eyes again, "And I have to apologize for taking you for granted…"
"You don't have to apologize for anything, Harry," she argued, "That's what friends are for."
"That's just it, Hermione…" Harry breathed deeply before continuing, "… you are not just my friend. You are so… so much more". His eyes darted back to the sky, and to the memories of the night before, when they had been flying together over the pitch, when she had told him the story of the Moon, when nothing else in the world existed but the girl in his arms and the love he felt for her.
Hermione laughed rather nervously, "Don't be silly, Harry…"
"Last night, you told me a story about the Moon, and how the Moon was lonely because she couldn't get close to the Sun… the one she loved… because he would burn her," whispered Harry, lost in the memory, his thumb now caressing her jaw line with incredible tenderness, "And you talked about how you understood how the Moon felt. And I remember wondering last night as to who could be so foolish to hurt you… to burn you."
"… I wondered who could be so foolish to not see how wonderful you are… who could be so dumb to not move earth and sky just to be close to you …"
Harry noticed that she was holding her breath, her eyes shining with wonder and trepidation. He had her undivided attention, for her mouth still hung open from the protest that had died in her throat when he had started speaking about the night before.
"And I realized that maybe… just maybe… the answer was in front of me every time I look at the mirror," he finished, lowering his head momentarily to hide the sudden rush of blood that had crawled onto his cheeks.
"Harry, what are you - " Hermione started, but her voice became so constricted she was unable to continue. He raised his head and looked into her eyes one more time.
He was standing on the final threshold. The words that would come out of his mouth next would determine the fate of his friendship with this beautiful woman in front of him. He could just thank her for all the things she's done for him and walk away. His secret would still be his and his alone, his love for her an unknown.
Or he could tell her that she was his oxygen… that he'd live and die for her… that she was the Moon to his Sun… that he wanted nothing more than to bring her closer and never let her go… that he'd rather hear her voice than any other sound in the world… that with her he felt he could reach the skies without the aid of brooms or spells… that she's the first name that comes to mind in the morning and his last thought when he goes to sleep.
And to tell her that she made him believe what he had heard in all those silly love songs.
His heart swelled and stretched to greater heights, and he realized that there really was no choice to make.
He was past the point of no return.
"I… I think I love you."
His confession was simple, unadorned, but it was enough to elicit a gasp, her hand covering her mouth in surprise. He would be amused by her reaction if he didn't felt as if his knees were going to give up on him at any moment.
"I… don't think," Harry shook his head, chuckling nervously, "I know, Hermione."
His voice trembled when he repeated, "I love you."
A lone tear fell from her eye, only to die in the palm of Harry's hand.
"And I… I'm wondering if you… if maybe you feel the same."
For what seemed like an eternity, there was nothing but the sounds of her heavy breathing echoing in the terrace. She did not move, and neither did he. Their eyes clung to each other, Harry pouring his entire soul for her to see, and Hermione… he was not sure what he was seeing there. Was that confusion? Hesitation? Fear? Happiness?
He suddenly thought he recognized the expression on her face.
It was the expression of a person that was looking at a stranger.
`Because she has never seen me as more than a friend.'
He felt his heart shatter into a million little pieces.
His arm dropped, and he stuck both his hands inside the pockets of his trousers. His eyes fell on the floor, not wanting Hermione to see him so broken.
So, Ron had been wrong: Hermione obviously didn't love him the same way he loved her. Knowing her as he did, Harry imagined she was probably running in her mind a thousand different ways to tell him "Thanks… but no thanks" without hurting his feelings.
If she only knew that her silence hurt him more than her words ever could.
"You know… you can tell me to go eff myself," he sighed, "But please, say something."
"I'm… I'm just… just… I'm just… speechless…" Hermione stammered.
"I guess there really is a first time for everything…" he tried to joke, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to distract himself from the pain that had begun to pulse around his scar.
She either didn't get the joke, or she didn't find it funny… probably the latter.
"Look, Hermione," he started, biting his lip when he heard his voice breaking, "I'm not expecting anything from you."
He looked up to see the tears running silently down her cheeks. He ached to see her like this. "I just… I just wanted you to know," he said truthfully, hoping that would make her feel better, "I thought you deserved to know… just how much you mean to me."
He watched as a violent shudder ran through her body before she bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and looked away, her hands going to her face and covering her reddened eyes. She turned to her side, but he could see her trembling still as she took breath after shaky breath in an unsuccessful attempt to regain control.
"I'm s-s-sorry, H-Harry…"
"It's no big deal," Harry said, mustering a half-hearted smile, his hand instinctively going to her shoulder. Realizing what he was about to do, he pulled back without touching her, for he knew that touching her would hurt too much.
How ironic that what he wanted was just in the reach of his hand, but a million miles away from his heart.
"I think I've said enough for tonight," Harry sighed. He had an irresistible urge to just disappear from the face of the Earth, "I'll be in the common room if you need me."
Harry turned around and started to walk away. With every step, his heart grew heavier, until he could feel the prickling of tears in his eyes. He didn't want her to see him like this, for he knew it would make her feel worse.
Besides, he never should have expected this to go any differently. He never had any proof that Hermione was in love with him, only vague glimpses of something that he couldn't classify.
So why, now that he knew how she felt, did it hurt so much?
`Because I dared to believe.'
He had taken a leap of faith… only to come crashing down into the ground.
His hand had just reached the doorknob when…
"STOP!"
The emotion was still thick in her voice, but her command came out strong, almost defiant.
Harry did stop, but he kept his hand on the door, unwilling to turn around and look at her, for he felt the tears already flowing down his cheeks, and he refused to let her see him cry.
"Turn around."
He suddenly felt very cold. Why was she doing this? Why couldn't she just let him walk away with at least some of his dignity intact?
"Please."
He sighed shakily. Who was he trying to fool? Not even in the worst of situations he could deny her.
Like a man about to face the firing squad, Harry let go of the doorknob and slowly turned around. Hermione was still standing by the rail, but this time she was facing him. She shivered; clenching her fists so hard her knuckles were white.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry whispered softly, "the last thing I wanted to do was to make you…"
He never got to finish the sentence, for in a surprising move Hermione closed the distance between them and threw her arms around his waist. He barely had enough time to process this new development when Hermione buried her head on his chest and started weeping, but not the trailing tears that she had shed before, but raking sobs that emanated deep from within.
He hesitated for just a few moments before placing his arms around her and pulling her closer.
"I'm so sorry, Mione… so sorry…"
His own body was shaking from the force of her cries as his eyes looked up into the night's sky. Damn it! Why had he been so stupid as to take Ron's advice? Since when was his friend a regular Doctor Heart?
Absently, he kissed the top of her head, his hands traveling up and down her back, trying his best to be of comfort. It was torture for him to be so close… to feel her body pressing against his… to bury his nose in her hair… to have his hands on her skin. And yet, Hermione's well-being was his one and only concern.
He rocked her in his arms as he would a small child while whispering only god-knows-what on her ears. And slowly… very slowly…Hermione started to calm down.
"Please, don't be sad," whispered Harry, "Nothing is going to change between us… nothing."
A lone teardrop finally escaped the confines of the white mask and landed on the crown of her head. Maybe it was his words, or maybe the wetness of his teardrop, but Hermione finally calmed down enough to raise her head and look into his eyes.
"But Harry," she whispered, "you don't understand…"
He cupped her face in his hands with unbelievable gentleness, using his thumbs to wipe the wetness from her cheeks.
"I do, Hermione," interrupted Harry, "I know you don't feel the same way I feel toward you… and I know that you have such a big heart you are now feeling guilty."
"But Harry…"
"Don't feel bad, Hermione. Please," he shook his head like a stubborn child, "I just… I want you to be happy. That's all I want. And if that means standing Roger, then I guess I'll have to…"
"Will you shut it and let me speak?"
He cocked an eyebrow in surprised. Hermione sounded rather annoyed and a little exasperated, a complete opposite of the emotional wreck she had been just moments ago. Harry looked into her reddened eyes to find the unmistakable look of determination that was pure Hermione.
"Oh… okay."
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hermione disentangled herself from Harry's arms, and with uncharacteristic agitation started pacing in front of him as she spoke, "First of all, haven't I taught you anything about how to deal with girls? Honestly, Harry! You just don't go and tell her "I love you" without warning. And you sure as hell don't walk away afterwards!"
"Err… sorry. I just… I just…"
"Furthermore," she stopped pacing just when she was in front of him, closer than she would normally be, and said, "Stop assuming."
"Assuming what?" he asked.
Her eyes darken just before she whispered, "Assuming you know how I feel."
Harry was too stunned to form coherent words, and could only watch her release a sigh before she turned around and slowly walked toward the rail. Hermione wiped the last of her tears before leaning on the rail and looking up at the moon.
He didn't know for how long they remained silent, but it seemed to last forever. He leaned back against the door and just watched her, his best friend, her hair cascading down her back, her shoulders rising and falling with every breath she took, the moon light reflecting off the glitter in her skin, her gown so white it seemed to shine… like a mirage of an angel.
She was the one who broke the silence, "Remember earlier today? When I told you I couldn't have lunch with you because I needed to meet with Roger?"
Harry nodded, not realizing she couldn't really see him. Of course he remembered; he felt a dagger plunging into his stomach and twisting his insides every time he remembered about the kiss he had witnessed.
"You want to know what we spoke about?" she asked.
"I… I guess," Harry replied truthfully.
"I told him… that I was going to go to the ball with him tonight… but that I couldn't date him anymore. That it was a mistake to have started in the first place…" she sighed, rubbing her hands together absently, "That I wasn't being truthful to him… or to myself, for that matter."
That got Harry's undivided attention.
"Harry, I'm in love with someone."
He felt dizzy and out of breath, as if someone had just thrown a vicious punch to the center of his stomach. He could only rest his weight on the door and close his eyes, as he allowed her words to echo in his head.
`She's in love.'
`She's… in… love…'
"I've been in love with that person for so long that… that I really didn't know any other way to be. But he didn't love me as I loved him," Hermione continued, her voice soft and melodic and full of emotion.
"I waited… waited for him to wake up one day and see me for what I was… the young girl… not girl… woman… who was willing to give up anything and everything for him… who loved him for who he really is and not for what everybody else wants him to be."
He opened his eyes, feeling the dampness of tears trailing down under the mask, down his cheeks and chin. Surprisingly, he found he was not embarrassed, for there were too many emotions in his heart to leave space for shame.
"And I waited, Harry… I waited for him for so long that I… I lost hope," Hermione went on, "I thought it was a lost cause… and I thought I was wasting my youth on a dream that was never to be fulfilled."
"So on Monday night… after I went to visit you in the hospital wing… and entered my common room only to find Roger was still up and waiting for me, I thought… I thought that this man was offering me something I wouldn't experience any other way… a chance to be loved… not as a friend… not as a sister… but as a woman," said Hermione, looking down at her hands as if she expected to find something in them.
After a few moments, her eyes went back to the moon as she continued, "So I took the chance, and agreed to start dating Roger, thinking that maybe… just maybe… it would help me to forget about my silly little dream…about a love that was not meant to be."
Still in a daze, Harry realized that his feet had moved of their own accord, and he was now standing just two feet away from her, spellbound by her words.
"Last night, Harry…. you told me that, for once, I should think with my heart… And I did, Harry… I really did… And I realized I had been wrong… on so many levels… I realized I would never forget about him… I realized I would never forget about my dream…I realized I would never stop loving him…And I realized that it would always be so… even if I had to wait for just one minute… or the rest of forever."
In the midst of his pain and heartache, Harry smiled. Hermione sounded content with her decision, and if this is what she really wanted… then he would learn to be happy for her.
"If it makes you happy, then I'll be there… I'll help you wait for as long as you want," said Harry, running a shaky hand through his hair, "And when he does realize, Hermione, because he's bound to wake up and see… tell him I think he's the luckiest man in the world."
To his surprise, Hermione snorted, shaking her head from side to side in disbelief.
"Oh, Harry," she said, turning around to look at him. He was taken aback when he saw her sporting such a wide smile as she rested her elbows on the rail, her eyes filled with humor, even if they were still bright with tears.
"You can tell him yourself… tonight" she said, giving Harry a lopsided smile that only served to confuse him more.
Harry started to babble, "So… he's here? In Hogwarts? Mmmm… a Hufflepuff I bet… is it Ernie? I bet he fancies you… or is it Dean? I saw you and him outside of Potions the other day… is not Ron, is it? Please tell me is not Ron!"
"Honestly, Harry!" Hermione grinned at him, "You are the world's greatest man…but sometimes, you can be a bit dense."
Hermione stood up straight and started to inch her way toward him. He had not been expecting this, and he was rooted to the spot. Had he angered her? Was she disappointed that her best friend had not figured out the identity of the person she loved?
"That night we spent together at Grimmauld Place, you asked me why I had chosen to be there with you. Do you remember?" said Hermione, finally reaching him. She was standing so close the hem of her gown brushed against his knees, looking up at him with a bizarre expression in her face.
Even with her reddened eyes and nose, she was a sight to behold. He could see the golden specks in her chocolate eyes, count every eyelash that framed them, every freckle that kissed her cheeks, even the small scar just over her hairline she got when she was six and fell while playing in the kiddie park.
The last time their faces had been this close on purpose was that night, when they had grieved together for the death of their friend and the beginning of a life without him.
Her nearness now had the same effect on him as her nearness then.
It soothed him. It calmed him. And it gave him strength.
"How can I forget?" he replied, his eyes wandering over her face as if trying to memorize her features. It had been one of the most painful, beautiful and cathartic nights of his life.
Just like tonight.
He wasn't prepared to see her hands reaching up to settle on his face, touching the edge of his mask before pulling it away. The white mask, along with his glasses, fell to the floor with a soft clink, leaving him completely exposed to her peculiar stare.
He felt chills run up and down his arms as her hands started to caress his tear streaked face, gently and without hurry. He drowned in the overwhelming sensations of her fingers tracing the contours of his naked face, first his jaw, then the tip of his nose, his cheekbones, the curve of his eyes… until her hands finally dug into his hair, scratching his scalp lightly as her fingers weaved into his raven locks.
`Why… Why is she doing this to me? Can't she see how much it…'
Unexpectedly, she tilted his head down, until her lips were barely an inch away from her. He didn't have time to wrap his head on what was happening, when he heard uttered those magic words.
"Well, I think you are ready to know the answer."
Her mouth found his.
`Oh. My. God.'
Harry experienced a moment of pure bliss as he had never experienced before, a moment when nothing else existed but the person standing in front of him. The instant her lips fell on his, Harry's eyes fluttered, and then shut. His own arms snaked around her, one settling in the small of her back, bringing her closer, the other pressing behind her neck, driven by instinct to pull her mouth harder against him.
`Pumpkin… Merlin, her lips taste like Pumpkin…'
Harry sensed a change in her, and he grew afraid that this… whatever this was… was going to end soon. Just when he thought Hermione had realized her mistake and was about to pull away, she opened her mouth to him and deepened the kiss, her tongue claiming him like a proud conqueror. Driven by instinct, he pushed his velvety roughness against Hermione's, and a primitive moan escaped her throat. It was nothing like Harry had heard before.
For a moment Harry thought he might be dreaming, for reality had never been this good to him.
`This is real magic', Harry thought, not the type of magic performed with complicated incantations and wand movements, but a pure, simple and sweet type of magic he'd never known or even suspected could exist in this world.
Her lips, lips that had haunted him, lips that had made him wonder and fantasize and dream and lust after… were simply divine. They were made for him, he thought absently, because there had never been a more perfect fit.
Harry breathed into her mouth, relishing in the sensation of her fingers lightly scratching his scalp and now tangled in his hopelessly wild hair. His own fingers reached inside Hermione's hair, pleasuring in the silkiness of every strand against his roughened palms.
`This is it', he thought. This was the fates' reward for sixteen years of heartache.
`I am the one.'
For finally, Harry Potter realized Hermione Granger, the person he loved like no other on God's green earth, was also in love with him.
In her kiss, he felt himself die… only to be reborn.
His lungs were already burning from the lack of oxygen when he felt her lips pulling away, not a trace of fear remaining in his heart.
When he opened his eyes, Harry found Hermione with her eyes still closed, her cheeks flushed, her breath ragged and her lips slightly parted. It was a sight that had the same effect as her kiss, for it took his breath away.
Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, giving him a rather shy smile, one that he returned gladly.
"Does that answer your question, Harry?" Hermione said in breathless voice, her eyes glinting with feminine pride.
He rested his forehead on hers and just looked at his reflection on her eyes. His heart felt like it was ready to burst from sheer happiness, and yet he couldn't find the words to let her know how much this meant to him.
"Actually, I was sort of distracted for a moment," said Harry, giving her a lopsided smile, "would you mind repeating it?"
"Cheeky," whispered Hermione before her lips settled on the corners of Harry's mouth, teasing him playfully. He couldn't resist the temptation to capture her lower lip and nibble on it. Oh, he will never be able to taste pumpkin pie without thinking of her! Hermione giggled for what was probably the first time in her life, tightening her hold on his hair and kissing him fully on the lips, turning his legs into jelly.
When she pulled away, she looked up at the disarray she had made of his hair and couldn't help but laugh. She ran her fingers through his head in an attempt to smooth it back. "Sorry about that," Hermione said in a breathlessly, her tone showing she was not really sorry that all.
"Feel free to make a mess of my hair anytime," Harry laughed, tightening his hold on her waist. He accepted the invitation to lower his head and capture her lips in another sweet kiss.
Sometime later, Hermione laid her forehead on Harry's chin and closed her eyes, a contended sight escaping from her lips. Harry knew exactly how she felt as his hand ran up and down her spine, pressing his nose into her hair, letting her sweet lavender scent intoxicate him.
But there was something he needed to know. Harry was almost afraid to speak for fear of breaking the magic of this moment, and yet, he knew the subject could not be avoided.
"What happens now?" he whispered. With her arms still wrapped around his shoulders, Hermione lean back just enough so she could look him in the eye. And she asked him the question no one had ever asked him before.
"What do you want, Harry?"
"You trust me to make the right choice?" he asked, both in wonder and in disbelief.
"I do," she nodded softly. She cleared her throat before continuing, "Harry, I cannot kid myself. I know there are more important things out there waiting for you. I know that you have a destiny to fulfill that is bigger than any of us. And I don't want to be a distraction, nor a burden."
He felt one of her nails tracing the outline of his jaw softly as she said, "So, if we cannot go with this anywhere for now, it will be fine with me. We'll have time to be after the war is over."
"You would accept that?" he whispered.
"Of course. I know this is a difficult time, and a relationship might be too much on the plate right now," she explained. Her finger traced the contours of his mouth very slowly, deep in thought. She took a deep breath before saying, "But I tell you what I won't accept."
"What?" he mumbled.
"I won't accept you turning your back on this out of fear for my safety," said Hermione.
"I think that is something that should be taken into consideration."
"Consider this then." She nibbled on her lower lip before locking her eyes on his and saying, "no matter what happens with this, I'll always remain by your side. I'm already exposed, because this is now my fight as much as it is yours."
"You are amazing, you know?" he said, managing a small smile.
"I know," she nodded charmingly, "But you still have to answer my question. What do you want, Harry?"
Harry didn't need to search his soul to know what he wanted. A tiny voice inside his head that sounded an awful lot like his whispered about the dangers Hermione would be facing if Voldemort and his goons found out how Harry felt for her… whispered about the media scrutiny that had plagued him for many years and would surely befall on her… whispered about the Prophecy that loomed over his head, and if it would be fair to her to be involved with a man whom at any moment could go off to fight a battle from which he may never return.
But there was another voice in his head, a voice that was louder and more resolute. It was the same voice that had encouraged him all week to tell Hermione of his feelings… a voice he had been hearing for a while in his head, that had saved him countless of times from doing the wrong thing at the worst of times.
Her voice.
A voice that now was reminding him that he had finally found what he had been looking for… a person that loved him as much as he loved her, a person that was willing to stand by his side through thick and thin, through good and bad.
He had finally found home.
And for the first time in his life, Harry knew no pain, no anger, no fear, no hopelessness, and no guilt.
He knew only his heart's desire.
Harry cupped her face with affection, his thumbs caressing the arches of her cheeks, and lowered his head until he knew she could look him directly in the eyes.
"I want you… to be my girlfriend," started Harry, planting a feather light kiss on her forehead, his hands delicately traveling from her cheeks to her shoulders.
"I want you… to be my fiancé," he added, kissing her cheek tenderly, tasting the saltiness of a teardrop that escaped her eye. His hands slowly traveled down her arms, feeling her shiver under his touch.
"I want you… to be my wife," he whispered on her ear just before landing another kiss on the tip of her nose, his arms circling her waist and pulling her flush against him. Only then his eyes left hers as they traveled down her face and settled over her lips, his body trembling with desire.
"I want you… I want you to be the mother of my children," he said, claiming her lips with his own, pouring every emotion he felt for her into that kiss as if it were their last.
His lips finally released hers and once again Harry found his eyes locked on hers. Dear Lord, did she know what she did to him when she looked at him like that? Tears were coming freely down Hermione's cheeks, but Harry did not doubt they were tears of happiness, for she was looking up at him with a smile that could brighten the night.
"And if I die, I want to die an old man… with the woman who's shared his whole life by my side,' Harry finished, resting his forehead on hers, shedding the final threads of the mask he had wore over his emotions for as long as he could remember, his eyes screaming how much he loved her and how much he needed her.
Hermione placed her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob, feeling overwhelmingly delirious by the feeling in his eyes and the knowledge that she was indeed the cause.
"So, first things first," whispered Harry, wiping her tears away with the palm of his hand, "Hermione Granger, will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?"
Hermione gave him a rather cheeky smile, as her hands traveled back to his hair, lacing her fingers into it and pulling him down until their noses touched.
"What do you think?"
Hermione gave him another one of those kisses that Harry thought existed only in movies, pouring her heart and soul with every caress of her lips and touch of her hands.
Merlin, not even in his wildest dreams would he have imagined his Hermione to be so passionate.
`My Hermione.'
She gave him one last butterfly kiss before her eyes fastened on Harry's, her soul bared for him to see. And then, she said the words he had ached to hear all his life.
"I love you, Harry."
`She loves me.'
`SHE. LOVES. ME.''
His lips descended hungrily on hers as that single thought echoed in his head like a mantra. Her admission didn't surprise him as much as the fact that he believed her.
Oh, if a dementor were to attack now, the bastard was going to be in a surprise, for Harry Potter was the happiest man in the world, and would be able to conjure up a patronus so powerful no one would dare stand against it.
"Thank you," whispered Harry with honesty as her nails started playing with the hairs in the back of his neck.
"For what?" she breathed against his skin.
"For not giving up on me…" he laughed, "…on us."
"What can I say? I have a soft spot for green-eyed best friends who are a bit dense and have slightly borderline personalities," she bantered in good nature.
"Lucky me," he replied cockily, leaning in and kissing her one more time. Not even he could believe that less than an hour ago he had been a blubbering fool trying to find the right words to tell this girl how he felt, and now he felt more confident than he could remember feeling before.
Just another wonderful side effect from feeling loved.
"I can't believe we're doing this," said Harry, trailing kisses down her chin all the way to her neck. He heard something that sounded between a moan and a giggle, but didn't know if it came from her or from him, "specially considering you just booted four people out of here from doing the same thing.
"I waited long enough. And besides," she chuckled throatily, a sound that sent a bolt of electricity throughout his limbs, "what's the fun in being Head Girl if I can't abuse my power from time to time?"
"Amen to that," he whispered, his lips nipping the flesh of her shoulder. He was addicted to her, and nothing about her would ever be enough for him.
"Harry," she moaned, a tinge of something that sounded like regret in her voice, "as much as I hate to say this… we have to go back."
"Why?" he pouted against her skin, "I thought we could stay here for a while… or forever."
"We've been here for a while," said Hermione, her hands rebelling against her words as they held him close, "I need to get back to Roger."
He tensed against his will, more out of habit than out of any real fear. He relaxed in her arms when that little voice in his head reminded him that He was the one she loved, not Roger.
Yet, he couldn't pass the opportunity for a little playful banter, "Oh, going back to your old boyfriend already?"
"Honestly! I'm supposed to be helping him in keeping the students in check," said Hermione, jokingly punching his shoulder, "Besides, Roger was sweet enough to tell me today that you were already in love with me… you just hadn't quite realized it."
Harry lean back to look into her eyes, and was pleasantly surprised to see that she was telling him the truth. That would explain why Roger asked him to dance with Hermione, not to mention that strange look he sent Harry's way when she had excused herself from the party.
Wow. Talk about having the wrong impression.
"I'll build him a shrine," Harry smiled, kissing her forehead tenderly, "but that still doesn't make me want to go back in there when we could stay here and…" He finished the thought by reaching up and caressing her lower lip with his thumb.
She shivered under his touch, but managed to smirk as she said, "We'll have the rest of our lives for that, Mister Potter."
Now it was his turn to tremble, for her words held promises of enough stolen kisses, fleeting caresses, and whispers of devotion to last a lifetime.
"Now, let's find your glasses and go back to the party. I want to dance with my Phantom again," Hermione said, using her index finger to wipe the gloss from his lips.
"I'll hold you to that," Harry quipped, reluctantly disentangling himself from her arms and turning around, his eyes now roaming the floor in search of his glasses. He found his mask by the corner of the terrace, and bend down to pick it up. But he couldn't see his glasses anywhere. Already fearing they might have gone over the rail, he suddenly remembered he had disillusioned them. Chiding himself for his showmanship, he fell on all fours and started patting the floor near the corner to try and feel them.
An appreciative whistle reached his ears, and he looked over his shoulder to see Hermione, one hand on the doorknob, the other one her hip, looking at him with a strange glint in her eyes.
"Just what are you doing over there?" asked Harry, evidently amused by the look on her face.
"Just enjoying the view… and I'm not talking about the starry night," smirked Hermione.
His hands closed on the frame of his eyeglasses just as her words sank in. He choked nervously as he slowly rose back on his feet. Her good-natured laughter was so contagious he couldn't help but laugh with her.
"I've never seen this side of you, Miss Granger," said Harry when he turned around and started to walk toward her.
"You'd be surprised at what you have yet to see," she winked. He took her hand when he reached her side and raised it to his lips, planting a feather light kiss on her knuckles. Her hold tightened on him as Harry continued to stare at her hand, his bright smile shifting to a more contemplative expression. Silence soon followed, but it wasn't uncomfortable anymore. It was natural.
"I'm afraid. I've never been in a relationship," he confessed, his eyes still holding onto their hands, "I don't want to… I don't want to screw up and lose you… not as a girlfriend… and definitely not as my best friend."
"I've never been in a relationship either, Harry," Hermione replied, cupping his cheek tenderly, "but I love you. We'll learn about this… together. And besides, no matter what happens between us…I'll always be your best friend."
"I love you. And I'll never get tired of telling you," said Harry, his voice thick with emotion, before kissing her knuckles one more time.
"And I'll never get tired of hearing it," replied Hermione, leaning in to kiss him one more time.
Yep, he definitely was going to get used to this.
She gave him another pulse-accelerating smile before turning the doorknob and opening the door…
Only to have four bodies fall flat on the floor, one on top of the other. Good for them that the big white fluffy thing was the first to fall… he kind of lessened the impact for the others.
"How long have you four been eavesdropping?" Hermione asked as Neville helped Ginny and Luna to straighten up.
"Long enough to know I am 10 galleons richer!" Ginny said happily as she pushed herself from Ron, who was still face first on the floor. She then went straight to Hermione and Harry and hugged them both with such force she almost knocked them to the floor.
"Does it have anything to do with the bet you made with Lavender and Parvati after Harry broke up with Cho?" said Hermione, arching her eyebrow knowingly when Ginny let go of her.
"You knew about that?" Ginny asked, her ears going red with embarrassment.
"Of course I did," Hermione nodded, smiling cockily, "And I expect you to donate all proceeds to S.P.E.W."
"She will," Neville beamed, throwing his arm over Ginny's slumping shoulder before patting Harry affectionately on the back, "I am going to make an honest woman out of her."
"You two are no fun," joked Ginny, sticking her tongue at them. A series of muffled curses reached their ears, and they look down to find Luna struggling to get Ron the White Rabbit off the floor.
"Anybody have a camera?" Harry asked, grinning genuinely, before he and Neville gave Luna a hand.
"FINALLY! Thought you guys were leaving me down there," Ron said as soon as he was back on his two feet.
"That's what you get for being a busybody," Hermione quipped, squeezing Ron's nose.
"Ahhhh! Cut it out!" Ron screamed. She gave a final squeeze before releasing him, and he added, "I just wanted to make sure Harry didn't suffer another occurrence of the foot-in-mouth-titis disease he's been having lately."
"I am happy to inform you that he's recovering," Hermione said, before Ron leaned in and gave her a wet kiss on the cheek.
"I'm very happy for you," Ron whispered on her ear when her arms went around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. He had no trouble in returning her hug with earnest.
"And you," Ron continued, turning his attention to Harry once Hermione released him, "you better remember that being my best friend won't exempt you from getting your arse kicked if you hurt her."
"I told you before: I wouldn't have it any other way," Harry smiled, offering his hand to Ron in a handshake. Ron looked at Harry's hand, and finally took it, surprising Harry by pulling him into an affectionate hug.
"You deserve to be loved, mate… remember that," Ron whispered before letting go of Harry and reaching for Luna.
"This is going to be a night to remember," Luna said, hugging Harry and Hermione simultaneously.
Harry didn't remember very well what they spoke next. Every voice was muted as he watched his Hermione… his best friend… his girlfriend… speaking animatedly to the two girls. Her eyes had never shone so brightly; her smile had never been so wide. It had been years since the last time he had seen her so cheerful.
"How does it feel?" Ron said, resting his hairy arm on Harry's shoulder.
"Like I died and went to heaven," replied Harry, giving Ron a brotherly pat.
"Hey, guys. The last act is about to start," Neville, who had been watching the party by the door, announced.
"Oh, we can't miss this!" Ginny squealed, grabbing Hermione by the hand and pulling her toward the door. Hermione reached for Harry's hand and pulled him with her, giving him a reassuring smile over her shoulder.
Their relationship may be new… but this need to reach out for each other definitely wasn't.
Harry let Hermione guide him back inside the party, a smile etched on the corners of his mouth, as he absently thought that he was returning to the party a different man.
He was no longer nervous. No longer lost. No longer alone.
He had found his missing piece.
He was finally complete.
Little did Harry know that the universe was a system in equilibrium.
That on the magical night his dreams had finally come true…
… so would his horrifying nightmares.
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Hi, everybody. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know, please?
This chapter is dedicated to a group of very special friends. To Elena, Lidia, Mane, Glendy and Flor, Rafael and Tito… thanks for not giving up on me.
This chapter was particularly hard to write, mainly because I was afraid to disappoint. Hope it worked out on the end.
Thanks to each and every one who commented on the last chapter. I apologize for not answering the reviews personally, but I assure you they mean the world.
Blessings,
Anasazi
PD. "You keep me honest" is one of the greatest phrases from one my H/Hr-like obsessions… The X-Files.
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