Author's note: Well, here it is…what you've all been waiting 11 chapters for… I hope you aren't disappointed. And be warned, there are cliffies ahead… This was written in the midst of Hurricane Charlie. I live in North Carolina and we are about an hour and a half from the coast. We're supposed to get high wind and rain later today and I hope it isn't too bad. My heart goes out to all those in Florida.
Anyways, due to the hurricane, I had nothing else to do today, but write, so you people get this chapter…I hope you enjoy. Please read and review! Oh and you get a song because this was playing while I was writing and I think it fits this chapter perfectly. It' s "Eternal Flame" by the Bangles.
Chapter 12
Eternal Flame
Close your eyes, give me your hand, darlin'
Do you feel my heart beating
Do you understand
Do you feel the same
Am I only dreaming
Is this burning an eternal flame
I believe it's meant to be, darlin'
I watch you when you are sleeping
You belong with me
Do you feel the same
Am I only dreaming
Or is this burning an eternal flame
When Hermione was a child, she could remember all too well about how her parents never tolerated sweets in the house. Being as her parents were both dentists, they lectured constantly about how candies, cakes and other sweets could rot your teeth. Like any other child, Hermione always wanted to try candy to see what the big fuss was about. She'd always been a dutiful child and always followed their example. But, there had been that one day when she'd gone to a barbecue at the home of a family friend. On the refreshment table, there was a large tray of toffees and cookies. Hermione knew she shouldn't, but she just couldn't help herself. There they were…looking so edible and inviting. She'd thought it wouldn't hurt to have just one.
Well, one quickly turned into two and so on and so on. Hermione ate and ate until she nearly made herself sick. She couldn't help it. She finally had her hands on something she'd thought about for years and she just couldn't seem to get enough.
That was akin to how it felt to be kissing Harry. Now that she'd had a little taste of him, she couldn't seem to get enough. She wanted…more.
Hermione giggled as Harry gallantly picked her up again and started walking toward their bedroom. She tried, unsuccessfully, to keep a straight face as he struggled to open the door and hold on to Hermione at the same time.
"Let me," she said softly. "You seem to have your hands full."
"Right," he said, grinning, as Hermione opened the door. The bedroom was bathed in moonlight from the window and Harry quickly kicked the door closed with his foot. They were kissing again before they reached the bed. Hermione didn't even know how it happened, but she was at once lying on the bed and then felt Harry's weight on top of her. She smiled and inched her hands under his shirt and ran her fingers up and down his back.
"What are we doing?" she asked breathlessly as Harry planted kisses down her neckline and along her shoulder.
"I don't know," he murmured. She shuddered as he slowly pulled down the straps of her dress. For someone so good with words, Hermione didn't think she could put into words how good it felt for him to be doing that. She closed her eyes and pushed all the logical thoughts that were trying to come into her head. She was tired of being logical and cautious. For years, she'd wondered what this would be like; what this would feel like. And here it was…happening. Harry was kissing her. Harry was touching her. It was better than she'd ever imagined it could be.
That annoying voice in the back of her head kept calling to her, though. It kept saying that this was Harry James Potter. He was the boy she'd befriended when they were 11. He was the first boy she'd ever been infatuated with. He was the boy she'd stayed up nights worrying about and fretting over more times than she could count. He was the boy she loved then and the man she loved now. And now that she thought about it, she always had. In fact, she couldn't remember what it was like not to love him.
Why is it that everyone else could see what I didn't want to admit to myself?
Because you thought it could never happen. Because you didn't want to set yourself up to get hurt. But, the way he's looking at me now…the way he just said my name…could it be that he actually wants me as much as I want him?
But what if he doesn't?
"Maybe this isn't a good idea," Hermione heard herself say, but her even to her, her voice sounded weak and unconvincing.
Harry seized her hands and was kissing her palms. "Of course, it's a good idea," he whispered huskily. His eyes were half-closed, his face sharp and concentrated with desire.
Reluctantly, Hermione pulled herself out from under him and sat on the edge of the bed. Harry reached for her, but Hermione shrugged out of his hold.
"Harry, I think we should talk about this," Hermione said seriously.
Harry sighed. "Hermione…what's there to talk abut? If we talk about it, we'll talk ourselves out of it, and that's not what I want. Is that what you want?"
Hermione shook her head.
"But what if we regret it?" she asked, avoiding his gaze.
"I won't regret it," Harry said fiercely. He slid from the bed and smoothed his hands over her shoulders. "Come on, Hermione. Let yourself go. We've both wanted to do this for years."
Hermione gave into that usual instinct when anyone asked her about Harry. "I have not."
That was a lie. She wanted to. In her life, she'd never wanted to do anything more. But, she didn't know if it would mean the same to Harry as it would to her. Would he think it was "just sex"? She didn't want to have "just sex" with Harry. But a part of her wondered if that's what it would be. On Sunday, they'd go home to their normal lives and he'd be out on the pull again. If not with Sabrina, with someone just like her. She'd seen it happen time and time again.
"We've pretended this whole weekend, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "Let's not pretend about this."
"I'm not pretending!" Harry retorted. "And neither are you!"
Hermione hadn't expected him to say that.
"What are we doing then?" she asked, looking earnestly at him.
Harry ran a hand nervously through his hair. Here it was. The moment of truth. She'd asked the question and it was up to him to answer her. He got to his feet, unable to sit on the bed anymore. He walked over to the window and looked down at the grounds. There were still a few scattered people on the lawn, but the party was definitely coming to an end.
"What are we doing?" he asked, repeating her question. He shook his head. "I guess I was wrong before…maybe we have been pretending, Hermione. Since we were 11 years old, people have wondered about you and me, haven't they? And Ron, too. They wondered which one of us would end up with you. We couldn't be just friends, could we? That wouldn't do!"
Hermione looked away from him. She didn't want to hear this. He was going to break her heart again, wasn't he?
Harry sighed. "So, you and I…we always denied it, didn't we? We couldn't see it. Everyone else did…Krum, Rita Skeeter, Brian. They all saw it. Oh, we kept telling them the old standard that we weren't anything but friends; that we didn't see each other that way, but they didn't buy it for one second. We thought we had them fooled, but they didn't buy it, Hermione."
Harry let out a hollow laugh. "And when you think about it, it's hard not to see how right they were. I never liked Brian. I didn't like you with Krum. You've never liked any of the girls I've dated."
"And so I starting thinking recently…why was that? If you were just my friend and I was just yours, wouldn't
we just want the other to be happy? Isn't that all you ever want for your 'friend'?"
"But you've never had anyone last more than a couple of weeks," Hermione heard herself say.
"Exactly!" Harry exclaimed, turning to face her. His green eyes locked on hers. "Can't you see, Hermione? Why do you think that is?"
"I don't know," she said quietly.
"Neither did I," Harry said, walking slowly across the room. Hermione looked away as Harry sat down beside her on the edge of the bed.
"But, you know what it is?" Harry asked. "Do you really want to know why none of these girls have meant anything to me? Why none of them could ever mean anything to me?"
"Why?" Hermione whispered.
"Because they weren't you," he said softly.
Hermione turned to face him. Her brown eyes were searching his face, seemingly trying to figure out if she'd heard him right.
"I've been such a complete and utter idiot," he said, with a wry grin. "All the time looking for the perfect girl and there she was right under my nose. She's always been there. You've always been there for me. When I didn't think anyone else gave a shit about me, you were always there. When I wanted to push everyone away and wallow in my own guilt, you were the only one who was able to get through to me."
Harry took her hand and lightly stroked it.
"It's always been you, Hermione," he whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't figure it out sooner. But, we're here now. We don't have to pretend anymore. I'm tired of acting like you're just my friend."
A tear fell down Hermione's cheek. Harry lifted a tentative hand to her face and lightly brushed it away.
"I guess what I'm trying to say…not very articulately," he said with a laugh. "Is that…I…"
His voice trailed off and Hermione felt as if all of her insides were electrified waiting for him to say it...to say what she'd been waiting for years to hear.
"I l-love you, Hermione," he said softly.
She didn't say anything. She just stared at Harry with an unreadable expression on her face. A sinking feeling came over Harry as he wondered if he'd read it all wrong. She didn't feel the same way. He'd cocked everything up by saying the three words he'd wanted to say to her for quite some time.
"Now would be a really good time to say something," Harry said.
Hermione tried to compose some sort of coherent words together to form a sentence, but her brain didn't seem to be able to process normally at the moment. In her head she kept hearing those three little words.
"You…you l-love me?" she asked finally.
Harry nodded.
"Me?" she asked weakly.
"You," Harry said confused. He hated not knowing what was going on inside her head and at the moment she was nearly killing him with her behaviour.
"I can see I've made you uncomfortable," he said, looking away from her. "It wasn't my intention to do that. How about you and I never mention this again and we'll just go about as we always have, okay?"
He rose quickly from the bed and made his way toward the bathroom.
"Harry," Hermione said, just as his hand was on the doorknob.
"You mean it?" she asked, shakily getting to her feet.
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it," he said, not turning around.
"Look, Hermione…let's just forget it, okay? We'll continue as we have…"
"I-I don't want to continue as we have," she said slowly inching closer to him.
"You don't?"
"No," she said. She reached out her hand to touch Harry's shoulder.
"What do you want then?" he asked.
Hermione pressed her cheek to Harry's back.
"You…I want you," she whispered. "I've always wanted you."
Harry slowly turned around and Hermione stepped back.
"I love you, Harry."
"Say it again," he requested.
A smile played on Hermione's lips as she watched a nearly identical smile play on his.
"I love you, Harry," she repeated. "I love-"
She didn't get to finish it a third time because he'd taken her in his arms and pressed his lips urgently to hers. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair as he deepened the kiss. Since Harry's shirt was already unbuttoned from earlier, Hermione merely pushed it off his shoulders and threw it to the floor. With one hand on Hermione's waist, Harry used his other hand to unzip the dress. It slowly fell to the floor and Hermione stood there in her strapless bra and knickers, feeling her breath catch in her throat as she looked at Harry looking at her.
There was that look in his eyes again, but she knew what it was now. She knew that he loved her, he wanted her, that he needed her. She could read that all in that one look. She made a mental note to remember every second of this because this was what she'd been waiting for; what she'd dreamed of for so long.
Taking the initiative, Hermione took Harry's hand and led him back toward the bed. She kissed him again and moved her hands down his chest, to his stomach and down to his trousers where she made quick work of unzipping them. Once he was free of his trousers, Hermione lay back on the bed and pulled Harry on top of her. They kissed some more, reveling in the feeling of doing what they'd both wanted to for so long. There was no hurry. They were taking this slow because neither of them wanted it to end.
Hermione pushed gently on Harry's chest and he pulled away from her, wondering if she was having second thoughts. She gave him a reassuring smile though and reached behind her back to undo the clasps of her bra. With trembling hands, she slowly pulled it away from her breasts. She kept her eyes focused on Harry's and smiled shyly at him.
He cupped her face in his hands and leaned in to kiss her and she fell back onto the pillows again. He positioned himself so he wouldn't crush her and kissed her neck and Hermione felt a surge of pleasure run through her as Harry kissed his way down to her breasts. As good as that felt, she wanted to taste his lips again and tugged at his arms to bring him back to her. His eyes searched hers for some okay that this was what she wanted; that this was what she wanted to do.
She nodded and Harry kissed her gently.
They couldn't have turned back now, even if they'd wanted to.
************
********
Sometime near 3 a.m., Harry awoke. Hermione was still fast asleep, a smile on her face. She looked absolutely beautiful. He leaned over her and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and softly kissed her.
She awoke and smiled sleepily at him. "What?"
"I was just watching you sleep," he said laughing. "I can do that, can I?"
"Yes," she said, rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing up?"
"I was thinking of going downstairs and nicking a bottle of champagne for us," he said conspiratorially. "What do you think?"
She kissed him. "I think that sounds perfect. We do have a lot to celebrate, don't we?"
"Hmmmm," he murmured as she kissed him again. "Hold that thought okay? I'll be right back."
"Mmm, okay," she whispered, already feeling tired from the day's events as well as what she and Harry had done earlier.
"Don't fall back asleep on me," he warned, as he slipped back into his boxer shorts and for good measure a t-shirt. It was doubtful he'd run into anyone downstairs. To be sure, the party would have ended long ago and everyone would most undoubtedly be fast asleep.
With one last look at Hermione…who had fallen fast asleep again…Harry closed the door behind him and went in search of that champagne. He felt like he did when he flew. He'd thought that nothing could ever come close to the feeling he got when he flew on his broom. He'd been dead wrong. Being with Hermione…hearing her say she loved him…hearing he say his name…it was much better than flying. He couldn't believe that they were finally here…they were at the same point…together.
He was humming to himself as he opened up the patio doors and saw that there were some champagne bottles still chilling in ice buckets near the outside bar. There was no one to be seen and not a sound was heard, save for the distant ocean and the waves hitting the shore.
Harry quickly grabbed a bottle and two flutes and made his way back toward the house. He heard the sound of someone groaning though just before he made it inside. To his surprise, Rachel was asleep on one of the patio chairs. Well, she wasn't asleep, as Harry discovered upon getting a closer look. She was wide awake, but didn't look as if she could move if she tried.
"Rachel?" Harry asked, leaning down and gently nudging her. "Are you alright?"
"Harry," she said hoarsely.
Harry could smell the liquor on her breath and could tell she'd obviously gotten quite pissed. The strange thing was that Harry didn't think girls did that on the night before they were to be married.
"Rachel?" Harry asked again. "You need to get back into the house and get to bed."
Rachel giggled. "I thought you'd never ask."
"You know what I mean," Harry said, trying to keep his patience.
"Yes, I do," she said, lifting her hand and placing it on Harry's cheek. "You're sooooo good-looking, Harry. I can't believe you're with my *hiccup* cousin."
"I love your cousin," Harry said. "Very much."
"She's a goody-goody," Rachel said, leaning up in her chair. Harry helped her sit up. "She's never going to make you happy. She'd never satisfy you."
Harry wanted to laugh. If Rachel had known what happened a few minutes ago, she'd know that Hermione could make him happy and she'd definitely satisfied him.
"Come on, Rachel," Harry said impatiently. "It's late. You need to be in bed. You're getting married in a few hours."
Rachel just giggled.
"Marriage, Rachel," Harry said, recoiling as Rachel leaned in and he got another whiff of her alcohol-tinged breath. "Theo. Wedding. Dress. Flowers. Ceremony. Any of that ringing a bell?"
Rachel laughed. "How about I ring your b-bell?"
Harry rolled his eyes. It was times like these that he really hated being the kind of guy who never left a person in distress. He sometimes wished he didn't always feel the need to play the hero.
"Rachel?" he asked, getting to his feet. He bent his knees and supported Rachel and with his help, she shakily stood. He wrapped an arm around her and slowly led her into the house. She wasn't making things too easy for him as she was constantly whispering suggestive comments to him. What Harry wanted most of all was to get back to Hermione and leave Rachel at the foot of the stairs, but he knew he had to see Rachel back to her room.
Unfortunately just as he and Rachel made it to the stairs, Harry remembered he'd forgotten the champagne bottle. Oh well, by the time I get Rachel upstairs, I'll be too damn knackered for anything, he mused silently.
In what seemed like an eternity later, Harry finally made it to Rachel's bedroom and helped her to her bed. He was about to leave when Rachel grabbed hold of his t-shirt.
A serious expression on her face, she looked pleadingly at Harry. "Will you please just stay with me until I fall asleep?"
Harry shook his head. "I should get back to Hermione."
"Please," Rachel slurred. "You can sit on my chair over there and just wait until I fall asweep, pwease?"
Seeing that she wasn't going to drop this, Harry reluctantly nodded. Hopefully, Rachel wouldn't be awake for too much longer and he could get back to where he really wanted to be and where he shouldn't have left.
Harry walked over to the armchair opposite Rachel's bed and leaned back. He could hear Rachel humming a tune and giggling softly.
Catching a glimpse of her bedside clock, Harry noticed it was nearly 4 a.m. He was knackered. All that activity he and Hermione had done earlier in the day on the beach was now beginning to catch up to him. The chair he was sitting in was uncomfortable as hell and he longed to be back in the cozy, warm bed with Hermione. His last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep were of Hermione.
*****
The next morning, Hermione awoke with a smile on her face. She couldn't remember ever feeling so happy and loved in her entire life. It was perfect. She only wished that she and Harry didn't have to go to the wedding and could spend the rest of the day wrapped up in bed.
Sleepily, she reached across the bed to touch him, but to her surprise…he wasn't there.
"Harry?" she called out. There was no answer.
Hermione wondered if he'd gone downstairs for breakfast like he'd done the day before. She wished he would have waited for her. Perhaps they could have even shared the shower.
Oh, well. There's always later.
She grinned and kicked her feet on the bed playfully. Turning over, she buried her face in the pillow and squealed. After reveling in her happiness for a little longer, she decided she'd better shower and change. She wanted to see Harry. With how happy she was, she couldn't see how Rachel could say nor do anything to bring her down.
The wedding was to be held at noon so Hermione didn't dress for the wedding just yet. She threw on a pair of jeans and a simple grey t-shirt after she showered. Her hair was still slightly damp as she closed the bedroom door behind her.
She felt like skipping as she walked down the corridor toward the staircase. A broad smile was fixed on her face and she wondered if her cheeks would be hurting by the end of the day from smiling.
That smile faded quickly when a door suddenly opened in front of her and out came Harry, wearing only his boxer shorts and a t-shirt. His hair was as messy as ever and he was yawning as he closed the door behind him.
Hermione's heart sank. He just came out of Rachel's bedroom.
Harry's eyes found Hermione's and the look on her face said it all.
"Hermione…" he began.
"Harry?" she managed to choke out.
No, this can't be happening. He couldn't have been with Rachel…not after he was with me. He wouldn't have done that…would he?
Harry soon cottoned on to what Hermione was thinking and he wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it.
"No, Hermione," he said, shaking his head. "It's not what you think…"
Author's note: Awful cliffie, isn't it? I'm sorry! I really am! I hope to have another chapter out soon to not be really cruel and make you wait so long. Mwhhahahahah!