Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Notes: For Anne U.- Happy birthday! *glomps*
Thank you to everyone who's reviewed this so far!
Part 3: Again the Magic
When Hermione entered the living room the next day, she found Harry waiting for her, wearing a dark green wool jumper and black jeans, looking good enough to eat. She swallowed hard. Come on, Hermione, calm down, you can do this. It's just a day.
She managed a grin. "Oh good, you're ready. We've got great weather for the trip too; we really lucked out."
Harry grinned back as his eyes ran over her form-fitting cream-colored turtleneck jumper and trim khaki pants. "You look good, Hermione."
Hermione looked flustered as she smiled. "So do you."
He smiled but said nothing, only stepped back as they reached the fireplace, gesturing for her to go first. She smiled and said, "See you there," before stepping into the flames and disappearing.
Hogsmeade had one central Floo station. Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace into it, wishing they could have Apparated. But thanks to the Anti-Apparition rules of Hogsmeade as well as Hogwarts, that hadn't been possible. Besides that, though, Apparating was discouraged by the St. Mungo's Healers for anyone who had suffered any kind of head injury recently, unless it was for a short distance. In another minute, Harry also stumbled out, with slightly less grace than she had exhibited. She caught his arm, helping him regain his balance, and he shot her a grateful smile while she ignored the spark she always felt when she touched him.
They ate lunch at the Three Broomsticks, where Madam Rosmerta welcomed them with a smile and telling Harry it was good to see he hadn't suffered any permanent injuries from his terrible fall at the game a few weeks ago. Hermione kept her smile from faltering only by dint of will; they had all decided it was best to keep Harry's memory loss from the public, agreeing since it was probably only temporary, it wouldn't do to have the media hound him or exaggerate Harry's condition into a case of complete amnesia.
Harry smiled and shrugged off any questions of how he was smoothly, seating himself and Hermione at a table in the corner, slightly separated from the others. He was sorry that Ron hadn't been able to come, of course, but it was nice to be able to spend some time with Hermione. She'd been spending a lot of time at work this past week, citing a snag in her research for the Institute of Magical Maladies and Remedies, and he missed her.
As if by some unspoken understanding, they kept the conversation light, punctuated with 'do you remember's' and quiet laughs of remembrance. They didn't talk about the dangers they had all gone through or the fear or those they had lost…
Until the end, when a short silence fell, which Harry broke by asking quietly, "Do you remember meeting Sirius?"
She smiled gently. "Of course. I'll never forget it. I was so afraid that he was there to hurt you and I'd have to watch and not be able to stop him…"
Harry smiled back, somewhat absently. "I was more concerned with Ron to worry about me and then I was too angry." He paused and then grinned at Hermione, his expression clearing. "Besides, I always knew I had you to worry about me, so I didn't need to worry about myself."
Hermione laughed and sighed. Yes, she had worried about Harry so much over their Hogwarts years. She sometimes thought one reason she was relieved that Voldemort had been defeated was that now she could worry about Harry less. It was much easier being in love with Harry when there wasn't a constant threat to his life, she reflected wryly, as they finished their lunch and left the Three Broomsticks.
In silent agreement, they walked up to the Shrieking Shack after lunch.
Hermione glanced at Harry as they approached it. A slight shade had fallen over his expression, darkening his eyes, as he looked at the dilapidated old building where he had first met Sirius. She said nothing, knew Harry too well to think that anything she said would help, only reached out and took his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. He squeezed back, seeming disinclined to release her hand afterwards. They stood for a while in silence, still holding hands, until Harry shook his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts from it, and looked at her with a smile. "Hogwarts now?"
She smiled back. "Right behind you, Harry, lead the way."
Harry laughed, tugging her closer to him. "Behind me? Don't be silly, Hermione, you've never been behind me. You've always been beside me," he added, the laughter leaving his face and voice. "Always beside me," he repeated, softly, his eyes serious as they met hers.
Hermione didn't answer, just squeezed his hand again, but she knew he understood what she meant. And I always will be. Because I love you, she thought and wondered when she would be able to say those words to him again…
"Good old Hogwarts, it never changes, does it?" Harry said, voicing both of their thoughts when the castle was finally in sight. And it was true. It was the same castle, as beautiful and as imposing as it had been when they'd first seen it more than 8 years ago. All that had changed was themselves. Now they knew the castle, knew its strange ways, knew what changed and what never did… And, Hermione thought somewhat inconsequentially, when they were students, she and Harry would never have been holding hands…
A glance, a shake of the head, a slight nod and a smile were all it took for them to decide that on this visit, at least, they'd wander the grounds and not go inside the castle itself.
Harry wondered at how comfortable he was at holding Hermione's hand, something he'd never thought to do before. It felt right, though, as if his grip on her hand was keeping him on earth, keeping him calm when it was beginning to register that he had really been away from this place for more than a year and hadn't just left it yesterday as it seemed to him. He had forgotten his life after Hogwarts. How much had things changed; what else had he done besides move into a flat with Ron and Hermione? Finding that he had moved into a flat with them hadn't been that much of a surprise; he remembered deciding over Christmas vacation their 7th year that, if he survived his confrontation with Voldemort, it was what he wanted to do, to have a real home and who else would he share it with but them, his two faithful friends that had shared everything else with him… What about the other things, the smaller things? What else had he forgotten?
He could feel himself beginning to worry, panic rising, and he automatically gripped Hermione's hand a little tighter. She was his anchor to normality, even in his perpetually abnormal life and in this abnormal situation. He looked at her, to see her gazing around with the hint of a smile on her lips, and he felt calmer. He could hear her voice in his mind, from when he'd come back to the flat after St. Mungo's, "Don't worry about not remembering. Ron and I will be here and we'll help you and tell you what you need to know. Don't worry…" He looked at Hermione, the way she held herself, the confidence in her bearing and in her gaze, and finally relaxed, allowing himself to enjoy the day, the perfect October weather, and being back here at Hogwarts with his best friend.
They passed by what had been Hagrid's hut and paused to look at it. It was unused now; the new grounds-keeper had had another cottage built, better suited to a normal wizard's size.
"Dear Hagrid," Hermione finally said, quietly.
Harry blinked. "Yes," he said so softly it was almost a whisper as he stared at the hut, memories of the half-giant, who had become his first friend and one of his most staunch helpers, flooded his mind. "I miss him. He was the first person from the Wizarding world I met; he introduced me to it and it always seemed as if he was there to protect me somehow…"
This time it was Hermione's turn to grip his hand tighter. "I know, Harry, and he did, he did protect you. He wouldn't want you to be sad over him, Harry. He knew what he was doing…" Her voice trailed off and she blinked back tears at the memory of Hagrid… he had died defending Harry after Dumbledore had been killed, his loyalty to Dumbledore combined with his loyalty to Harry stronger than ever at the end. He had known that Dumbledore had been depending on him to protect Harry after he was gone and he hadn't hesitated a moment in charging in, providing the distraction that had allowed Harry and Remus and the surviving Order members to escape. Hagrid had literally saved Harry's life.
Harry sighed, knowing Hermione was right; she was always right about things like this, and, after a moment, he turned to smile at her. "The Quidditch pitch now?"
Hermione's answer was to grimace and roll her eyes in mock annoyance. "You and your obsession with Quidditch."
Harry grinned, tugging Hermione along with him, and as he turned away from Hagrid's hut, he could almost swear he heard Hagrid's voice from somewhere in his mind, You'll be alrigh', Harry, so long as you've got Hermione with you.
The Quidditch pitch was deserted when they arrived, although the Ravenclaw team was practicing on the practice pitch. Harry, as always, headed for the broom shed, picking one of the newer school brooms to ride. Hermione sat down on the bench, watching with a smile. "Be careful, Harry."
Harry glanced back at her, quirking an eyebrow teasingly. "You know, you've said that to me every time I've ever gotten on a broom. I fly rather well, you know."
Not every time, Hermione thought as she smiled at him. I didn't, just once, and you fell off…
Harry mounted the broom, kicking off the ground with his usual ease, starting out with basic moves, just testing the broom's power. He glanced down at her and grinned, before shooting up nearly vertically and diving back down again, swooping back and forth gracefully. He always looked so at home in the air, Hermione thought, for the billionth time, as she watched him fly. She could imagine, even if she couldn't see, the sparkle in his eyes as he dipped and turned, could see the joy he took in flying in every line of his body.
"Look! It's Harry Potter; I know it is. Nobody flies like him."
Hermione turned to find that several first years by the looks of them and Gryffindors, she knew by their scarves, were watching Harry.
One of them turned to Hermione, asking "It is Harry Potter, right?"
Hermione smiled, "Yes, it is."
"Cool! Look at him up there. We can never make the brooms go like that," another one commented.
"Yeah, really."
Harry shot upwards and then down in quick succession, trying out a Wronski Feint, and the kid that had first spoken let out a whoop. "Too cool…" the boy breathed. "I've got to learn to do that."
They watched in silence for a few minutes until finally, they got up to leave. "Tell Harry he's an awesome flier," one boy said before leaving.
Hermione smiled at them, "I will," before watching them go, a few of them still glancing back to watch Harry.
Harry flew down to her after another few moves, grinning and gesturing to the broom. "Care for a ride?"
"Harry, you know I don't like to fly," Hermione protested, half-heartedly.
"Aw, come on, Hermione. I wouldn't let you fall. Don't you trust me?" Harry gave her a mock pleading look before grinning his crooked little grin and she was lost, as she always was, to the look and the grin that never failed, even after 8 years of friendship and love, to make her heart flutter.
"Just hold on to me. I won't let you fall," Harry said as she gingerly mounted the broom behind him, putting her arms around his waist.
She knew he wouldn't. She buried her face in his back, thinking of that other flight, their first, on Buckbeak's back, to save Sirius, so many years ago. They'd come so far since that day but one thing hadn't changed. She would still do anything to help Harry; he was still the most important person in her life. She smiled at that thought, holding on to him just a little tighter, enjoying the closeness to him, the familiar smell of him, the feel of him. After all, flying wasn't bad, not when she was with Harry…
They took the Floo back to the nearest Floo station, since they couldn't Floo directly into the flat. (They had all agreed at the beginning that it would be best and safest to only have one fireplace connected to the Floo network and that only to Floo out or make Floo calls, not to Floo in. Arranging that had been somewhat complicated but, as always, Harry's name made all things easier.)
From the nearest Floo station it was only a few minute walk to their flat, which they walked in a comfortable silence. They didn't need to talk, Harry thought idly. He loved how he could be quiet with Hermione and still feel completely content just to be with her; it was a rare thing, he had realized over the years of sharing a room with 4 other guys at Hogwarts, to be comfortable in silence. A gift, really…
Afterwards, he never knew how it happened or why; he only knew that at that moment if he hadn't kissed her, he would have died or some other such disaster. It was odd, this compulsion to kiss her, whom he'd never thought of in that way before, and suddenly kissing her was all he could think about.
It happened so quickly. One minute they were just smiling at each other in the still dimly lit front entranceway of the flat, and he'd just thanked her for a wonderful day… "Your good ideas are still the best," he teased.
She smiled and shook her head slightly, in that way she had when she wanted to disclaim the credit. "It was a nice day, wasn't it?"
"The best I can remember."
There was a flash of something, something that looked like pain, of the emotional kind not the physical, in her eyes, when he said that.
"What is it, Hermione?" he asked softly.
She managed to smile at him, though there was the hint of tears in her eyes, and said, "Nothing, Harry, it's nothing," but he knew she was lying. She wasn't meeting his eyes fully, for one thing, and also because he could hear it in her voice.
"Liar," he accused, gently and still softly.
She looked up at him, in some surprise, her lips slightly parted, and that was when he knew he wanted to kiss her, kiss away the hurt in her eyes, the tears that were making her eyes shimmer.
He stepped closer the few steps necessary and bent his head. Her eyes fluttered closed and he had a fleeting feeling- a memory?- that there had been another time when he'd kissed her and seen her eyes close. Another memory? Impossible, he knew he hadn't kissed Hermione before; they were only friends. He was going mad or delusional or something in trying to remember things that had never happened… He forcibly stopped thinking anymore, just closed his eyes and kissed her. He heard or sensed her sharp intake of breath and the way she stiffened slightly, before relaxing, as he slid his arms around her, slanting his mouth across hers, deepening the kiss. He heard her moan deep in her throat and wondered that kissing Hermione, even for the first time, felt so familiar, so right. It felt like coming home, he suddenly thought. The thought brought him up short and he broke the kiss to stare at her, his breathing quickened.
Home… a word he hardly knew the meaning of, really. The Dursleys' hadn't been home; Hogwarts had been his home, yes, but not really and not completely; he'd still felt alone and isolated at times, not to mention the times he was in danger there. He knew this flat was home and had been for all the months since they had left Hogwarts but he didn't remember it as such. He didn't remember… And now, this one kiss had told him that he didn't really need to remember… because this flat wasn't his home. Hermione was.
She made him feel comfortable, safe, at ease with himself. It was her presence that made this flat a home for him even without the memories of it. And kissing her felt like a homecoming.
Kissing her… He looked at her as if for the first time, really seeing her, the way her eyes glowed and had golden glints in them in the dim light, her long eye-lashes, her smooth perfect skin, her hair, tied back sensibly but he knew how it looked when it was down, and her lips, the lips he wanted to kiss again. And again and again…
"Harry, I…" she breathed and the sound of his name somehow affected him as it never had before. He didn't know what was happening really, felt as if he were in some strange dream, but he knew he wanted to kiss her again and so he did.
He kissed her as if it were the first time and the last time all at once, as if he were dying and the touch of her lips would save his life. He kissed her gently, tenderly, and then stronger, as the sudden surge of tenderness for her became an equally sudden surge of lust.
She fit herself against him, her hands sliding into his hair, keeping his lips on hers as if he had any idea of stopping the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer to him, and then slid his hands under her and lifted her up. He broke the kiss to ask four words that would change their relationship and their lives permanently, somehow knowing as he did so that this was inevitable, "Your room or mine?"
She brought one hand up to touch his face, almost reverently, as the beginnings of a smile lifted her lips, even as her eyes still showed a hint of tears. "Mine," she whispered, before kissing him again.
Kissing while walking backwards was a bit complicated but they managed it until they fell onto her bed. Even as they made quick work of their clothes, a part of him couldn't believe he was doing this, couldn't believe he was about to make love to Hermione, his best friend, didn't understand how she'd suddenly become the woman he wanted, no, needed, to touch in this way…
"You're so beautiful," he breathed, just studying her in the dim light of her room, and she was, even more than he'd thought. She was slender but not overly thin; she had longer legs than he'd realized but then he'd never thought about her legs before now, and her breasts were perfect…
She brought his mouth down to kiss him again, deeply, as his hands began to explore the body he'd just indulged himself in looking at. She gasped against his mouth while her own hands went to his shoulders before moving down his back.
And then it was a blur of skin against skin, arms around each other, pulling each other closer, lips on skin… He only paused once, meeting her eyes, to ask softly, "Are you sure?" although a part of him knew that they had already crossed the point of no return. But he needed to ask before this final intimacy completed the destruction of the platonic friendship they'd built over the years…
Inexplicably she smiled a little, tears welling up, as she said, her voice soft but sure, "Love me." She brought his mouth to hers again, kissing him with a passion that surprised him but somehow was familiar…
It was later, much later, when Hermione had fallen asleep, one hand resting on his chest, that he thought of what she'd said. Love me...
He looked down at her sleeping face; she looked so calm, so content. He wished she could always look this way, no worries, no hurt, no sadness…
Love me… He brushed his lips against Hermione's hair, as he closed his eyes, beginning to drift off to sleep himself. And his last thought before sleep claimed him was, I do…
Hermione opened her eyes to a sight that was strange and yet so familiar, a sight that brought tears to her eyes even as she smiled. Harry, sleeping soundly, beside her, with just a sheet covering him. Carefully, so as not to wake him up, she slid out of bed, looking down at him for a moment. Her skin was still sensitized; she could still feel his hands, his lips, on her skin, bringing her every nerve to life as only Harry could… Her heart clenched a little as she studied him, his long lashes (it should be illegal for a man to have lashes as long as Harry's were…), his face that had filled out and fulfilled the promise of male beauty, the scar that was his curse and his public identity, the Harry Potter everyone knew but not the Harry she knew. She knew the real Harry, knew his weaknesses as well as his strengths, knew his insecurities, his humor, his kindness… And she loved him for all those things and more…
She sighed, glancing at the clock to realize that she had to leave. Her research at the Institute wouldn't wait. She bent over, brushing a kiss on his lips. Her Harry… still hers, even if he didn't know it… And for the first time since the accident, she smiled at the thought of her love, suddenly sure everything was going to be fine.