Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer - I don't own Harry, Hermione, Ron or Hogwarts!

And I know I'm in the midst of writing HP and the Circle of Oblivion and am nowhere near finished, but I took a little break to write this one-shot piece. I got the idea from the very first line which I've already written into Circle of Oblivion nearer the end and ran with it for a little while…

***

To say that life changes instantly is sometimes true. But more often, it is gradual and without notice.

Of course the realization of that change is abrupt and as heavy as a barrel full of galleons.

We are in the midst of a late night study session in the library when it happens.

All he does is pick up a book.

I walk toward him from the stacks, loaded down with study tools and trying to carry Transfiguration: A Wizard's Guide to Change, on top of that. It falls and he looks at me, rolling his eyes, and taking the other things out of my arms, while tutting something about "stubborn" and "overachiever" under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear.

And I gasp. I physically have to take a breath.

Nothing will ever be the same again. My life… forever altered. Is it really that simple?

I know in that second, imperatively and without question, that it is that simple, and that my entire life was and is meant to be shared with him.

In that way, I suppose the change IS instantaneous. But when I look back, I see it has taken me a thousand tiny nothings to realize… well, everything.

I walk slowly to the table and sit down across from him. As he hands me my things, I wonder if he knows too and before I can fully form the question in my mind, I see that he does.

And neither of us says a word. I uncharacteristically forget to pay attention to my notes, thinking back on those thousand nothings.

An hour later, I'm still unable to concentrate. I tell him so and we pack our bags, walking silently back to the tower. Hand in hand. But that's not unusual. Just one of the nothings. No one mentions the hand holding. No one mentions the way he always leans in to tell me secrets that make my eyes shine, because they know what we'll say. Only I can't say it anymore. How can you tell everyone "It's nothing," when it's everything?

When he lets go of my hand as we enter the common room, I feel the absence of him go through my entire body like a wave and before I can stop myself, I've grabbed his arm and asked him to stay.

"You still want to study?" He asks, a bit annoyed.

"No." I squeak it out.

"You're not tired?"

"Not really." I shrug my shoulders, releasing his arm from my fingers.

He raises his eyebrows at me and his emerald eyes sparkle, looking into me. Another of the thousand things. "Alright." He drops his bag and takes mine from my shoulder - another - and leads me to the couch.

"So, what is it, then?" He asks as we take our places on the sofa. I notice how he shifts, moving closer to me and realize I am doing the same. And so we sit, just a little too close, his arm around me. Nothing.

"I don't know. There's only two weeks left. I guess I just wanted to… talk."

And so we talk, as we have so many times before. About exams and leaving school and the fact that Ron is dating Luna Lovegood. We laugh and fight over who learned to apparate first. We cry over Sirius and Lupin and Neville and the others the Dark Lord took before we took him.

And then we fall silent.

All that is left to talk about… is us.

My face is still wet with tears and I'm staring off into the fire when I feel his thumb graze softly over my cheek. I want to turn to him but know how he will look at me and how I will give myself away.

He says nothing. He doesn't ask. He pushes my hair to the side and gently kisses my neck, knowing it will bring my face to his.

My eyes are wide as I turn to him, questioning. There's a smile on his face that I've never seen before. He cradles my face in his hands and lays his forehead against mine. My eyes roam up and down his features, searching.

He just looks at me, amused, and I feel frustration start to rise in my chest.

But I get no worded answer - I have since decided that his way of answering is much better - because his mouth is on my cheek, sweeping softly across my skin, and then it's at the corner of my mouth, desperately close to my lips, when his eyes lock with mine and whisper into them that he knows the thousand things.

The next instant I can't see anything at all. He covers my mouth with his and I'm blind. But I feel everything. The gentle way his fingers tangle in my hair and the how he keeps pulling me closer, because no matter how close we are, it isn't close enough.

And I hear him too. The nothings he whispers into my mouth when he pulls his lips away… about his heart and mine… and love… and the laugh that sometimes escapes from both of us when we realize what we must look like, a jumble on the couch, still dressed in our robes.

I'm not sure how long we sit there snogging. By the time it's done, we are laying there. And I marvel at how I've never kissed anyone like that, with my soul inside it.

My head is nestled in his shoulder and I'm afraid to look up at him. Afraid that I've made it all up.

"Hermione." His fingers fight playfully with mine.

I lift my head and rest my chin on his chest. "Yes?"

"Was this what you wanted, when you asked me to stay?"

"I'm sorry?" I say, embarrassed that he knew. "Well," I give in, "I… can't say I expected exactly what happened, but I guess…"

"I've been waiting on you to figure it out is all…" he smiles and moves to kiss me.

And I whisper it back to him, "I love you."

And he grins, whispers it in my ear again and I laugh.

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