A/N: Thanks for all the continued support for this story. Your reviews mean the world to me. I know that this update has taken an inexcusable amount of time. This chapter took several re-writes. It's still not really where I imagined it and I'm not that satisfied with it, but I don't think I'm going to get anything better than this. Because of all the re-writes, I'm worried about the flow and I really hope that it goes smoothly. Bit of a fluff and ship-shout out warning towards the end. I just couldn't resist.
Harry opened his eyes to perfect stillness. He blinked sleepily, groping for his glasses on the bedside table. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he yawned and struggled to sit up, mentally congratulating himself when he managed to accomplish that feat. Hearing a slight rustling of paper, he turned sharply.
Hermione was curled up in an armchair by his bed, a book spread open on her lap. There was a small lamp flickering beside her, making her pale face appear soft and gentle. Harry swallowed and smiled at her. It was a comfort knowing that she was nearby.
She felt his eyes on her and looked up, startled to find him watching her. "Harry," she said softly. "How long have you been awake?"
"Not long," he answered. "What are you reading?"
Hermione glanced down at her book as if surprised to find it there. "I wasn't, really. I was thinking."
Harry peered at her, wondering if she was going to elaborate. When she didn't, he cleared his throat. "What time is it?"
She blinked at him, and Harry could tell that she was exhausted. "I don't… I don't really know. Sometime in the middle of the night, I suppose."
"Hermione," he said gently. "When was the last time that you slept?"
She just shook her head. "I know it sounds silly, but I'm afraid to go to sleep. I want to watch over you, I guess. I know, I'm being stupid, but I can't… I know how much pain you're in and…" she trailed off, chewing her lip nervously. "I worry."
"I understand," Harry whispered.
They stared at each other for a beat and Harry unconsciously licked his lips. Hermione fiddled with her book, dropping her gaze to settle on the floor. "Dumbledore… he let me… stay here… with you…" she paused. "Just… if you were wondering…"
"Oh," Harry said. "That's…"
"Madam Pomfrey wasn't thrilled about it," Hermione continued, still not looking at him "Seemed to think that we might… that it was…"
"Inappropriate?" Harry offered.
Hermione blushed and shrugged. They lapsed into awkward silence again.
"Harry…" she said slowly.
"Yeah?" he said quickly. "What?"
"I-nothing…"
"Oh… okay…"
"Are you…"
"Yeah?"
"Never mind," Hermione said.
Harry sighed. "Hermione… this is… I think that… it might be a good idea if…"
She looked up at him hopefully. "Yes?"
"If… maybe we-never mind…"
Hermione let out a little squeak of frustration. "Goodness gracious, Harry, just say it and put the both of us out of our misery!"
"I-okay," he said, smiling at her. "I think we need to talk."
She smiled back at him. "Really?"
"Yeah… there's, you know… we should…" Harry thought for a moment. "We should talk about our feelings…"
Hermione raised her eyebrows, looking amused. "I wasn't aware that boys knew how to talk about their feelings."
"We don't," Harry said quickly. "But… I mean…"
"It's okay," Hermione said softly. "I think you're right. I think we need to-"
"Talk?"
Hermione nodded and released a breath. "Okay."
They lapsed into silence and Harry bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself to say something, anything. He was frozen, petrified that she'd change her mind and realize he wasn't worth everything he'd put her through. After a long minute that stretched out, Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"I, um… I think that…" Harry trailed off, feeling useless and stupid. Refusing to meet her eyes, he stared dejectedly ahead of him. "This is really difficult."
Hermione shifted and Harry's gaze returned to her form. She smiled shyly, depositing her book on the chair. Hesitantly, she rose and approached him.
"Do you think that it'd be okay if I just…" Hermione flushed, looking embarrassed. "Held… on to you… for a little while?"
Harry felt a large bubble of relief burst inside him. "I think that'd be more than okay."
Hermione waited another beat before curling up against him, letting out a small sigh when he wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes, pressing her face against his chest and breathing him in. Harry swallowed with difficulty, feeling contentment rise up inside him.
"How's your head?" she said quietly, breaking him out of his reverie.
Harry blinked a few times, the familiar pain of his scar throbbing on his forehead. "It doesn't matter…" he mumbled.
"It does."
"Hermione…" he started, not quite sure what he wanted to say.
"Shhh," she said sharply. She threw a leg over his torso and shifted her weight to her knees, straddling him.
Harry swallowed heavily. "Err, Hermione… what are you…?"
She pushed gently at his chest. "Shush," she said again. He closed his mouth and allowed her to push him back down on the bed. "Close your eyes," she said softly.
Harry closed his eyes obediently, wondering what she was doing. Soon he could feel her hands in his hair, gently messaging his scalp. He couldn't quite contain his moan of pleasure. She continued to message his head, bending down so she could trail her lips along his scar. She pressed tiny kisses to his forehead, her lips light as a feather as they traced his skin.
Harry felt himself relaxing under her attentions. He sucked in a breath, his headache beginning to ebb. She was so gentle and loving. Her lips smoothed away his pain, her hands on his head calmed him like nothing else could. When she pulled away, he was smiling.
"Now?" she asked.
"Better. Much better."
"Good," she said firmly, lying down so that her head fit under the crook of his neck.
"Thank you."
"Hey," she said softly, tilting her head up to peck his chin. "It's okay to let me take care of you every once in a while."
Unsure of a response, Harry just nodded. Lazily, he stroked her back in random motions, and she closed her eyes, a peaceful expression on her face.
"We're avoiding it," she said suddenly.
"Avoiding what?"
She huffed out a breath. "I think you know."
Harry hated it when she was right. He moved his hand to her hair, contenting himself with twirling her soft curls aimlessly through his fingertips. There wasn't really any easy way to start this conversation. He resisted the urge to sigh.
"So, err, how did you feel when you thought I was dead?"
"How do you think I felt?" she demanded heatedly, her eyes opening to glare at him.
"I'm not," Harry said quickly. "Dead, I mean. I'm not…"
She sniffled and Harry winced. He hadn't said that as soothingly as he would have liked.
"I mean," he said stiffly. "If you want to talk about it… it might make you feel better…"
Hermione's eyes clouded over and she nodded. "It was the worst ten minutes of my life," she said. "There was so much… confusion. No one knew what was happening. People were screaming and running. You just… collapsed. I remember staring at you. Just staring at you. I could hear everything, the screaming, the panic, but none of it seemed to register." Hermione stopped, her voice catching. "Ron was the one who checked for a pulse."
She trembled once, violently, and Harry instinctively held her a little tighter. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm here… I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "The look on Ron's face told me everything I needed to know. There was so much I felt then. There was an aching emptiness, so much grief… there was anger like I'd never felt before," Hermione said bitterly. "If I could have found Voldemort in that moment, I would have killed the bastard, I promise you. Then I think I sort of came to. I was in an office, Professor McGonagall was there, she kept asking me if I wanted a glass of water. Hagrid was sobbing uncontrollably, he kept trying to comfort me, but he couldn't get a hold of himself. Finally, Ron came in and all he did was hold me. He held me so tightly I thought I might burst. At some point I realized he was crying."
Hermione let out a shuddery breath and Harry blinked at her. "Ron cried for me?"
"Of course he did, you moron. Ron loves you." Off his horrified look, Hermione frowned. "Honestly, Harry! You know what I meant…"
"Yeah… okay…" Harry said, grinning.
"Shut it," she said. "I felt like I should have been crying, too. I couldn't. It was like someone had shut off all my emotions and I was just… standing there. When Dumbledore came in and said you were breathing again…" Hermione shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I felt like I could breathe again, too. It felt like… I could live again. That's when I started to sob. I couldn't stop. I was yelling and screaming and demanding to see you. I was completely hysterical. It took Ron, Hagrid, and McGonagall to hold me down while Dumbledore forced some potion down my throat. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital wing and you were lying beside me, sleeping peacefully as if nothing had happened. I crawled in next to you and just… listened to you breathe for a while. It was the most amazing sound I'd ever heard in my life."
There was a lump in Harry's throat when he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her against him. "It's all because of you," he said quietly. "I'm here because of you."
She started crying then, hard sobs that racked through her body. Harry just stroked her hair, and whispered to her, holding her close. He tried to put into words all that she meant to him, but that failed and he settled for just soothing her instead. Eventually her sobs quieted to small whimpers. She pressed her face against his chest and Harry felt her relaxing against him.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Harry whispered.
"About what?" she asked, her voice hoarse with tears.
"Everything!" he burst out, his voice sharp. "It's not fair! All I do is hurt you! I wish that I didn't… I wish that…" Harry stopped. "It doesn't matter. It never stops with me, don't you see? I can't promise you that I won't ever leave you because I might! I might die, tomorrow, next week, next year! You deserve someone that-"
"Stop," Hermione screeched, hands going to her ears. Her face was tear-stained as she turned it towards his. "Stop," she pleaded. "Stop pushing me away, Harry. I won't listen."
Harry shook his head miserably, looking away. "I need you so much," he whispered quietly. "It's not normal to need someone as much as I need you. I don't think it matters how far I push you. Because of who I am, Hermione… I can't bear the thought of something happening to you because of who I am."
Hermione let out a tearful breath and got off the bed. Harry watched her with his eyes, missing the contact of her warm body desperately. It only reinforced how dependent on her he'd become. She paced in front of him, rubbing at her eyes and taking long, deep breaths.
"I've been thinking. A lot. About everything." She stopped her pacing and stared down at him. "I asked Dumbledore for a copy of the prophecy. I've been reading and studying it, looking for some kind of loophole, some kind of… I don't know, really. I just… I refused to accept the simple truth in it. Anyway," she cleared her throat. "I suppose that it is awfully clear, all things considered. But I realized… when I was reading it…"
Harry goggled at her, impressed by the sheer amount of time she spent doing things on his behalf. "So?" he prodded. "What did you realize?"
She thought for a moment and tapped her fingers together in concentration. "You're not going to die," she said finally. "You're The Boy Who Lived, Harry. There's a reason for that name. It'd simply be ridiculous, not to mention impractical, to get a tombstone for you that read: `Here's the Boy Who Lived Who Died.'"
"Yes, but the irony would be delicious."
She shot him a look. "That's not funny."
He sobered. "But it doesn't make any sense. What do I have that Dumbledore doesn't? How can I defeat Voldemort when Dumbledore can't?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, Harry. That's something we're going to figure out. But you've already face him, what, six times now? And won? That has to count for something, right? There's something about you. I know you didn't ask for it, Harry. I know that you don't want this kind of a responsibility. But it's yours. And you'll do what you need to."
Harry stared down at his hands. "I don't want to become a murderer."
Hermione shivered and rubbed her arms. Harry noticed that little goose bumps had appeared on her flesh. "If killing Voldemort was as simple as using the killing curse, he'd already be dead now. No, it's something more than that. I don't think this is about you having to murder. You're a good wizard, Harry. Banishing Voldemort will be something different, but it won't be murder. No… it's not that simple…"
Harry looked at her, feeling a new hope well in his heart. He hadn't thought about it that way. She was probably right. He knew that he could never use the killing curse, no matter the situation. He knew he'd never be able to muster enough hate to manage it. Why had he waited so long to tell her about the prophecy? He should have known that Hermione would pick it apart until it suited her needs. He smiled a little to himself.
Encouraged by his reaction, Hermione sat down on the bed and sought out his hand. "And if," she continued, her eyes finding his and holding them. "And if you need me to defeat Voldemort… then, logically, I'm not going to be going anywhere either, am I? Since we've already decided that you won't die, and if you need me to kill him, then I better stay alive." Her eyes became fiercer. "I promise you, Harry. I won't leave you as long as you need me."
"I'll never stop needing you," he said immediately.
"Then I won't ever die, will I?" she said, squeezing his hand.
Harry just nodded, tears threatening his vision. "You know," he joked weakly. "For someone as manly as I am… I certainly do cry a lot…"
"I told you, you don't ever have to pretend around me."
Harry gave her a shaky smile and forced his tears back. "Hermione, I have a reputation to uphold, you know. I can't start crying uncontrollably every time I get the least bit emotional. It's embarrassing."
She rolled her eyes. "Would it help if I swore not to tell Ron?"
"He'd know, anyway," Harry responded immediately. "I swear, he'd look at me and know." Harry's face suddenly split into a grin. "Of course, he cried over me. I can use that…"
Hermione jabbed him on the shoulder.
"Ow."
"You certainly will not."
"Fine," Harry grumbled. "Ruin my fun."
Hermione smiled and squeezed his hand. "So, officially, we are…"
"Best friends who sometimes kiss and never see other people?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Also known as boyfriend and girlfriend. But who's keeping track?"
"Certainly not me," Harry said. Smile disappearing, he regarded her seriously. "If you're willing… I'd like to try it again. I know that things have been… downright painful recently. I know that I've hurt you badly and that I've put you through more than you deserve. But I can't… I can't do this without you. If you'll let me try again, I'll be… better this time, Hermione. I promise."
Hermione bit her lip. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Harry." She met his eyes. "Just let yourself believe that I love you and that I'm exactly where I want to be. And that… that'll be a good start."
Harry swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Hermione?" he asked hoarsely.
"Yes?" she said, eyes fixed on his.
"Can I kiss you now?"
"Yes, please."
They moved forward at the same time, meeting each other halfway there. The first touch of their lips had both of them stilling and Harry's hand hesitantly encircled her back, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, slow and lazy as they took the time to taste each other after so long spent apart.
They pulled away, smiling and flushed. Harry felt a warmth rise up inside him, a happiness that he couldn't ever remember feeling. Hermione's smile was blinding and she kissed both his cheeks before settling herself against him with a tiny sigh of pleasure.
"If you ever break up with me again," she said drowsily, fingers tracing small circles on his collarbone. "I'm not taking you back. I don't care how stupid you're being."
Harry couldn't hold back his grin. "Thanks, Hermione."
"No problem," she said, yawning widely.
"Do you think…" Harry began. "That we could… maybe keep it hush, hush for a while this time?"
"Harry," Hermione said, sounding irritated. "I saved your life in the Great Hall by telling you I loved you. The entire school was watching. How hush hush do you think we can keep that?"
Harry winced. "Good point."
She smiled again at him, her eyes growing bright as she did so. Harry could do nothing but grin back at her, feeling a familiar pool of warmth settle in his stomach.
"We're fated, you know," she said softly.
"Huh?"
"You know," Hermione continued. "Destiny, fate, whatever. We are."
Harry blinked stupidly at her. "Are you joking?" he managed. "See us written in the starts, did you?"
She gave him a disgruntled look before sliding off the bed. She plucked her forgotten book up from the armchair before returning. Harry looked at the title warily: Wizards and Ancient Greek Symbols. She settled down comfortably against him again, furiously turning pages.
Harry waited patiently. For about 30 seconds. "Hermione? What are you going on about?"
"Aha!" she said triumphantly. "Hippogriffs. Ancient Greek symbol for love. Hippogriffs are a symbol of impossible love," she read. "And the eventual triumph over that impossibility." She shoved the book in his face. Harry blinked at it, seeing a rather large picture of a pink Hippogriff. "You see?"
"Not really…"
She snapped the book shut under his nose and looked annoyed. "Do you even remember Buckbeak? We saved him! Together! Then I held on to you when we rode him to save…" Hermione trailed off. "When we, you know…"
Harry ignored the immediate pang he felt upon thinking about his godfather. Hermione continued to peer up at him hopefully. Something in his mind was beginning to connect.
"Hey!" he said. "We were the ones that saved Buckbeak! Buckbeak was a Hippogriff! Hippogriffs are a symbol for love…"
Hermione looked delighted. "See? We were fated."
Harry grinned. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah… I guess we were…."
"Wait until I tell you my theory on time turners and circles and… you're not the least bit interested, are you?"
Harry wasn't. He'd had more than enough symbols and prophecies to last him a bloody lifetime, thank you very much. He and Hermione were together now. That was the important thing. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to disappoint her.
"Erm… I'm just… tired, I guess. You know, still a little worn out. All that emotional exhaustion Dumbledore was going on about. Trying to stand up would probably make me past out."
Hermione clearly didn't believe him, but she let him pretend that she did and he supposed that was more than enough. And it was true, to a degree. He probably wouldn't pass out if he attempted to stand up, but he was fairly certain that falling flat on his face wouldn't be the most enjoyable experience, either.
Instead of making a comment, Hermione leaned up and pressed her lips to his. Harry closed his eyes, awash in the sensation. She tasted just like he remembered, sweet like pumpkin pie and vanilla. She kissed him desperately, her tongue demanding entrance into his mouth. Her hands somehow found his and held them tightly, as they continued to lose themselves in their kissing.
It was a long time later when they finally broke apart. Harry allowed himself the simple luxury of lying back, his eyes closed, with Hermione still snuggled up next to him, her loud breathing echoing through the hospital wing.
"Definitely one of the things I missed most about being with you…" Hermione said dreamily.
"I knew you were just using me."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's exactly why I've spent years pining over you."
Harry thought about that for a moment. "Hang on," he managed. "Years?" he stared down at her suspiciously. "Exactly how long have you liked me?"
She shrugged delicately. "I'm not telling you."
"Hermione!" he said, frustrated. "Why not?"
"Because…" she trailed off and said in a rush. "It's embarrassing."
"What?" he yelped. "What's wrong with liking me?"
"Because you didn't like me," she said simply. "It it's rather silly, isn't it? Liking someone who doesn't like you back?"
Harry just stared at her. "What are you talking about?" he managed. "I love you."
Hermione sighed. "Yes, but this is a relatively new feeling for you. I'm not an idiot, Harry. I knew how you felt about Cho."
Harry blushed. "You still should have said something," he said quietly.
"Right," Hermione said irritably. "That would have been a great idea. Ron liked me, I liked you, and you liked Cho. If I had said something… well, it would have done more harm than good, don't you think?"
"Maybe," Harry admitted, with some difficulty.
Hermione sighed. "I think it started sometime in our third year."
"When what started?"
"When I started to like you, for Merlin's sakes."
"That long?" Harry said. "And I never noticed?"
"You were always a little bit thick when it came to girls."
"Was not!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't really know what I was feeling, only that I seemed to grab on to you an awful lot when I was scared. Honestly, I thought I might have liked Ron a little bit, since that's when we started fighting a lot. At some point I realized that it was simply that, fighting. It was because he annoyed me, not because I had some secret desire to go off someplace and snog him."
"You thought about snogging Ron?"
"Oh, yes," Hermione said immediately. "Constantly. Didn't you know?"
Harry frowned at her. "I hope you're joking."
"It wasn't really until Fourth-Year that I started thinking about it. Harry, have you ever wondered what it was that made Skeeter write all those articles?"
"Erm…" Harry thought about it. "Dunno, Hermione. For money?"
Hermione looked thoughtful. "Perhaps…" her eyebrows creased as she pondered. "It was really Viktor who made me realize what was going on."
"Still on first name basis, are you?" Harry asked, a little snippily.
"Stop interrupting," Hermione snapped. "Do you want to hear this or not?"
"I just want you to know that I think Viktor's a stupid name. It makes him sound all old and crotchety. And did I ever tell you that I thought he was way too old for you? I mean, he was 18, Hermione! You were only 14! There is only one thing that 18-year-old boys want…"
"He was a gentleman!" Hermione hissed sharply. "Besides, you were my first kiss! You know that!"
"Still," Harry grumbled. "It doesn't mean that he didn't want…"
Hermione kissed him. Harry vaguely realized that she was probably doing that in attempt to make him shut up, but he didn't really care. She grinned when she pulled away.
"Still jealous?" she asked softly, her breath still dancing across his skin.
"Nope," he said quickly, reaching for her again.
Hermione pulled away and Harry frowned. "So, anyway," she went on. "Remember the conversation Krum and I had on the last day of school?"
"Uh huh," Harry answered absently, tugging her closer.
He slid his arms around her waist, moving his lips to her neck. He pressed tiny kisses to her skin, congratulating himself when she let out soft gasps of pleasure. She titled her head back and he moved to her chin, letting his lips slide just under her mouth. She let out an irritated moan and he smiled, hands traveling further up her back. Their lips met and Harry took the initiative, coaxing her mouth open and deepening the kiss. He nibbled gently on her bottom lip, tongue slipping out to meet hers.
She pulled slightly away from him, but Harry tightened his hold on her and moved to the rest of her face. He continued to press tiny kisses to her cheeks and forehead, enjoying the smoothness of her skin under his lips. At some point he realized that she'd gone back to talking.
"Well, I guess he broke up with me then. I don't suppose there was much to break up from, but I know he held rather deep feelings for me. Anyway, he said that he thought that I… oh… that feels nice…"
Harry grunted in response, hands trailing up and down her back so that she shivered against him.
"He was really quite jealous," Hermione continued, sounding out of breath. "He thought I had feelings for Ron and that, as long as I did, I'd never like him back."
Harry pulled sharply away from her, eyes blazing. "What?" he yelped. "He thought you had feelings for who?"
"I thought that might get your attention," Hermione said smugly.
Harry scowled deeply. "He was jealous of me, wasn't he?"
Hermione chuckled. "Yes, he was. He knew I liked you."
"Did I ever tell you that he confronted me?" Harry grinned slightly at the memory. "He demanded to know what was between you and me. He said that you talked about me all the time."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it wasn't that often. I was worried about you. I knew something terrible would happen because of that Triwizard tournament."
"And you shared your fears with Viktor?" Harry said, still grinning. "Aww, Hermione, that's so sweet."
Hermione scowled. "It's a good thing you're not a great bit jealous possessive prat."
"How flattering. Thank you."
"Can't you just accept how I feel about you? Honestly, Harry, there's no need to be so insecure…" Hermione trailed off before beginning again with difficulty. "Well, you should know, it's always been you. Even when it wasn't."
Feeling at a loss for words, Harry stared up at the ceiling. "I know," he finally managed. "Me, too."
Hermione started snickering and Harry craned his neck to look down at her, a bewildered expression on his face. "What?" he demanded. "What's so funny?"
She waved a hand, still snickering. "It's just…" she said, gasping slightly. "We've become so… sappy."
Harry snorted. "We have not. We could be loads more sappy. Besides, you're a girl, you're supposed to like all that mushy nonsense."
"Oh, I do like it," Hermione said, still laughing. "I just never expected you to be the romantic, gushy type."
Harry frowned suspiciously. "I'm gushy?"
Hermione gained controlled of herself. "No, you're perfect."
They stared at each for a moment before Harry shook his head ruefully. "Okay-that's what makes us sappy."
"Sappy's okay," Hermione decided, closing her eyes and snuggling closer to him. "I promise I won't tell Ron that you're such a softy."
"I appreciate that."
They fell lapsed into silence again, but unlike their earlier awkward pauses, this silence was comfortable and relaxed. Harry felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Feeling sleepy, he moved his hand in lazy patterns over her back.
"Hermione…" he began slowly. "When I was with Cho… were you, you know… jealous?"
Hermione shifted slightly to look up at his face. "Why?"
"Dunno," Harry said. "Just curious."
Hermione let out a tiny sigh. "Yes, Harry. I was jealous of Cho."
"I didn't… well, I didn't really notice anything at the time…"
"Well…" Hermione looked hesitant. "I knew it wouldn't last. You only liked her because was pretty and popular."
"Did not!"
"I knew she'd never understand you," Hermione said softly. "At least, not like I did. And you didn't have the patience for her, either."
It annoyed Harry that Hermione was right, as usual. "Oh. So. You were only a little bit-"
"Will you stop?" Hermione said testily. "Why does it matter? It's in the past."
"Yeah. Sorry," Harry mumbled. He waited a beat. "So when I told you about our first kiss, it didn't bother you?"
"Harry!"
"Sorry," he said again, a bit sheepish. "I get it."
Hermione pursed her lips and seemed to struggle with herself for a moment. "Harry?" she finally asked softly.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think…" she trailed off, avoiding eye contact. "Do you think that I'm… pretty?"
Harry stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was serious. Deciding that she was, he said, "Of course I do, Hermione. Why wouldn't I?"
"Oh, it's just that…" she said vaguely, looking apprehensive. "Well…"
Beginning to feel a little bit suspicious, Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "You're not fishing for compliments, are you? Because you know that I think you're-"
"Harry, it's not that!" Hermione cut in, eyes registering a bit of hurt. "I mean, I just… Cho was very… well, she was beautiful. And sometimes I just thought… I mean, I suppose I always thought that I would never… Oh…this is stupid…"
Harry began to realize that Hermione really was insecure and that this had clearly been something she had been keeping inside her for a while. Mentally berating himself for his insensitivity, he tilted her chin up so their eyes locked. "You thought what?" he prodded gently.
She swallowed with difficulty, the barest hints of a blush appearing on her face. "That, you'd never… if Cho was the kind of girl that you…." Hermione sighed. "I knew I'd never look like that."
Her words finally out in the open, Hermione steadfastly looked away, her face growing brighter with embarrassment. "That's not…" Harry began, feeling useless when it came to reassuring her. "You're more than… Cho's not… damn, what do you want me to say?"
"It's okay, Harry," Hermione said softly. "You don't have to say anything. I'm just being logical. I'm not ugly, exactly, but I'm never going to win any kind of beauty contest…"
"There's more to beauty than just hair or eye colour," Harry interrupted, watching her face closely. "Beauty comes from how we hold ourselves… the face we show the world. You have something that bubbles up from inside you, that lights up your eyes and your entire face. Like when you're talking about S.P.E.W. or when you're really angry with Ron. You're more than just… Cho Chang. You're… beautiful, Hermione. You are."
She sniffled quietly, pressing her face against his chest. "Really?"
"Of course," Harry answered immediately. "Not that I don't like certain aspects of your features, either. I like your lips very much. I also like your neck, very smooth. Have I mentioned how much I like your breasts yet?"
She giggled. "No."
"Your arse isn't too bad, either."
"Harry, shush," she said quietly. "You were doing very well."
They lapsed into silence and Harry's eyes, which had been growing increasingly heavy, threatened to close.
"Hermione…" he said, beginning to doze off. "You should get some sleep…"
"You mean you should get some sleep," she said teasingly.
"I'm serious," Harry said with a yawn. "You need some rest. I know you're worried, but I promise you, if my scar even twinges a little, I'll wake you up so quickly you won't know what hit you."
"I suppose…" Hermione said, sounding uncertain.
Harry waited all of about one minute. She dropped off, her light snores filling the empty hospital wing. Harry smiled softly to himself, allowing sleep to pull him in.
A/N: For those of you wondering, I have three more chapters written (I think… it could be four… depending on length…) and at least two more planned. The next couple of chapters I'm fairly happy with as is, which is a rarity for me, so those updates should be coming soon. As usual, thank you for reading and leaving feedback. It's muchly appreciated.
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