Sweet Like Chocolate

Authors Notes: A plot! I have found a plot at last! Rejoice, for Epona is back and writing fics again!

I’ve been thinking up plots and trying to write them down for ages, but with all the hubbub of getting a new laptop, trying to get broadband on it and trying to fix my new forum up as well, it kind of got lost under all the work I had to do. So here it is, my latest fic that was written for a break from all the hectic-ness.

Summary: Harry puts his feelings down onto paper two weeks after fifth year ends., but something is not quite right about the way he is feeling. So what happens when somebody finds the piece of paper? And it just happens to the be the very someone he didn’t want to see it…

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Sweet Like Chocolate

I don’t really know what’s happening here.

It’s been two weeks, since Sirius went. For two weeks, I’ve supposed to have been living in sadness, grieving for him, hating myself for what I did. All those times when I could have got to know him more… all those times when he shut himself in Buckbeak’s room and I didn’t even bother to go and talk to him. The fact that he needn’t have died.

He didn’t need to, really.

There was no need for anyone to have gotten hurt that day. If only I wasn’t so foolish, and so stupid. I acted too rationally, I acted like an idiot, and because of that, innocent people got hurt.

If only I had listened to her.

All this time, I’ve been telling myself; I should have listened, I should have been a better friend to her and listened to what she had to say, I shouldn’t have been such an idiot. And it’s been all I’ve been thinking about. Her.

That’s why I don’t really know what’s happening.

You see, I’m meant to be in mourning. It’s been two weeks… that’s not long. I miss him so much, that it’s painful. It hurts in my stomach, in my head, and in my chest, where my heart is. It buzzes in me like a sickness, like a bad head cold when your ears make that horrible ‘beeeeeeep’ sound. Except it isn’t a beep that resides in my ears, it’s a mantra, going off in my head, that yells at me when I sleep, it screams when I close my eyes and it wakes me when I try to forget. It’s yelling; ‘You did it… You did it… You should have listened to her…’

And again, it’s back to her. Every time I think about Sirius, I think about her. How I should have listened to her, how she must hate me for what I did. How she must blame me for causing her so much pain and giving her an injury that almost cost her her life. How I stupidly forgot for one second that she knows best, that she is always right and she wants to do her best for me.

Always. Every day. She is always there, ready and willing to do anything, as long as it’s in my best interests. She only stops me because she knows it’s bad for me. She helps me everyday with little things as well as the big things… homework… life… girls even… and I’ve never really thanked her for it. Hell, I’ve never even shown any interest in her love life… I’ve never helped her as much as she’s helped me.

And that’s all I think about. How I take her for granted all the time.

I’ll repay her somehow. I’ll really try this year. I know it’s nowhere near to apologising for what I’ve done to her, but I don’t know what else to do. I only hope she can forgive me.

The thing is though… I know I should be feeling sorry to her… and I am. But… it doesn’t feel like that’s it. I don’t feel like I’m as sorry as I should be… There’s something else. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but I know It’s there. It’s strange… because whenever I think about how sorry I am, I remember things that I didn’t even notice that I knew.

Silly things… they seem silly to even bring up. I’m sure Ron doesn’t notice these things about Hermione… I’m just wondering why I should. Though I don’t think I have a choice… it’s just something I do subconsciously.

When I’m thinking about her, I start to think about her and not how I’m sorry to her. I think about her hair of all things… how it smells. It always smells of apples or peaches… it gives off this sort of airy fruity smell, that for some reason, I don’t picture anyone else having. When I’ve hugged her before, I didn’t realise it then, but when I sub-consciously run my fingers through her hair when I’m hugging her, it just feels really natural to do it. I don’t really need a reason to run my fingers through her hair when I hug her… I don’t think anyone else does it though. And her hair is so soft… it’s like velvet. When I softly wrap my fingers in it, and she giggles sweetly because it tickles her, I find it really nice, relaxing. It’s like a sort of thick liquid… like chocolate running through your fingers, and the fact that it tickles her and makes her laugh make it all the more delicious.

She has a really nice laugh, not like some of the other girls in our house. I remember Parvati and Lavenders’ laughs… they’re like shrieks… horrible cackling sounds that go right through your head. They don’t really seem to be laughing, either. You can just tell that they’re only doing it to flirt, or whatever, because when you look at them, their eyes are still normal. I think you can tell if someone is really smiling when the smile reaches their eyes. Dumbledore’s smile is like that. So is Hermione’s.

Hermione’s laugh is sort of almost high-pitched… but not so much that it’s a shriek-like cackle like the others. It’s sort of breathless… nearly. Shy. I don’t know… it just has a certain innocence about it… like she’s pure. Her laugh always makes me smile, it’s just one of those laughs that are comforting… she laughs, you laugh too. It reaches up to her eyes and makes them shine, they crinkle slightly at the corners and they seem to just lift. They’re very deep, and brown, like chocolate… I’ve said that before, haven’t I? She’s like Chocolate… I suppose she is in a way.

I think about how much she’s grown up, as well. I always remember the first time she hugged me… that was my first ever hug for as long as I can remember. It startled me. There she was, tears welling up in her pretty little eyes, and she was telling me about how there are more important things than Books and Cleverness… friendship and bravery… and she was about to say something else, but then she jumped on me and hugged me tightly. I wish I’d had time to hug her back, I really do, but I was so scared right then, I was eleven years old and I’d never had a girl hug me. I didn’t really know what to do. But she did, and she held me tightly, and thinking back on it, I think I really enjoyed that hug. My knees were shaking and my heart pounding, but I felt really safe when she hugged me.

I like hugs a lot more now. I never used to… I always used to pull away when anyone even came near me in Primary school… But then… I suppose there was always that fear that they were going to hurt me in some way, either Dudley had told them to or I’d done something wrong. I expect I was a weird kid in a lot of ways… shy, always small and skinny, doing weird stuff like appearing on top of the school roof and making weird things happen. All the small kids around Privet Drive are scared of me… their parents say that I’m a criminal. I suppose it does give me a little bit of peace, but it does get quite depressing after a while of hearing nothing but insults from all our neighbours. The only one who didn’t was Mrs. Figg… and I now know why.

I don’t feel like that when I’m with her though. I might feel like it sometimes, when I’m with Ron… I sometimes feel like I’m intruding on him and his family. I know Mrs. Weasley thinks of me as a son, but she’s not my mother… and they aren’t my family. Though when I’m with Hermione, it’s just me and her, really. I don’t feel like I’m intruding on anything and I can just sit and talk with her… and be myself.

Anyway, when she hugged me the first time, I remember she was just a skinny little thing, quite bony and thin. I suppose I was as well, so that might have contributed towards that. Now though, she’s a lot bigger. Not fat… she’s in no way like that… she’s just more… filled out… I would say. She has a nice figure… kind of like Cho Chang’s… but she doesn’t really show it. But you can tell when you hug her, she has got a nice figure.

I’m sort of wondering why I’m picking up on all this now… I mean… they say you don’t really fully appreciate someone until they’re gone. I don’t want to wait until Hermione is gone to appreciate her fully. I want her to know how much I care for her… she lets me know everyday that she cares for me. I want to do the same for her. I want to tell her about all this… how I think about her a lot, how I love her being around, so she’ll know how I feel, and she’ll know she’s appreciated, but for some reason… I’m embarrassed to tell her.

I will one day though. I’ll tell her that I love the way her hair feels, smells and how she laughs. I’ll tell her how much I love her eyes and they way they crinkle and shine when she laughs. I’ll tell her how much like chocolate she is, sweet, addictive and in wizarding cases, healing. I’ll show her how much I need her. One day, I’ll show her how much I love her.

Sweet Like Chocolate.

I will one day though. I’ll tell her that I love the way her hair feels, smells and how she laughs. I’ll tell her how much I love her eyes and they way they crinkle and shine when she laughs. I’ll tell her how much like chocolate she is, sweet, addictive and in wizarding cases, healing. I’ll show her how much I need her. One day, I’ll show her how much I love her.

Hermione laid down the piece of parchment laden with Harry’s untidy scrawl in numb shock. She had picked it up uncertainly, finding it fallen on the floor in the musty room Harry shared with Ron at Grimmauld Place, wondering whether or not she should read it, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she had continued to read.

Oh, how glad she was that she did.

She skimmed through the parchment again, her deep brown eyes resting slightly on the part where Harry described her as ‘chocolate-like’, and gave a small smile. He could be quite sweet, really, if only he showed it once in a while. Skimming down throughout the whole thing, she felt a large lump grow steadily in her throat, as she tried to hold back the tears that welled up uninvited into her eyes. The way Harry was describing her was incredible, it made her feel wanted… needed. How he felt about her, how he described his feelings, and how he actually did take notice of all the little things she did that she thought he hadn’t, it brought tears to her eyes and a shock to her heart.

Not really watching where she was going, she managed to shakily make her way to Harry’s bed, placing a trembling hand on the sheets before sitting down, the piece of parchment still wrapped firmly in her hand. Did he feel the same way as she felt about him? She read the bottom of the parchment with some confusion.

One day, I’ll show her how much I love her.

What did that mean? Did it mean that Harry secretly loved her? For three years, Hermione had watched Harry ignore her, treat her as a best friend but nothing more, fall for Cho Chang and share his first shy kiss with her, leaving Hermione on the sidelines like ‘One of the guys.’. She had felt her fair share of heartache when Harry had shouted at her last year, or when he wasn’t talking to her for some reason. She needed him so badly, that it hurt, down, deep in her heart, where she knew, she loved him. And now, reading this letter and finding the blissful truth, knowing that he needed her too, and he appreciated her, made her feel wonderful.

She was interrupted from her silent reverie as the battered old door behind creaked open, and upon being caught out at what she was doing, she unceremoniously spun around and came face to face with Harry.

At first he looked frankly puzzled as to why she was sitting silently on his bed, and began to walk slowly towards her, not noticing the piece of parchment she hid secretly behind her back.

“Hey, what’s the matter? What are you doing in here?”

He smiled a friendly smile at her, and she felt her knees weaken, but desperately trying to keep her composure, she shot a nervous smile back at him, only aware of the tears threatening to spill abruptly down her rosy cheeks after she had faced him. However he’d seemingly not noticed. When Hermione glanced in the direction he was looking at, she found out why.

He was staring, wonderful bottle-green eyes wide and horrified at the piece of parchment that she held tightly in her palm, his pale face looking scared and embarrassed. Realising what he was looking at, she felt her own chocolaty eyes widen, and immediately, her face blushed a bright crimson. She had really done it.

She watched as his gaze went from the piece of scrap parchment to her, and his face turned from total shock and horror, to sorrowful embarrassment. He held her gaze for a moment longer, locking his beautiful green eyes with her own, before looking down at his shoes, his pale face turning a deep shade of red. She would have preferred it if he’d shouted at her, told her she had no right to go through his things. This sorrow was worse to watch than tears. She’d embarrassed him.

“You weren’t meant to read that.”

She glanced up at him nervously, her eyes threatening to spill with salt-water tears. He was still looking adamantly at his shoes, his hands stuffed into his baggy black jeans, his face still burning red.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Harry… I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff.”

He shrugged, which she took as an agreement. She ploughed bravely on.

“I… I.. Think you should know-”

“How much did you read of it?”

She stopped, mid-sentence, startled by his interruption, and looked somatically at him. He was still in the same position as before, shuffling his feet around with his hands stuffed in his pockets, though his face was glancing at her through the curtain of black, messy hair that fell about his eyes. It looked rather cute.

“Um… all of it.”

“Even the last bit?”

“Yes.”

“The bit about chocolate?”

“Yes.”

He sighed wearily, and it made her want to hold him all the more. She wanted to tell him that it was alright, and that she felt the same way, though, she had to know for sure. She had to be thoroughly certain that he felt the same.

“Harry… all that you put in this… do you really mean it?”

He looked up at her questioningly, as if to ask why she was evilly putting him through this. She made no response and so he sighed again despairingly and carried on.

“Yes. Of course I do.”

At this, it was all she could do to hide the beaming smile she was actively hiding underneath. However, that wasn’t all that she wanted to know.

“And… why is it that you feel that way?”

“Because… um… well… you read it… you should know.”

“What do you mean?”

He shifted his feet uncomfortably.

“The end of it… the very end.”

Confused, she perused over the letter again, and at the bottom was the very same line that she had pondered over not moments before.

“One day, I’ll show her how much I love her.”

She looked up at him with wide, happy eyes as he recited the last line with some apprehension, and saw him still shuffling his feet determinedly at the carpet.

Knowing now what she had wanted to all along, Hermione instinctively moved towards Harry, her graceful actions unnoticed by him. She moved silently until she was directly in front, and then, with slightly trembling hands, she brought them up to rest on Harry’s burning cheeks, and pulled his lovely face up to her eyelevel, smiling serenely at him.

“I think she already knows…”

And with that she placed her lips over his, something she had wanted to do for three years, something that no amount of longing and anticipation could ever have braced her for. It was only a chaste kiss, a soft touching of lips if anything, but from the moment her lips brushed his, it felt good. She felt amazed that only from one small, shy kiss, he could make her feel this way.

They broke apart reluctantly, and she pulled away from him, leaving Harry with a dazed, almost comical smile upon his face, like he was in sheer bliss. The sight made Hermione giggle slightly, which pulled him back to his senses.

“You know… It might just be me… but you taste of chocolate.”

Author’s notes: Aw, that’s it… I really wish I could have written more, but that seemed like such a good place to end it. Oh well, onto racking my brains for the next fic…

If you really liked this fic, then please review! Or tell someone to read it! Recommend it! Anything! Not to be pushy, but I’ve never had a fic recommended, and it’s become my next portkey ambition to get one recommended. ^_^ Thankies.

Disclaimer: No copyright In fringement (whatever THAT means O.o) is intended… This fic is for entertainment purposes only. I don’t get anything out of doing this, except something to read when I’m bored.