Their Little Secret

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter-related belong to JK Rowling, lucky woman.

Author’s Note: The title was inspired by Lissanne’s lovely little NC-17 piece of the same name, posted on her Yahoo!group pgw_underground.

Their Little Secret

Prologue: Something Irresistible

It was their little secret.

They met at least once a week. Sometimes he would Apparate to her flat; sometimes she would Apparate to his. Sometimes they met at what they called their “usual place”, a pub called the Red Lion. He usually wore a hat to cover his scar; even if they were in Muggle London far from the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, he preferred to avoid te curious glances his scar tended to attract.

Today was no different.

A nondescript tawny owl arrived just before lunch with a note saying only, Seven at the usual place.

She replied promptly writing, Yes, at the bottom of the note and sending the owl back.

All in the space of two minutes and without the least change in expression to indicate the anticipation she felt.

She arrived at the Red Lion four minutes to spare and walked in. She saw him immediately but deliberately headed instead to the bar for a drink first. Finally she approached him saying only, “Hello” in an offhand manner, even as their eyes met and she felt the familiar spark pass between them. They chatted casually for 20 minutes, even as their eyes communicated all that their lips didn’t say, before leaving separately. He was waiting for her in the dimly-lit alley behind the pub, waiting to pull her into his arms and kiss her hard. The way she’d been wanting him to from the moment she saw him.

She knew his taste now, his smell. His hands were pressed to her back and one hand slid down to her bottom to bring her hips closer to him. Her arms were around his neck, her fingers tangling themselves in his messy hair. She heard a gasping moan hardly realizing that it came from her, as she arched against him, trying to get even closer to him.

It still amazed her sometimes, this passion between them, this need for each other. It had been so sudden, a flare of attraction, of awareness, between them. After so many years of a purely platonic friendship, their relationship had changed in one moment.

At first it had been the new physical aspect of their relationship that just seemed to be added on to their existing one but over the weeks it had changed. Evolved.

This wasn’t just a physical affair and it wasn’t going to die out.

This was real, different. She didn’t know if she’d call it love yet but in these moments when he kissed her and she thought she wanted to stay in his arms forever, what she felt was frighteningly close to love.

She was falling in love with her best friend.

It had started with such an ordinary thing. They had said goodbye to Ron after having dinner at the Burrow for Mrs. Weasley’s birthday, and Harry had walked her back to her flat. He had said something that made her laugh and she had smiled up at him and their eyes had met in the dimness of the front hallway of her flat and she’d felt something-- a spark, a flash of awareness pass between them. She knew he felt it too because his eyes widened slightly and then he had bent his head and his lips were on hers, tentatively at first, but it had quickly exploded into a hard meeting of lips and tongues. And she had realized that lust had come a-calling at some point in the past few seconds. Lust for her best friend, for Harry. Unexpected. Undeniable. Irresistible.

At first she had been able to rationalize it as being just lust; they were after all healthy red-blooded young people. But she had never been good at lying to herself and all too soon she had had to acknowledge that this was more than lust. All her other feelings for Harry, the ones she’d had for years as his best friend- caring about him, liking to be with him, trusting him- they still existed, as strong as ever, just with the new added component of wanting him.

Now, in his arms, she realized yet again that this wasn’t just lust. It was much more than simple lust…

Harry was the first one to end the kiss, both of them breathing hard, their faces flushed. “We should go eat. I made reservations for 7:45 at the Havens,” he said finally, naming one of their favorite Muggle restaurants.

She toyed with her lower lip with her teeth, sending him a teasingly flirtatious look from beneath her lashes. “I’d rather have you for dinner.” A small part of her still couldn’t believe it was her saying and doing these things. If anyone had ever told her even as little as 6 months ago that she’d be having a secret liaison with a man, flirting with him and acknowledging her desire openly like this, she’d have laughed them to scorn. But this was Harry. He was different. With him, there was no need for inhibitions or reservations. She could say what she felt openly. He knew her so well and accepted her for who she was, every little thing about her. She sometimes though that this was why it was so good between them. There was so much trust between them, so much openness; she could tell him what she wanted without fear and she knew he felt the same.

Harry groaned softly. “Temptress,” he accused with a smile. He gave her a quick, hard kiss, before drawing back to smile lazily, what Hermione thought of as his bedroom smile. “You can have me for dessert.”

Hermione gave him another smile. “I can’t wait,” she said, half-teasingly, half-seriously. “Let’s go. I’m famished.” She gave him another look from beneath her lashes, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And not just for food.”

Harry laughed softly as he took her hand and led her out of the alley.

Their flirtatious banter and the desire he still felt notwithstanding, he felt a sense of contentment, of calm, fall over him just from walking like this, holding hands with Hermione.

It was this feeling, the comfortable silences when they were simply holding hands, that he looked forward to, nearly as much as his body anticipated being near her, being able to touch her again. It was the way being with her moved not only his body but his heart; whatever he felt for Hermione, and he hadn’t tried to analyze it yet, was much more than simple desire.

He wondered sometimes why they had kept this change in their relationship secret from everyone. It had been something of an unspoken agreement that they wanted to keep this to themselves and somehow it had developed into a full-fledged secret affair.

He had to admit that there was something thrilling about the secrecy, something delightfully seductive about knowing that there was this shared secret between them when they met socially with Ron or the other Weasleys.

More seriously, he supposed it had to do with his dislike for the media and their intrusive interest into his private life. Even now, not a week went by without the media reporting that he was involved with one or another witch, some of whom he had never even met in person. He had never really had a private life, from his 4^th year at Hogwarts when Rita Skeeter had invented one for him and part of him wanted to keep this new relationship with Hermione just between them for as long as he could. It was still so relatively new, so- precious. He hated the idea of the media hounding him and Hermione with questions about their relationship, the thought of being followed and watched when they went out. For this brief space of time, and he didn’t fool himself into thinking this secrecy could last very long given the media’s endless fascination with his private life, he wanted this part of his life to remain private, just his and Hermione’s.

Their not-so-little secret.

Disclaimer: See Prologue.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the prologue; I hope you enjoy this chapter as much.

Part 1: The Secret Betrayed, Friendship Tested

Hermione’s first clue that something was wrong came from the owls she found waiting on her flat’s balcony and then the flood of letters that came- and kept on coming. Hundreds of them at least.

She didn’t have the time to open them in the morning but got a rude awakening in the form of the gaggle of reporters waiting outside her flat.

“Miss Granger! How long have you been seeing Harry Potter?”

“Why have you kept the relationship a secret?”

“Is there something you have to hide?”

“There’s a rumor that Mr. Potter is also involved with the singer, Lucinda Throckmorton. Is she the reason that you’ve kept your relationship with Mr. Potter a secret? Has he been cheating on Miss Throckmorton?”

Oh dear God… This was a nightmare. She pinched herself, hard, and winced at the pain. This was really happening. Their secret had come out.

Later she would wonder about how. For now she just wanted to escape the intrusive questioning that bordered on rude at best. “No comment,” was all she said, hurriedly Apparating to the St. Mungo’s Apparating Point. Never had she been so grateful for St. Mungo’s strict policy of forbidding reporters to enter than today.

Oh God, Harry… He wasn’t in London; he’d told her yesterday that he was leaving to investigate some reports of Dark activity and he’d be gone for at least two days. At least he was safe from reporters, at least for the present. And then she grimaced at the thought that, since they wouldn’t be able to find Harry, she’d be stuck with the brunt of the media’s attention until he returned.

Hermione grimaced again, sighing at the thought.

This was going to be a very bad couple of days…

When she arrived home, apparating straight into her flat, never so thankful that she allowed limited Apparition directly into her flat, she found Ron waiting for her.

He wasn’t smiling and she felt a sudden rush of dread. Dear Merlin, she hadn’t wanted this… Had always known, even without her and Harry talking about it, that they would tell Ron themselves, first, before telling anyone else. He deserved nothing less. And now- it was too late for that…

“Ron, hi,” she said rather lamely, hanging up her cloak and sitting down in the sitting room.

“Hi,” he said flatly. “Why didn’t you tell me and how long has this been going on?”

He threw a copy of Witch Weekly onto the table between them.

Beneath the rather lurid headline, “Secret Affair Between Harry Potter and Hermione Granger Revealed” was a picture of herself and Harry, kissing, in the alley last night and then another of them walking, holding hands, on their way to the Havens. In that picture, she and Harry kept exchanging looks that even in the rather grainy newspaper picture, were obviously those between lovers and not just friends. Slowly, she reached for the paper, skimming the article.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, long known as the most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding world, is apparently not quite as available as he would have us believe. It is now known through a special Witch Weekly report that he is having a secret affair with his supposed best friend, Hermione Granger. They were seen kissing passionately at a secret meeting point in muggle London before going to dinner and then Apparating away- to his or her flat, we presume.

Mr. Potter has always been adamant about preserving his privacy. Given recent revelations, one has to wonder why. What is Mr. Potter hiding that he didn’t want his relationship with Miss Granger to be revealed?

The latest rumors concerning Mr. Potter’s love life have involved the rising popular singer, Lucinda Throckmorton, whose lovely voice and equally lovely appearance have made her a favorite of witches and wizards alike. Mr. Potter and Miss Throckmorton were introduced several weeks ago at a gala honoring the recent graduates of the Auror Academy, at which Miss Throckmorton was a guest performer. Then they were seen having lunch together a few days afterwards. Given that Miss Throckmorton has been blushing at the mention of Mr. Potter, a relationship between the two seemed to be flourishing.

What, it must be asked, does Miss Throckmorton have to say to recent revelations? Has the Boy who Lived been stringing along more than one witch, taking advantage of his status as the Wizarding world’s most eligible bachelor?

At this time, neither Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, nor their mutual best friend, Ron Weasley, have been reached for comment.

Witch Weekly must ask, however, with the rest of our readers, why the secrecy? Perhaps our Mr. Potter is not quite as upstanding and honest as he would like us to believe. Why else would he keep this affair a secret?

The article continued with a brief summary of Harry’s life and their years at Hogwarts. There was also a related article repeating the old old story, from their 4^th year, that Rita Skeeter had invented, and drawing all sorts of conclusions from it, none of them outright stated but all implying that Harry must be hiding some sort of dark secret.

“Oh God, what a bloody mess,” she said, throwing the paper onto the table with a disgusted glare at it.

“Agreed.” There wasn’t the hint of a smile in Ron’s voice, hard and flat as she’d never imagined Ron could sound. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked more quietly again. And this time there was a thread of hurt in his voice. A hint of betrayal.

She looked up, meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ron. We were going to tell you,” she said lamely, knowing it sounded like an excuse even if it was the truth. She sighed. “I don’t know why. We never really talked about it. It just seemed so new and so sudden, I guess Harry didn’t want to face the curious questions. In case it just fizzled out and died.” Even as she said the words, though, she wondered how true they were. Had Harry really thought that this would simply die a natural death, that the passion between them would just burn itself out quickly?

No. She couldn’t think that of Harry; it wasn’t like him to think like that. And somehow, even from the beginning, some small part of her mind and heart had known that this wasn’t going to be a passing thing. This was for real, forever. There could never be anyone else for her but Harry… He had felt it too. Hadn’t he?

She looked back at Ron, realizing she hadn’t finished answering his question. “You know how Harry feels about the media and their hounding him about his private life. We should have told you, Ron, should have told you, trusting that you wouldn’t tell anyone else if we asked you not to. It wasn’t that we didn’t trust you. I think we just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little while; it was so sudden and we weren’t sure of it at first… We didn’t want to talk about it with anyone when we were still getting used to the idea ourselves. Ron, you understand, don’t you?” she asked hopefully.

Ron sighed. “Yeah, I do. I almost wish I didn’t because it would make it easier to be mad at you, but I do understand,” he said slowly, almost reluctantly, after a bit of an extended silence.

She managed a smile, her first real one all day. “Thanks, Ron.”

“How long has this been going on, though?” He sounded like himself again, simple curiosity in his tone.

“Seven weeks,” she answered honestly. “It was after your mother’s birthday dinner, after we’d walked you to your flat. Harry came in for a nightcap and- and…” She stopped, then began again. “We were just talking and- something happened.” She lifted her hands in a gesture of uncertainty. “I don’t even know exactly what changed or why, or who made the first move. It just—happened.”

Ron smiled slightly. “Was it good?”

“Merlin, yes,” Hermione burst out without thinking, and then blushed crimson. She couldn’t believe she’d just said that, to Ron of all people. She was coming unhinged after the stress of the day and knowing that she’d have to bear the brunt of the press until Harry came back. She must be to just blurt that out.

Ron laughed in spite of himself at Hermione’s embarrassment. “Good for you.” He sobered, meeting her eyes. “Does he make you happy, Hermione?” he asked quietly.

She smiled, the expression in her eyes softening unconsciously. “Yes, he does.” A short pause and then she admitted, “I think I love him, Ron.”

Ron sucked in his breath slightly at those words, an odd expression crossing his face. He could accept that his best friends were dating and even that they were sleeping together. And yet-- He couldn’t help a slight flare of something when he heard Hermione confess that she loved Harry. It wasn’t jealousy, per say; he wasn’t jealous of them. But some small part of him, maybe the petty side of his mind, couldn’t help feeling a pang of something like envy that two sides of their triangle of friendship had suddenly grown so much closer. It wasn’t even that he was afraid that he’d no longer be their friend; he wasn’t. He wasn’t that insecure in his friendship with Harry and Hermione, not after all they’d been through. He didn’t understand what it was but somehow he couldn’t feel unmitigated happiness for them.

He let out his breath in a small sigh. “Wow,” he breathed, rather lamely, he thought, but couldn’t think of anything to say. What did one say when you found out that your best friend is in love with your other best friend, especially coming on the heels of the revelation that they’d been sleeping with each other behind everyone’s backs for almost two months? He didn’t know of any kind of protocol for this…

He shook his head slightly as if to clear it, then gave Hermione an apologetic sort of smile. “Sorry, hearing you say that rather knocked me off my broom for a minute.”

Hermione smiled, glad to see that the normal Ron was back. “It’s alright. It surprised me to realize it too.”

“I really am sorry we didn’t tell you first thing, Ron,” Hermione apologized again. She held out her hand to him. “Am I forgiven?”

He reached out, grasping her hand firmly. “I’ll think about it,” he teased, pretending to ponder the question.

Hermione pretended to pull her hand away in mock disgruntlement.

Ron laughed. “Ok, ok, you’re forgiven.”

They exchanged grins, the air cleared between them as their old familiar friendship slipped back into its usual footing.

And though neither of them said it, their thoughts both turned to Harry, the absent third of this friendship that had been through too much for a secret such as this to damage it too much.

Disclaimer: See Prologue

Author’s Note: Apologies for the time it took to post this chapter. Enjoy!

Part 2: Between Friends

Harry apparated into his empty flat with a pop. He hung up his cloak, sighing as he did so.

He was tired after three days away, tired and dispirited and wondering what on earth had possessed him to agree to this job as special agent of the Ministry. He wasn’t officially an Auror, a blessing in that he didn’t need to deal with the bureaucratic nonsense that tended to bog the Aurors down. He worked with the Aurors frequently but he answered to the Minister for Magic alone. His basic job description consisted of going to investigate reports of Dark activity anywhere in the United Kingdom and then, if possible, putting an end to it. He liked the freedom and he knew too that he was good at it. He didn’t have the patience to sit behind a desk all day and Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of the few things, besides Quidditch, which he knew very well. He disliked knowing that having the defeat of Lord Voldemort on his resume was the cause of his current position but had resigned himself to it. The problem was that every one of these investigations into Dark activity, whether they turned out to be real or imagined, was upsetting and brought back memories of the Voldemort years, memories he’d much rather forget. These were always the times when he wished he’d gone into professional Quidditch instead.

He closed his eyes wearily, as he threw himself into a chair. He wondered if it was too late to Floo Hermione, too late to see her. He had missed her, missed seeing her, missed kissing her, missed touching her… Beyond that, she was the first person he always wanted to talk to when his work got to him. She would understand and she would comfort him…

His tired thoughts were interrupted when he heard the tell-tale popping noise of Apparition behind him and then Ron’s voice.

“Hello, Harry.”

He managed a grin and waved Ron into a seat across from him. “Hi. You’ve got good timing; I just got back home.”

“I know,” Ron said simply. He didn’t add that he’d been coming by the flat every night for the past three days to see if Harry had come home.

Ron studied Harry for a minute, seeing the tired shadows under his eyes. Unlike Hermione, he didn’t comment on them, only asked casually, “Where have you been?”

A half-smile crossed Harry’s face. “The Isle of Man, of all places. There were some reports of suspicious activities there.”

Ron nodded. “Did it turn out to be real?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Nothing major, really, mainly some bullies pretending to be evil over-lords.” He shrugged. “They’ll spend some time in custody, see what that does.”

“Mm hmm,” Ron responded somewhat absently, wondering how he was going to bring up his reason for coming, finally deciding to simply show him the newspaper.

He pulled the Witch Weekly from four days ago out of his robe pocket and handed it to Harry. “You should look at that.”

Harry took it, a muscle beginning to work in his cheek as he scanned the article and glanced at the pictures. Damn the media and their insinuations! Asking why he’d kept his private affairs private while demonstrating the very sensationalism and constant need to try to vilify him in some way that was the main reason he tried to avoid media attention to his private life.

His annoyance at the press was fleeting, overtaken by the realization that everyone else he knew, especially Ron, now knew they’d been hiding this from them. Dismay at the thought was quickly followed by concern for Hermione. Merlin only knew what kind of intrusiveness she’d had to endure these past days since he’d been unreachable.

“How’s Hermione?” Harry looked up and met Ron’s eyes, an apology in his gaze, even as his concern for Hermione over-rode everything else.

“She’s been coping,” Ron started, before admitting, “She’s had a hard time of it though, with reporters at her doorstep every day.”

Harry winced at the thought. “I’ll have to go see her,” he said quietly, before meeting Ron’s eyes squarely. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. Are you angry at us?”

He waited tensely, until Ron answered, “No,” and Harry relaxed slightly.

“We talked already, Hermione and me, and she explained it and I understand. Merlin knows I know just how much you hate the press getting involved in your life,” Ron continued, smiling a little. He sobered. “There’s just one thing I want to know.” He met Harry’s questioning gaze. “You know I need to ask, just to make sure.” Ron paused for a moment, studying the floor between his feet before looking up again. “Do you love her?” His tone was quiet, rather belying the stark directness of the question.

“I…” Harry swallowed and looked away, his eyes going to a picture of Hermione on the mantelpiece. His throat worked for a moment as he stared at her picture, that smiled and blew him a kiss.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think of the word, ‘love’, to describe his feelings for Hermione. It seemed such a final word, the last step in completely committing his heart and soul to her, even as he realized his mind and body were already hers… He cared for Hermione more than anyone else in the world; needed her… He—

He looked at the picture of her again, seeing her familiar smile that he loved to see, and he knew.

He looked back at Ron, green eyes meeting Ron’s blue ones. “I- I do.”

Ron nodded slowly, beginning to smile. “Then it’s all ok, and I’m happy for you.”

Harry held out a hand to Ron in a gesture unconsciously reminiscent of what Hermione had done a few nights ago, and Ron shook it as they each grinned, feeling an odd moment of male bonding after Harry’s confession.

Harry broke the silence by asking, “How did your family take the news?”

Ron smirked slightly. “Ginny swore she wasn’t at all surprised, had seen it coming a mile away. Fred and George, well, they just laughed about it, saying they never knew you and Hermione had it in you to act like people in a soap opera or a romance novel with secret liaisons. Mum was surprised but she’s also been telling everyone who asks that this is all much ado about nothing and you had a perfect right to keep this a secret and there’s no way you had any sinister motives.”

Harry smiled. “Remind me to thank your mum next time I see her.”

“Also, for what it’s worth, Lucinda Throckmorton said that there wasn’t anything going on between you two; the lunch had been purely accidental and only a friendly meeting. She also said she wishes you and Hermione well.” Ron rolled his eyes slightly, as he added, “Her boring answer helped the initial buzz to die down though, so you should be fine once another more exciting story comes along.”

“Thank Merlin for small mercies,” Harry murmured.

Ron allowed himself a teasing smirk. “Well, really, Harry, you know all this media attention is your fault for being the most eligible bachelor and having such a ‘charming smile’” He said the last two words in an exaggerated imitation of the languishing voice of a swooning girl.

Harry groaned. “When are you going to let me live that down?”

Ron grinned unrepentantly. “Never. It’s much too entertaining to make fun of you.” He paused before adding, “Following Gilderoy Lockhart’s footsteps.”

Harry grimaced and threw a cushion at Ron. “Prat,” he said with mock annoyance.

Ron ducked, laughing out loud.

Harry tried to look irritated but finally gave in and laughed along with Ron and knew that Ron really was ok with him and Hermione being together.

Disclaimer: JKR owns it all, lucky woman.

Author's Note: Sorry, sorry, sorry for how late this is!! RL got really busy and so I haven't had time to write or post or anything. To make up for the delay, though, I'm posting the Epilogue now as well as the last chapter. Thank you for everyone who's reviewed and been waiting patiently for this- you guys rock!

For Libbie- since part of this was written for her birthday.

Their Little Secret

Part 3: Confessions

“Hermione.”

Hermione turned swiftly at the sound of Harry's voice. Her mind barely had time to register the slightly odd expression on his face before she was in his arms, his lips on hers. The comforting familiarity of the taste of him, the feel of him against her, began to dissolve all the embarrassment and tension and stresses of the past few days. In all truth, she'd begun to wonder if she was going to have a perpetual blush on her face. She'd always been a relatively private person and then this had happened, having her picture splashed across the front page of most of the Wizarding newspapers. And due to Harry being gone at an undisclosed location and the lack of any new pictures of the two of them, the one picture of their kissing had been recycled day after day, as more and more related articles were printed.

She finally drew back just enough to look into his face. “You know what happened.” It wasn't a question; she could see it in his face.

He nodded. “Ron told me.” His arms tightened around her. “God, Hermione, I'm so sorry I wasn't around, sorry I dragged you into this sort of mess.”

Hermione kissed him quickly to make him stop talking. “It's alright, and you didn't drag me into anything. None of this is your fault, Harry; we always knew that the press loves to write about you.”

His eyes darkened. “I know but you shouldn't have to be dragged into it because of me.”

“Harry, honestly, stop talking like I'm an innocent victim of this. I wanted you too and I didn't want to tell people about us either. No more apologies. I'm fine now that you're back.” She paused before smiling a little. “We faced Death Eaters together and survived. Do you really think we can't handle a bunch of reporters?” she teased.

Her teasing cleared the frown on his face and made him smile. “You're right, Hermione.”

Satisfied that he was no longer blaming himself, Hermione sobered. “So what should we do now?”

He met her eyes, the intensity of his gaze holding hers, as he quietly said, “Have dinner with me tomorrow night at Valinor.”

She stiffened slightly. “Harry, are you sure?” Valinor was the most well-known and one of the most exclusive restaurants of the Wizarding world. It was where people went to see and be seen. Reservations for the majority of the Wizarding population were required several months in advance, except for a very small, select group of the rich and famous wizards who were guaranteed a table even without prior reservations. Harry, of course, had been added to that list shortly after the final defeat of Voldemort, a privilege which she knew he'd never yet used. Going to dinner there was the equivalent of holding a public press conference or sky-writing an announcement over Diagon Alley and the Ministry of Magic; every witch and wizard in England would hear of it within the day. She knew, although she'd never been there, that Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet as well as several other magazines and newspapers had a reporter there every night to supply stories for their Society pages.

He smiled slightly. “I've never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“But Harry…” she protested rather feebly, not quite sure what she wanted to say but needing to know Harry understood the ramifications of what he'd suggested. A dinner for two at Valinor was a public demonstration of a committed relationship, even seen by some members of Wizarding society as just preceding an official engagement.

Harry brought his hands up to frame her face, one thumb moving in a gentle caress over her lips. “Hermione, listen to me. I'm not ashamed of our being together and I don't want to make it seem as if I am. Now that our secret's out, I want everyone to know, without a doubt, that I'm yours.”

Hermione smiled and blinked back sudden tears as the last lingering doubts about Harry's willingness to commit himself—he'd never said anything about how he felt about her before— vanished. “And I want everyone to know that I'm yours too.”

An odd expression, the one she'd noticed in the corner of her mind before, flickered across his face as he opened his mouth, closed it and swallowed, as if he wanted to say something but didn't quite know what or how to say it. “Hermione, I…” he hesitated slightly and then finally said in an oddly solemn and yet emotional tone she'd never heard him use before, “I love you.”

He loved her… He loved her… He loved her… The words repeated themselves in a joyful mantra in her head, as she smiled into his eyes. “I love you.”

He sucked in his breath. “You do?”

She laughed a little at the blank surprise on his face, even as a small part of her wanted to hex the Dursleys into oblivion for making Harry feel so unlovable. “Oh Harry, of course I love you.”

She loved him… She loved him… Had he ever heard the words before? He couldn't remember ever hearing the words spoken. Until now. And hearing them filled some corner of his heart that he hadn't even known needed to be filled. She loved him… and he was complete.

~*~

From Witch Weekly's front page, 2 days later:

Sad news, ladies. Harry Potter, who has headed the Most Eligible Bachelor lists for several years running and is three-time winner of the Most Charming Smile Award, is officially unavailable. He and his current girlfriend, long-time friend Hermione Granger, had a cozy dinner for two at Valinor yesterday evening, confirming the stories of their involvement.

When asked about why they'd kept their relationship a secret until now, Mr. Potter only grinned disarmingly and said he'd wanted to keep Miss Granger to himself for as long as he could.

Their public appearance at Valinor is now fueling rumors that not only are they currently seeing each other, but that they might, in fact, actually be engaged.

Valinor, after all, has built quite a reputation as being the place to hold engagement dinners and has had a record number of proposals taking place during meals there.

Are they engaged? Neither Mr. Potter nor Miss Granger would say but it was clear from the way they held hands and talked that if they are not engaged, a ring is not far off…

From the Daily Prophet's Society page:

Harry Potter, better known as the Boy Who Lived and the hero who defeated the Dark Lord at the age of 17, and Hermione Granger had a formal dinner together at Valinor, confirming reports of their relationship.

Both Mr. Potter and Miss Granger appeared very happy together, holding hands, and Mr. Potter was also seen putting his arm around Miss Granger and kissing her temple in a decidedly loving fashion.

Their mutual best friend, Ron Weasley, was quoted saying that he “is very happy for Harry and Hermione and [he] can't think of any two people who deserve each other more.”

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, the British Wizarding world's new celebrity couple: Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

~*~*~*~

Epilogue: The Joy of Truth

There was definitely something to be said for open-ness, Hermione decided, as she hurried toward Harry, waiting for her with a smile outside the Atlantis Café in Diagon Alley.

They were having their first real lunch date and she loved that now they could meet as often as they wanted to, wherever they wanted to. There was no longer any need for secrecy and thrilling as having a secret had been, she loved knowing that there was no need for pretenses.

She was aware that people were turning to look at her and then at Harry.

“Hi. Sorry I'm a little late,” she apologized slightly breathlessly, smiling at Harry.

“It's okay. I just got here myself,” he said, giving her a quick kiss of greeting.

They talked casually as they entered the Café, hand in hand, and Hermione smiled to herself feeling a little thrill of undeniable possessiveness and pride knowing that now the entire Wizarding world knew that Harry was hers. It was a heady thought, knowing everyone now knew the truth which she'd realized so recently, that she and Harry belonged to each other. And they always would.

~*~

It was déjà vu…

Hermione smiled to herself as she felt Harry draw her back against him as she passed him on the way to the refrigerator to get two bottles of cold butterbeer, one for each of them before they left to go to dinner. With one hand, he shifted her hair aside so he could bury his lips in that sensitive spot on her neck that only he knew about, sending a jolt of desire sizzling from the spot his lips touched all the way down to that most secret place between her legs. She arched her neck to give him better access, hearing a soft breathy moan and only belatedly realizing it had come from her… She could feel her knees beginning to weaken beneath her, her mind beginning to blank, her thoughts scattering.

She turned her head and twisted her upper body slightly so that she could kiss him; he responded by loosening his arms so she could turn around fully, aligning her body with his.

Their eyes met and held and oddly some strange compulsion operated in both of them keeping them stationary, neither making a move to close the small remaining distance between their lips. No one spoke; something about the moment seemed to make silence necessary. It was only green eyes gazing into brown, as if seeking for some truth, some enlightenment, seeking and finding it in the depths of her eyes that shone with all the love in the world. Brown eyes in turn stared into green, seeing a reflection of herself in his eyes, a reflection of herself along with love, deep and sincere, clear to be seen in his expression. And she suddenly felt beautiful… seeing her reflection in Harry's eyes, not the most faithful mirror in the world perhaps, but the best one, maybe… For just a moment she fancied she could see herself as Harry saw her, and she was beautiful… A sudden thought formed in her mind: they say love is blind but maybe there's a truth that's more important than reality in that very blindness…

The sound of Ron's voice calling her name coming from the other room, with the slight echo of disembodiment that always announced a Floo call, broke the spell and Harry and Hermione both started slightly, drawing apart and turning to go into the sitting room where the only fireplace connected to the Floo network was.

Harry slipped his arm casually around Hermione's waist as they walked, entering the room together.

“Oh, Harry, you're here too,” Ron grinned, teasingly wiggling his brows in a mock leer. “I hope I didn't interrupt anything…” He let his voice trail off suggestively.

Hermione flushed slightly. “Honestly Ron, you-.”

“That's for us to know and you to find out,” Harry retorted interrupting Hermione; his tone was mild, belying the seeming annoyance in the words, and the corners of his lips were twitching, betraying his urge to laugh.

Ron chuckled. “Come off it, Hermione, you know I just love to make you squirm sometimes.” He tried to look sheepish, failing miserably. “Can't help it, really.”

Hermione rolled her eyes tolerantly. “Prat,” she said, a mixture of amusement and affection in her voice. “But why did you call in the first place, besides to tease me?”

“Nothing much; just to remind you that it's Ginny's birthday this week and Mum's insisting on having a big family dinner for her.”

Hermione suddenly remembered another time when she and Harry had been interrupted by a Floo call from Ron, about a month ago…

“Oi, Harry, you home?” Ron's voice broke the silence in Harry's flat and Harry and Hermione broke their kiss to stare at each other with dismay. Ron was there? Hermione glanced down, thankful to see that their clothes hadn't become overly disarranged, hurriedly tucking her blouse back into her jeans.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, trying to forcibly calm his breathing and cool his body down, for the first time in his life wishing Ron were in Timbuctoo or Africa or somewhere far away. Of all the timing…

After a minute, he composed himself enough to call, “Yeah, I'll be right there.”

He looked at Hermione, a question in his expression. Do you want to come with me or just wait here?

She answered his unspoken question by turning towards the door and he followed automatically.

“Oh there you are, Harry.” Ron's head was floating among the flames in the fireplace.

He blinked as Hermione followed Harry inside, greeting him casually. “Hi, Ron.”

“Hermione, what are you doing here?” Surprise was in his tone, justified surprise as it was a Wednesday evening and he knew perfectly well that Hermione tended to refuse any and all social engagements during the week using work as her plea, unless it was for some specific occasion. He had given up trying to tease her into breaking her informal custom and he knew that there was nothing particular happening today…

Hermione thought quickly. “I just found out that Arabella Figg was admitted to a Muggle hospital today and I came over to tell Harry.” It wasn't a lie; she had found that out and told Harry; she just didn't add that they had already made plans to meet tonight on one of their secret dates.

She felt the usual sense of unreality as she thought the words. My God, she was having a secret affair… and a secret affair with Harry, whom she would have sworn only six weeks ago was only a friend…

Ron nodded, apparently accepting the explanation without question. It did make sense; Harry had rather made a habit of visiting Arabella Figg after the incidents involving her in their fifth year, finding her very Muggle-ness, mixed in with some ties to the Wizarding world, somehow comforting in a time when the main bulk of the Wizarding world seemed to be in danger of collapsing and he'd continued to visit even after leaving Hogwarts and getting settled.

Hermione relaxed slightly, glancing at Harry to see that he relaxed visibly too. Their secret was still safe… although why the idea of Ron finding out somehow seemed so threatening was beyond her…

Remembering the incident now, Hermione stifled a smile. There really had been something appealing about the secrecy, the thrill of the near-misses of being caught in some sort of compromising position… Immature perhaps or maybe just the part of themselves that had the Gryffindor recklessness and love of tempting danger… But it had been a potent thrill while it lasted.

But then, watching Harry and Ron banter about what kind of behavior he may or may not have interrupted, she had to say, it was better not to have a secret anymore… It had been a bit of a strain, unacknowledged but present, in keeping something so important from Ron, a niggling sense of guilt whenever they met him and didn't tell him of their involvement… Thinking of it now, she could only be thankful for the affection and the friendship between the three of them that was stronger than any betrayal of their secret. Secrecy was definitely over-rated… especially when honesty and trust were so much better…

Hermione's smile had just a hint of smugness in it now, as she watched Harry grin at something Ron said. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Wizarding world's hero… Harry Potter was hers…

He was hers, because he loved her…

Part of her could still not believe it. That she, Hermione Granger, the bookworm, had made Harry Potter fall in love with her…

He was the Boy Who Lived… and she- she was the Girl He Loved… And that precious knowledge was something she could cheerfully shout from the rooftops. The security, the happiness, of knowing the world knew that Harry loved her, more than made up for any annoyances from the media's insatiable curiosity for private details of their relationship…

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