Disclaimer: Everything HP related belongs to JK Rowling.
Author's Note: The idea for this fic came from the brilliant Nacey and her wonderful sketch of The Snitch, found here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/nacey/12732.html#cutid1. Just my response to the drawing, and I should add, it's nowhere near as wonderful as what Nacey herself wrote (http://fanfiction.portkey.org/story/2729) or Anne U's companion fic to it (http://fanfiction.portkey.org/story/2775).
Written several months ago and finally decided to post here, since Nacey and Anne (finally) posted their stories. So, this is for them!
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The Snitch
Harry woke up feeling unusually happy and at peace.
For a moment, he couldn't remember why he was feeling that way but one glance beside him at Hermione, still sleeping soundly, brought back all the memories of the night before.
Hermione seemed in an oddly jittery mood today, he thought. She had flushed when he tried to kiss her, and though she had responded with as much feeling and passion as always, there seemed something different…
Finally he just asked her plainly whether anything was wrong.
To his surprise, Hermione blushed at the question and only responded by saying, "Harry, there's something I have to show you."
He had blinked and frowned, thinking it was unlike Hermione to avoid answering a question by changing the subject. Evasion was uncharacteristic of her. But he had followed her as she walked into his bedroom, reflecting that whatever it was, it couldn't be anything bad. He knew Hermione well enough by now to know that Hermione was only a little uncertain , even shy, about whatever it was she had to show him, and he couldn't imagine anything Hermione could show him that would really change anything between them.
He loved her, she loved him. He knew that. And he had never been happier than in the past two months since they had finally acted on their feelings.
He sat down on his bed and looked at Hermione curiously. "What is it, Hermione? It can't be that bad."
Hermione let out a nervous laugh, before saying, "Well, I don't think it's bad…" Implying, of course, that he might.
Now he was really getting curious and just a little apprehensive…
And then Hermione started unbuttoning her blouse and any real curiosity he had felt was replaced by surprise and not a little arousal.
It was nothing he hadn't seen before. By now he knew her body almost as well as he knew his own, knew and loved every inch of it. But what on earth could she have to show him that he wouldn't think good, when she knew that he thought she was beautiful and absolutely perfect already…
His thoughts were beginning to race, just as much as his heart was, when Hermione did something that promptly made all coherent thought cease and his brain stop functioning.
She finished unbuttoning her blouse and started on her pants.
Dear Merlin… Harry swallowed and decided that whatever Hermione had to show him, he was going to love, if the way he was feeling now was any indication, and if this wasn't what Hermione wanted to show him, well, he had a feeling he wasn't going to be seeing it any time soon. At the moment he had no interest in anything other than Hermione, the skin she was revealing to his hungry gaze, and the fact that they were in his bedroom…
Or so he thought until Hermione pushed down the elastic of her knickers just enough and he saw it.
A Snitch.
On the smooth skin of Hermione's stomach. Just about actual size, and delicately colored in, the gold and the white, edged with silver, for the wings…
He swallowed again and then reached out one hand, that was trembling slightly he realized, to brush his fingers against it.
"You got a tattoo of the Snitch, Hermione?" he finally managed to say, his voice sounding somewhat strangled.
Hermione's nervousness was gone, now that she had finally shown it to him and she could see that whatever Harry's reaction was, it wasn't anger and it wasn't disgust by any means. She smiled slightly. "As you can see."
"Why?" Harry asked simply, not taking his eyes off the Snitch, his gaze as intense as it had been during Quidditch games when the game had depended on his watching for the small winged object.
Now Hermione sighed a little. "Can't you guess, Harry?"
Harry thought about it. Or tried to. The lack of blood flow to his brain was making him decidedly slow. All he could think in response to that was, "Because it's sexy as hell?"
Hermione laughed. "Maybe a little bit, yes."
She moved closer to him, bending so that their eyes met, and his hands went to her shoulders, resting there and lightly caressing.
Her gaze was straightforward, just a little amused and filled with all the love in the world. "I had it done for you. You spent so much time in Hogwarts seeking the Snitch and it meant so much to you when you caught it. I would watch your face whenever you caught it and I could see just how excited and happy you were, the triumph you felt, and I loved to see it. But even then I wanted you to be that happy always, on and off the Quidditch pitch."
Harry interrupted at that. "You make me happy, Hermione." He tightened his grip on her shoulders and kissed her, long and slowly.
When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against hers and repeated, "You make me happy."
Hermione smiled. "I'm glad. This Snitch on my body is just for you. Only you, my favorite Seeker."
And then he understood what Hermione was saying. The Snitch was her heart, her love, and he had caught it, just as surely as he had caught the Snitch in so many Quidditch games. She was saying that she was his, and the permanence of the tattoo only emphasized her point. She was his, for life.
"My God, how I love you," he breathed, so reverently that it was almost a prayer, and it never occurred to him then that he had just said those all-important three words for the first time to another person. It had come naturally, as natural as breathing, as natural as kissing her felt…
He had kissed her then, with all the love, the joy, the passion he felt… His last coherent thought was that this particular Snitch was priceless…
It only occurred to him later, lying beside her that he had said "I love you" for the first time, put his feelings for her into words. He had known he loved her, knew that she knew. He had just never been able to bring himself to say the words. They always seemed to get caught in his throat, the significance of them too precious to be spoken aloud. Those words he had never heard, let alone known the meaning of, until Hermione had come into his life and given him her love. And somehow, nothing she had ever done for him had ever meant so much as her one decision to put a symbol of her love on her body. It was a declaration of love, of belonging. Hermione had just marked herself his, for life. And he could repay such a gesture with nothing less than letting down the last remaining fragile barrier he had erected around his heart, after years of being abused and neglected. So he told her with those six words what he felt…
She understood, as she always did. And she smiled as she replied, "I love you too, Harry."
And he was at peace.