When she Realizes by Goldy

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 24/08/2004
Last Updated: 06/09/2004
Status: Completed

My reaction to the common belief that it'll be something akin to Harry being hit with a
baseball bat when he realizes his feelings. So, naturally, in light of that, I wrote a story
depicting the exact opposite. What if it was Hermione who needed to be hit with a baseball bat?
Sequel added.




1. untitled
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Title: When She Realizes

Author: Goldy

Disclaimer: Characters are all owned by the great and illustrious JKR.

Summary: Hermione realizes her feelings.

Spoilers: For all five books, especially OoTP

A/N: This fic was partly inspired by my own personal belief and a rather large H/Hr shipper
belief that, when Harry realizes how he feels about Hermione, it will be something akin to being
hit over the head with a baseball bat. Naturally, in light of that view, I decided to do a fic that
portrayed the exact opposite.

A/N 2: For anyone that’s wondering, hopefully there will be a new chapter of Lines Crossed very
soon. I’ve sent it off to my beta and am now just waiting to hear back from her.

Nothing in their lives is simple. That much she has learned, time and time again. What she is,
her very core, isn’t simple. She’s a Muggle-born witch, top of her class, and in the middle of
fighting a war against the darkest wizard the world has ever seen. Things in Hermione Granger’s
life aren’t simple. A fact which she has always known and a fact that has never bothered her.
Simple is boring.

But falling in love with him is the simplest thing she’s ever done.

She doesn’t know how long she’s loved Harry James Potter. She’d like to say that she’s loved him
from the very first moment she saw him—though she’s much too grounded to believe that. She’d like
to say that she’s always known. She’d like to say that he’s always had her heart. The fact is, she
*does* love him, she’s loved him for a very long time. Too long to know exactly how long. She
can’t recall the day when she fell in love with him, she can’t pinpoint the moment that gave him
her heart, and she certainly can’t remember any gesture or word that made her fall.

What she does remember, and this is with perfect quality, is the day she *realizes* she
loves him.

They’re walking back to the Common Room after a D.A. meeting. She’s close enough to him that his
hand brushes hers every once in a while, but far enough away that they don’t bump into each other.
They’re smiling, laughing, completely comfortable in each other’s company. She sees the look of
pride on his face and it fills her. It fills her with pride for *him*, for *them*, for
all those that he’s prepared for the final battle. They both know it’s coming and it’s coming
soon.

"They’re all saying it now," he says.

"I know."

"Voldemort. Even Neville."

"Even Ron."

"Even… even Lavender Brown."

They smile at each other, their mingled pride spilling out of both of them when something in his
eyes changes.

"Do you think I’m ready?" he asks abruptly.

She stares at him for a moment, completely taken off guard by the question. Harry is a guarded
person by nature, keeping most things bottled up until he explodes. They’ve talked about it before,
of course. The prophecy, his destiny… they’ve talked about it with the vague detached tone of two
people wishing desperately that it would go away. They’ve talked about it in terms of something
that would eventually need to be dealt with in the future. They’ve talked about it in terms of
planning and D.A. meetings.

This is different. He’s looking at her, eyes pleading and seeking an answer and suddenly,
without warning, her heart plummets. She feels it drop, right through her, and a hand is at her
throat and her eyes are full of tears because she suddenly can’t bear it, can’t bear it all.

She can’t think about it. She can’t think about him going off to face Voldemort. She can’t think
about the possibility of him not living. A world without Harry Potter in it… well, it’s
inconceivable… it’s a world without part of herself… it’s a world without…

When she realizes it’s like being hit with a bludger. She’s literally winded. She can’t see
straight. She can’t think straight. She can’t walk. She can’t run. She feels dizzy and like she
might faint.

She loves him. She’s so bloody in love with him.

She’s so surprised by her realization that she goes crashing into a door. A. Door. Books go
flying, she shrieks and she falls, landing ungracefully on her bottom. She sucks in a breath, dazed
and trying to let it all sink in. Books, quills, ink, and parchment litter the floor beside
her.

She’s crying and she feels pathetic, lying there and crying. She should be hugging him or
declaring something, but all she can do is sit in the mess of her books and cry. Her heart thumps
in her chest and she knows it’s all sinking in. That the reason she never thought seriously of the
prophecy was so she wouldn’t do precisely *this*. Losing him is impossible.

She looks up, still crying and wishing that she isn’t because it will only make him feel bad and
he needs reassurance but she can’t seem to make herself stop crying. She meets his eyes, surprised
by what she finds there.

He knows.

He knows. He knows that she knows. He knows that she knows that he knows. They stare at each
other for a long time, not needing words. She’s so relieved that she and Harry have always been
able to communicate without words. She isn’t sure that she’s even capable of talk.

He finally crouches down in front of her. His hand is shaking when he cups her cheek. "You
know," he whispers, still staring into her eyes.

She nods, still too shocked too say anything.

He smiles fondly at her, wiping away one of her tears with his thumb. "You, Hermione
Granger, are painfully, horribly, slow."

She sniffles and grasps his hand. "How long have you known?" she rasps out.

"Oh?" he says nonchalantly, still staring at her. "Me? Well… years,
actually."

"Years?" she gasps.

"Yes, I could tell you that it’s been a rather difficult and painful time in my life,
having unrequited feelings for you. Only—"

"They weren’t unrequited," she sighs, still staring into his eyes.

"Hmm," he says. "No, they weren’t. You are hopelessly in love with me."

She blushes, his words zinging around in her brain. "Awfully sure of ourselves, aren’t
we?"

"Well, you know…" he says quietly, leaning forward until their foreheads brush.
"I’m quite the commodity. Boy Who Lived and all that."

"True…" she sighs out, his nearness sending shivers down her spine. "Besides,
you’re also hopelessly in love with me."

"Also true."

"Harry…" she whispers, feeling a wave of emotion so powerful that she leans against
him. "I’ve always been… I just… I never realized…"

He gathers her up and they’re hugging each other. They’re holding on, they’re reassuring
themselves. And she very nearly starts crying again because it’s so simple. So very simple.

"Actually, I was beginning to worry for a while there," he says, holding her close.
"I was beginning to think I’d have to tell you right before dashing off into battle. It was
going to be very melodramatic. As it is, it took you bloody well long enough."

She’s crying again because he said the word "battle" and it conjures up horrible
images in her head. "You might be ready," she says in answer to his earlier question.
"But I’m never going to be."

He kisses her and she eagerly leans into him. The kiss is demanding, desperate and passionate.
It retains a gentle vigor to it, a sweetness that speaks of their shared connection, of the depth
of their feeling. She feels something inside her fill, a hole she hadn’t even realized was there.
They kiss and nothing else matters. It’s just them, just them.

When they pull away, she silently berates herself. How could it have taken her so long? How
could she have been so blind?

"How could I have been so stupid?" she asks softly, closing her eyes. "I’ve
wasted so much time…"

She feels him, his lips pressing gentle kisses to her face, his hands gently brushing her sides,
her back. She knows he’s reassuring himself. He can’t really believe it.

"Hermione…" her name slides off his lips over and over again.
"Hermione…"

She fists her hands in his hair, feeling combined misery and combined happiness well up inside
her. "I’m so sorry…"

He pulls away and his eyes burn into hers. "Say it," he demands abruptly. "I need
to hear it."

She doesn’t hesitate. "I love you."

He kisses her again, more forceful this time. She finds herself on her back, his full weight on
top of her, his lips meeting hers over and over again.

Nothing has ever been simpler.

Only… nothing else is simple. She feels fear, fear so great because she has fallen and she can’t
stop herself and he might die and she doesn’t think she can stand it.

"Harry," she whimpers, pulling away from their kiss because she’s started to cry
again. "I can’t lose you. I can’t… I…"

"Shh," he says softly. "It’s okay."

It’s not okay. They both know it. But she loves him for saying so. In unspoken agreement they
pick themselves up from their compromising position on the floor and settle back against the hall’s
wall. Their fingers entwine and stay locked together. As far as she’s concerned, she’s not letting
him go until she must.

He smiles a little, amusement creeping into his eyes. "I have quite the track record, don’t
I?"

She swallows with difficulty, feeling baffled. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Well… it’s just that… I appear to be two for two in making women cry after I kiss
them."

She feels a powerful wave of emotion again. Getting herself under control, she leans her head on
his shoulder and smiles. "It’s because we’re so overcome. It’s tears of joy, really."

"Okay. My ego’s feeling pretty good right about now."

She sighs. "Harry… what if…"

"Don’t," he says sharply. "Don’t finish that. I’m going to win. I won’t… I won’t
let you go."

"I’m glad that… I’m glad that you know how I feel. Before you have to go."

"Oh, I told you," he says lightly. "I already knew. It was you that didn’t,
remember?"

"I’m so stupid."

"No, you’re not. A little slow, maybe, but I’d hardly say you were stupid."

She chuckles a little. "You still haven’t said it."

"I know," he says darkly. "And I’m not going to. Not until… not until I
win."

She nods in understanding, realizing that he’s doing it for her benefit. He’s telling her the
only way he knows how that Voldemort won’t win. He has too many important things to do to let him
win.

She squeezes his hand. "Then I’ll tell you again. I love you. I always have."

His eyes shine. "Hermione, I’m really very glad that you realized that. Will you say it
again?"

She grins. "I love you."

"Okay, now we’re just getting sappy."

She lets out a bark of laughter. "Honestly," she says, with a shake of her head.
"You were the one who started us off on this in the beginning."

"I believe it was you, actually, who went crashing to the floor in tears. I never thought
the sight of a crying, hysterical woman could make me so happy."

"Haha," she mutters. "Harry…" she says slowly. "Do you promise that
you’ll tell me?"

He’s quiet for a long moment before looking into her eyes. "Yes," he whispers. "I
promise."

"Good. Because… what we feel… it’s simple. The rest of it isn’t. But… this… it’s…"

"Simple."



2. When he Says it
------------------

**Title**: When He Says It

**Disclaimer**: JKR still owns them. I’m making no profit off this, blah, blah, blah…

**A/N**: I really wasn’t going to write a sequel to When She Realizes. It was a
*one-shot*. The definition of a one-shot? No sequel. But after being begged to write something
where Harry says "it," the plot bunnies wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t want to do the
typical, Harry Goes Off to Fight Voldemort With the Strength of Hermione’s Love and Returns
Victorious to Tell her of his Feelings fic, so I tried something a little bit different. Thank you
to everyone who gave me feedback on the first one, I was pleasantly surprised by the large response
I got to it. Oh, yeah, and this is really it. I won’t be writing a sequel to this. I’ve told
everything I want to tell as it pertains to these two fics.

**A/N 2**: I have a livejournal! So for far more than anyone would ever want to know about
me, check out my ramblings at: http://www.livejournal.com/users/goldy_dollar/

She’s fallen asleep again. She’s been doing that lately, falling asleep in the middle of
studying. She’s lying in the Gryffindor common room, a heavy book spread across her chest. She
remembers how the words blurred on the page, in her head, and the heat of the fire had been so
warm…

She’s warm now as she begins to surface. There’s a hand caressing her face, a finger sloping
over the curve of her nose and sliding down to trace her lips. She smiles, feeling a pleasant
warmth shoot through her.

"Oh, Seamus… you musn’t. What if Harry saw?"

"Haha. I do love your lovely jokes."

Her eyes flutter open and the first thing she sees is his face, staring down at her. She gazes
at him for a moment, feeling warm and light. "Hey," she says softly.

His grin is lazy as he gazes back at her. "Hey yourself."

"I fell asleep."

Gently he removes the book from her chest, placing it on the ground before turning back to her.
His eyes are serious as they focus on her face. "Did notice that, yeah."

Yawning widely, she gives him a sheepish smile. "Have I mentioned how much I like having
you wake me up?"

"Didn’t want to…" he whispers, his palm cupping her cheek. "You don’t get nearly
enough rest…"

Something in his voice worries her and she meets his eyes, surprised at what she sees.

His gaze is intense, burning straight through her, and she knows, suddenly, that something is
wrong. Something is terribly, terribly wrong…

Her heart drops, right down through her stomach. They look at each other for a very long time
and she feels the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. No… no… not now…

"Harry…" she says, her voice quaking. "What’s… what’s going on?"

She sits up now and he crouches before her, avoiding her gaze. "I’m leaving," he says
quietly.

She sucks in a breath, though she’d known that had been coming. "What do you
mean?"

"Tonight," he continues, knowing that he doesn’t have to explain. "I’m leaving…
tonight."

She shakes her head, the denial coming quickly. She’s not ready, she’ll never be ready, but
especially not now. N.E.W.T.’s are coming up and he *must* take those. The final Quidditch
match of the season is next week, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin and he *can’t* possibly miss
that.

"When?" she croaks, tears pricking her eyes, though she knows that’s the very last
thing he needs.

"Well…" he looks a little embarrassed. "I was just going to… go. But I found you
down here and I couldn’t…"

"*What*?" she shrieks. "You were just going to *go*? You weren’t even
going to say good-bye? To me? To Ron?"

"I wanted to," he says, still refusing to look at her. "But… I thought it’d be
best if I just went. Less… painful…"

"Less painful?" she repeats loudly. She knows she’s yelling, she can’t help it. She’s
recoiling, she’s lashing out at him. He doesn’t deserve it, not really. But she can’t help it,
she’s lost and he’s leaving and she’s so afraid. "How can you even *say* that? You want
to talk painful? Waking up tomorrow morning to find you were missing would be painful!"

He swallows. "I’m sorry."

She closes her eyes for a moment, willing her tumultuous emotions to calm, to stop for just one
second so she can think properly. "Don’t go…" she pleads, not quite able to stop herself.
"You’re not ready yet…"

"I am."

A small sob escapes her before she can stop it. "Please, Harry…"

"Don’t," he says quietly. "It’s time. I won’t just sit here and wait for
Voldemort to come and find me. I won’t let him endanger anymore people I love. I won’t."

He’s right, he knows that she knows he’s right. She can’t possible say anything to that because
it’s so very true and so very Harry-like, so very much part of why she loves him and why she’d
follow him to the bitter end if he asked her to.

He meets her eyes, his gaze softening as he looks upon her. "I need you to know." His
hand is cupping her cheek and his jaw is set. "Before I go… I need you to know…"

She reaches up and places her hand over his. "I do know."

He shakes his head. "I need to say it."

Her heart flutters and she wants him to say it. She wants him to say it, so very badly and she’s
been waiting for him to say it and it’s not fair that she’s the only one that’s allowed to say it.
But he made her a promise and he’s trying to break it and she won’t let him because he
*promised*.

"No, Harry," she says, her voice surprisingly firm despite the way her entire body is
shaking. "You promised."

"Hermione, I lo—"

"Don’t you dare!" she interrupts, covering his mouth with her hand. "Don’t you
*dare*. You *will* say it. I’ll wait."

He nods, looking miserable and broken and she feels her heart shattering because this may be her
last chance to ever hear him say it. She can’t think like that, she knows she can’t think like
that. He *will* win because the alternative… it’s not possible.

She removes her hand from his mouth, relieved when he doesn’t press the issue farther. "I
should go," he mumbles.

She wants to grab him, tie him to the chair, do anything to stop him, stop him from leaving.
"Okay," she says hoarsely, knowing he’ll never understand what that simple word cost her.
"Kiss me and go."

Some of his humor leaps back to his face. "Are you sure about that?" he asks, flashing
her a trademark Harry smirk. "I think I saw Seamus around here somewhere…"

She kisses him because she can’t wait another second and his joke isn’t very funny, not very
funny at all. She knows it could very well be their last and she curses herself (yet again) for not
seeing things earlier, for not realizing earlier. It’s hardly fair, they’ve had so little time.

When he pulls away, she reads the naked emotion on his face like its her own. He pulls her to
him, holding her close and she can feel his heartbeat echoing against her ear. Millions of memories
flash before her eyes. Stumbling into a train car after a lost toad, hiding in a bathroom stall as
a troll tried to kill her, watching as a scared little boy bravely drink the potion she had picked
out for him… ready to go face Voldemort… always ready to go face Voldemort…

"I love you," she says, understanding that he needs to hear it.

He presses his lips to her forehead before pulling away. Their eyes meet one last time. "I,
you know you, too…" he says back, clearly proud at having managed to find a way to slip it in
there somewhere.

She wishes she could be angry with him, but it melts her heart to hear him say it with such
conviction. She watches as he turns, she watches as he goes to the Portrait Hole, she watches until
the Fat Lady swings shut behind him, and she continues to watch, feeling the stillness and the
emptiness of the common room echo around her.

She rubs her arms, feeling cold and chilly. Numb shock is settling on her brain as she begins to
realize that she now must wait. He’s left her waiting. For news of his death, Voldemort’s death…
both their deaths…

She feels the hopelessness well inside her. She’s afraid she might burst. She can’t possibly be
expected to wait. He hasn’t been gone for five minutes and already she’s a mess. She has to
know.

She stares blankly around the common room, searching for something, *anything*, to give her
an answer. She hates not knowing what to do. She hates not knowing the right answer.

A whimper escapes her mouth before she can stop it. Turning on her heel, she runs all the way up
to the seventh-year boy’s dormitory, barely aware of what she’s doing. She sprints into the room,
the sounds of loud, peaceful snoring meeting her ears.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that the rest of the castle sleeps so peacefully while Harry’s out
there risking his life for them. What right do they have to just lie there?

She heads for Ron’s bed, shaking her friend’s shoulders. "Ron…" she says, tears
clouding her vision. "Ron… wake up… please wake up, Ron…"

He snorts, rolling over and opening his eyes. "Ergh… whazz that?"

She continues shaking his shoulders, feeling a sense of desperation clinging to her. "Ron,
it’s Harry…" she pleads, realizing that she’s beginning to sob all over him. "Harry… he’s
gone… he just left… he’s gone, Ron…"

Ron’s wide awake now, his face losing its colour. "Great Merlin’s ghost," he breathes.
"Why didn’t he tell me?"

She shakes her head soundlessly, not able to come up with the words. Ron merely opens his arms,
and she sinks against him, beginning to cry in earnest. "What do we do, Ron?" she says,
practically wailing. "What do we do?"

It’s never her that asks that question. Never. She can feel Ron begin to shake and she feels
badly for scaring him. She can’t imagine what it would have felt like if someone had awoken her in
the middle of the night with the news that Harry was gone.

"It’s okay," he says gruffly, disentangling himself from her arms and rising. He’s
clad only his boxer shorts, but she barely notices, choosing instead to sit on his bed and stare
blankly off into space as he changes.

"C’mon," he says, pulling her to her feet. "The last thing we want to do is wake
up the whole of Hogwarts with the news that the Boy Who Lived is missing."

She nods mutely, following him back down to the common room. She’s surprised at how calm he is
because Ron isn’t calm. Ron is emotional and loud and all too often speaks without thinking. But
he’s calm now, now when Harry needs it most, and she’s falling completely to pieces.

"Now," he says, sinking into the couch. "Why don’t you tell me what
happened?"

She does, pacing while she haltingly goes through the story. She leaves out big chunks, worried
about how much to tell him. She knows that Ron had fancied her and she and Harry hadn’t yet spoken
to him about their new relationship. It had only been a week, after all, since she went crashing to
the floor in a heap. They’d been planning on telling him together, but now…

She feels another tear slice up her heart. Now that job is left to her because they may never
have the chance to tell him together.

"Ron…" she says carefully, after telling him the edited version of the story.
"There’s something else… something you should know…"

Ron looks a little dazed. "Something else?"

"It’s about me and Harry. It’s…" she trails off, eyes dropping to the floor.
"We’re, well… we’re in love."

She isn’t sure exactly what she’s expecting, but his reaction astounds her. "Of course you
are. Anything else?"

Startled, she tears her eyes from the floor, landing on his vaguely amused face. "No,"
she says firmly. "I mean… I *love* him. I love Harry."

Ron looks even more amused. "Finally figured that out, did you?" He shakes his head in
amusement. "You know, Hermione, you’re horribly slow sometimes."

She flushes, remembering when Harry had said practically the exact same thing to her only a week
before. "You… know?" she manages.

Ron rolls his eyes. "Hermione, *everyone* knows. In fact, I think you were the
*last* to know. Snape knows, McGonagall has had a running bet going for years, hell, even
*Malfoy* realized before you did."

"So… you’re not… angry, then?"

Ron shakes his head. "Hermione, I may be stupid, but I’m not *blind*. I came to terms
about what the two of you shared a long time ago."

She feels relief, but his acceptance reminds her that she’s facing more pressing problems.
"Ron…" she whispers. "I can’t just wait here. I can’t bear… not knowing."

Ron nods. "Me neither. I can’t believe that he just left."

She shakes her head. "Nothing was going to stop him. He was determined."

Ron takes that in. She watches him as he struggles with himself, face changing as he thinks.
"Hermione…" he says slowly. "You know what we have to do, don’t you?"

"What?" she says, beginning to hope.

"*Go after him*!" Ron says, standing. "This is so stupid! We’ve been with
him through everything else! He shouldn’t be doing this alone… we should be there… he can’t do this
without us…"

She feels the hope spread through her, mentally cursing herself for not simply realizing that
earlier. It makes sense. Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They’re a *trio*. It may be Harry’s name on
the prophecy, but she still has a choice.

"Brilliant, Ron!" she cries, feeling relief and determination swamp her. "Let’s
go!"

"Wait a minute—right now?" Ron frowns, beginning to look worried. "I’m not sure
if—"

"Of course right now!" she says shrilly. "He has a good head start on us! We have
to find him!"

"Merlin…" Ron mutters, standing. He takes a deep breath. "Okay. Okay… let’s do
this. Hermione, how are we ever going to find him?"

"I don’t know," she mutters.

"You don’t know?" Ron repeats, sounding hysterical. "What d’you mean, you don’t
know? You’re the one with the brains!"

"I wasn’t really *prepared* for this…" she snaps, heading to the Portrait Hole.
"I’ll think of something…"

Ron follows her, grumbling. "*Something*," he says. "Good. Smashing.
Excellent. Something… yeah, *that’s* helpful…"

The Portrait Hole swings open and they find themselves face to face with—

"Harry?" she says, dumbfounded.

"Well, that was easy…" Ron says, slightly shocked.

Harry stares back at them, shuffling his feet. "Err… hi…" he says nervously.
"Forgot my Invisibility cloak… thought it might be helpful…"

She can do nothing but squeak, relief at seeing him catching hold of her. She throws her arms
around his neck, planting desperate kisses all over his face. He stumbles back a little under her
weight, but manages to stand upright.

"I… Oh, Harry…" she gasps out in between kisses. She wants to tell him that she’s
going with him, that they both are, that he can’t just walk away and leave her. But she can’t get
the words out, choosing instead to keep kissing his face, his cheeks, his nose, that stupid scar on
his forehead.

"We’re coming with you," Ron says firmly, saving her the trouble. "It’s mental
for you to try and attempt something like this by yourself."

Harry stiffens, and he gently pushes her away from him. "What d’you mean, you’re coming
with me?"

Her relief at finding him is so intense that she feels like she might burst. She can’t believe
that he doesn’t understand. How can she just… let him go? She won’t let him go until she has to.
She’s always been with him, right up until she’d been forced away.

"We’re coming with you," she repeats, her knees shaking. "Oh, Harry… we have to
come with you…"

Ron nods, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "It’s not just your fight, mate."

Harry’s already shaking his head. "It is my fight," he says quietly. "I’m going
to get my cloak and then I’m leaving. Alone."

"And we’ll follow you," Hermione says immediately. "You can’t ask us not to go
with you. You can’t."

He meets her eyes, and she can see the pain clouding in his vision. "If I lost either of
you," he whispers with difficulty. "I don’t think that I’d ever be able to forgive
myself."

"Don’t you see?" she screeches. "Us, too! How do you think we’d feel if we lost
*you*, Harry? How would I go on with my life?"

He brushes by her. "You’re not coming," he repeats stubbornly. "Cloaks not big
enough for the three of us, anyway."

In desperation, she grasps his arm. "That’s a lousy excuse and you know it," she says
quietly. "I’m not leaving you, Harry. I refuse."

He bites his lip and stares very hard at the ground. "Please, Hermione…" he begs
softly.

"And Ron," Ron adds. "’Cause I’m, uh, coming, too. You’ll have to keep the
snogging to a minimum, though. Sorry."

Harry cracks a tiny smile. "This isn’t like the other stuff… it’s not all adventures and
Forbidden Forest stuff. Dumbledore won’t be there to save us this time. We’re going straight up
against Voldemort. That’s it… it’d be just us against him and death and…"

"We know, Harry," she says softly. "We know."

The three of them stare at each other for a very long time. Harry finally sighs softly and
reaches for her hand. "Alright—we’ll do this."

"Brilliant!" Ron exclaims. "I’ll go get the cloak, Harry. Can’t take the chance
that you’ll try and sneak out with it."

Ron hurries off and they’re alone. Harry rubs his thumb idly over the top of her hand, staring
pensively off into space.

"I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again," he says.

She swallows. "Me, too."

"Hermione," he begins with difficulty. "If Voldemort were to…"

"Shhh…" she cuts in gently. "I understand."

He nods giving her hand a quick squeeze. "Can I say it?"

"Goodness gracious," she says with a smile. "If you don’t, I think I might have
to beat it out of you."

His smile is quick and his eyes light up when they meet hers. "Hermione?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

"Yes, you do."

The End