Acronycal

Acronycal, Part One

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

SUMMARY: Post-Hogwarts. Harry has battled Voldemort and emerged victorious, although the winning side has suffered severe losses. Harry has been withdrawn from the majority of both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds alike. He is continually haunted by nightmares of lost loved ones and gruesome battles. Can Hermione help him begin the healing process? (Two-shot ficlet)

SPOILERS: SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, QA, FB

SHIPS: Harry/Hermione.

RATED: NC-17. Use the honor system - if you're under 18, don't read it!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Adam Sandler is a GOD!!!

Sky and sea,
Keep harm from me.
Earth and fire,
Bring my desire.
~ Excerpt from the novel The Secret Circle: The Initiation, by LJ Smith

Acronycal: Greek word meaning "on the edge of night."

Harry sighed and let the remote control drop to the floor. There was nothing on the telly that was catching- or holding, for that matter- his interest. He scratched his head vaguely and took another long swig from his bottle of Ogden's Old Fire Whiskey. It didn't burn his throat anymore; he'd been drinking it all night, and had actually gotten quite used to the taste. Not that he was a regular drinker, by any means - today had just been a particularly rough day. It was Halloween.

Halloween had held significance to Harry for the whole of his life. His parents had been murdered on Halloween. Now it held more than its share of bad memories - two years ago on this very night, Harry's ongoing battle with the Dark Lord had reached its climax. Odd that things should happen that way - Voldemort being defeated on the same night he'd claimed the lives of Harry's parents so long ago.

Voices of friends no longer present had begun to haunt him from the moment he'd stumbled into wakefulness that morning. Usually he was pretty good about keeping the voices at bay, but on a day like today, he didn't bother fighting them. Why should he? After all, if he'd done his job properly and defeated Voldemort quickly, those people would still be alive, wouldn't they?

He pulled his glasses off and dropped them on the small coffee table in front of the couch he occupied. He massaged his temple slowly, trying to soothe the blinding ache that had begun. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and exhaled noisily. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in nearly two years, and it showed. The bluish smudges beneath his eyes had become a daily reminder of the guilt that haunted him at night.

And he was haunted - he knew that rightly enough. How else could he explain the things that invaded his dreams each night? Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see the disappointed and surprised faces of all the people he'd let down. Ginny's chocolate eyes stared accusingly at him. Neville's pleading face questioned him endlessly. Remus Lupin's eyes had been the worst of all, though - Harry could still see them staring lifelessly at him from the floor of the Forbidden Forest.

The siege on Hogwarts had been an utter surprise. Even Dumbledore, in his infinite wisdom, had not projected such a foolhardy move on Voldemort's part. The battle had actually been won very quickly as far as everyone else involved perceived things, but it had all happened in slow motion for Harry.

Just as the prophecy had said, Voldemort had died by Harry's hand, and not by magical means. Harry had run him through with the sword of Godric Gryffindor. By the time he'd made it back up to the seventh floor, the Order of the Phoenix had gained control of the Death Eaters - but the damage had already been done.

Gryffindor Tower had been their number one target - presumably because they knew Harry was housed there. Perhaps they'd attacked it because they'd hoped that Harry's fierce loyalty to his friends would hold him there to protect them - who knew what their reasoning was? Whatever the case, Ron and Hermione had reassured Harry that they could take care of themselves, and that he needed to go find Voldemort and end things while he still had a chance.

The destruction of Gryffindor Tower had been incredible. It was demolished almost beyond recognition - strewn with bodies and littered with debris that had gotten in the way of flying curses and hexes. Ron and Hermione hadn't lied to him - they'd taken care of themselves rightly enough. Harry had broken down in tears when he returned and saw both of them standing, and the three had embraced wildly.

Harry was crying for entirely different reasons when he began to look around.

Neville was lying at the feet of Bellatrix LeStrange, which Harry thought was almost fitting. Ron had told him that he'd dueled bravely with the Death Eater that had destroyed the lives of his parents, and that he'd finished her off, only to be shot accidentally with the killing curse that another Death Eater had tried to throw at Hermione.

Ginny was slumped at the base of the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories. Hermione told him that she'd been bound and determined that no one was going to make it up the stairs except her - she'd stood her ground, until Lucius Malfoy had used Crucio on her mercilessly. In the end, she'd simply given up, and lost consciousness. No one had been able to revive her.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were still alive, but only just; had Harry waited any longer to return, they probably wouldn't have made it. They'd banded together to hold off a particularly nasty Death Eater, who of course had not hesitated to use the Unforgivable Curses on them repeatedly.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut at the memory of it all; he knew he deserved to remember it and experience the pain afresh, but he didn't want to. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand brush his shoulder lightly.

"It's alright, Harry. It's just me." Hermione's voice was soft and soothing, and he melted immediately. Ron was standing behind her, holding a brown paper sack. He sat down heavily on the chair that faced the couch, and eyed Harry thoughtfully.

"What are you guys doing here?" he slurred. Hermione tut-tutted and held her wand to his forehead, muttering a sobering charm. He felt clarity return with a vengeance, and groaned. She sat down beside him on the couch and gave him a small smile.

"We knew you'd need company tonight," she said simply. He nodded, suddenly grateful that they'd come. She turned to Ron and nodded. He reached into the brown paper sack and pulled out three movies, a tub of microwave popcorn, and several bottles of butterbeer. Harry grinned. His friends knew him better than he'd realized. "We've brought three mindless movies and other necessary provisions. Anaesthesia for the pain."

"You should have seen the video store, mate," Ron boggled. "The clerk behind the desk was the most beautiful Muggle I've ever seen in my entire life! And they had loads of moonies!"

"Moonies?" Harry asked, turning to Hermione with raised eyebrows. She rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Movies, Ron."

"Whatever," he said, waving his hand. He stood and moved towards the television, but Harry stopped him.

"Why don't you let me do it, Ron?" he asked gently. Ron shrugged and handed him the movies. Harry held one up and turned to shoot Hermione a grin. "Billy Madison?" She laughed.

"I know what your favorite movies are, Harry. You've talked about them enough, you know." He nodded and slipped the movie in, then pressed play. Ron shifted to sit on the floor in front of the couch, and Harry reclaimed his place next to Hermione. She waved her wand over the tub of popcorn kernels, and Harry was surprised by the sound of popping. She peeled the plastic cover off of the tub and the smell of butter filled the room. She grinned and handed the tub to Ron, who dug in immediately. Harry leaned towards Hermione and cupped his hand to her ear.

"What'd you do that for? We'll never get any now!" she rolled her eyes and produced a second tub of popcorn, which she promptly popped.

"You know me better than that, Harry. I always plan ahead." He gave her a grateful look and shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"I don't get it," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of popcorn. "What's the giant penguin got to do with anything?" Harry guffawed and Hermione giggled.

"It's not really funny if we have to explain the joke, Ron," Harry said. Ron's ears turned red, and he fell silent. Harry felt Hermione's thigh brush his briefly as she shifted to get comfortable, and his heart began to pound strangely. He studied her out of the corner of his eye.

The battle had changed everyone inside, even if the surface looked alright. Hermione had had difficulty handling Ginny's death above all others, since she and Ginny had become so close before everything happened, but somehow she had overcome her grief. She was now living for the most part in Godric's Hollow, where she owned a small one-bedroom house. She had landed herself a job at the Daily Prophet, and was doing rather well for herself.

Harry had missed both of his best friends, but Hermione in particular. She possessed a core of steel; she'd been the mortar that had held Harry and Ron together in the weeks following the battle. She had been the one who'd helped Harry and Ron prepare for their NEWTs, even though they'd been involved in the battle only months before. She radiated hope and strength, two things that Harry desperately needed right now.

She turned and caught him staring at her, and the color climbed high in her cheeks. She smiled at him before turning back to the movie and laughing. Harry's heart leapt into his throat, and he wondered at his reaction. After all, it was just Hermione, wasn't it?

It was only natural for his body to react this way around a beautiful woman. After all, he hadn't had a physical relationship with a woman for something close to four months now. He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled the scent of her floral perfume; she smelled of roses and jasmine and musk, and the smell had an intoxicating effect on him. His eyes flew open when Ron burst out into peals of laughter.

"These Muggles are hilarious!" he said, tears of laughter running down his cheeks. Harry grinned, and Hermione impulsively leaned forward and hugged Ron briefly. She whispered something in his ear that made him blush, and Harry wondered what it was. He felt a sudden pang of jealousy - was there something going on between his two best friends that he didn't know about?

"What did you say to him?" he whispered, his curiosity getting the better of him. She turned to look at him, and their faces were so close that their noses brushed together momentarily. Despite the heat that rose in his face, Harry held her eyes with his.

"I just told him I loved him." Harry's eyes widened. "Don't look at me like that, Harry, I didn't mean it that way! I just don't get to spend as much time as I'd like with both of you, and I miss you guys."

"I miss you, too," he said, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. He was relieved that she hadn't meant anything romantic towards Ron, but at the same time, he was disappointed that she hadn't expressed the same sentiments to him. He was caught off guard when she leaned forward and embraced him tightly. He was painfully aware of her soft breasts pressing against his chest, and was embarrassed by his body's reaction.

"I love you, too, Harry," she whispered. Her warm breath in his ear sent tiny chills through his body, and he had to bite his lip to keep himself from protesting when she pulled away from him.

When the movie had ended, Hermione stood and yawned. Harry turned his eyes away when she stretched her arms above her head, effectively raising the hem of her shirt and exposing a small patch of well-tanned skin at the small of her back. The sight of it was doing funny things to his stomach.

"Do you mind awfully much if we stay here tonight, Harry?" she asked, turning tired eyes towards him. He shook his head.

"Not at all. I'd love to have company. Do you guys have plans for tomorrow, then, too?"

"No," Ron said, stifling a yawn. "We thought we'd drag you into Hogsmeade to see the newest Firebolt model, but other than that, no plans." Harry laughed.

"That sounds great," he said, feeling the first sparks of excitement in many long months. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Quidditch! Some things never change," she moaned, stalking towards the stairs. Harry and Ron exchanged knowing glances and burst into conspiratorial laughter.

"You'd think she'd make an effort to learn about it by now," Ron said, following Harry up the stairs.

"Not our Hermione. She'll always hate Quidditch. Night, Ron." Ron headed into the spare bedroom that he normally slept in when he spent the night at Grimmauld Place, and he nodded at Harry.

"Night, mate." The door shut behind him. Harry moved down the hallway and noticed that the bedroom he kept for Hermione was still open. He peeked in and was immediately embarrassed to see her removing her shirt. She turned and screamed before clutching her shirt to her chest.

"Sorry," he said, turning his back to her. "I saw the door still open, and I just came to say goodnight." She sighed.

"You can turn around," she said. He turned and was surprised to find her standing there in just her bra and jeans, although her back was to him. The sight of her almost completely bare back was causing all of the blood to rush from his head, straight to another place that Hermione had been affecting all night. "I know you know what a woman's body looks like; I don't know why I even pretend to have modesty around you and Ron."

"I think your modesty is one of your more appealing qualities, actually," he said quietly. She half-turned to look at him, and her lips curled up into a smile.

"Really?" her cheeks flushed, and he nodded. She turned her back to him and reached behind her to fumble with the clasp of her bra. He stepped forward and unhooked it for her without thinking about it. When his fingers brushed her warm skin, his stomach did a somersault. He backed up immediately and practically ran to the door.

"Night, Mione," he said, not waiting for her to respond. He moved quickly down the hall, and went into his own bedroom. He pulled off his shirt and pants, and pulled on a pair of black sweatpants, then climbed beneath the covers of his bed. He didn't want to think about the new sensations that Hermione was causing in him, although they were completely welcome. It was good to feel anything again, as long as it wasn't guilt. Then again, he was curious as to why Hermione should be the woman to incite these feelings in him.

He snuggled down under the covers and closed his eyes, praying for sleep to overtake him soon, so he could quit overanalyzing every look and every touch she'd given him that evening. If he dwelled on it much longer, it would drive him insane, and he'd start misinterpreting any gestures on her part, he knew. Mercifully, sleep embraced him quickly.

Sleep was not coming so easily to Hermione, however. She lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She'd done nothing but think about Harry and dwell on Harry for the last two years. Coming so close to death herself and fearing for Harry's life had opened her eyes rather suddenly to the fact that she cared about Harry, and as more than a friend. She thought about him in ways that she knew she shouldn't; ways that a best friend should never think about another best friend if they wanted to remain best friends. She couldn't help it.

She'd had several boyfriends in the last year. She'd finally gone out with Viktor Krum, only to discover that he was very much like Ron in the fact that all he talked about was Quidditch. She'd ended that rather suddenly, and he'd refused to speak to her afterwards. Then she'd dated Terry Boot for a while. He was nice enough, and he treated her well. He was the first boy she'd ever slept with, which he'd gone around bragging about. That had been her cue to exit the relationship.

Since Terry she'd only been on one date, and surprisingly that was with Bill, Ron's older brother. She'd gotten piss drunk and gone home with him, only to awaken to Ron's horrified eyes staring at her poorly covered naked form. She'd apologized a million times over, and he'd promised never to mention it (or think about it) again. She'd promised herself the same thing.

She tossed and turned beneath her sheets, knowing that eventually, she was going to have to come clean to Harry and tell him how she felt. She didn't want to do that just yet- she wasn't emotionally prepared. She knew it would come as a great shock to him, and a most unwelcome shock, at that. After all, who wanted to be sprung suddenly with the news that your best friend was in love with you?

She sighed noisily and stood up, accepting the fact that no matter how tired she was, she would not be able to force sleep. She might as well go and have a drink of water, and maybe sit in front of the telly in hopes of dozing off. She wrapped her robe around her bared shoulders and buttoned it up. It wasn't thick enough to keep her totally warm, but it was just enough to keep the chill at bay. Her shorts and tank top beneath didn't offer much protection from the cool air in Harry's home, either.

She shuffled out into the hallway and had started towards the stairs when she heard a muffled cry. She froze and perked her ears, listening for it again. Yes, there it came once more. She turned and pressed her ear to Ron's door, but all she heard was steady snoring. That meant that it must be coming from Harry's room. She moved in front of his door and pressed her ear against the wood, almost yelping in shock when she heard a loud cry. She pushed the door open and saw that he was flailing violently with his arms.

"Harry?" she called softly. There was no answer, only the continued muffled cries and arm movements. She took a hesitant step inside his room, then another, until she was kneeling by his bed. His arm movements calmed, but didn't stop. She could see the wetness on his forehead from his sweat, and wondered at it. He must be having a nightmare.

She reached a gentle hand out and hesitated for a moment before brushing the wild hairs off of his forehead. He settled down almost immediately, and she sighed. Harry had been through more than anyone knew; Voldemort was conquered and it was safe to breathe freely again - for everyone except him. He still carried death around with him wherever he went, and she wished she could help rid him of it.

The fact remained that Harry had changed irrevocably that night when he'd come face to face with the Dark Lord. Fighting for his life had shifted his priorities in life, but seeing the dead bodies inside the hallowed walls of his beloved Hogwarts had shifted them right back. Hermione had busted her ass trying to shake him out of his depression and study for his NEWTs. He'd paid barely any attention, though, and she'd fretted nonstop for a month solid prior to the tests.

She knew she'd worried needlessly when he stomped out of the potions NEWT, his eyes blazing. He looked almost like the old Harry; the one she'd known all along - but only for a moment. She'd never been so grateful for Professor Snape. He'd made one of his usual derogatory remarks, and it had brought the real Harry seething to the surface, only to disappear within the depths of the newer, more sober Harry mere moments later.

Harry had passed all of his NEWTs with such ease that Hermione had almost been jealous. She would have been jealous, had it been anyone else but Harry that had surpassed her academically. As it stood, Harry graduated Hogwarts first in their class, with Hermione nipping closely at his heels in second, and ferret boy as a much more distant third. Harry could have done anything he wanted to do - instead he chose to let his grief and despair overwhelm him, and he'd done nothing for the last two years but stay locked up inside the Most Noble House of Black.

A small whimper drew Hermione's attention back to the present, and her heart convulsed in her chest at the look of unadulterated pain on Harry's face. She leaned forward and rested her cheek on his arm, lightly stroking his hair away from his face, and began to whisper comforting things to soothe him.

"It's all over," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. If she could take some of the pain and transfer it from his body to hers, she would, gladly. She just wanted the old Harry back, vibrant and alive, and carrying hope around like a beacon in the darkness. "It's all over. It wasn't your fault. You did nothing wrong. You saved everyone, just like we always knew you would, and now it's time to rest. You can rest, Harry. You've done your job."

She looked up at his beloved face and was surprised to find herself staring into a pair of bright emerald eyes. They almost seemed to glow in the darkness of the room. She lifted her head and brushed the tears away from her cheeks, then shot him an embarrassed smile.

"You're in my bedroom," he croaked softly. She realized she'd still been smoothing his hair, and withdrew her hand quickly, as though she'd been burnt. The heat crept into her cheeks.

"I know, I'm sorry. I was going to get a glass of water, and I heard you mumbling, so I came in here to check on you. I hope you don't mind." Actually, Harry found it was quite the opposite. He was comforted beyond belief, not to mention that the touch of her slender fingers on his brow had aroused him in a way he'd never felt before.

"Did I wake you?" he asked hoarsely, licking his dry lips in a vain attempt to moisten them. She shook her head.

"I couldn't sleep." She stood and pulled her robe tight around her, trying to ward off the chill that was seeping through to her skin. "You seem to be alright, so I'll let you get back to sleep." She turned and started towards the door.

"I'll come with you," he volunteered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed before she could protest. He followed her down to the kitchen and plucked two glasses from the cabinet. "My throat is dry. I needed a drink, too. I hope you don't mind." She shook her head; it was nice to be around Harry after spending so long away from him.

She took the glass he offered her and gave him a grateful smile before sipping the cool water. She looked up and found him studying her curiously. She bit her lip to keep from laughing; his unruly hair was even messier than usual (if that was at all possible), and his eyes were still groggy from his interrupted sleep. He was, for all intents and purposes, the most adorable thing that Hermione Granger had ever seen. He gave her a quizzical look, and she burst out into giggles.

"What?" he asked, almost sounding defensive.

"You just… do you always look like this when you first wake up?" she asked, unable to quell her laughter. He blinked, and then grinned.

"Hey, I can't help it if I look like a ruffled owl when I sleep," he said, his cheeks turning pink. She smiled again as he began to drain the rest of his water from the glass.

"Actually, I think it's kind of cute." She bit her lip, and the mouthful of water he'd just taken spewed across the room in his surprise. He looked extremely embarrassed as she pulled out her wand and muttered a quick "Evanesco."

"Oh, well, in that case, I guess I should tell you that you really shouldn't wear men's boxer shorts to bed." She blinked.

"Why not?"

"Well, if you sewed up the hole in front, it'd be one thing…" his voice trailed off, and she looked down. To her horror, the slit in the boxers was wide open, revealing a very small patch of her red, lacy panties. She felt as though her face was on fire as she grabbed the sides of her robe and pulled them around her, not bothering to ask herself why Harry had been looking in that general area to begin with. He laughed.

"Alright, truce," he said, extending a broad hand. She eyed it suspiciously, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, Mione. I left my wand upstairs, I promise I didn't do anything to my hand." She put her small hand hesitantly in his. "Except lick it." She yanked her hand away, and he roared with laughter. She slapped his arm lightly.

"You're so bad!"

"What can I say, you bring out the best in me," he said, his eyes twinkling. She smiled. Even if he had come out just to torture her, she could see a glimpse of the old Harry. The longer she stared at him, though, the faster her heart began to beat. Her smile faded and she watched as his left, leaving behind it a confused expression. She shook her head to clear it of the cobwebs that had started to form and sighed.

"Well, now I'm even farther from sleep than I'd hoped."

"Movie?" he suggested. She smiled.

"Actually I was thinking the same thing myself." He grinned and bowed deeply to her.

"After you, M'lady," he said, his tone low and exaggerated. She smothered a giggle with her hand and grabbed the corners of her robe, then curtsied to him.

"Good sir." She went out into the sitting room and flopped onto the couch in the same spot she'd occupied earlier, and watched as he fumbled in the dark for the television. She laughed and held up her wand. "Lumos." A gentle light filled the room, and he shot her a grateful look before finally turning the movie on. "Nox." The light went out, and Hermione suddenly found herself sitting on the couch in the dark with the man she'd been hopelessly in love with for the past two years.

The first half of the movie passed awkwardly for Hermione. This was exactly what she'd been fighting; her feelings for him getting in the way of their friendship. She had to stop fidgeting in her seat, or he'd figure out something was wrong really quickly - he wasn't nearly as thick as Ron was.

The only problem was, Harry had noticed something. He'd noticed the way her eyes kept flicking over to him, when she thought he wasn't looking. He'd noticed the way she flipped her hair nervously over her shoulder, over and over again. He'd noticed the way she kept moving in her seat, as though it were impossible to get comfortable. He noticed all of this and more, and wondered why she should be so nervous around him.

If he really thought about it, he was starting to get nervous around her, as well. His mouth would go dry every time he looked at her. His head would reel whenever he caught the light scent of her floral perfume on the air. When they'd been in the kitchen together, he'd had to fight to keep himself from ogling her as though she were any other woman he was attracted to.

Wait - had he just admitted to himself that he was attracted to Hermione?

"There are other people in this house who are trying to bloody well sleep," a gruff voice came from behind them. Harry grinned and turned to greet a very sleepy, very agitated Ron. Hermione took that as her cue to escape, and said her hurried goodnights to the boys, then ran up the stairs at breakneck speed. Ron slunk down into her spot on the couch, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry, mate. I didn't mean to interrupt your snogging session."

"What?" Harry asked incredulously. "We weren't-"

"Hey, everyone knows, Harry. It's alright."

"Knows what, exactly?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. Ron blinked, suddenly looking very awake.

"Uhm, weren't you and Hermione just down here- er, I mean -"

"Spit it out, Ron," Harry said, his voice low and dangerous.

"Nothing, never mind!" he squeaked, looking as though he'd swallowed a canary cream. He jumped up and started to move, but Harry's reflexes were still better than his, and he shot up a hand, wrapping it tightly around Ron's upper arm, effectively pulling him back down onto the couch.

"Never mind what?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. Ron's face turned scarlet.

"Harry, I can't. She'd kill me if I did, and that's one thing I don't need, is Hermione's wrath!"

"Hermione's wrath over what, exactly?"

"Harry, please don't make me! Please!" Ron squeaked.

"Tell me, Ron, or else-" he left his sentence hanging in the air, an unspoken threat. He had no idea what he'd do to Ron, if anything, but Ron was sufficiently frightened.

"Hermione fancies you." The words were out so quickly that Harry wasn't quite sure he'd heard them all correctly. He blinked and let go of Ron's arm in surprise.

"She what?"

"She fancies you," he repeated, rubbing his arm. "She has since the middle of our seventh year at Hogwarts."

"You're joking," Harry decided, grinning. "You're getting better at that, you almost had me there for a minute." Ron was staring at him with a decidedly unfunny look, and Harry's breath caught in his throat. "You are kidding, aren't you?" Ron shook his head slowly.

"I wouldn't joke about that, Harry."

"Why hasn't she said anything to me?" he croaked, his heart racing wildly.

"She doesn't want to ruin your friendship. I only know `cause I asked her the same thing myself when she told me. She said you had enough on your mind without her adding to it all." Harry swallowed with some difficulty. No wonder she'd been so nervous - it had been because of him. Suddenly he didn't feel quite so bad for thinking his lecherous thoughts about her earlier.

"This started after the- the fight?" he asked, not able to bring himself to say the word war. Ron nodded.

"She said she realized she came close to losing us both, and it made her open her eyes and see what she really felt for you."

"B-But…" he stuttered, rubbing his eyes. "What about the guys she's dated? Viktor? Terry?" Ron's face went pink, and he shrugged.

"I dunno about that. All I know is that she's been off her rocker for you for almost two years now. Can I go to bed now?" he pleaded. Harry smiled, despite the confusion that was muddling his already addled brain.

"Sorry." He nodded, and Ron looked very relieved as he went back upstairs. Harry sat there for a bit longer, wondering what he should do, if anything. He knew he'd been having strange thoughts about her all night, but he'd just assumed it was because she was the only female who'd gotten near him in a while. His body had just reacted, hadn't it? Physical needs and all that - that was all it was, right? He wasn't so sure anymore.

He stood and climbed the steps slowly, contemplating this new piece of information. It was going to short out his brain if he thought about it too much longer. He paused just outside the door of her room, then kept walking towards his own room. He crawled beneath his covers, and waited for sleep to come. When his lids finally closed, all he could see behind them was chestnut hair and laughing eyes.

Hermione waited until she heard both of the boys' doors shut before exhaling. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath like that, and her lungs were clearly angry with her for depriving them of much-needed oxygen. She released a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. She wasn't sure how long she'd laid there like that, but when she opened her eyes again, it was still dark. She heard a noise and sat bolt upright in her bed, pricking her ears.

There it was again. This time, she recognized it. It was Harry. She didn't bother to pull on her robe as she hurried towards his room. She went inside the room and paused; he was thrashing around, and the sheets were tangled up around his legs. She crept to his side and pulled the fabric away with nimble fingers, then sighed quietly.

His forehead was drenched with sweat, and she supposed that his pillow was probably in the same condition. How could he endure every night like this, with his sleep disturbed by nightmares? Now she understood why the bags beneath his eyes had become permanent fixtures, and she was angry with him. He thought he was solely to blame for the atrocities of war that the Death Eaters had visited on them, and he'd refused to speak to anyone about it. Well, damnit! It was time for him to realize that it wasn't his responsibility!

He cried out in his sleep, and her anger faded. She dropped to her knees beside the bed and reached for his hand. She squeezed it tightly and let the tears blur her eyes as she stroked his convulsing arm. Slowly; slowly his thrashing settled, and his breathing became even again. She sighed and let the tears fall. She pressed her lips against the back of his warm hand as she cried silently. She brushed away the moisture and stood. When she tried to dislodge her hand from his, however, she was surprised to find that she couldn't. She turned widened eyes to his face, and found that he was staring intently at her.

"You're in my bedroom again," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. She nodded, glad that it was dark and he couldn't see the heat rising in her face.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just - you were - you were making noises again, and I just wanted to make sure you were alright." He didn't say anything, and the way he kept staring at her made her uneasy. She tugged her hand gently, but his grip was firm, and he didn't seem to want to release it. She chided herself silently - he was still out of sorts from his nightmare, that was all. It wasn't because he wanted to hold her hand, it was because he hadn't realized he was doing it.

"Harry, I'm going to be needing that back," she said, forcing her voice to sound light. She pointed down at her hand, which was still in his viselike grip. He licked his lips nervously, then forced himself to meet her eyes as he shook his head. Her eyes widened slightly; she didn't know what to think. The poor boy - man, she corrected herself- probably just needed some comfort to help him forget his nightmare. When he patted the spot next to him on the bed, she felt a surge of relief. He just wanted company until he could get back to sleep.

She sat down and was suddenly aware that she'd forgotten to put her robe on in her haste to check on Harry. He let go of her hand, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get warm. He shifted and pulled the downy comforter up off of the floor, then spread it over his legs and laid down. He patted the pillow that was visible next to his head, and she blinked.

"You can lay here with me, I won't bite. I promise. At least, not yet," he teased. She rolled her eyes but gave him a smile. She crawled up the bed and snuggled beneath the comforter next to him. Her heart was thudding wildly against her chest, and her stomach was doing repeated violent somersaults. She knew he didn't mean anything romantic by his gesture, but she was committing everything to memory. She wanted to look back on this tomorrow and remember what it felt like to lie next to Harry. He rolled onto his left side to face her, so she rolled onto her right side to face him. She tucked her hand beneath her cheek and smiled at him, feeling like a little girl at a slumber party.

"Are you too tired to talk?" he asked, a strange light in his eyes. She shook her head. She was much too excited to sleep; she was finally next to Harry, and in bed, of all places!

"No. Are you? Don't you want to go back to sleep?"

"And have those nightmares a third time tonight? No thanks. So tell me what's been going on in the Wizarding world." She babbled on and on about the House-Elf revolt, the releasing of hundreds of captive Hippogriffs into the wild, and all of the other things she wrote about for work. He was studying her face as she spoke, admiring the passion on her face and in her voice, and wondered how he could have allowed himself to stay away from his best friend for so long.

"Harry?" her voice broke into his thoughts. "Harry? Are you alright? Do you want me to go get you some water?" She started to sit up, but he shot out a hand and touched her shoulder. She turned and stared at him, her heart nearly stopping inside her chest at the contact. He released her with a smile and shook his head.

"No, please, lay back down. Keep talking to me. It's nice to have company." He watched as she settled back down on the bed, this time lying on her back. She began to talk about her outings with Ron - apparently they saw each other every weekend and did things together. He knew that they'd grown close since he'd withdrawn from them, but he also knew that they loved him as much as they ever did, and tried to include him whenever possible. Really, who could possibly have better friends than these?

"…and then she said that she'd had a crush on Dean for ages now, and I told her just to go for it." She looked at him, and he wondered who she'd been talking about. "Do you think I gave her the right advice?" her brow furrowed in worry, and he smiled. It was just the opening he'd been waiting for.

"Absolutely. I think that if you like someone, you have to let them know. Life's too short not to. Plus there are always the `what ifs' that plague you if you don't." She nodded as though she was taking this into serious consideration. He propped his head up on his elbow and looked down at her, and was encouraged when he saw her lips part breathlessly. She averted her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, trying to contain her nervousness. He's just talking to me. He's just talking to me. He's just talking to me. She chanted her mantra over and over again silently.

"You're right," she said finally, turning to smile at him. "I think I said the right thing to her."

"You're agreeing with me?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. She smiled.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Can I ask you something, Mione?" She nodded. "If you agree with me that when you like someone, you should tell them, why haven't you told me that you like me yet?" She froze and the blood drained from her face. She looked confused for a moment, then realization dawned across her features. She narrowed her eyes.

"Ron!" she hissed angrily. She was afraid to meet Harry's eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to get up out of his bed and run to her room, where she would undoubtedly cry herself to sleep. This was humiliating. She bit her lip and sighed. "How long have you known?" she whispered.

"He only told me when we were downstairs, and only after I threatened him," he said, grinning. "Looked right scared of me, too." She gave him a weak smile before turning her eyes back to the ceiling.

"Look, Harry. I don't expect you to do anything, or feel any obligation towards me. I wasn't going to tell you until the time was right, anyway. You've already got enough on your plate to think about, without me adding anything to it."

"Oh?" he asked quietly. She nodded and took a deep breath.

"Although I have to admit, I'm kind of glad it's out in the open now. At least now we can move on, and I can feel somewhat normal again." She braved a look at him, and felt her knees weaken. His viridian eyes were burning into her, and she wondered vaguely if he had killed the Dark Lord with a simple look. It was certainly having funny effects on her right now.

"You're ready to move on, then?" he asked, his voice low. It awakened slumbering feelings deep inside of her, and she shivered.

"It'd probably be the best thing for me to do," she said, hating the way her voice was quivering. Had he just scooted closer? No, her imagination must be overactive. "That way I can stop pining away for you and get on with my life."

"You're right," he said softly, his eyes resting on her lips. "It's time to move on." She gave him a questioning look. Her eyes flew wide open suddenly; his hand had snaked between them and was now resting on her flat stomach. Her mouth dropped open and her bottom lip began to tremble. He could feel her body shaking beneath his hand, and felt a tingle of anticipation begin in his stomach.

Slowly he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. The sensation shot through him like lightning; she had the softest lips he'd ever kissed. He lifted his hand off of her stomach and rested it on her shoulder, caressing the bare flesh lightly with his thumb. He hesitated briefly before touching his tongue to her lips. He licked her lower lip slowly, savoring the feel of it. She parted her lips, and his tongue slid inside.

Before she knew what she'd done, she felt her fingers threading themselves through his hair. Soft raven locks sifted through her fingers as he kissed her. The hand that was resting on her shoulder gripped it tightly, causing warmth to spread down her entire arm. He kissed her over and over, hardly believing that she was real and there, and letting him touch her like this.

His mouth slid from hers, and his lips grazed her jawline. She tilted her head back to give him better access, and gasped when his tongue touched the skin of her throat. The blood was rushing violently through her veins - she'd been kissed before, but not like this. Not like he thought that the world might end and he had to convey every emotion to her through his mouth before it was all over.

His lips left a trail of fire behind them as they moved on her neck, then her collarbone. She felt his teeth scrape against her skin gently, and gooseflesh rose on her arms. His lips found his way back to hers, and he claimed her mouth urgently. She was finding it difficult to breathe; his kisses were making her head reel, and her entire body felt as though it was being consumed by flames. He pulled away from her gently and met her eyes with his. She realized that she wasn't the only one struggling for breath - his breathing was rapid and shallow.

"Wow," he breathed softly. She only had the sense to nod. He licked his lips, and realized that they were both probably going to have sore mouths tomorrow. It was worth it, though. Kissing her felt right - no, it was more than right - it felt like coming home. He lowered himself back onto his side and draped his arm across her waist, pulling her closer to him. When her right side was pressed against his stomach, he buried his face in her shoulder and sighed.

Hermione wasn't quite sure what to think. For once in her life, she was at a loss for words. It didn't matter, because even if she had known what to say, she wouldn't have been able to find her voice to say it with. Harry's nearness was having a dumbing effect on her. He had kissed any coherent thoughts right out of her brain.

She found that she didn't mind it at all.

She closed her eyes as his lips touched her shoulder lightly, and felt her skin quivering beneath his hand, which had once again come to rest on the opposite shoulder. She turned to look at him, and was immediately hypnotized by his eyes. He leaned forward and caught her bottom lip between his, stealing her breath away again as he kissed her. The warmth of his hand disappeared from her shoulder, and she shivered as he cupped her face. The motion of his thumb on the sensitive skin of her cheek made her shiver. He pulled away just enough so they could look into each other's eyes, and their noses were barely touching.

"Hermione, I-" his breath was warm against her mouth. "Can we-" He hesitated. He wanted to ask her, not simply take what he wanted from her. The fact was that those innocent kisses had ignited another fire in him that needed to be put out. It was a fire like he'd never felt- he had been turned on before, but this was all of those other times, magnified by a hundred. He was so aroused that it was beginning to be painful. She bit her lip, and he knew that she'd understood what he was asking. The fact that she was even giving it serious consideration was enough to make his heart jump into his throat.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" she whispered finally, her eyes searching his. He touched his forehead to hers and kissed her again lightly before answering.

"Yes, but I don't want to pressure you if you don't want to." Even as he said the words he wondered at them. He could no sooner stop touching her than he could stop breathing. She nodded slightly, and he groaned as he pulled her closer, kissing her with renewed fervor. His hands moved up behind her head and wove themselves in her hair. She gasped; his kisses were intense and urgent. She wondered how long it had been since he'd shared something like this with a woman.

Suddenly she was frightened. She was afraid that he was going to change his mind and decide that this was not a good idea after all, and the thought gave her fuel. With bravado that she hadn't been able to summon in a long time, she slid her hands beneath the fabric of his shirt and let her fingers caress the burning skin of his chest. He moaned and began kissing her earlobe gently, his warm breath tickling her ear. Delicious chills traveled down her spine. She pulled away from him and rose to her knees, and he automatically did the same. She grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and tugged upwards on it. He pulled it over his head and slung it on the floor behind them.

She was awed. Even with only the moonlight illuminating the room, she could see that he was incredible. But then, he always had been, hadn't he? She reached out and touched his chest gently with her fingertips, and he closed his eyes momentarily to savor their feel. She pushed him backwards easily and once he was lying down, he opened his eyes to look at her.

She moved closer to him, then lowered her mouth to his neck. She planted tiny little kisses that made him blood surge violently through his veins. When she nibbled on his earlobe, he groaned. She loved the little noises that were coming from him, and more, she loved the fact that she was the one eliciting them from him. She rose up on her knees again, and he watched as she pulled her tank top over her head. She resumed her gentle motions on his neck, then worked her way down to his chest. When her hand brushed the erection that was straining against the fabric of his sweatpants, he gasped. She tugged down on the waist of his pants, and he shifted slightly, allowing her the room to remove them from his body. When she had done that, she sat up and wriggled out of her own shorts, leaving him completely breathless at the sight of her.

He was seeing a different side of Hermione. She was self-assured and sexy. While he knew that she wasn't a virgin, her knowing hands were still a surprise to him. She caressed him lovingly, taking her time with him. She'd been dreaming of this for a long time, and she didn't want to ruin things by rushing through it. After all, once Harry realized what he was doing and whom he was doing it with, he'd probably want to stop. She was going to take everything she could get from him, while she could get it.

When her warm mouth wrapped around his erection, he cried out. He grabbed handfuls of her hair, losing himself in the sensation of her tongue caressing his sensitive skin. She licked and teased until he was almost to the point of release, then stopped abruptly. When she lifted her head, he lunged forward and grabbed her, quickly rolling her to her back and straddling her. He kissed her wildly, and was vaguely aware of her fingernails scraping against his back. He kissed his way down her neck, across her collarbone, and down to her breasts. When he capture a nipple between his lips, she gasped and arched her back.

He moved to lave the other nipple with his tongue, and let his hand slide down her side. When it reached the outside of her thigh, he stopped. Slowly and deliberately, he trailed his hand across the top of her thigh, then on her inner thigh. She parted her legs slightly to give him better access, and he slipped his hand over the mound of soft curls there. She moaned.

"Harry," she gasped. He looked up, startled to hear his name falling from her lips so easily. He bent his head again, dipping his tongue into her bellybutton, while sliding his fingers against her exposed pink folds. Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. When he dipped lower and touched his tongue to her, she cried out. His tongue moved teasingly slow at first, then developed a rhythm that caused her to rock her hips back and forth. He listened as her breathing became shallow, and when she cried out her release, he pulled away from her. He positioned himself on top of her and entered her in one swift motion.

He was bigger than she'd originally thought, and he filled her completely. He began to thrust slowly, not wanting it to be over too quickly, but knowing at the same time that he was close to release already. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he began to thrust. His thrusts became harder and faster until she felt him tense, then spill his seed inside of her. He thrust one final time, and felt her tighten around him in her second orgasm of the night. He dropped onto her chest. They both lay there panting together for a long time. When their breathing had finally steadied, he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back.

He licked his dry lips and turned to look at Hermione. Her lips were curled up in the faintest of satisfied smiles, and she glowed with the layer of post coital sweat on her brow. He wondered if she'd mind if he licked it off. Fighting off his baser instincts, he fumbled around on the bed for her hand. When he found it, he laced his fingers through hers, and brought the back of her hand to his lips. He was content to hold her hand like this, until he felt her pull herself away and sit up. She was looking on the floor for her discarded clothes when he sat up.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Looking for my clothes," she said, her cheeks burning.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Back to my room."

"Why?"

"So you can get some sleep." He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her surprised form closer to him.

"I'd like it if you stayed," he said quietly. She nodded her assent, and he reached for the comforter. He pulled it up over them, then nestled closer to her. Her back pressed into his front, and he draped his arm around her. The last thing she remembered before drifting into a dreamless sleep was the feeling of his steady breathing against her hair.

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Acronycal, Part Two

When Harry awoke, he was disappointed to find that he was in his bed alone. He sat bolt upright and blinked against the sunlight that flooded into the room. Last night… he smiled sleepily as he stood and stretched. It hadn't been a dream, had it? He went into the bathroom that adjoined his bedroom and turned the water on. He stepped under the warm spray and found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wipe the stupid grin from his face.

He toweled off and dressed, then grabbed his glasses. When he got downstairs, he wasn't at all surprised to see Hermione at the table, neatly dressed and reading the Daily Prophet over her cup of tea. He crept up behind her and made to put his arms around her. When he did, however, he caught her off guard, and she raised a fist automatically into the air. Unluckily enough for Harry, it caught him square on the nose. He groaned and cupped his now bleeding nose with his hands, and she jumped up, wearing a horrified look.

"Oh, Merlin, Harry, you scared me to death!"

"That's obvious," he said sarcastically, though he smiled at her. She pulled her wand out and pointed it at him, muttering a spell that stopped the bleeding. When she'd done that, she muttered "Evanesco!" The blood disappeared from his face and hands, and he massaged the bridge of his nose. "Where did you learn how to do that?" he winced. The spells had stopped the bleeding, but his nose still hurt.

"I took a self defense class last summer," she said, stepping towards him. She stopped in front of him and gently pulled his hands away from his face, examining his nose. She arched an eyebrow at him. "Serves you right for sneaking up on people, you know."

"Hey, it's my house," he protested, his eyes twinkling. "Who else did you think it was going to be?" She leaned forward and planted an impetuous kiss on the tip of his nose and smiled.

"All better, drama boy?" she teased. He pulled her close and planted an intense kiss on her lips, then pulled away slightly.

"Now it is." She blushed, and he winked at her, slapping her bottom playfully as she turned to go back to the table. She turned surprised eyes to him, and he shrugged innocently. "What?" She rolled her eyes and sat back down, and he had to fight the urge to laugh.

She had been worried about his reaction to last night. It had been the best night of her life, and she was terrified that he was going to wake up and tell her it had all been a mistake. She had awoken in his arms feeling languid and deliriously happy. She didn't know if he'd want her to be there when he awoke, so she'd gathered her things and crept back to her own room. She looked up when he sat down across from her, and folded the paper neatly.

"You weren't in bed when I woke up," he said softly, as he took a bite of toast. The heat rose in her cheeks, and his heart twisted. Merlin, how beautiful she was when she blushed…

"No," she said quietly, staring down at her cup of tea. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to wake up to me or not." She braved a look up at him. He was staring at her as though she'd just told him she was a blast-ended skrewt.

"Why wouldn't I?" he demanded.

"Well, I thought perhaps… I wondered if you might… think that last night was a mistake," the words tumbled out on top of each other, and he stared at her. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Did you think it was a mistake? It is something you regret?"

"No!" she almost shouted. He relaxed and smiled weakly at her.

"Don't scare me like that, Mione," he said, shaking his head. He ran his hand through his already ruffled hair. "I thought you were going to tell me you never wanted to see me again." Her eyes widened.

"Why would I do that?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I was starting to think last night was a sympathetic gesture on your part." He paused, then looked cautiously at her. "It wasn't, was it?" the uncertainty in his voice touched her, and she shook her head slowly. He exhaled with relief.

"It wasn't out of sympathy, I promise."

"And you swear you don't regret it?"

"Only if you swear you don't." He grinned.

"Agreed. So," he said, watching her lift the china cup to her swollen lips. "Am I a good kisser?" she spit out the mouthful of tea in surprise, and it sprayed straight into his face. He laughed as she grabbed her wand and cleaned him off.

"What?" she shrieked. He held up his hands in mock surrender.

"I was only kidding! Yeesh, how am I supposed to make it through the day with you around? You're lethal! Already broke my nose, and now this," he muttered good-naturedly. She giggled.

"You brought it on yourself, you know." She stuck her nose up in the air, and he arched an eyebrow.

"Is that right?" he murmured, eyeing her lips. They were swollen from his kisses, and at the moment he wanted nothing more than to claim them again. Unfortunately enough for him, that was the moment when Ron clambered through the kitchen door, looking groggy. Hermione bit her lip and exchanged an amused glance with Harry, who was used to seeing Ron in the mornings. Ron glared at her.

"Don't we look awfully chipper this morning?" he asked grumpily, sitting down at the table. Hermione waved her wand, and a plate full of food appeared in front of him. His eyes widened, and he gave her an appreciative look as he began to eat.

"So what are our plans for today?" Hermione asked, absentmindedly twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger. She'd used a braiding charm on her hair, and tiny tendrils framed her delicate face. Harry's stomach lurched pleasantly at the sight of her.

"We're going to go to Hogsmeade, remember?" Ron asked. She nodded and sipped at her tea again, and Ron turned his eyes to Harry. He watched as Harry continued to stare at Hermione, giving her strange, cloudy looks. Something was different between them, but he couldn't put his finger on it just yet. "That is, if Harry can tear his eyes away from you."

"What?" she asked, her eyes widening. She blinked at Ron, who sniggered at her.

"He's making puppy eyes at you," he said. Harry chose that moment to snap out of his reverie, and shot a glare at Ron through narrowed eyes.

"You know, I've had a hell of a morning," Harry said, unable to maintain his glare. "First Hermione effectively breaks my nose when I try to hug her, then she spits on me, and now this." Ron's head turned so quickly to Hermione that she could have sworn she heard his neck snapping.

"Why'd you try to break his nose, Hermy?" she flinched at the name and sighed.

"I didn't," she said, half-laughing at the face Harry was pulling at her. "And even if I had, he would have deserved it! Fancy sneaking up on a person like that!" Ron turned his eyes back to Harry, missing Hermione poke her tongue out. Harry's jaw dropped in mock surprise, and he gasped.

"Why, Hermione Jane Granger!" he protested, winking slyly at her. The color crept into her cheeks, and Ron arched an eyebrow. Oh, yes; something was definitely going on here. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were implying that I did something wrong!"

"And whatever in the world would have given you that idea?" she asked sourly. Harry laughed, and Ron's mouth dropped open.

"What did you guys do last night?" he asked. Their laughter died, and they both turned wide eyes to him.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"When we got here yesterday, you were Mister depressed," Ron said, an idea occurring to him. "But this morning, it's like, poof, the old Harry is back with a vengeance!"

"It was an excellent night," Harry said softly, shooting a clandestine glance at Hermione. She blushed furiously and refused to meet Ron's eyes. "Best night of my life, actually." He finished his forgotten piece of toast, and looked up when Ron's fork clattered to the floor.

"You guys did it!" Hermione sputtered; Harry simply grinned wickedly. "You did! You did it!"

"Ron-" she started. Her voice died at the grin that spread across his face.

"You randy bastard," he said to Harry, a hint of admiration in his voice. "A good shagging was all it took to snap you out of your funk? Crikey, Harry! If I'd have known that was the problem, I would have bound and gagged Hermione and left her on your doorstep!" The thought of a bound and gagged Hermione made Harry laugh.

"Well, I like that!" Hermione huffed indignantly. "Just throwing private things out into the open like that! What makes you so sure that that's why he's in a good mood this morning?"

"Because it is," Harry said, smiling warmly at her. Her insides began to feel very much like melted butter.

"Oh," she squeaked. Ron set into his breakfast with renewed fervor.

"Bout damn time you two did it, too," he mumbled through his food. Hermione rolled her eyes and headed towards her room. Just before she got there, she felt a hand on her arm. Harry spun her around to face him and pinned her against the wall, then crushed his lips against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, inhaling his musky scent deeply. When he pulled away, his breathing was ragged.

"I think Ron's okay with the idea of us," he whispered, his breath tickling her lips. "How about you?"

"What about me?" she asked, her pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

"Was last night just a one night stand?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers and locking them with his gaze.

"Was it for you?"

"Don't answer a question with a question, Mione," he said, a smile playing at his lips. She smiled back.

"It wasn't for me, no."

"Good, because I was thinking I'd just lock you up in my closet…" he laughed as she rolled her eyes and shoved his chest playfully, then caught her in his arms. He pulled her tight against him, and her breath caught in her throat. "I wasn't lying down there, you know. Last night was the best night of my life. After you came into my room, I was able to sleep. Without nightmares. That was the first time in two years."

"You were just tired," she said, reveling in the feel of his hard body against hers. He was so warm, it made her want to forget their plans for the day and drag him into her bed.

"I was tired, but that wasn't it. You soothed me."

"I only did what any friend would do." He gave her a funny look.

"I'm sorry, but I wouldn't want Ron sneaking into my room at night and holding my hand." She blushed.

"And you won't catch me doing it, even if you ask," Ron said, walking past them to get to the bathroom. "Take it in the bedroom, you two!" Harry laughed and Hermione blushed.

"You're just jealous!" Harry called.

"I'm going to be in the shower for exactly twenty minutes, and then I'm going to be in my room for another twenty! You've been warned! Get it out of the way so I don't lose my breakfast watching you make goo-goo eyes at each other all damned day!" The door promptly slammed shut.

"I would say he's more than accepting," she said dryly. Harry chuckled.

"I've missed the two of you, more than you know," he said softly. Her expression softened, and she smiled.

"I'm sorry it's been so long since we came for a visit. Next time we won't stay away so long."

"I don't intend on letting you," he said firmly. "I want to start taking you out." She blinked at him.

"Taking me out?" she echoed dumbly. He nodded.

"You know, as in dating you? You do date, don't you?" she blushed.

"No, not since - " she'd almost said Bill's name. "Not since I got pissed one night and went home with someone I barely even knew."

"We've all done stupid things like that," he said, shrugging. "So is that a yes? Are you accepting my offer?"

"On what conditions?" she asked suspiciously. He grabbed her hand and began pulling her in the direction of his bedroom. She didn't realize where they were until he'd pulled her inside and locked the door behind them.

"On the condition that you date me exclusively, and I get to wallop anyone who even looks at you funny." She laughed. "And on the condition that you occasionally spend the night with me."

"Oh, is that so? And if I don't agree to those conditions? What then, Mister Potter?" He pulled her close and kissed her roughly.

"Then I'll be forced to lock you in my closet, as originally planned." She laughed, and he caressed her cheek gently. "I have missed you, Hermione. More than I realized."

"It's good to see the old Harry back," she admitted, leaning her cheek into his palm. "He's been gone for too long."

"You brought him back," he whispered, leaning forward and touching his lips to hers. She shivered as his hands dropped to her shoulders, then caressed her arms lightly, before coming to rest on her waist.

"Oh," she whispered. His mouth dropped to her neck, and his tongue began tracing tiny circles on her skin. His hot breath was caressing her neck as he kissed, and she shivered again.

"Would you object very much if I wanted to use Ron's time away to my advantage?" he murmured, nuzzling her ear. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly.

He continued kissing her as he pulled her back towards his bed, then pushed her down gently. Her heart was jumping around inside her chest like a crazed snitch on the loose - was this really happening? Was Harry about to make love to her again? She began to lose her ability to form a reasonable thought as Harry removed his shirt, then hers. His lips dragged across her collarbone, and a gentle hand raised to lightly stroke her breast through the fabric of her bra. A small moan escaped her lips.

He pushed the fabric of her bra aside slightly so that the creamy flesh of her breast was exposed. He covered it with his mouth, licking and nuzzling gently. She arched her back, pressing herself into him, and he groaned. He stood and quickly removed his pants and boxers, and helped her out of her jeans and panties. He positioned himself on top of her and she gasped at the feel of him; his hardness was pressing into her thigh.

"Harry, please-" she whispered, the ache between her legs becoming quickly unbearable. Without another word, he forced his way roughly inside of her. She moaned, and he began to plunge in and out recklessly. Her sharp nails dug into the smooth flesh of his shoulders, and she uttered a soft cry. He lowered his head to kiss her insistently as he continued to push himself deeper inside of her.

She began to move her hips in rhythm with his, bucking and matching every thrust. She gasped; she was getting closer and closer to release. His thrusts were getting shorter and shorter, and she knew he was close. Before he could release, though, she felt warmth spread through her like a wave rolling over the sand. She'd never had such a powerful orgasm before; not even last night. She was still shaking uncontrollably when she felt his release inside of her.

"Merlin," he whispered softly, burying his face between her neck and shoulder. She nodded, her eyes still closed. They were both gasping for air. Finally he pulled away from her and shot her a very drowsy post-coital smile. He beckoned for her to come closer to him, and she obliged by scooting close and nestling her head on his bare chest.

"And here you thought that I only thought about Quidditch around you," he teased. She giggled softly.

"You mean you don't?"

"Ha, ha," he said sarcastically, although his smile remained in place. "Wow. That was just… wow."

"Mmm," she agreed, resting her hand on his chest. He reached up and grabbed it with his own, then sighed contentedly.

"How long do you suppose it's been since we left Ron in the hallway?"

"Twenty minutes?" she offered weakly, not really knowing or caring at the moment. He gave her a wicked grin.

"Time for one more."

"Harry," she chided, smiling. She sat up and began gathering her clothes, and he watched her appreciatively as she dressed. She turned to see him still lying in bed, naked, and laughed. "You'd better get dressed, before Ron starts demanding to know where we are." He shrugged and stood, then slid into his jeans.

"Had you guys planned on staying here tonight, too?" he asked, his heart racing. He didn't want Hermione to leave - now, or ever. She'd snapped him out of his pathetic state with her loving glances and burning touches, and he didn't want to lose that. He didn't want to lose her.

"I'm not sure," she said honestly, smoothing stray hairs away from her face, and trying not to stare at Harry's bare back as he pulled his shirt over his head. "We just decided to keep you company for Halloween. We didn't want you to be alone."

"I'm glad you both came," he said, running his fingers through his hair. She smiled at him. "You guys have always been good at cheering me up. The movies and popcorn were a welcome distraction."

"I thought they might be," she nodded. "Watching dumb movies always helps me feel better."

"Dumb movies?" he asked, mock indignancy in his voice. "I'll have you know that Billy Madison is one of the best movies ever made!" She laughed and rolled her eyes playfully.

"Okay, sure," she said, waving her hand in the air. Before she knew what had hit her, he'd lunged across the room and plowed her over, tickling her mercilessly. She laughed until she couldn't breathe properly, and tears blurred her vision. "Uncle! Uncle, Harry!" He stopped tickling, but didn't move to let her up.

"You gonna take it back?"

"Take what back?" she gasped.

"What you said about Billy Madison."

"No." The tickling began with renewed fervor, and she screamed with laughter. "Alright! I take it back! I take it back!" He stopped.

"Now say that Billy Madison is the best movie you've ever seen."

"I won't do it, either! I cannot tell a lie!" He raised a wiggling finger into the air menacingly, and she squealed. "Alright! Alright! BillyMadisonisthebestmovieever!" she said quickly.

"That won't do, it won't do at all!" he said disapprovingly. "It doesn't count." The wiggling finger began to head towards her belly, and she screamed.

"Alright! Stop! Billy Madison is the best movie you've ever seen." He tickled her again, and she squealed with laughter. When he stopped, the tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. She smiled at him. "Whoever knew you could be so cruel to your best friend?"

"My best girl," he corrected her. She blushed, and he kissed her gently. When he pulled away, his cheeks were bright pink. She gave him a curious look.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I just - I wish that I hadn't spent this time tickling you, because now I-" his voice died, and she realized that his hardness was pressed into her stomach, where he had pinned her down to tickle her. She gasped slightly, and his blush deepened. "And you're going to leave tonight, aren't you?" he asked, looking slightly dejected.

"Do you want me to stay?" her voice was quiet and smooth. He nodded.

"Very much so."

"I'll stay, then." He leaned forward and hugged her tightly. They jumped apart when a loud knock sounded on the door.

"It's been forty three minutes, guys! Wrap it up and come out here!" Ron's voice was loud and commanding. Harry grinned at her, and she laughed. He stood and helped her to her feet, and watched as she tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her jade tank top.

"How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you today?" he asked, only half teasing. She blushed again, and he gave her another tight hug before turning to head towards the door. As soon as his back was to her, he felt a light slap on his bottom. He turned and looked at her in surprise, but she was concentrating very hard on the carpet. The crimson of her cheeks was the only thing that gave her away, and he laughed.

"I'm not going to wait much longer," Ron's impatient voice called from behind the door. "I know how long it takes!"

"We're coming, I swear!" Harry called, laughing as he moved towards the door.

"Too much information!" Ron called back. Harry stopped and doubled over in laughter, and Hermione turned an impossible shade of red as she strode forth and opened the door. Ron had clamped a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh. She glared at him; one of her famous `I'm-going-to-kill-you-if-you-don't-shut-up' looks. He sobered up immediately and raced down the hallway. Before she knew what she was doing, she'd followed him. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, she jumped on his back, effectively tumbling them both to the floor. They were laughing when Harry joined them.

"Are you-" his voice died when he saw their limbs tangled together and the joyous looks on their faces. Hermione disentangled herself from Ron and stood to smile at Harry.

"We're fine - Ron was just being a prat, as per usual." Ron pulled a face at her, and she poked her tongue out.

"Wench."

"Git."

"Know-it-all."

"Prat."

"You already used that one," he said, looking triumphant. Harry's raging jealousy faded, and he laughed. He would have to keep in mind that Hermione and Ron were close, and he'd have to get used to their little games. He stepped forward and positioned himself behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her waist. She sighed and leaned backwards into him, erasing all of Harry's doubts. She might be close to Ron, but she'd slept with him.

"Ugh," Ron said, wrinkling his nose. "Don't do that in front of me, guys! I'd prefer to keep my breakfast down, if you don't mind." Hermione laughed, but Harry was pleased to notice that she didn't attempt to pull away from him. His heart swelled with emotion.

"Alright, well, let's get this day over with then," she said, rolling her eyes playfully. "But we're going to the bookshop first, so I'll at least have a book to read while you two bore me to death with your Quidditch talk." Harry laughed.

"It's nice to have you back, mate," Ron said, grinning at him. "I'll have someone to talk Quidditch with again. I tried explaining things to Hermione, but she didn't understand." She huffed at this.

"I understand the game perfectly."

"You mean sport," Harry corrected her. She sighed.

"So it begins."

"You'd think that after dating Vicky and hearing all of his Quidditch talk, you'd have some respect for the sport." Ron arched an eyebrow at her, and Harry stiffened. He hadn't known that she'd dated Krum.

"Ron, if I recall correctly - and I do," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "That was precisely the reason I broke things off with him. A girl can't go through a relationship and survive on Quidditch alone!" Harry relaxed by degrees, and gave her a quick squeeze.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, grinning. Ron made a gagging sound from across the room, and Harry laughed. He finally released Hermione, who went straight into the kitchen for a drink. Ron grinned at him.

"I'm happy for you two, I really am," he said quietly, shooting furtive glances towards the kitchen door. "I've never seen Hermione so happy, you know. After all that business with that prat Terry, she was right depressed. She was getting pissed every night and actually went home with someone one of those nights."

"Terry?" he asked, confused. "And she only went home with one guy? That's chaste, compared to what I've done."

"Don't you know about Terry?" Ron asked, frowning. Harry shook his head. "Terry Boot asked her out right after she broke things off with Vicky, and she said yes. They dated for about four months, and then she finally gave in and slept with him. He went around bragging to everyone that he took the pure, wholesome Gryffindor's virginity. The smarmy bastard was right proud of it, too." Ron's expression darkened, and Harry felt his temper spike.

"He'd better hope I never see him again," he breathed angrily.

"He's been taken care of, Harry," Ron said, nodding.

"By?"

"Bill." Harry's eyes widened, and Ron nodded. "Hermione doesn't know, so don't tell her, please. Bill's always had kind of a crush on her, you know. She came to the Burrow after the whole thing with Boot and cried on my shoulder. Neither one of us knew that Bill was listening, and he went out immediately and beat the tar right out of him. Put him in St. Mungo's for a week."

"Wow," Harry said, feeling more respect for Bill. Ron's face screwed up, and Harry knew he was holding something back.

"Anyway, don't tell her about that, okay Harry?" Harry nodded.

"I won't." He gave Ron a curious look. "You guys are really close, aren't you?" Ron nodded. "Why didn't the two of you ever go out?"

"We did." He said simply. Harry blinked.

"You did?"

"It just didn't work out. She's too good of a friend. It felt weird to kiss her." Harry's eyes widened.

"You kissed her?"

"Well, yeah," he said, not meeting Harry's eyes. "Just once, though. And no tongues, just kind of a trial peck. Things were just too weird." Harry relaxed visibly. "You know, for having been with her less than twenty four hours, you sure are jealous." Harry grinned.

"I haven't had much to hold onto in the last two years, Ron. Hermione is so amazing. I can't tell you what it felt like to have someone looking at me like she did last night - like I was the only other person alive besides her."

"Well, all I can say is that it's about time one of you acted on your feelings for each other." He thought for a moment, then turned a questioning glance to Harry. "You do have feelings for her, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" he said quickly. Ron looked relieved.

"Good, because if you didn't, I would've had to kill you." Harry grinned and Ron turned as Hermione came back into the room.

"Are you ready to bore me to death?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"As if we're good for anything else?" Ron asked, exchanging a knowing glance with Harry. Hermione sighed.

"You have a point."

"I'm good for something else!" Harry protested playfully.

"Yeah, you're Hermione's eye candy," Ron said, grinning wickedly. Hermione sputtered and her cheeks turned pink.

"Ron Weasley!" she shrieked.

"Better to be her eye candy than her punching bag," Harry retorted, as Ron ducked to avoid the pillow she'd chucked at his head.

"Oh, like she can hurt me? She hits like a girl!"

"And what exactly did you think I was?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Uhm… er…" Ron fumbled for a witty retort, but came up painfully empty. He stuck his tongue out at her, and she laughed.

The whole afternoon in Hogsmeade, Harry wanted to hold Hermione's hand. He just hadn't gotten close enough to her to be able to do it. He'd tried when she went inside Flourish and Blotts, and he'd tried in Quality Quidditch Supplies. She'd managed to skive him off several times (without intending to), and he was feeling increasingly edgy. He had to touch her; he had to. He wanted to make sure she was real and warm and alive, and not just a wonderful illusion created by his addled brain.

His opportunity arose in the form of a trip to the Three Broomsticks for dinner. He hadn't been there in ages, and Ron had wanted a butterbeer, despite Hermione's protests that he drank enough at home already. They slid into a booth, with Ron on one side and Hermione and Harry on the other. When they'd ordered, Harry slid his hand over to touch Hermione's thigh. When his warm hand squeezed her upper thigh gently, she choked on a sip of her drink. Ron eyed the two of them suspiciously, but as he couldn't see anything going on, he was forced to disregard it and continue talking.

"Well, if it isn't Harry Potter!" a male voice boomed from across the room. Harry groaned inwardly, then forced a smile and looked up. This was one thing he hadn't missed - the attention. He scanned the room to see who had addressed him, and was thunderstruck to see none other than Terry Boot headed his way. He glanced at Ron, who had gone deathly pale and pursed his lips into a fine line.

Hermione recognized the voice immediately as well, and had gone completely rigid. Harry could almost feel the tension in the air as Terry moved towards their table. He obviously hadn't seen Hermione - Harry was blocking his view. When he reached the table, however, his smile faltered at the sight of her.

"Well, it's good to see you out and about, Potter," he said, his eyes fixed on Hermione, who was staring a hole into the table. Harry squeezed her thigh reassuringly, but did not move his hand.

"Good to see you, too," he said smoothly, forcing his voice to remain calm.

"How have you been?"

"Better since last night," Ron blurted, unable to contain himself. Harry and Hermione both shot him surprised glances, which shut him up promptly. Terry raised his eyebrows and looked back to Hermione, who was now openly glaring at him.

"And how are you, Hermione?" he asked, trying to sound pleasant.

"You know damn good and well how I am," she spat. "Now, if you would do us all a favor and leave, we'd appreciate it, I'm sure."

"I wonder if I might have a word with you in private?" he asked softly. Harry felt her begin to shake.

"Absolutely not." Harry took the opportunity to raise his arm and wrap it possessively around her shoulders, and Terry's eyes widened slightly.

"You're with Potter now?" he asked, almost incredulously. She didn't respond; she tilted her chin up defiantly. Harry bristled.

"Hermione is my girlfriend, if that's what you're asking." Hermione's bones melted inside her body, and she felt a burning sensation in her stomach. She'd always wanted this with Harry, but hearing him say the words made everything so much more… real. Terry saw her soft look directed at Harry and rolled his eyes before stomping away. Harry turned and caught her look, and his heart began to race wildly.

"Alright, enough with the goo-goo eyes already," Ron said, laughing. Hermione giggled and Harry grinned. Ron stood up. "I have to be getting back. Mum said something about Charlie and Fleur bringing the kids over, and she wants everyone to be there." He rolled his eyes. "I just wish that Fleur could wear a veil or something when she comes over. Not only do I keep getting burnt, but then Charlie wallops me good, too." Harry laughed.

"Don't stay away so long next time, mate," he said, shaking Ron's hand. Ron nodded and winked at Hermione, who blushed.

"I won't bother asking if I should call you tonight, Hermy," he said, fighting back a laugh. "I have a feeling you'll be in good hands." Before she could throw a retort at him, he was gone.

"He's horrible," she said, paying the check. Harry laughed and reached for her hand. When they got back to Grimmauld Place, Hermione felt strangely expectant. She excused herself to make a trip to the loo, and as she was about to head inside the bathroom, Harry spoke.

"Hey," he said gently. She turned and looked at him. "When you're finished, would you come to my room?" she blushed and nodded, then went inside the bathroom. She didn't know why, but she felt like a fumbling schoolgirl next to him. She refused to overanalyze her love for Harry, snapping off the light in the bathroom, but she couldn't quell the growing excitement she felt as she neared his bedroom door. It was shut, and she raised a hesitant hand, knocking once very lightly.

"Come in," he called. She pushed the door open and her eyes flew open in shock. Candles were everywhere, creating a soft glow in the room. Classical music was playing from a radio on the dresser, and she thought she could detect the warm and inviting smell of cinnamon. She shut the door behind her and turned to find herself face to face with a grinning Harry.

"Wow," she breathed, looking around. He nodded, his smile fading.

"It's all for you." His words had a double entendre, but she didn't catch it. She was so caught up in the romance of the moment that she hadn't paid any attention to that note in his voice.

"It's beautiful, Harry," she said, her heart thundering in her chest. He gave her a strange smile before offering his hand to her.

"Would you like to dance?" She was surprised, but nodded. The entire thing was so wildly romantic that she couldn't help getting caught up in it. No man had ever gone to this trouble to show her a good time, and it almost made her want to cry. She could expect nothing less than total devotion from Harry, she knew. And it looked like he was thinking the exact same thing.

His arms slid around her waist, and she laid her head against his chest. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as they swayed gently to the soothing music, keenly aware of his warm hands caressing her skin just beneath the hem of her shirt. She looked up at him through the heavy fringe of her lashes and smiled. He smiled back before lowering his head and pressing his lips gently to hers. She grabbed handfuls of his shirt and kissed him back, hoping that she was conveying her love for him with every second that passed.

He pulled away slightly and looked at her, memorizing every inch of her radiant face. She blushed under his intense scrutiny, but didn't look away. The moment was too perfect. He kissed her cheeks, then her closed eyelids, then her forehead, and then her lips again. By the time he had finished his gentle ministrations on her face, he had somehow guided them both towards the bed. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap, where she straddled him. He kissed her neck, gently sucking here and there, until he got to the sensitive spot just below her ear. His tongue darted out and tasted her skin, then swirled gently over it. She moaned softly and tilted her head back to allow him more access.

He caught her earlobe gently between his teeth, then sucked gently on it. She could feel the burning sensation growing between her legs, and was glad that he'd pulled her into the straddling position - at least she could get some measure of relief by feeling his hardness pressed against her. He reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt, then tugged gently. She got the idea and lifted her arms above her head, and he pulled the shirt off. He tossed it on the ground and reached behind her. She thought he was going to unhook her bra, but instead he pulled the tie out of her hair. She waited patiently while he ran his fingers through the strands, carefully unbraiding it. When he was done, her hair hung down her back in long, wavy strands. He nodded approvingly.

He leaned forward and buried his face in the valley between her breasts, breathing in her soft scent. He removed his glasses and tossed them on the floor behind her, then began to kiss the flesh that was not covered by her bra. She shivered and gripped his shoulders as his tongue swirled against her skin, wanting more. When he finally reached behind her and unhooked her bra, relief flooded over her. She slipped it off over her arms and dropped it to the floor.

He was teasing her and drawing this out. She felt a palm brush an already hardened nipple, and almost cried out when the hand moved away. His tongue seemed determined to taste every inch of her; he was licking and kissing all the exposed skin he could reach - except, she noted painfully, her breasts. After several moments, he finally touched his fingertips to a nipple, gently working it back and forth. A small mewling cry escaped her lips, and it sent shivers through him. He covered the soft flesh with his warm mouth, and she began squirming on his lap. She rubbed herself against his erection, and he groaned.

He switched back and forth between her breasts, flicking each hardened nipple gently with his tongue. He was going to have to stop and move things forward soon, or he would explode from his own need. She seemed to have been thinking along the same lines, because she moved off of him and stood in front of him expectantly. He licked his lips to moisten them, not missing the trembling the gesture incited in her. He unbuttoned her jeans, then unzipped them painfully slowly.

He reached his hands behind her, gently skimming her waist with his fingertips as he did, then pulled down on her jeans. When they had dropped to the floor, he blinked. She was wearing those red lacy panties again; the ones he'd seen last night through her pyjamas. They were high cut and accentuated the curve of her slender hips, and were only held up by two of the tiniest strings he'd ever seen. Without thinking, he lifted his hand and slid a finger against the crotch of her panties, and was surprised to find her already wet and ready for him. He hooked his fingers beneath the strings on her hips and yanked down on them, watching as she stepped out of them and kicked them aside.

He stood and began to take his shirt off, but she was faster. Her fingernails scraped gently against his stomach as she grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled up on it. She let it drop to the floor, then began kissing his chest. He closed his eyes to savor the feeling, not noticing that as she kissed him, she was slowly working her way downward. When her face was in front of his navel, she reached up trembling fingers and began to unfasten his pants. He gasped and watched as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, then slid them off. She slid his boxers off, and he kicked the clothing aside.

She kissed the tip of his erection, eliciting a groan from him. Her tongue darted out and she tasted him, barely aware of the fact that he was drawing increasingly shallow breaths. She ran her tongue down the length of him several times before closing her mouth over him. His fingers tangled in her hair and a loud growl escaped from his throat. She began moving her mouth on him, taking him in as far as she could. Her tongue moved continually over the head of his shaft, and just before he could release, the warmth of her mouth disappeared. He was disappointed but glad at the same time; if he waited, his climax would be so much more satisfying.

He pushed her gently back onto the bed and kissed her wildly before snaking his way down. He planted soft, teasing kisses on her stomach, and dipped his tongue into her navel as he moved across it. When his tongue reached her pink folds, she moaned and bucked her hips against him. He took his time, enjoying the salty taste of her. Her fingers were buried in his hair as she gasped. His random lapping became rhythmic, and she could feel the tension building. When her orgasm washed over her, she uttered a soft scream. He licked her long and hard one final time, causing her to shudder, then lifted his head.

Her eyes were closed and she was trying to catch her breath, but he had no intentions of letting her do that. He touched her sensitive bud with the tip of his erection, and she moaned. He teased her, plunging the tip in and stopping, then withdrawing and going in a little deeper. He did this until he'd pushed her over the edge, and she wrapped her legs around him, forcing him to plunge deep inside of her. She cried out and he moaned.

He began moving slowly inside of her, savoring the feel of her fingernails digging into his flesh. She was gasping with the force of each thrust, wanting him to go faster, deeper, harder. She began to move her hips, meeting every movement of his with one of her own. He began to plunge in and out of her faster and faster, encouraged by her cries of his name over and over. He felt her tighten against him, and released a cry of his own when he climaxed, shaking violently as his seed spurted into her.

He collapsed on top of her, kissing her moistened skin as he lay there. She was still struggling to steady her breathing, and wondered what had inspired the seduction scene. Surely he'd known that she would have come willingly to his bed even without the aid of candles, incense, and music? He moved and pulled out of her, then laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Her legs were still weak, and she didn't trust them enough to move just yet.

"I love you, Hermione." Her head snapped quickly over to look at him. He licked his lips and smiled. She wanted to voice the same sentiments to him, but didn't trust her voice. Before she could open her mouth, he continued speaking. "You don't have to say it back to me if you don't feel that way. I just…I thought I should let you know."

"You love me?" her voice was shaking audibly as he nodded. He inched closer to her and kissed her gently, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek as he did.

"I love you." Three simple words, but she was amazed at how quickly they shot through her and went straight to the very core of her being. She sucked in a deep breath and met his eyes with her own.

"I love you, Harry." His eyes widened in mild surprise, but he looked pleased. He kissed her again softly, then wrapped her in his arms. The last thing he remembered thinking before drifting into his first dreamless sleep in two years was how good it felt to come home to the circle of her arms.

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