I think I have reread this page about five times. Oh, who am I kidding? I gave up reading this page a while ago, the moment my best friend laid his head of dark hair in my lap.
It's like this every night. The three of us come down to the common room to study. We always tend to be the last ones left by the end of the night. I sit on the couch with my legs crossed under me and read whatever text I need to for my assignments or any other tome I bring from the library for a bit of light reading. Ron sits in the armchair next to the fire, reading, writing, daydreaming… whatever he feels is most important at the time before heading to bed and leaving Harry and I down here to finish our work. Harry. Harry usually starts on the floor, using the low table as his makeshift desk, then eventually he sits beside me on the couch. He always ends up touching me at some point or another. I'm not saying that he gropes me or anything, just touches… his leg against my leg, his hand brushing my knee, our shoulders rubbing together. Not until about a week ago did he start making himself comfortable and laying his head in my lap.
I'm not sure what happened, but one night after Ron had given up keeping his eyes open while reading yet another assignment for Professor Binns and had gone to bed, Harry scooted over, rolled onto his back and laid his unruly mop on my leg. I didn't complain, why would I? Harry is Harry. I don't question him. I think sometimes he needs a bit of comfort. I am glad I can give that to him.
With all the stress Harry is under, I'm amazed that it is something as simple as using me as a pillow that gives him comfort. I look down through the pages of my book, which has long been ignored now, to see his face in peaceful concentration. I surreptitiously watch him under my book. He looks so young, so innocent when he's not thinking about the war, Voldemort, or the prophecy. His eyes shine like emeralds as they scan the pages in front of him. His lips curl and move unconsciously to the words he reads. It's rather endearing.
How can a seventeen-year-old boy have so much weight on his shoulders? It's in these quiet moments that I see that he is truly just as young as I am. But he has had to grow up so much faster than anyone else in the world. I sigh heavily at the turn of my thoughts and see his eyes move up to meet mine.
"'Mione? You all right?"
"Yeah sorry Harry, I was reading about the house-elf entrapment act of 1437. That's all."
"Um… Hermione?" My eyes catch his again from under my book. "Since when do they discuss house elves in Most Potente Potions?"
Oh sod it all! See, I said I gave up reading that page. See what he does to me? I don't even think he realizes that when he looks at me like that my heart does a million flips and beats so hard I think it's going to pop right out of my chest.
"Uh... umm… I…" When did I become so eloquent? I look down and see the mirth shining in his eyes. He caught me. I can't deny it. There is no way I can talk myself out of this one.
"Were you watching me again?"
What? Since when did he realize I was watching him? "Uh… umm… I…" OK here I go again. I take a breath - I have to cover this one up. "I… I wasn't watching you Harry."
He sits up and my leg is suddenly colder without his head there. I want him to lie back down and ignore everything I have said, or haven't said in the past minute. I look up to see him smiling at me.
"'Mione, I'm not blind. I know you watch me when we sit like that. You think I don't do the same?"
My brain has now gone numb. Did he just say he watches me too? The only word I can even come close to stammering out is a weak, "Why?" Stupid. I said it before I even thought about it. What was I thinking? Clearly I wasn't thinking, that's the problem.
My discomfiture is amusing Harry. Obviously, by the way his eyes are dancing and his smile is just holding his laughter back by a thread. Suddenly he pulls my book out of my hands and lays his head back on my leg.
"I like sitting with you like this, `Mione. It's comfortable."
Comfortable for whom? He has no clue what he does to me when he is this close to me. I can never tell him. It's not like he could ever feel the same way. I like the way it feels to have him so close to me. I just want to hold him and protect him and never let him go. I used to put it off as a sympathetic motherly instinct that most girls possess, but I feel anything but motherly toward Harry.
I nod at his statement, not daring my mouth to speak for me. It would inevitably get me into more trouble than its worth. Without the book in my hands, I can't control the urge to brush the fringe from his forehead, to run my finger through his unruly hair. I bite my lip to stifle the urge and concentrate on not letting my hands go idle. Too late. My fingers graze the hair on his forehead and one finger subconsciously traces the scar that marked him as Voldemort's enemy.
I watch as his eyes close and a heavy sigh falls from his lips. I know he hates the attention that scar brings, and I curse myself for tracing it like I did. I move my hand back to my lap, but before it falls to rest on my other leg, Harry has reached up and pulled it back to his forehead. I look down at him and see that his eyes are still closed. He sighs again as I run my fingers through his hair.
"I like it when you do that." His voice is nothing more than a whisper and his eyes open slowly to look into mine.
I have seen many emotions play across Harry's face and shine in his eyes. I have never seen this look before. I methodically recheck the list in my head or all the possible expressions Harry has… tired, angry, confused, irritated, curious, stubborn, sad, hurt, fearful… no, I just can't place this one. It's none of those. My eyes bore into his trying to figure out was he's thinking. I know Harry better than he knows himself sometimes, and this is very disconcerting for me.
He laughs.
"What, pray tell, is so funny?"
"You're trying to figure out what I'm thinking aren't you?"
I mentally slap myself in the forehead. I think I know him better than he knows himself, but you know what? It works the other way around too. Having a best friend like Harry is interesting. He usually knows what I'm thinking before I do. Scary, huh?
"What are you thinking about Harry?"
"Us… you… me…"
My heart skips a beat. No, I am just being a lovesick teenage girl. He can't mean… "I like what we have `Mione."
"And what do we have Harry?" Ouch, all right, that sounded worse than it should have. If it came out as bad as I thought, he didn't acknowledge it. He just shrugged his shoulders slightly before answering.
"I don't know how to put it into words exactly. I like that we are comfortable around each other. I like the way you make me feel when I see you smile, or when I catch you watching me like you were."
"I was not!"
"Hermione, it's all right. I like that you watch me. Like I said, I watch you too. I like to watch the way you bite your lip in concentration. I like to watch the way your eyes move across a page taking in every word like it was a treasure. I like the way your nose crinkles up when you read something you don't agree with. I just like watching you."
I can't help but smile at that. I'm not sure what exactly to say, but I can't help but smile. We sit in companionable silence for a few moments before I look back down at him and see him staring at me once more, that same look in his eye.
"Do you want to know what I'm thinking now, Hermione?" He whispers softly. I nod. Words have failed me tonight. I have never had so much trouble trying to speak in my life. Usually you can't shut me up. As I look into Harry eyes again, I am brought out of my mental diatribe and am taken aback by the intensity of his gaze.
"You're beautiful," he whispers even softer than before. "That's what I am thinking about - how beautiful you are."
I can't help the blush that creeps up my neck and face. No one has ever called me beautiful before. Well, my parents have, of course, but that's what parents are supposed to say. There is no possible way that Harry thinks that I am beautiful. I have frizzy, mouse-brown hair, dull brown eyes, I don't wear makeup. I am nothing compared to half the girls here at Hogwarts. As far as compliments go, I am no good at taking them. Especially when I know the person giving me the compliment must be off his rocker.
"I am far from beautiful, Harry. Look at Lav…"
His fingers come up and cover my mouth before I can go on. An involuntary shiver runs up my spine at the feel of his calloused fingers against my lips. He turns on to his side so he can lift up and look me in the eye.
Does he know what his eyes do to me? It feels like he is boring through my soul. Those emerald gems behind long, dark eyelashes are my weakness. I have to look away. I can't handle the intense scrutiny of his gaze.
"Hermione Jane Granger, how can you say that you are not beautiful? None of the girls here have anything on you. They use makeup and all that other goop to make themselves pretty. You are naturally beautiful…" I open my mouth to protest yet again, and he shakes his head and continues.
"It amazes me how you don't see it. Your hair is gorgeous, in the firelight it has this red hue, kind of like Ron's, but in the sunshine, it has all these different shades of brown and blonde that reflect the light. It is curly and long. I know quite a few guys that would love to get lost in the haphazardness of it. It's rather sexy, in my opinion." He winks at me. It throws me off a bit. When has Harry Potter ever winked at anyone? Let alone, why would he choose now to wink at me?
"Not to mention your eyes. They're not just this plain brown as you keep thinking they are. Your eyes are like chocolate with bits of caramel swirled in." Ok, when did Harry Potter become a romantic? My brain is on overload. I have never thought that anyone, ANYONE would ever tell me these things, let alone my best friend. My best friend, who's hand is lying across my lap and making small circles on my side. My best friend, who up until a few minutes ago never even looked at me like I was anything other than his friend - his friend that just so happens to be a girl. Where is all this coming from?
My thoughts must have betrayed me. I must have asked that question out loud, because he is now sitting up and his hands are cradling my face. Harry's hands are cradling my face!
"You don't know do you?"
"Know what?"
He shakes his head and chuckles a bit. How is this funny at all? And what in Merlin's name don't I know? There are those eyes again, looking at me with that damned look that I can't place. His hands are still on my face and it is so very distracting. How can I think when all I want to do is turn my head and kiss one of those hands or just drown in the emerald pools twinkling at me?
"For being the smartest witch in Hogwarts, you are a bit slow on the uptake aren't you?"
"Wha…"
Harry's smile takes the words out of my mouth and all thought from my head. Then he does the unthinkable, not that my brain was capable of any coherent thought at the moment anyway. But when his lips touched mine my brain shut down. I didn't do anything. I just sat there. My best friend, the man I have loved for years, the man I think I am in love with, that could never ever return my feelings is kissing me, and what do I do? Nothing.
"Do you see now?"
I open my eyes. When did I close them? I still don't understand what he's saying. Do I see what? Oh sod it, I can't think. I have never felt so powerless in all my life. I always have an answer for everything. Why can't I comprehend what the bloody hell is going on here?
He chuckles again. Dammit, Harry stop laughing at me, or so help me I will hex you so bad our children's children will feel it. Oh, Circe, did I did think what I think I just thought? I close my eyes at the treacherous coup my heart is trying to throw against me. There is no way I just thought about having children with my best friend. My best friend who just kissed me. Oh… Harry just kissed me. Why did Harry just kiss me?
"You still don't understand do you?" I shake my head before I can even think about what in blue bell flames he means.
"Hermione, you are beautiful. You are funny. You are intelligent. I wish you could see all of that. I know I see it. I have for a while." I look up at him and see a faint blush on his face that mirrors the one on mine.
"Harry…" My voice is just a whisper that escapes of its on volition. His eyes have not left mine, and I can't make myself look away. There is this electricity in his touch on my cheeks that is keeping me from looking away, almost as if his magic were keeping me there looking at him.
"'Mione, let me say this, please. We have been friends for going on over seven years now. You have always stood beside me, even when I haven't deserved it. During the summer hols, I realized something. I can't do anything without you beside me. I have been scared out of my mind at what may happen in the next few months, but when I am with you, all that goes away. Why do you think I have been lying on this couch with you every night for the past week? Why do you think I watch you like you watch me? Why do you think I know all of your little quirks better than you do?"
"I… umm…" There goes my eloquence again. I can't think when he looks at me like that. How am I supposed to answer that question?
"It's because, Miss Granger, I have fallen in love with you; hopelessly and madly, in love with you."
He's what? I couldn't have heard him right. There is no way that Harry just told me he's in love with me. It's impossible. It's supposed to be the classic tale of unrequited love from one best friend to the other. This is not the way the stories go. I am supposed to pine over him for the rest of my days, because there is no way in all of the Wizarding world that Harry Potter can be in love with plain old Hermione Granger. It's inconceivable.
"I…"
I honestly am speechless. I have no clue what to think or what to say after such a confession from Harry. I have watched him for years, more so in the past year, and never ever had the inkling that he was doing the same to me. I look up to meet his eyes again. I don't know when I looked away, but I couldn't keep staring at him and trying to comprehend his words at the same time. Instead of the look that I couldn't place, he now looks like that scared eleven-year-old on the Hogwarts Express. He just confessed his love to me, put everything on the line, no wonder he looks terrified. His hands have fallen from my face and his shoulders have slumped.
"I'm sorry, `Mione. I shouldn't have said anything. I ruined it all." Before I can register what is going on now, I see him stand up and start gathering his things off the table. I am still numb. My brain has gone on hiatus, my mouth is not responding, and my throat hurts from trying to speak but not knowing what to say. I watch him and he starts toward the stairwell, and my heart aches. I love this man. He just told me he loves me too. Why is he walking away? It's at that moment I realize that he has no idea how I feel about him. I haven't said anything since he poured his heart out. He must think… no.
"Harry!" I call as he reaches the bottom step. He stops but does not turn around. I can feel the hurt he is feeling at my lack of response. I can feel all the tension and rejection in his body without even seeing his face. I go to him. I know you can't apparate inside the walls of Hogwarts, but I can't explain how fast I got to him any other way. My hands are shaking as they wrap around his waist. I bury my head in his strong back and I whisper, "I love you too, Harry."
I can feel his body tense in my arms. He turns and I look up to see his eyes. They are shiny with tears and my heart breaks at the idea that I made the most powerful wizard in the world cry. We were laughing just 20 minutes ago, how could it have changed so fast? I know how it changed. I did it. I was stupid. I couldn't comprehend that he could possible feel the same way for me as I do for him. I hurt him. I broke his heart. For what? Because I was too dumbfounded to say I felt the same.
"Hermione, don't say it unless you mean it. I can't bear…"
I cut him off with my lips. His lips are so soft, why didn't I notice it when he kissed me before? Probably because my brain went into shock at the fact that he did that. But that's all behind us now. I am kissing him with every ounce of love I have ever felt for him, and he is kissing me back. It is heaven. That is the only way to describe it. Pure heaven.
He pulls away slightly to look in my eyes, which are now probably as shiny and wet as his are. "You do?"
I nod and smile up at my best friend, my love. "Yes, Harry I do."
He shakes his head. "Then why didn't you…"
I laugh lightly and my hand reaches for his. Our fingers intertwined and it is perfect; like we were made to fit together. "I was in shock Harry. I never thought that you could feel the same way as me. And then when you said all those wonderful things, it took my breath away. I was waiting to wake up and it all be a dream. I couldn't get my mind to wrap around the idea. Not until I saw you walk away did I realize that I hadn't said anything. I love you Harry. I have for a while, I just never expected it to be reciprocated."
He smiles and my heart leaps. "You think too much, Hermione. You need to let your brain take a vacation sometimes," he teased.
"I think that was my problem. My brain went AWOL."
We laughed together, standing there at the foot of the stairs to the boys dormitories, wrapped in each other's arms. I have never felt so at home, as I do right now. I can't help but laugh at myself. Here I was watching him, pining for him, loving him, and he was doing the same. How stupid am I? Yeah, I guess being the smartest witch in the history of Hogwarts has its advantages, but not in this. Love. Hoping. Waiting. Watching. Smarts and intelligence have nothing to do with what the heart feels. I know that now as I look up into the green eyes looking at me adoringly.
I let my heart lead as I kiss him again, or did he kiss me? Well, no matter, we kissed each other. There's that logic that I am supposed to possess. It feels good to have that back, but it feels better to be kissing my best friend. I'm kissing my best friend. What does this mean? Where do we go from here? We just stepped over that line between friendship and love. No, we didn't just step, we hurdled it. My mind is working a million miles a minute. What happens now? Are we a couple? Are we just friends with benefits? What will everyone say? Hell, what will Ron say?
Harry pulls away from the kiss and looks down at me and smiles. "Will you just shut that brain down for a minute? Quit thinking. Like I said, you think too much. Let it go `Mione. We'll just take it one step at a time, together. Just know that I love you and that's all that matters."
How does he do that? How did he know I was analyzing everything? Well, I guess it is a normal Hermione thing to do, so of course he would know what I was thinking. He isn't my best friend for nothing. I look up to meet his eyes. My brain instantly clears. I can see it. That look he had before that I couldn't place. I know what it is know. Love. He loves me. And he's right, that's all that matters.
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