The Rest of the Day

ChocolateFrogsForBreakfast

Rating: G
Genres: Angst, Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 10/01/2005
Last Updated: 10/01/2005
Status: in_progress

This is the sequel to Need and Want, and will not make much sense unless you read that one-shot story first. This continues in Hermione’s POV and, as the title says, it details what happens as Harry and Hermione find their way through the rest of the day, after Harry’s realization of Hermione’s new place in his life.

Chapters

1. The Rest of the Day

1. The Rest of the Day

The Rest of the Day

Pairing: Harry/ Hermione

Word Count: 6246

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine.

Summary: This is the sequel to Need and Want, and will not make much sense unless you read that one-shot story first. This continues in Hermione's POV and, as the title says, it details what happens as Harry and Hermione find their way through the rest of the day, after Harry's realization of Hermione's new place in his life. This is also a one-shot and will probably not have a sequel. Thanks for reading—I hope you enjoy it. xx C.F.F.B.

Harry glances at me as we reach The Leaky Cauldron and, by silent agreement, we release each other's hand. This is too new, and we're not quite ready to share this part of us with others. Not ready for questions that we don't know the answers to yet.

Remus opens the pub door, revealing a very worried group of people huddled around the long wooden table. We're greeted by sighs of relief, and Harry is pulled into a quick hug by Mrs. Weasley, even as she begins to scold him. There's a look on Ron's face, and I can tell he's wondering how I knew where Harry was.

I sneak my way past and hurry up the steps, pausing once to look back. Harry's eyes are following me up the stairs, pleading with me to save him. My gaze shifts to Remus, who nods slightly, and then reminds Molly that Harry needs to finish packing. Remus seems to have things under control, so I continue up the stairs.

After one of the quickest showers ever, my clothes are changed, my hair's managed as best as possible, and my trunk is one of several piled by the door. I hear footsteps on the stairs and turn to see Harry walking slowly down, his eyes on mine. Suddenly there's a clatter behind him, and Ron and Ginny step onto the landing, embroiled in a full-throttle argument about who-knows-what. Harry hurries down the steps now, probably not wanting to be in their way, with the Weasley temper they both possess.

Harry comes and stands just behind me, his chest lightly warming my back. I barely shift to press into him, and I feel him lean slightly into me. This interaction on our part is slight enough that no one looking would ever suspect anything. But my heart is pounding.

We both startle, as the pub door swings open sharply, and Remus leans in. “Sorry,” he says, his eyes darting to Ron and Ginny, who are still speaking heatedly to each other. Remus raises his voice a bit to get their attention. “Everyone `bout ready? Moody's here with the car.”

It seems odd to me that we only need one car, and then I realize there are only four of us going back to Hogwarts this year. I know it's odd, but I don't think it's settled into my mind yet that Fred and George won't be at school with us ever again. I know they left last year, and in a very spectacular way, but what with O.W.L.s and that night at the Ministry, I don't think I had the chance to get used to the idea that they were really gone. I turn to Harry and murmur, “We'd better get our things.”

Remus has managed to distract Ron and Ginny from their bickering by getting them to help load their trunks, but they're still obviously angry. I'd rather not know why.

“Strange not to have Fred and George, isn't it?” Harry asks quietly.

I nod, meeting his eyes with a slight smile.

All of our luggage is finally stowed in the back of the car and, although the car has been charmed to be bigger on the inside, we're still a bit packed in. Not that I mind from where I'm sitting, because Harry and I made sure we ended up beside each other. I've been this close to him before, but not like this. His side is pressed against mine, our arms are brushing, and it's absolutely intentional.

I've felt this kind of lovely feeling before when he's touched me—when we were just friends. But now…now that Harry's deliberately touching me…it's as though every nerve I have is sharply tuned to him. Tingly just begins to describe it. We glance sidelong at each other, and I feel warmth blossoming in my cheeks.

I've got Crookshanks in his carrier by my feet, and Harry is holding Hedwig's cage. She appears to be watching us intently, and I smile at her. Am I imagining things, or does she glance down at our hands (which are as near to each other as they can be without touching), and then look back at me with questioning eyes? I give her a small nod, just in case.

Hedwig is still for a moment, and then reaches her beak through one of the gaps in her cage. Harry smiles, opens the door to her cage and strokes her head. She nibbles his fingers gently, and then hoots softly and nudges his hand in my direction with her beak. The look on his face is priceless, as he realizes what Hedwig is trying to do. “Smart girl,” he murmurs to her and winks, closing her cage. I'm not sure why I'm so amazed that she winks back.

After a moment, Harry surprises me and leans as though to look out the window, bringing our faces wonderfully close. No warning bells sound in my head this time. I can smell the warm scent of his skin, and I soundlessly breathe in as deeply as I can. In fact, if I lean forward just an inch or two, my nose would be touching his cheek. If he turned his head toward me just a bit, his lips…well, best not to think about that just now.

Harry's eyes flicker over to me, and a small smile lifts the corners of his mouth as though he knows the thoughts that I just had to quell. My cheeks are warming up again. He pulls back and shifts in his seat, turning his head and shoulders toward me to look out the back window. I'm unable to stifle a shiver as his nose barely brushes my ear, and I feel him inhale.

“Oy, Harry, you're crowding Hermione,” I hear Ron break in suddenly. His voice sounds a bit tense. I inwardly roll my eyes as Remus and Mrs. Weasley turn around to see what's going on.

Harry shifts back in his seat, looks my way, and says, “Oh, sorry, Hermione.” But the look on his face tells me he's not sorry at all.

“It's all right—we're all a bit packed in here,” I shrug, the look in my eyes trying to covertly convey to Harry that I didn't mind one bit. Mrs. Weasley and Remus turn back around, apparently satisfied that Harry's not molesting me.

We all pile out at King's Cross, and Moody quickly commandeers some luggage trolleys.

I stand holding Crookshanks' carrier, waiting by the back of the car to get my things, when Harry hands Hedwig's cage to me saying, “If you'll take care of her for me, I'll get your trunk.”

I smile and nod. “Thanks.” This feels oddly nice. I turn and find Ginny gazing curiously at us. She lifts her eyebrows slightly, but I slide past her and stand to the side, waiting for Harry and the others.

We hurry to the platform and, after quick goodbyes, stow our things in one of the last compartments, as usual. Are the Weasleys ever early for anything? Ron and I don our robes quickly and then fasten on our prefect's badges. We've got to go to our meeting in one of the carriages close to the front of the train, and, if we're not careful, we're going to be late. Are Harry and I going to have any more time alone together today? I lock eyes with him briefly and say, “We'll be back as soon as we can, all right?”

“See you in a bit, then,” Harry replies with a nonchalant voice, but his gaze betrays his feelings. “Anything you'd like from the snack trolley, in case you're not back when she comes by?”

“Anything's fine,” I answer, trying to show him with my eyes that I'd rather stay with him. “Surprise me.”

Harry nods, glances at Ron now, and says, “See you guys later, then.”

I muster a smile, and then turn to follow Ron, who's looking between us with what seems to be a wary gaze. I prod his arm just a bit, and we set off for the Head Boy and Girl's carriage.

Ron's oddly quiet as I find us two seats together. The prefect's meeting goes on for a bit, but since most of what's being said is old information to me, I let my mind wander. Harry this…hmmm…Harry that. I love being able to think about him like this now; imagining him in different circumstances and settings…romantic ones, naturally. I realize that my breathing is a bit faster than usual, and…oh, my…I'd better stop these mental images. Right now.

How am I going to pay attention in class when all that my mind wants to do is think of Harry? Of course, I've been in this situation before, but it was when he was in some sort of danger. This feels entirely different. Will I be able to concentrate on my studies with him sitting right beside me?

To my surprise, these reflexive thoughts don't really bother me as much as I would expect them to. I shrug mentally, and my lips quiver as I struggle to control the grin that wants to spread over my face. I never imagined how fabulous this would actually feel. I mean, I have imagined what it would be like to have Harry return my feelings, but my imaginings were powdery and pale compared to th—I startle, as Ron elbows me in the side to get my attention. He rolls his eyes at me, obviously enjoying the fact that he got to remind me to pay attention for once, instead of the other way around. Prat. Let a girl have her moment. It's been a long time coming.

The meeting finally ends, and Ron and I make our way back to our carriage. I'm having to control myself so I don't knock anyone down as I hurry along the corridor.

“Hermione,” Ron breaks into my thoughts, putting his hand on my arm. His voice is oddly loud.

“What?”

“Slow down! I was asking you about patrolling the hall—do you want to go first or second?” he says, frowning. “You're acting really odd today. What's going on?”

“Sorry,” I apologize, trying to look contrite while sidestepping his question, and sidling around a small group of girls. “I'll take second shift, if that's okay.”

Ron nods, still watching me. “I'm just going to have a bit of a snack and go, then.”

We walk into our compartment and my eyes quickly scan the people, but no Harry. Hedwig's eyeing me, and I cast around for Crookshanks, whom I spot sitting contentedly in Ginny's lap.

“Where's Harry?” I try to ask as casually as I can, sitting next to Luna as Ron plops down by Neville.

“He's gone to have a kip in the next compartment,” Ginny answers, scratching my purring cat behind the ears as he kneads her leg with his paws. “He was really tired, and it was fortunately empty. He left these for you, though.” She hands me a bag full of assorted treats from the trolley, and I thank her, feeling a bit deflated as Ron hurries back out the door stuffing a last bit of pumpkin pasty in his mouth. I can certainly understand Harry being worn out after we were up so late, and he got up earlier than I did. I realize I'm starting to feel a little sleepy myself.

Ginny apparently notices my disappointment, and leans forward to whisper, “He may not be asleep yet. Why don't you slip next door and see?”

I nod and give her a small smile, which she returns as I stand to leave. Peeking in the window of the next compartment, I see Harry sprawled across the set of seats on the right side. His head is resting on his right arm, and his left arm is dangling over the side of the seat. Sliding the door open as noiselessly as possible, I step in lightly and close it behind me.

Harry's eyes are closed; his back gently rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I tiptoe over to the seats across from him and lower my self slowly, stretching out on my side, using my arm as my pillow. My lips spread into a smile as I gaze at Harry's peaceful face, and I'm happy being able to observe him to my heart's content, with no worry of him or anyone else watching.

Some of his hair has fallen across his face. My fingers reflexively stretch towards him just a bit, longing to run through those wayward strands and smooth them back. His dark lashes lay on his cheeks. I can see what look like faint smudges under his eyes, telling the tale of sleepless nights. Harry's face has gotten a bit thinner; sharper and more defined. But his lips look so…soft. I'm surprised at the way I feel so drawn to them, and I have to stop myself from sliding off the seat and waking him up. But I know he needs sleep, and quickly switch my gaze to his hands.

I remember how wonderful it felt to hold his hand this morning; to have that tangible connection with him. His hand felt so sturdy and strong in mine this morning, but there has always been a gentle gracefulness in the way they move. I've sometimes had to almost shake myself when we've been studying together and I've gotten lost watching his hands as they skim across the pages of a book, or as they move his quill across his parchment while he writes. Then, there's the way those hands control his Firebolt—the subtlest of touches sending him hurtling in any direction he desires. And the way those hands capture the Snitch. I think they could catch lightning, if they wanted; but I can think of other things I'd like to watch those hands do.

He's so…lovely. Not perfect by any means—just lovely. I know that he would be absolutely embarrassed at hearing himself described in this way, but it's exactly how I feel. I just wish there was some way to let him know this without resorting to words that would cause him to blush and look away, or actions neither of us are quite comfortable with at this point.

I love being in here with him right now, just the two of us. It feels comfortable, but exciting at the same time. There's this wonderful current of anticipation running through me, and I could just live on that for a while—it feels like waiting for my birthday. Just yesterday, I was so sure that I had nothing to look forward to with Harry but more hurt and disappointment. Things have changed so quickly, part of me feels a bit nervous, wondering if this is truly happening.

I'm becoming vaguely aware that I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open, and my thoughts are becoming a tad drifty with the slight rocking motion of the train. I feel my body sink further into the cushions and I'm glad for the cloudiness that gentles the sunshine. Maybe just a little rest and then…

>>>>>>>>>>>

Mmmm…I stretch, feeling very content. The sunlight feels lovely on my face and my eyes drift slowly open, adjusting to the brightness. As they begin to focus, I see Harry's face not too far from mine. He's sitting on the floor between the seats with his back leaning up against the wall below the window; his hair is gilded by the light streaming through the glass. I slowly reach my hand out. He takes it in his, and then begins to explore it gently with his thumb. How can such a small thing cause my heart to race like this?

I lift my eyes from our hands to find Harry gazing at me, measuring my response, and I begin to stroke his hand slowly with my fingers. His eyes lower to watch our hands move together for a moment, then lift to look back at me, a small smile curving his lips.

“I never dreamed...” he says softly.

“I had almost stopped,” I whisper back with a small smile.

He becomes still as the implication of my words settle in, and then asks gently, “Do you want to talk about this?”

I shake my head, surprising us both. I'm beginning to realize that words aren't always all they're cracked up to be. The clouds apparently shift and the light in our compartment grays. A look passes across his face, similar to the one I saw last night on the footbridge.

“There is something we need to talk about, actually,” he says quietly, casting his eyes down to our joined hands, “before we get any further.”

I feel a chill skitter up my spine. This is it—I know it. The thing that he's been holding inside; the thing that's been a wedge in his relationships these past two months. This is what I thought I wanted to know so badly last night at dinner. Now…I'm not so sure.

“What -” I ask hesitantly.

“This isn't the right time or place,” Harry shakes his head, and then looks up at me. “Can we talk later—maybe after the feast?”

I nod, trying not to let my anxiety show, and say, “Of course.” Gripping his hand a bit more firmly, and holding his gaze, I add, “But I want you to know that nothing you can say to me will change my feelings for you.”

Harry nods, a ghost of a smile curving his lips as the sunlight ribbons into our compartment again. “Thanks,” he says quietly and we go back to concentrating on each other's hands.

After a few moments, the door to our compartment slides back suddenly, and Ron fills the opening. The look on his face is…interesting. I can tell that he's noticed our joined hands, and by the look on his face, he's flummoxed by it.

“What's going on…what're you doing?” Ron says hesitantly, looking from our hands to Harry and then to me. I start to feel a bit nervous as I see some pinkness creeping into his ears.

“We're just talking,” Harry replies calmly, releasing my hand, and something in his voice lets Ron know that it's not okay to ask more questions right now.

“Well…it's your turn to patrol, Hermione,” Ron says, still standing in the doorway with an odd look on his face. “Er…I'm famished, so I guess I'll head back next door and see what's left from the trolley, then.”

“See you in a moment,” Harry nods, as Ron turns and leaves.

After Ron is out of earshot, Harry turns to me and says disquietedly, “Well…telling him about us is going to be strange, I think.”

I nod, feeling my stomach knot just a bit. “Let's leave that for tomorrow.”

I've been in such a hurry most of the day that I've not had time to stop to consider how Ron might feel. I can tell by the look on Harry's face that he hasn't either. There hasn't been time for us to fully comprehend what's happened between us today, let alone how it might affect someone else.

“Well,” I say, sitting up with a small smile. “I guess I'd better get a move on. Halls to patrol, miscreants to deal with, you know.”

Harry grins. “Hermione Granger—keeper of the peace.”

“Yeah, that's me,” I roll my eyes and stand, and then say softly, “I'd so much rather stay here.

Harry stands with me, taking both of my hands in his. “I'd like that, too, but I'll be here when you get back.” He runs his thumbs over the backs of my hands before releasing them. “See you in a bit.”

I begin my trek up and down the train's corridor. If the other students knew how I felt right now, they'd not risk any mischief. My nerves feel like they've all congregated in the pit of my stomach, worrying about what Harry wants to talk about later. However, I don't really want to be known as “Hermione the Horrible” to the first years, so I try to improve my attitude as much as I can. But all I can think as I glance into the compartments that I pass is, `This is keeping me from Harry.'

When I finally make it back to our compartment, I'm disappointed to find that it's empty. I find Harry back in with everyone else, and the only seat is next to Neville. Oh, well. There's really not time to sit down anyway. It's dark and everyone has their robes on now. The train starts to slow, and we all begin to gather our things.

The train finally comes to a lurching stop and we disembark. The sight of Hogsmeade Station causes conflicting emotions in me. I'm glad to be back at school, but I feel quite uneasy about what this year may bring in the struggle against Voldemort. The carriages, which I now know are being pulled by Hagrid's Thestrals, are waiting for us. I feel Harry pause in mid step as his eyes take them in, knowing full well that he's remembering why he can see odd creatures.

“Harry,” I murmur, trying to distract him, “Will you go ahead and get a carriage for all of us? I'll be there in a moment.”

He nods, seemingly grateful to have something else to think about, and gently lifts Crookshanks' carrier from my hand, saying, “I'll take him for you.”

He and Neville head toward the nearest empty carriage with Ginny and Luna following closely behind. Ginny's trying to quiet a very hyper Pigwidgeon, who's zooming from side to side in his cage. Luna beckons Ginny to hand the cage to her, and the tiny owl finally begins to quiet as Luna croons to him.

After all the younger students are in a carriage, I call to Ron, and motion for him to follow me to the carriage I know the others are in. I clamber in and sink down next to Harry in the semi-darkness, making sure to spread the side of my robes between us just a bit. His hand is resting on the seat between us, now covered by my robes, and I slide my fingers between his. I feel a gentle squeeze as he turns to me, but his face betrays nothing.

The others around us are chattering about something. Harry's thumb slips between our hands to explore my palm. I've never realized before now how sensitive that part of my hand is. My lower lip suddenly begins to feel uncomfortable. I realize I've got it clamped between my teeth and quickly release it.

“Harry!” Ron's voice breaks through, as my eyes snap to his along with Harry's, neither of us realizing how long we'd been looking at each other. He's looking at us suspiciously, his eyes glancing to the small space between us where our hands are joined, hopefully still covered.

Ron continues with a tinge of frustration in his voice, “I've asked you two times what you think they'll be having for the feast tonight. What is with you and Hermione? You've seemed miles away all day.”

“Sorry,” Harry replies contritely, trying to appease our best friend. “Guess I'm just tired. I'm sure the feast will be great as always. Hungry?”

Ron finally smiles, and nods, as he shifts Pigwidgeon's cage on his lap. “Yeah.”

“Me, too,” Harry grins back, and squeezes my hand once more before our carriage rolls to a stop.

The feast seems to last for ages. Harry and I don't dare show any clue of our feelings in front of so many people. We sit across from each other and I do my best do not to look at him more than necessary, but this is much harder than I thought it would be. As Dumbledore begins his speech, I feel Harry's foot slide next to mine, and my eyes dart to his, but his focus stays on the head table. There's an odd, unhappy look on his face as he gazes at Dumbledore. I press my foot against his ever so slightly and feel him return the action in kind. Thank God for robes.

It seems so strange to be this aware of Harry. I mean, I was certainly not unaware of him before, but this is a whole new plane. I glance around surreptitiously, trying to determine whether or not others appear to have noticed anything out of the ordinary between Harry and me. So far, so good, it seems. I have to suppress a smile—this is just a bit fun, having a secret like this.

But then, I remember that there's another secret in this room. A shiver prickles through me, and I'm surprised to realize that I've wrapped my arms around myself. It feels like the dark night sky above is sinking down around me. I try to concentrate on my food, but it suddenly seems too…oily. Just like it did all summer.

My gaze shifts to the other people around us; people who are laughing and talking as they enjoy their dinner. I duck my head, looking back down to my plate. When will this be finished? I put my utensils down, and purposefully lift my head to meet Harry's eyes, seeing my growing impatience mirrored on his face. His knife and fork lay beside his mostly full plate, too.

Finally, we're back in the common room, but still not alone. Some of the older students are lounging by the fire, catching up with friends after the summer hols. Harry sits beside me at one of the tables by the windows, as we make a pretense of trying to study from The Standard Book of Advanced Charms for our classes this week.

Harry keeps shifting in his seat. His thumb taps the same page of his book, endlessly. I've lost count of how many times I've read the same sentence. Ron sits across from us, grumbling about revising before we've been assigned anything, and then stops to study Harry for a moment.

“What're you on about?” Ron asks, his brows furrowing, as he notices Harry's nervous movements for the first time.

Harry shrugs and answers, “Just nervous about the upcoming year, I guess. N.E.W.T. level classes, and all.”

Ron lifts his eyebrows now. “Nervous about schoolwork?” Then he turns to me with a smirk, and says in mock disbelief, “What have you done to him, Hermione?”

But before I can come up with a good retort, Harry surprises me by saying quietly, “You'd do well to be a bit more concerned, Ron. I'd think after our experience at the Ministry last year, you'd be after learning all you could.”

Ron seems momentarily taken aback at the seriousness of Harry's reply, but then nods, and answers in a subdued tone, “I know…I guess I've just wanted to put that out of my mind for a bit.”

Harry's gaze becomes steely, and his voice has a flinty quality. “Ignoring Voldemort won't make him go away—in fact, just the opposite. Look what happened when the Ministry ignored him last year. We're going to have to deal with him again sooner or later; the sooner the better, probably. Just be thankful you're not ...” Harry breaks off suddenly, as though he'd thought better of what he was going to say, then finishes lamely, “…well, just be thankful.”

I'm pretty sure the stunned look on Ron's face mirrors mine. I remember Harry's and my conversation on the bridge last night, when he suddenly became serious as we were just talking about school memories. I'm pretty sure that this has to do with what we have to talk about, and I feel my stomach clench.

Ron glances at me with an anxious look, and then looks back to Harry saying earnestly, “Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

Harry shakes his head, looking slightly frustrated with himself. “No, I'm sorry. I'm just tired, Ron.”

“Speaking of which, “Ron answers, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back against his chair, “I think I'll go ahead and turn in myself.”

“All right…'night, then Ron,” Harry nods. “I'll be up in a bit—just need to finish something here.”

Ron gathers his things, saying, “'Night,” then adds, “'Night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Ron.” I reply, as he makes his way toward the boy's stairs.

I look around the room and am surprised to find it empty, save for Harry and me. Harry's apparently noticed the same thing. Our eyes meet uncertainly.

“Well…” I say hesitantly.

Harry lowers his eyes, seemingly unsure of what he should do next.

“Did…did you want to talk now?” I ask in a small voice.

Harry remains silent for a moment, and then nods almost curtly. “We need to.”

“Why don't we move over to the couch?” I ask, standing shakily. It feels as though someone has sewn weights into the hem of my robes.

Harry stands and walks with me over to the couch in front of the fireplace, but doesn't sit down with me. I watch as he hesitates, not meeting my eyes, and then turns abruptly, walking over to stand by one of the windows.

Harry stands there for a moment, looking out into the blackness, and his hand briefly skims the glass. I'm forcibly reminded of the first time I saw him yesterday. A look of weariness briefly crosses his face, and he sighs deeply, fogging the window.

I want to get up and go to him, but I sense that isn't what he wants right now. Finally, he begins to speak.

“There's something you need to know…it's not fair to keep this from you with our relationship changing like this. You need to know what I'm about to tell you before we go any further—before you make any decisions regarding how you feel about me.”

“Harry, nothing will—” I begin, but he quickly turns to face me, and my voice dies in my throat as I see the pain in his eyes.

“Please, Hermione. You have no idea…” His voice wavers, and little frissons of fear begin to radiate through my body. He goes on, “Please just let me finish and then we can talk.”

I swallow painfully and nod.

After a moment, Harry begins quietly, “Have you ever wondered why Voldemort seems to be after me, personally?”

I nod again, keeping my eyes on his. My body begins to feel brittle.

Harry suddenly walks over by the fireplace, and then begins pacing. “Well, I'd wondered about that too. I even asked Dumbledore about it at the end of our first year, but he wouldn't give me an answer.” He stops for a moment to gaze into the fire, but then continues. “Until last June. Dumbledore finally saw fit to tell me why I seem to be so important to Voldemort, the morning after the battle at the Ministry.”

The bitterness in his voice takes my breath away, and I grip the gathers of my robe tightly.

And then he tells me.

A prophecy… Marked… There's not enough air in this room. Neither can live while the other survives... I'm having trouble hearing Harry now. I can see him talking—see his lips moving, but I can't seem to take this information in. Is someone crying? My head drops heavily into my hands, and I'm vaguely aware that I'm rocking reflexively, but it can't seem to calm the spasms racking my chest…

I feel Harry drop to his knees by my feet. Feel him sobbing against my legs. Finally, the words he's repeating over and over work themselves into my consciousness. “I understand, Hermione…you don't have to…I understand—it's all right…”

His words snap me back from my stupor. Before I know it, I've slid down to my knees in front of him, with my hands on either side of his face, trying to get him to look at me. When he finally lifts his watery eyes to mine, I hold his gaze for a moment, and then lean forward, rising a bit on my knees, to press my lips softly to his scar.

I lean back slightly to see his face, and see something flicker in his eyes.

“I meant what I said.” I whisper, removing his glasses, setting them aside, and then wiping the tears from his face with my fingers. I lock my eyes with his, and say it again for good measure. “I meant what I said.”

At first, the look on his face is somewhat dazed, but a moment later, there's something in his eyes that I haven't seen in a long time.

“Hermione,” he whispers after a long moment of searching my eyes. He takes my hands in his and continues, “remember talking about the light in the painting this morning?”

I nod slowly, confused as to why he's bringing this up now.

Harry continues quietly, “It's like I can feel it when I'm with you.” He pauses for a moment, looking down at our hands, and then, lifting his eyes back to mine, says hesitantly, “You're the best thing…” his voice grows just a bit stronger, “…the most beautiful thing, in my life.” His gaze shifts to my lips for a moment and then he begins to lean toward me.

I've heard about swooning, but always scoffed, attributing that kind of behavior to silly females. I might need to rethink that. It's probably very lucky that I'm not standing up right now.

When his lips finally touch mine, it's as though nothing else in the world exists but this lovely sensation of being connected to him. His lips are so warm, and the way he's caressing my lips with his is just…absolutely overwhelming to my senses. It ends too soon, and we're left smiling shyly at each other. Harry lets my hands go and wraps his arms around me, drawing me closer.

We settle into each other's arms and I lean my head on Harry's shoulder. My gaze travels slowly around the common room. This used to be such a comfortable place—a place of protection. But now, I know that forever more, this room will be so much more to me. On one hand, it will always be “the place Harry told me”; but the memory of our first kiss, and the unspoken promises we've made to each other will live here, too.

My eyes continue around the room and, suddenly, I realize we're being watched. There's a figure on the stairs leading up to the boy's dorm. It's Ron, sitting on one of steps about halfway down. I can see tears on his face, and I open my mouth, but he shakes his head and gets up noiselessly. Shoulders slumped, he heads up the stairs and out of sight.

I'm not sure what to do. I quickly decide to just keep what I saw to myself, as that seems to be what Ron wants. I know we need to talk—all of us—and I know that it's not going to be an easy conversation. Sighing, I pull back just a bit so that I can see Harry. As much as I love being this close to him, my knees are starting to ache.

“We'd better go upstairs,” I whisper. “First day of classes tomorrow and all.”

Harry nods, gets up slowly, and offers a hand to help me up. I stand and turn to gather my things, but he stops me with a hand on my arm, and turns me toward him.

“Hermione…” He puts his hands on my shoulders, and although he can't seem to find the words he wants to say, the look in his eyes speaks volumes.

I smile at him, cupping his face in my hands, willing him to know how precious he is to me. We kiss one last time. Why can't everything be like this kiss?

I don't want to leave this place, but I know that people will be wondering where we are, and we need to talk with Ron before anyone else finds out about us.

Harry's hands slide down my arms, gently squeezing my hands, before he releases me.

I turn again to gather my books, and glance up to see our reflections in the darkened window.

Before I head up the stairs, I turn to find him looking at the window, too. His face is taking on the forlorn look it had before.

I put my hand gently on his arm, and wait until he shifts his gaze back to me. “See you in the morning, Harry,” I say softly.

He nods, a quiet smile forming on his face. “See you in the morning, Hermione.”

A/N: I say this won't have a sequel, but I keep seeing Ron's sad face in my mind. I'm sure it would make him happier if he had a girlfriend too; maybe one with long blonde hair and odd taste in jewelry. ;)

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