Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Notes: The rating for this fic has been raised to R for one part of this chapter. And this is the end, except for an Epilogue.
Thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing this fic so far. I'm so glad to know you've enjoyed this so far.
For Anne U- enjoy the smuff! And thanks for all the faithful reviews and for your friendship. *hugs*
~The Reasons for Dating~
Chapter 5: Love
He didn't think he'd ever been so uncomfortable in his life. And with Hermione of all people. Hermione, with whom he'd always felt so comfortable. Hermione, whose presence had been something of a haven for him in those last dark months before Voldemort was defeated.
Lusting after one's best friend was a decidedly discomfiting thing.
He'd finally gotten around to deciding he needed to do something, to tell Hermione somehow. How, he hadn't quite decided but he'd sent her an owl yesterday suggesting they meet up at his flat and then have dinner together, anyway. And spent the rest of that day and today until now, wondering just what he was going to do or say.
Simply kissing her the way he wanted to was hardly advisable, not when he wasn't sure how she felt and not for something this new, this first step that might very well permanently change one of the truly vital relationships of his life. And he still didn't know what he should say or do.
And now she was here, looking at him curiously, since he wasn't saying anything after the first, rather awkward, greetings.
"Harry, what's bothering you?" she finally asked directly.
He swallowed. "Hermione, I-um- I think I'm in love with you," he blurted out desperately and then stopped short. Oh Merlin. What had he just said? He thought what? He-he hadn't thought that! Or at least, he hadn't until that very moment.
In love with Hermione? In love with Hermione… He cared about her, trusted her, respected her, wanted her… With all this, did he love her? Was he in love with her?
Yes.
The question answered itself as soon as he thought it. Yes. He hadn't thought to define his feelings for Hermione in those terms, hadn't even realized how his feelings had slowly but surely been deepening, changing over the past few years, until his sudden realization that he was attracted to Hermione. But now hearing that admission slip out unconsciously, he knew. Knew why the thought of losing Hermione's friendship had terrified him so much. Knew why seeing Hermione with Lawson had disturbed him and why he'd been jealous (which he had been, he could admit that now). Knew why he'd reacted so strongly to his suspicion that Hermione was lonely. And after all, knew why he hadn't been able to seriously consider not acting on his attraction to Hermione. Knew what it was that had overcome any fear of risking their friendship: love.
He finally dared to look at Hermione, half-afraid of what he would see. She had sucked in her breath in surprise at his words and was still staring at him as if she wasn't quite sure what he'd just said or if he'd meant what he said. But there was something in her eyes- something that looked like the beginning of hope and even joy… And that something gave him the confidence to continue.
"I think I'm in love with you. And I was wondering if you could love me and if you wanted to, um, that is, start dating and maybe move in together and, um, spend our lives together. But that's later and- uh- and now I just want to know what you think." He stopped, becoming aware that he was babbling and writhing inwardly at how incoherent he'd sounded. (He knew he wasn't the most eloquent fellow in the world but really, would it be too much to ask that he not sound like an idiot during one of the most important moments of his life so far?)
But she was smiling her beautiful smile, even though he saw tears beginning to form in her eyes. "Yes," she said simply. "Yes, I love you and yes, I'd like to start dating. Yes, to everything."
Yes. She said yes. His heart began to pound in his chest and he felt a surge of relief and happiness so powerful it nearly made him dizzy. "Really?"
"Oh, Harry… Of course I love you and of course I'd say yes." There was mingled exasperation, affection and amusement in her tone. And then she was in his arms, her body pressed against his and her face so close to his that all he could think to do (not that he minded) was kiss her.
Afterwards he never quite knew whether she had made the first move and ended up in his arms or whether he had moved first or maybe they'd both just moved toward each other. Then again, it didn't matter.
All that mattered in that moment (and indeed for several minutes after that) was that she was in his arms, so close he could feel her heart beating against his chest, and his lips were on hers and it was right. Kissing Hermione was simply right. Her body fit his as if it had been made for him (then again, maybe it had been), he thought fuzzily, before he lost the ability to think coherently or think about anything at all except the blood rushing southward from his brain, the pounding of his heart and the growing tightness of his trousers.
Dear God. And he thought he'd felt desire before? That had been a pale imitation of desire, a purely physical sensation. This was desire, this meeting of mouths that somehow felt like a meeting of hearts, of souls even. This feeling that went beyond the purely physical and almost approached the spiritual- this was desire.
He was the first one to end the kiss (nearly killing himself in the process) to ask breathlessly, "Are you sure? It's so soon, so sudden. Are you sure?"
(He should be canonized for saying this; he knew it. Where he got the strength or the will to say it he didn't know but somehow he knew he had to ask. But, dear Lord, if she said no right now, he might just spontaneously combust on the spot…)
Hermione choked on a breathless laugh. "Sudden? Harry, I've wanted to hear you say you love me for 8 years now. This isn't sudden for me."
The significance of what she'd said didn't hit him until later. All he understood at that moment was that she was sure; she hadn't said no…
She kissed him, long and thoroughly, and when it ended, said softly, "I want you, Harry."
Thank God, he thought fervently, as he kissed her again, tightening his arms around her and then felt the familiar tingle of Apparition before he felt his bed underneath them.
He'd never heard any words more beautiful than Hermione saying she wanted him. And then all thought of words left his mind and it was just a blur of lips and tongue and hands and skin against skin… Hands touching, exploring, caressing… Worshipping… Breathless gasps, a few murmured words ("You're so beautiful…", "Now, Harry, please…", "Ooh, yes"), throaty moans…
He kept his eyes open, wanting to see her, all of her as he'd never seen her before (and God, she was beautiful, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen or would ever see)… He looked down at her, learning the way she felt beneath him, around him, learning the way she looked, learning the sounds of her, the sound of her moans and her gasps… Learned what she looked like at the point of climax, her head thrown back, her eyes closed… The things about her he'd never yet discovered after their 13 years of platonic friendship but was discovering now at the start of another phase in their relationship… Learning the sound of his name on her lips as she came… And that was what pushed him over the edge; he forgot to look at her (his eyes closed automatically), forgot everything except the sheer glory (that was the only word for it) of his release.
And then fulfillment… The completion of a circle begun 13 years ago on a train and continued, cemented, later with a rescue and a shared secret… A circle that had, unknown to him and maybe to her too, been leading them to this moment, together, no barriers, no walls, nothing between them except this feeling of fulfillment, of peace… This was what they had been made for…
He collapsed beside her with a soft sigh, relishing in the feel of her naked body tucked next to his, moving his hand in a slow, idle caress on her stomach and breast, brushing his lips against her hair. The thought drifted through his dazed mind with all the wispiness of a puff of smoke. This was what it meant to make love, a physical demonstration of a deeper, more profound emotion, actions fueled not so much by lust but by love, the physical and the emotional melding into one beautiful act…
It was later, much later, that what Hermione had said returned to his consciousness and he turned to look at her, amazed at how much effort the simple movement seemed to take. "Hermione, did you mean what you said, that you've wanted to hear me say I love you for 8 years?"
She flushed slightly but met his eyes directly. "Yes."
8 years? His still-foggy mind struggled for a moment to come to terms with this, finally realizing what it meant. "You've loved me since you were 17?"
She sighed and smiled. "Oh, Harry, sometimes I think I've loved you all my life and I just didn't realize it until I was 17."
He blinked, staring at her. "I- I don't know what to say. Except I'm sor-mmph"
She stopped his words with her mouth. "Don't. You love me now and that's all that matters."
And somehow, hearing her say that, seeing her smile and the way her eyes shone into his, that was all that mattered.
She loved him and he loved her-and that was all that mattered…
~*~
There was something different about Hermione today.
Ginny tilted her head to one side thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes slightly as she studied her friend who was browsing the racks of clothes in Madame Marguerite's Clothing for the Discerning Witch.
She was positively glowing today. There was a sparkle in her eyes, an almost perpetual smile on her face and Ginny could have sworn she'd heard Hermione humming under her breath a few times.
Hermione- humming? At any other time, Ginny would have said the sky would sooner fall down than Hermione do something like hum in a public place no less. She glanced out the window at the clear blue sky. Well, the sky didn't look to be falling.
And Hermione was acting decidedly oddly. Even the fact that she was actually browsing through clothes was odd, given that Hermione's usual behavior on their occasional shopping outings was to wait with carefully disguised impatience while Ginny tried on clothes and to shrug off at least half of Ginny's suggestions for clothes as being "too revealing", "not her color" or just to say she didn't feel like trying on clothes. (In all honesty, Hermione's main purpose at these outings was to serve as a critic since Hermione was the one friend Ginny knew she could count on to always tell the truth about how an outfit made her look and to know whether an outfit would pass Mrs. Weasley's judgment.) Today, well…
Ginny glanced around and picked up a simple summer dress, with an A-line skirt and a halter-top bodice, the sort of thing she would normally never even bother suggesting for Hermione because she knew her friend too well. She held it up for Hermione's inspection. "Hermione, why don't you try this on? I think you'd look smashing in it; you know blue is your color."
Hermione looked, smiled and agreed easily, "It is pretty, thanks. I think I will." And taking the dress from Ginny, who was trying not to show her surprise, disappeared into one of the dressing rooms.
Ok, there was definitely something going on with Hermione. Really, if Ginny didn't know better she'd say Hermione was in love… Surely Hermione hadn't actually started dating Lawson… Ron had told her all about Lawson along with some extended grumbling about the man's cleverness and humor adding, as well, the most scathing indictment Ron could give of anyone, "plus, he's got no sense of Quidditch at all. Didn't even pay any attention to the game!" (For Ron, the force of condemnation could no further go, at least for a man. In girls- in Hermione for example- he could shrug it off as just being a "girl thing"; in a fellow wizard, a lack of interest in Quidditch was tantamount to a branding as an outright criminal.) But no, she couldn't believe Hermione would be so fickle as to immediately begin dating Lawson (she'd only met him a week ago!) when Ginny was sure (or as sure as she could be when she had heard nothing to confirm her suspicions from Hermione herself, who, about some things, could be very reserved) Hermione had, at least until very recently, had feelings for Harry.
Unless, of course, it was Harry who was behind this sudden change in Hermione…
"Well, what do you think?" Hermione turned around for Ginny's inspection. The dress bared, by Hermione's usual standards, an enormous amount of skin since it left her shoulders and arms and her back down to her shoulder blades, exposed. The design emphasized Hermione's lithe, slim figure and the color became her.
Ginny grinned. "You look great, Hermione. That style suits you."
"I think so too," Hermione responded lightly. "I'll get it." (It was amazing how much more she cared about her appearance when the added thought of, I wonder what Harry will think when he sees me wearing this, was constantly in her mind.)
When she got out of the dressing room, she found Ginny waiting with her hands on her hips.
"Ok, Hermione, what's going on?" she demanded, without preamble. "You've been acting positively giddy all day."
Hermione manufactured a look of innocent surprise. "Have I? I guess I'm just in a good mood today, that's all."
"Oh really?" Ginny raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You're practically exuding happiness that in anyone else I'd say made it seem as if you had a really great shag last night."
"Ginny!" Hermione hissed in a whisper, blushing scarlet. "Honestly! Someone might hear you."
Ginny glanced around at the nearly empty store and raised her eyebrows expressively but said nothing.
Hermione finally relented. "It's Harry," she admitted. They hadn't talked about what to tell everyone or who to tell first but she knew Harry wouldn't mind Ginny knowing; he would probably be telling Ron tonight as it was. Oh but it had been a precious secret to have for these few hours, a wonderful hidden source of constant happiness. He loves me. Harry loves me.
"I knew it!" Ginny exclaimed. "I knew you were in love with Harry. So he's finally realized he loves you too, is that it? Brilliant!" She paused, glancing around to make sure no one was in hearing distance and then asked in a teasing whisper, "So, how is he?"
Hermione just knew her face was turning twenty shades of red. "Honestly, Ginny! I can't tell you that!" she exclaimed, although she kept her voice low and there was amusement warring with mild embarrassment in her eyes.
"Oh, fine," Ginny huffed in mock disgruntlement but her dancing eyes gave her away and she smiled, giving Hermione a quick hug. "I'm so glad for you."
Ginny entered Ron's office in the London headquarters of Quality Quidditch Supplies with so much flourish Ron half-expected to hear a fanfare of trumpets announcing her arrival.
She struck a dramatic pose. "I," she announced triumphantly, "am a genius!"
Ron gave her a look that implied he strongly suspected she was either completely sloshed or completely insane. "Um, Gin, what have you done?"
Ginny waved a hand with exaggerated carelessness. "Oh, nothing much, but I knew it would happen. I just knew it! Didn't I predict it would happen this way?"
"Knew what would happen?"
"Harry and Hermione, of course, you dense thing."
Ron sat bolt upright. "Harry and Hermione!"
"Yes! Now, come with me. You have to see this." Ginny grabbed Ron's arm, dragging him with her. "Come on; you're taking your lunch break now." She stopped when they were outside the building. "I'll meet you outside the Avalon Café in Diagon Alley." And with that, she disapparated.
Ron blinked, stared at the spot where Ginny had been, shook his head and then disapparated as well.
Outside the Avalon Café, Ron favored his sister with a curious look. "Um, Gin…"
"Sssh. Just follow me and be quiet."
She went inside the café and shaking his head again, Ron followed her.
She stopped so suddenly he nearly bumped straight into her. She pulled him down so his head wouldn't show above the top of the potted tree she'd stopped behind and said, "Now, look straight ahead through the branches to that table by the window."
Ron looked. And felt a grin begin to grow on his face. She's just your friend, eh, Harry? Silly git.
Harry and Hermione were sitting at a small table for two, not really eating the food on their plates; they were more occupied with the person across from them. And it was quite clear that the rest of the patrons, the servers, the café itself didn't really exist for either of them. As far as they were concerned, they were alone. As Ron and Ginny watched, Harry reached across the table to take Hermione's hand; she smiled at him and then fed him a bite of her pasta.
Ron glanced at Ginny, grinning widely. "Just look at the two of them, so cozy. And after all Harry's protests that she was just his friend. I've half a mind to go up there and say, I told you so."
Ginny grabbed the sleeve of his robe. "Don't you dare, Ronald Bilius Weasley!" she hissed in a sharp whisper. "You'll ruin their romantic lunch."
Ron blinked and grimaced at her use of his middle name. "Ok, ok, Gin, I was only kidding." He paused and then quirked his eyebrows at her. "And did something happen to Mum, 'cause I think you're channeling her spirit. You sounded exactly like her just then, you know." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "Wigged me out, honestly."
Ginny couldn't help but smile. "Come on, we can have lunch in the Leaky Cauldron."
Ron glanced at his two best friends again, completely absorbed in each other, and grinned, before he followed Ginny out of the Cafe. It was about bloody time.
"I told Ginny about us. Or rather, she guessed and I confirmed her guess," Hermione told Harry.
He nodded. "I was going to tell Ron tonight," adding with a smile, "He's smarter than I am apparently, since he told me weeks ago you and I should start dating." He shrugged and smiled self-deprecatingly. "I told him he was crazy. But I'm an idiot that way."
Hermione laughed softly and shook her head. "Don't say that. Sometimes we just don't see certain things until we're ready to see them. And it doesn't matter now."
"I suppose not." They exchanged smiles and another silence, comfortable as silences between them always had been but now charged with an added element of desire-this need to touch each other even if it was only their hands-fell.
"I'm going up to Hogwarts this weekend," Harry began after a few moments.
"For Dumbledore?" she asked, although she knew the answer already.
"Yes." Harry went up to Hogwarts and Dumbledore's grave every year during the week of the anniversary of Dumbledore's death. He tried to go there on the actual day but when it fell during the week, as it did this year, he usually couldn't and so went the weekend before or after. "Why don't you come with me?" he suggested, adding, "We can go on a date to Hogsmeade afterwards."
She smiled. "That sounds nice. I can visit with Professor McGonagall while you visit Dumbledore's memorial."
"Okay. Then we can spend the rest of the day wandering through Hogsmeade. I feel like I owe you a date at Hogsmeade to make up for all those times I should have asked you out during all our years at Hogwarts," Harry grinned.
She laughed softly. "You don't owe me anything. But it's a sweet thought. And come to think of it," she added with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "I always wanted to go to Madam Puddifoot's with you."
Harry recoiled with a look of exaggerated horror. "Oh please, not Madam Puddifoot's."
"But don't you just love the décor there, Harry?" she teased.
He pretended to shudder at the thought. "Don't remind me."
"Oh, alright then," she relented with mock reluctance. "No Madam Puddifoot's, since you insist."
He gave an exaggerated sigh of relief and then added, more seriously, "If you want to, though, we can go there."
"Would you really?" she asked in some surprise, knowing just how much Harry detested that tea-shop.
His eyes met hers, all traces of humor gone now. "For you, I'd do anything, go anywhere," he said quietly. His lips quirked in a half-smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Even spend an entire day at Madam Puddifoot's, if that's what you wanted."
She smiled at him, feeling a surge of pure emotion well up inside her. Dear, dear Harry. Her Harry, she suddenly thought with a flare of possessiveness. "I love you, Harry," she responded softly.
He tightened his hold on her hand. "I love you too."
For a while, nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be said. They could simply be silent, silent and happy just to be together like this and know that this love, based as it was on such a strong friendship, would last forever.
Harry suddenly realized that he had succeeded brilliantly in his initial plan after all. He had made Hermione happy and he had found her a boyfriend, the last boyfriend she would ever have (he was as sure of that as he could be of anything). And after all, love was the best reason for dating of all… Just love…
Life with Hermione loving him as he loved her-he couldn't ask for anything more.