Such Bitter-Sweet Bliss by moon_shadows

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 14/02/2005
Last Updated: 28/06/2005
Status: Completed

It’s just an angsty bit of romance that I felt compelled to write a long time ago for
Valentine’s Day. Note the title; it is a bit sad at parts, but it has the kind of ending that we
all love. Originally a one-shot that I've decided to add a SECOND CHAPTER to. Now complete.
Small Snippet to Torture Reader until Reader Reads (and Reviews .:Hint:. .:Hint:.): His lips
descended upon hers. Oh Merlin, such warmth, need, desperation . . . love. The world fell away, and
all she knew was him. Smooth, soft lips, teeth, tongues . . . he was everywhere, touching
everywhere.




1. Such Bitter-Sweet Bliss
--------------------------

Disclaimer: You already know it. I don’t own the characters or the world. In fact, I don’t own
anything that you might recognize. Trust me, if I did own it all, I’d be lounging on one of the
beaches of Hawaii with Johnny Depp as my personal servant. Heh, but one can dream . . .

Summary: It’s just an angsty bit of romance that I felt compelled to write for Valentine’s Day.
Note the title; it is a bit sad at parts, but it has the kind of ending that we all love . . . sort
of. One-Shot.

Small Snippet to Torture Reader until Reader Reads (and Reviews .:Hint:. .:Hint:.): His lips
descended upon hers. Oh Merlin, such warmth, need, desperation . . . love. The world fell away, and
all she knew was him. Smooth, soft lips, teeth, tongues . . . he was everywhere, touching
everywhere.

**Such Bitter-Sweet Bliss**

The common-room fire was roaring away as it usually did. It didn’t know that today was supposed
to be special. No, it was just the same as ever. And for Hermione, Valentine’s Day was just like
every other day. Not one guy came up to her and declared his undying love for her. Not a single guy
even so much as glanced at her. It was her seventh year, and she hadn’t even received a card for
Merlin’s sake! No, they were all too busy panting over the more “popular” girls of the school like
love-sick fools. Even Ron had sent out a few cards with his name signed at the bottom. Yes, it was
only another day in another year, just like all the others.

The fire was still roaring, heat spreading from it in waves, but to Hermione, everything was
cold. Her hands were hovering above the dancing flames in hopes that they might retain some of
their warmth but to no avail. She couldn’t feel their heat. She was cold . . . cold and alone. It
was just another day.

Was she ugly? Was that why not a single guy paid her any mind? It wasn’t as if guys hadn’t noticed
her in the past. There had been Victor, and Neville had hinted a few times that he fancied her. She
even suspected that Ron had harbored feelings for her at one point. And then Harry had . . . but he
. . . Well, that wasn’t important anymore. So what was wrong with her now? No, nothing . . .
Nothing was wrong with her; it was just another day.

Alone . . . She was all by herself, and she didn’t know why. Everyone was at Hogsmeade sharing a
butterbeer with his or her honey or playing out in the snow. And where was she? She was stuck
inside, sitting by the fire, trying to get warm: Alone.

Ron had finally worked up the nerve to ask Luna on a date, and Hermione hadn’t seen a single
sign of Harry all day. So the result . . . ? She was stuck all by herself. It was at this point
when she wished she had become closer friends with some of the girls in her dorm. Of course, she
loved Harry and Ron to death, but in cases like this, only another girl could understand what it
felt like to be a girl alone on Valentine’s Day. Yes, just another day.

Well, she was sick of Valentine’s Day being just another day! She wanted to have her special
someone hold her and tell her how much he loved her, how much she meant to him. Why couldn’t she
have her special day? Why was she alone? Didn’t she deserve to be happy? Where was her
knight-in-shining-armor?

She gave a frustrated sigh, and pounded her fists on the floor. “Why?!” she asked, glaring at
the fire before her. “It’s not fair!”

“Hermione?”

She spun around quickly, not having realized someone had been watching her. To her slight
surprise, she saw Harry looking at her, a worried expression across his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, walking closer to sit down beside her.

She blushed, embarrassed at having been caught talking to herself. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t
I be?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked. You just seemed a little upset,” he answered quietly. His
eyes were watching her as he waited silently for her to speak. The flames in the hearth were
reflected in his glasses, dancing madly, entrancing her.

She was falling into his gaze, her head spinning slightly. “I-I was — I’m ok, really. I was just
feeling alone, I guess.” Oh Merlin, he had beautiful eyes! She couldn’t stop staring into them. It
felt like he was seeing every part of her, seeing into her very soul. She almost felt naked with
him staring at her so intently, but she didn’t care. This was Harry, and she trusted him with
everything she had. If he could see into her soul, see every part of her being, she didn’t
care.

“Why were you feeling alone?” he wondered aloud, continuing to stare at her.

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day!” she cried in exasperation. “And I’m the only girl in Gryffindor
Tower (and probably the whole school) that is sitting inside all alone. I’m not out in Hogsmeade
with some guy or having a snowball fight with my friends. I’m just . . . here.” She sighed, “I
didn’t even get a Valentine’s Day card, not one!”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just continued to stare at her. The fire light was playing
on his face, illuminating parts while darkening others. He looked like he had just woken up, his
hair even messier than usual. If he had just woken up, that would explain why she hadn’t seen him
earlier that day. She vaguely wondered what time he had fallen asleep, noticing the bags under his
eyes; apparently his nightmares hadn’t gotten any better.

His low voice reverberating around the room brought her out of her musings. “Does Valentine’s
Day really mean that much to you?” he asked.

Hermione bit her lip, thinking over his question. “Well, no. I guess the reason why I’m so upset
is because today is a really big reminder that I’m all alone. I don’t have my love to snuggle up
with and to tell me how much he cares about me. I try to ignore the loneliness, but today is just
one day out of the year that I can’t.” Her voice retained a bit of bitterness as she spoke.

“Do you really think you’re all alone?” he whispered, leaning in closer to her so she could hear
his words.

“I — aren’t I?” she stuttered. Oh, he was much too close, much too close, indeed. She could feel
his breath on her face, feel his gaze still fixed onto her. Those eyes . . . Those eyes should be
made illegal! She was getting lost all over again. He was so close . . . much too close. . . . She
closed her eyes, waiting for the moment that every fiber of her body knew was coming. . . . But the
moment never came. She heard him stand up quickly, and her eyes flew open. What had happened? Why
hadn’t he . . . ? She felt her heart sink, painful emotions and memories washing over her. Of
course, he wasn’t going to kiss her; he had made that clear the last time they had come this close.
They were just best friends. They could be nothing more. He wouldn’t let them become anything more.
. . . Suddenly, she felt the need to cry, hide in her room for the rest of the day and cry.

She stood up and turned to leave, fighting against the onslaught of tears that threatened to
spill from her eyes. She took one step toward the stairs leading to the dorms, not even bothering
to look at Harry, but before she could continue, he grabbed her arm gently to stop her
progress.

“Harry, please . . . I —”

“Shh.” He walked up behind her, grabbing her other arm with his free hand. His body was pressing
against her back. “Hermione, how can you possibly feel like you are all alone?” he whispered into
her ear, a touch of hurt laced into his voice. His breath tickled her skin, sending shivers down
her spine. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to control herself.

“Because, I am,” she was barely able to answer, closing her eyes and wishing he would let her
go; she didn’t want to cry in front of him.

He slowly turned her around, placing a hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her skin in
soft caresses. “So then what am I? Am I nobody?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

She shook her head, “No, you’re just my best friend. That’s all.” A single tear ran down her
cheek. “That’s all that you’ll let us be, best friends, nothing more.”

Another tear . . . and another . . .

Why couldn’t he just let her go? Let her go to her room so she could cry . . . so that when they
met again the next day, they could pretend that nothing had happened and that everything was
okay.

She could feel his breath on her face again, his thumb tracing over her lips. “Hermione, please
look at me.” She shook her head no, refusing to let him control her like she had let him do so many
times before. She wasn’t going to let him get to her anymore than he already had. “Please,” he
begged, tilting her head up a little.

Her resolve was seeping through her hands only to vanish within mere seconds. She could never
say no to him for long. Her watery eyes opened to see his boring right into her. His face was cast
in shadows, but his gorgeous emerald eyes stood out as if they were glowing.

More tears fell . . .

“Hermione, you know why things have to be this way. You know why we can’t be together,” his
voice was hoarse and broke a few times.

“NO! I don’t!” she yelled. Her fists pounded on his chest, but it was a feeble attempt. “I don’t
know why you keep pushing me away! I don’t know why you won’t let us be happy together!” she cried
and buried her head in the crook of his neck. “I don’t know. I don’t . . .”

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. She could hear him trying to keep his
breathing under control. “You know that if I could be with you, I would, right?” He pulled her away
from him enough to see her face and look into her eyes. She didn’t respond; she couldn’t.
“Hermione, you know I would if I could, don’t you?” he begged for her to answer him.

“No.”

His eyes showed so much hurt and pain, so much longing, but it was nothing to how she was
feeling inside. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die just to numb the pain and make it go
away.

“Hermione, you have to understand! I would do anything to change how things are. But I can’t.
I’m not someone you can fall in love with! There’s no guaranty of a future with me!” His voice was
full of such anguish.

”I don’t care. I don’t care! I’m already in love with you,” she said barely above a whisper.

“No.” He closed his eyes, acting as if his worst fear had been realized, as if she were already
gone from the world.

“I’m already in love with you. . . . I’m already —“

“STOP!”

Another tear fell . . . but this one wasn’t hers. . . .

They both dropped to their knees, still wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“Hermione, I would do anything for you.” He was trembling all over. “I would die for you. And if
*he* ever found that out . . . He would use you to get to me. He would take you away from me.
Because, I can’t live without you. I have no future if you’re not in it. No future —”

“Shh.” She was stroking his cheek, wiping his tears away, though, it was pointless; new ones
kept forming.

“I love you.” He said it so softly, she wondered if she had imagined it. “I love you . . . I
love you . . . I love you so much.” He kept repeating the words.

She couldn’t take it any more; she began peppering his face with small kisses. His cheeks, his
forehead, his nose, chin, neck . . . every place and any place she could reach until . . .

His hands flew to her face, holding it in place, as his lips descended upon hers. Oh Merlin,
such warmth, need, desperation . . . love. The world fell away, and all she knew was him. Smooth,
soft lips, teeth, tongues . . . he was everywhere, touching everywhere.

He tore his lips away from hers, making her protest with a heart-wrenching whimper, only to
descend again to her skin, kissing down her neck. He slowly leaned her back to lie on the ground,
settling himself on top of her. She could feel his tongue swirling, his teeth nipping every so
often, his lips (oh, those lips) trailing kisses across her collarbone. Kissing, moving farther
downward . . . He undid the top button of her shirt.

Farther . . . Torturing . . . Kissing . . . Needing . . .

Her chest was heaving with the need for air.

Oh, such pleasure . . .

She grabbed his face and brought it to meet hers again, desperate to feel his lips against hers,
to feel his tongue slide against hers over and over again.

She was drowning in him, and she loved every minute of it.

Yes, Hermione loved this man. She loved every little tiny thing about him. Every flaw, every
feature, everything . . . She didn’t care about what the future held for the both of them. She
didn’t care about the danger or the pain that might come later. All she cared about was that he was
hers; *finally*, right then on that day, on that plain, ordinary day, he was hers. And he
would always be hers. No matter what happened, no matter what force there was out there to try to
tear them apart, he would *always* be hers.

She was no longer alone, and she realized, she had never really been alone to begin with. He was
there with her, he always had been. Her love, her knight-in-shining-armor, was there with her,
beside her, all around her, filling her, warming her . . . and that was how things always would
be.

No longer cold . . .

No longer alone . . .

Only loved . . .

Forever loved . . .

~*~*~

A/N: I just want to thank my wonderful beta who kicks ass, Nati, for finding my errors. I’d also
like to say, I’m sorry hon, but that’s where it ends. (She got mad that I didn’t go into more
detail in the end, hehe. But, I wanted to keep it PG-13. Of course, if I had enough people begging
for me to continue, I might. . . .)



2. In the End
-------------

Disclaimer: I’m not rich, I’m not British (though, I do have English blood), I’m not married,
I’m not famous, and I don’t have kids. I’m almost nineteen, I go to college (in other words, I’m
dirt poor), and I was born in Hawaii (and no, I’m not making that part up about Hawaii) — so of
course, you all now know from that lovely description that my name is J. K. Rowling! This is
sarcasm; notice the sarcasm, see the sarcasm, hear the sarcasm in my written words. . . .

Summary: It’s an angst ridden bit of Harry/Hermione romance that I had originally felt compelled
to write for Valentine’s Day. It’s now known as the one-shot that got extended. It is now complete
this time . . . really.

Small Snippet to Torture Reader until Reader Reads (and Reviews .:Hint:. .:Hint:.): His lips
brushed against her other cheek, his touch so soft, she almost hadn’t felt it. “You really do love
me, Harry . . .” Yes, he did. She could see it in his gaze, feel it with every caress. There was
hope for them again — “Always.”

~*~*~

**In the End**

Warmth; it was all around her. Every part of her was encased in a cushion of soft, silky warmth.
It felt so good . . . such a contrast to the cold she had felt before. She didn’t want to move,
didn’t want to remember anything . . . just wanted to stay in the comfortable reverie she was in,
forever. She soon found out that such a feat was quite impossible.

Hermione opened her eyes to be welcomed with the sight of large scarlet curtains and with a
fluffy, red comforter to match; she was in her bed in the girls’ dorm. She turned to the other side
to find nothing. There was nobody else with her. *He* wasn’t there with her. Her heart began
to sink as she realized . . . a dream, it was all a dream. She could remember every word, touch,
and shiver, everything that he had done to her, and it had all been just a dream . . . a very cruel
dream.

The comforter and sheets fell from her body as she sat up, cold air hitting her and sending
goose-bumps over her skin. She gasped because it was at that point when she realized, she was
completely naked. She grabbed the sheets and pulled them against her, covering all of the necessary
parts. Maybe, it hadn’t all been a dream. . . .

She was about to peek out of the curtains to find some clothes before she heard a door open and
quick footsteps approach her bed. The curtains began to pull back. . . .

“Harry, you’ve been in bed all day. It’s time to get —” Ron stopped in mid-sentence when he saw
Hermione. He didn’t move, just continued to stare with his mouth gaping open.

“Honestly, Ron! Don’t just stand there, staring at me! Close the curtains!” she demanded.

He didn’t move.

“RON!”

“SORRY!” he suddenly squeaked, finally turning away from her and replacing the scarlet barrier
between them.

“Ron, can you look around for my clothes?” she asked, having realized that last night had been
very real and that she was in the boys’ dorm rather than the girls’.

“WHAT?” he squeaked again, his voice raising another octave.

She sighed in frustration. “Can — you — find — my — clothes?” she repeated, over-enunciating
every word.

Ron gave off a strange noise that resembled a whimper. She could hear him moving about the room,
trying to find her garments. Several minutes later, she saw her shirt and her skirt flying over the
top of the curtains. “Ron, I need my knickers too,” she said matter-of-factly, as though it were
the most obvious thing in the world.

Another whimper . . .

Again, clothes flew over the top of the curtains; her bra landed in her lap while her underwear
landed on her head. “Thanks.”

. . . and another . . .

After getting dressed quickly, she made her way to her own dorm to fix herself up. She ran a tap
in the washroom. A long hot bath would help to relieve the sore muscles that she’d acquired from
her previous night’s escapades. She ran another tap, one with bubbles. Yes, a nice hot bubble bath
was what she needed to help clear her head. She got in, the heat burning her skin at first.

Memories kept flashing through her head. . . .

*“Tell me you’re mine.”*

*“I’m yours.”*

*“Always?”*

*“Always.”*

She could still feel him holding her, filling her.

Her fingers were beginning to prune from the bathwater.

*“Hermione, can you promise me something?”*

*“Anything.”*

*“Don’t ever leave me.”*

*“I won’t. I’ll always be with you, Harry. I promise.”*

He had been so sure that she was going to leave him.

The bubbles were beginning to dissipate.

*“Hermione, do you think I’m going to survive the final battle? Do you think that we are going
to last?”*

*“No. I don’t think; I know.”*

*“How can you be so sure?”*

*“I just am. I believe it with all my heart. So, I just am.”*

He had been so sure that he was going to leave her.

The water was getting cold.

*“What if you’re wrong . . . ?”*

*“Harry?”*

*“Yes?”*

*“Go to sleep.”*

She wasn’t wrong. She couldn’t be wrong. She couldn’t imagine her life without Harry, so she was
*not* wrong.

Hermione toweled off while watching the used water swirl down the drain.

She was not wrong.

She began to get redressed, putting her old clothes into the hamper along with her wet
towel.

She was not wrong.

She vaguely wondered why she had to keep telling herself those words over and over again. Did
she really believe them . . . ?

Yes, she believed them. She had too. If she didn’t, she’d lose her sanity.

*She was not wrong.*

After that last thought, Hermione descended the stairs to the common room. Looking around, she
spotted Ron playing chess with Neville. “Ron?”

“Ah!” He jumped and fell out of his chair. Apparently, he hadn’t gotten over seeing her in
Harry’s bed with nothing more than a sheet to cover her body earlier that day. Picking himself up
off of the floor, he stared at her with wide eyes, waiting for her to continue.

“Have you seen Harry at all today?” she asked, ignoring his odd behaviour.

He gulped and shook his head from side to side.

“Oh. Well, thanks anyway.” Where was Harry? He must have left her early in the morning for Ron
not to have seen him all day. . . .

Now, most people in her situation would go out and start searching for the person they were
looking for . . . but, Hermione was not most people. Being the clever witch that she was, she knew
of a better way to find Harry than to blindly search the castle from top to bottom, wasting a ton
of time, until finally happening upon him.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” she said a few minutes later, while tapping the
Marauders’ Map with her wand. Lines began to spread out on the map like a spider web, starting from
where she had touched her wand to the tattered parchment. She studied the map, her eyes roving over
the spots where Harry spent most of his time. She finally found his name, located at the edge of
the lake. Jumping up from Harry’s bed, she made her way to him, taking the map with her in case she
needed it again.

She had just made it out the front doors of the castle when suddenly a powerful wave of
nervousness hit her. What if she was making a mistake in trying to find him? After all, if Harry
had wanted to talk to her, then why would he have fled the castle before she woke up? Maybe, he was
trying to keep away from her. . . .

Another part of her reasoned that he was just trying to avoid others, not her. He of course
wouldn’t want to hear the taunting and goading of his roommates he was sure to get if they found
out that Hermione had spent the night with him in his bed. He knew that she was smart. If he had
been trying to avoid her, surely he would have taken the map with him so that she couldn’t
automatically find him. If he were avoiding her, he would have taken it with him to make sure that
if she got too close to him, he could move away, right?

Yes, that had to be it. He left early to keep from having to face others, not her.

She seemed to be having to convince herself of a lot, lately.

She continued walking. Each step seemed to take forever to make, yet she reached his hiding
place in too little time for her liking. Fear was not a becoming thing, especially when it was
caused by someone who shouldn’t be feared, but she couldn’t help it; she wasn’t afraid of him,
really, but rather, she was afraid of rejection. No matter how many times she told herself that he
wasn’t trying to avoid her, she couldn’t squelch the little voice in her mind that told her
otherwise.

She treaded carefully, making very sure to create a lot of noise, so he could hear her coming.
Sneaking up on Harry was not a clever thing to do these days, as he had taken a leaf out of Mad-Eye
Moody’s book and was prone to hex anything that moved in a secretive manner behind his back.

Hesitating for a moment, she finally decided to sit next to him on the grass. He still hadn’t
made any indication to her presence, and that voice that had been causing her doubt seemed to
increase in volume.

No! He was not ignoring her! He was just lost in thought. That was it; he was lost in his
thoughts. Though, she decided she’d try to start a conversation with him, anyway . . . just to make
sure that little annoying voice in the back of her head wasn’t right.

“Hi.” Oh, how much lamer could she be? Hi? They had just spent an amazing night together and
that was all she could come up with? She began to mentally slap herself but was stopped by his
voice breaking through the still air.

“Hi.”

Well, at least he answered her, even if their conversation wasn’t much of one so far. She felt
relief wash over her, just from knowing that he was willing to talking to her.

*HA! Take that, little annoying voice! He’s not ignoring me!*

“You left early this morning . . .” she continued, not really sure of what she wanted to say.
She couldn’t very well ask him out right if he had been avoiding her or if the previous night had
just been a fluke on his part, could she?

“Yeah.”

That’s all he was going to say? Now, Hermione was getting annoyed. “That’s it? You’re just going to
say, ‘yeah’?”

He sighed, and for the first time that day, his eyes met hers. “What do you want me to say?”

“I-I don’t —” What did she want him to say? She didn’t even know. She just wanted him to say
something more than what he had . . . something that had meaning . . . something that would
reassure her that he was still hers, that she wasn’t alone. “Why? Why did you leave?” she finally
asked, her voice sounding a lot weaker and more desperate than she’d have liked.

He reached for her hand, twining his fingers with hers and staring down at them. His skin was
freezing from being outside for so long. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.
I just needed some time to think . . . away from everything.”

“What have you been thinking about that’s kept you here all morning? Last night?” Her voice was
just as quiet as his had been. She hated to admit it, but she was afraid of his answer even more
now than she had been before. He hadn’t shown much reaction to her, and he seemed distant . . . way
too distant.

“Yeah, last night.”

“And?”

“And last night should never have happened.” Her heart was hammering. No! He couldn’t be saying
what she thought he was saying. She knew he wanted to be with her, the previous night had proved
it, so why was he saying this? “I was weak. I should have stopped, but I couldn’t. I’ve wanted to
be with you for so long now, and I just couldn’t stop, not when you were so close. Last night
shouldn’t have happened, but it did.

“It’s too late now. *He* already knows how much I care about you.” His hand squeezed
securely around hers, as though he were afraid she’d disappear at that very moment. “He’s after you
now. He knows that I’d do anything for you, even give up my own life if it meant you’d be safe, and
he knows that hurting you is the one thing he can do to hurt me the most.” His eyes were filled
with so much pain and fear, and she could do nothing more than wrap her arms around him and hold
him tightly. She felt useless. Why couldn’t she do anything more to reassure him, to help
him?

At that moment, she truly hated Voldemort. It wasn’t the fear and dislike she’d felt for the evil
creature before. She truly hated him with all of her being. She hated him for putting Harry through
all of the pain and suffering he’d had to endure over the years, and she hated him for taking away
Harry’s hope, for ruining Harry’s one bit of happiness.

”Harry, I don’t care if he’s after me. It was bound to happen at some point in time. I am one of
your best friends and a muggle born, after all. Don’t allow him to control your life like this! You
can’t live in fear of what might happen!”

He looked so lost. His eyes were now dull like he’d given up all hope, and her heart broke at
the sight. “I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

She’d only just realized that in her rush to find Harry, she’d forgotten her cloak. The winter
cold was finally hitting her, as she prayed that she wouldn’t end up alone again at the end of this
conversation.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare. You didn’t do anything wrong. We’re going to be just fine, so don’t you
dare start acting like that.” She was desperate. She was in love with him, and he was acting like
he was ready to ruin what they had because he was afraid of what might happen to her. He couldn’t
do that to her. They’d been through too much together! She wasn’t going to allow him to push her
away anymore . . . She couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I tried. I tried to not care, but I couldn’t.” He began running his
hand over her skin, reverently, seeming to savor each touch like it was his last. “I still can’t.
Even though I know I’ll cause nothing but trouble for you, I can’t stop caring. I should be telling
you to never see me again, to get as far from me as possible, but I can’t lose you now, not after
last night.” His voice was starting to break as he spoke. “You’re the one person I can’t stand to
be away from, and it might cost you your life. I can’t bring myself to care enough for your
well-being to force you away because I need you so much. I’m selfish, and I’ve practically killed
you because of it.”

“STOP IT! You haven’t done anything to me! Look at me! I’m right here! I’m alive! Stop acting
like I’m not!” She didn’t mean to yell at him, but she couldn’t control her emotions anymore. It
was all too much to handle. She couldn’t stand seeing him in such a state, speaking as though she
were nothing but a mere memory.

Her words seemed to have woken him from his hopeless state of mind, though. At first, he was
surprised by her outburst, but then, his eyes began to take on an intensity she’d only ever seen a
few times before. They were burning with determination. “You’re right.” He was silent for a while,
thinking. Finally, he seemed to have made up his mind about something. “I won’t let him.”

“Huh?” Now, she was slightly confused. What was that supposed to mean?

“I won’t let him hurt you.” His hands framed her face as he spoke, his eyes brighter than ever.
“Dumbledore told me that if I were to stand any chance at winning the final duel, I would need to
know what I was fighting for. At first, I thought I was fighting for the whole wizarding world, but
I was wrong.” He leaned in pressing his lips to her check, gently. Pulling back, she could see the
warmth in his eyes returning. “If I’m going to fight for anyone, it’ll be for you. So you — no — so
*we* can be safe and happy, so we can *live* . . . together.”

His lips brushed against her other cheek, his touch so soft, she almost hadn’t felt it. “You
really do love me, Harry . . .” Yes, he did. She could see it in his gaze, feel it with every
caress. There was hope for them again.

“Always.” Suddenly, his arms were wrapped around her, holding her body tightly against his, his
lips crashing down upon hers. The kiss was bruising, almost desperate, and she loved every minute
of it. Her fingers twisted in his hair, clinging, pulling him closer.

She was lost in his touch, every nerve on fire. She could feel his fingers tracing over her skin
even after they’d already passed. She could feel his lips as they trailed down her neck, every part
of her longing for more than just a sweet caress. She wanted him to make her forget, forget about
every loss, every worry, every pain . . . and he did.

Time ceased, all sound faded away, and the winter cold no longer existed. Nothing did except for
his lips on hers, his arms around her body. There was no evil lord, no destiny, no prophecy. Things
were simple, just him and her. He, who was her warmth, who she was happy with . . . he was all she
knew.

How could she have ever doubted his feelings? How could she have ever doubted what they shared,
their trust, their loyalty for each other? She’d known before, and she knew then, in the end no
matter what happened to them, he would always be hers. Nothing could change that, not Voldemort,
not even the three Fates.

She’d always be his.

He’d always be hers.

Always together.

Always loved.

Always . . .

~*~*~

References:

The Three Fates — Moirae, the three daughters of Nyx, also know as the three Fates, are the Greek
goddesses who controlled destiny. They were supposed to appear three nights after a child’s birth
to determine the course of his/her future. Clotho spun the web of life, each string representing a
person’s life line. Lachesis measured the length of each strand, and Atropos cut each thread,
deciding a person’s death.

A/N:

Yes, I’ve finally updated! Amazing, I know. At first, this was only supposed to be a one-shot, but
since there were so many people *begging* for me to continue, I decided to compromise. You now
have a second chapter, but it’s going to be the last chapter, so I hope you enjoyed it. I’m afraid
that if I try to continue it anymore, I’ll ruin it (if I haven’t already). The best part about it
is that it’s just a short bit of fluff highlighting the turning point in Harry and Hermione’s
relationship. I don’t want to drag it out. So I wrote another chapter for all of those who wanted
more, but this is all there’s going to be for this fic.

I’m sorry for all of those people who wanted me to change the rating and add some smut to this
story. I have absolutely nothing against smut, I love reading it, but this is only my second
fan-fic ever, and I’m not quite comfortable with writing R-worthy material yet. I *might* at
some point in time, a *very* long time from now, write a separate piece to go along with this
fic, highlighting the night that the two had together, but *this* story is going to stay
intact the way it is.

Thank you to all of my readers/reviewers and to my beta, Nati! I love you all!

— Amie