It's The Most Miserable Time Of The Year by TheGreatFox2000

Rating: NC17
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 14/02/2005
Last Updated: 24/02/2005
Status: Completed

Incredibly sugary fluff fic for Valentine's Day. As Valentine's Day rolls around during
Harry's 7th year, he reminisces about his previous Valentine's Days, and what he's
going to do to relieve the stress of the current one (NOT THAT! Get your minds out of the gutter,
people ;) ). Incredibly, sappy, sweet, fluff. You have been warned.




1. It's The Most Miserable Time Of The Year
-------------------------------------------

All right, all right, calm down. It’s not another chapter of SotS, sorry. I got caught up in
reading all these Valentine’s Day fics, and since I hate the holiday oh so much, I thought I’d join
in. I was reading, and I noticed that most of these fics come from Hermione’s point of view; which
is the reason for my having lonely!Harry being the main focus of this story. Just a bit of angsty
fluff for the soul, nothing else. Like all of my other non-novel length stories, this is a one
shot, and will NOT be made longer.

I repeat, this is a one shot, and will not be any longer. I will be paddling people who ask me when
the next chapter is coming out ;)

The title was inspired by the song, in case any of you were wondering. This story is simple, pure,
unadulterated fluff. About 300% I’d say. Call the dentist in advance for an appointment, you’re
sure to need lots of fillings after this one. Enjoy!

Note: This is unbeta-ed. Please excuse any grammatical/spelling errors I may have made. Thank you
for your time.

---------------

It’s The Most Miserable Time of the Year

Harry Potter lay in his four-poster bed while fully dressed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and
Wizardry and sighed. He had woken up that morning and gotten dressed, before remembering what day
it was and collapsing back onto his bed and drawing the curtains shut. On a normal day, getting
back in bed and sighing usually wasn’t part of the agenda. Of course, his days were almost never
normal anymore what with the prophecy and constant death eater attacks, so this was a more frequent
occurrence. However, even though most days weren’t typical for Harry anymore, today was the one day
he always dreaded the most since his 5th year.

Valentine’s Day.

To be honest with himself, he didn’t really *dread* the date with Cho in his fifth year, but
he was certainly nervous about it beforehand. Looking back on it though, he realized (and most
people agreed with him) that he should have dreaded it.

Sixth year was far worse. Hermione and Ron had just started dating a few weeks prior, and it was
around then that he came to the conclusions that he had feelings for Hermione.

Strong ones.

Feelings that one should not have towards their best friend.

Tingly in the pants feelings.

It was when those feelings started that he tried to convince himself that he didn’t like Hermione
that way. The more he tried to push her away, the more he ended up caring about her. It was right
before Valentine’s Day that year that he figured out (or at least finally admitted to himself) that
he was in love with her.

So it was with a troubled mind that he chose not to go into Hogsmeade that day, for fear of running
into either Hermione, who, being his best friend and all, would insist that he spent the remainder
of the day with herself and Ron (something that Harry knew his red-haired friend would not
appreciate), or even worse, Cho, who would probably remind him of the terrible excuse of a date
that they had the previous year.

Instead he sat miserably in his dorm, played wizard chess with Neville (whom he had lost to in
three straight games, though not in as sound fashion as he would've to Ron), and, deciding he
needed some space and time to relax, sought out the Room of Requirement, only to find the door
already in existence. Having been named a prefect when Ron formally stepped down from the post,
Harry already knew what it meant when the door to the Room of Requirement was already there, and
more often than not it was a couple 'expressing their feelings' for each other. Not wanting
to intrude (or being given a reminder of his non-existing relationship with Hermione), he knocked
loudly, hoping that at least if anyone was in there they would have time to straighten themselves
out before he entered. Therefore, it was to his surprise when a shaky, albeit familiar voice
responded almost instantly.

“Come in.”

He turned the brass knob of the old, worn door and entered to find none other than Luna Lovegood
sitting on a Room-produced couch, crying silently with her back turned to him as she stared at a
roaring fire, not unlike the one found in the Gryffindor common room.

“Luna?” Harry asked. “What’s wrong?”

She turned around to see who had entered and let out a loud sniffle. It was obvious she had been
there for a while; her eyes were red and puffy, and the tear streaks going down her cheeks were
causing her makeup to run. *‘....Luna’s wearing makeup? She never wears makeup...just like
Hermione...’*


“Oh...hello, Harry,” she said softly, turning back to the fire. “I’m fine...I’m just a little
tired, that’s all.”

Harry didn’t believe her for a second. For one, Luna never showed emotion. Usually, even when she
was sad or troubled, her face and words always remained passive and stoic. He supposed it was years
of being teased that helped give her such a hardened exterior, but then again it could just have
been her lineage.

“Out of all the times you’ve told me that, this is one where you are most definitely not fine,”
said Harry, sitting down next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s really okay,” she said, dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of her robes. “I’m sure you don’t
want to hear about it, you probably have some wonderful girl who needs your company and
attention.”

“It’s quite the opposite really,” said Harry with a sigh. “There’s a wonderful girl whom I would
like to give my company and attention to, but she wants it from someone else.” Luna sniffled but
turned to look at him.

“I’m sure Hermione will come around,” she said with a small smile.

“I doubt it, she seems really happy with Ron....how did you know I was talking about Hermione?” he
asked, somewhat taken aback that Luna had known without him telling her.

“It’s completely obvious that you’re in love with her,” Luna replied, reverting back to her normal,
confident self. “Anyone who’s not Hermione or completely oblivious can tell that.”

“Ron can’t tell.”

“Harry,” Luna said reprovingly. “Think about what you just said.”

He considered her point for a moment before giving a small chuckle.

“I suppose you make a point,” he acquiesced. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here by yourself,
crying your eyes out. Shouldn’t you be off somewhere making a bloke stumble over his own words with
your charm?”

“Charm?” Luna snorted. “Hardly. I’m Loony Lovegood, remember?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Harry interrupted.

“No, I suppose I didn’t,” sighed Luna. “I happen to have the same problem as you, actually.”

“Really?” Harry asked curiously. He had been much friendlier to Luna since the end of fifth year,
and as a result was spending much more time with her, learning about her home life and what it was
like to be Luna Lovegood, but he didn’t know that she fancied anyone.

“I can’t believe that *you* even know you’re in love with Hermione,” Luna said seriously. “You
fall right into the ‘completely oblivious’ category, right alongside Ron.”

“Erm...”

“I’ve fancied Ronald since last year,” she said pointedly. “And I’ve been in love with him for
about five months. And I’ve been making it so bloody obvious too! He’s just too thick to see it!”
she cried out in exasperation. Harry was startled by Luna’s uncharacteristic use of strong words.
“I even put on this stupid stuff today,” she continued, vanishing her makeup with a flick of her
wand. “He just ignored me in the hall when I tried to say hello. I looked like a damned
cartoon.”

In hindsight it made sense to him. She had been trying to get Ron to notice her for some time,
Harry thought. All those greetings during breakfast in the great hall, asking to come along for
Hogsmeade visits...Harry swore that she even used magic once for one of the trips to make certain
parts of her body bigger.

“You know...” Harry said, this last thought having sparked an idea in his mind. “Maybe Ron doesn’t
want someone who’s all dressed up and cartoon-like.”

“What do you mean?” Luna asked, confused.

“Well, look at Hermione,” said Harry, a wistful expression coming over his face. “Out of all the
people in the world, she would be the last person to ever wear makeup or use spells to
make...things...bigger.” Luna’s face reddened at having that little fact revealed. “She’s plain.
She doesn’t need any of those things to make her look beautiful. Her hair doesn’t need highlights
or whatever all the other witches are using these days to look good. She doesn’t need lipstick to
help accentuate the fact that her lips are already an extremely lush shade of pink and extremely
kissable. She doesn’t need cover-up because her face always looks perfect no matter what shade of
bright red she’s blushing.”

“Does she need breast enlargement spells, Harry?” asked Luna sarcastically, though it was with a
small smile.

“Erm....I guess I got a little off topic there,” he admitted, a blush of his own creeping up to his
ears.

“Just a little.”

“The point is, she’s beautiful just the way she is,” he said. “And you’re just the same. Although I
think Ron likes Hermione because he knows her better than any other girl, I think the fact that
she's so beautifully simple helps.”

“I’m not beautiful,” said Luna looking away.

“You are, in your own right,” Harry replied firmly. “Just let Ron see that for himself.”

“Thank you, Harry,” said Luna after a pause, extending her hand. Harry smiled and shook it. Shaking
hands was a ritual that Harry and Luna had that replaced hugs. It was something that Luna had
started and he always found it to be one of the more quirky things that he liked Luna as a friend
for. “So what are we going to do about this?”

“Do about what?” Harry asked.

“Ron and I, and you and Hermione,” she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the
world.

“What are you thinking of?” Harry asked, still not entirely sure where this was headed.

“Well, how about a plan where you help Ron notice me, and I help Hermione realise she loves
you?”

“She doesn’t love me,” Harry replied.

“Fine, she doesn’t,” said Luna dismissively. “Will you do it anyway?”

“I’m not the kind of person who likes to be a home wrecker,” said Harry.

“Oh, that won’t matter,” Luna replied. “They’re going to break up in two weeks anyway.”

There had been rumors flying around that Luna Lovegood was actually a gifted Seer, but Harry never
passed judgement either way. Deciding that it couldn’t hurt to see if she was right, he
shrugged.

“All right. If, in two weeks, they’ve broken up, I’ll help you,” he said, causing Luna to
smile.

She had proven to be correct. Two weeks later, Ron and Hermione had a minor (compared to some of
their others) row, and decided it would be best if they broke things off. Harry and Luna had
immediately implemented operation ‘Get the Oblivious to not be Oblivious’ and within three weeks
Ron and Luna were happily dating.

The problem was, Hermione either had a stubborn streak to beat all, or she really didn’t feel
anything for Harry. Luna tried for months on end, even during the summer break to get Hermione to
admit feelings toward Harry, but nothing came of it. When seventh year started, he told Luna to
give up on it. It was obvious that Hermione felt nothing for him, so why bother wasting time and
energy to try to convince her otherwise? *‘Besides,’* he reasoned, *‘I want her to be happy.
If being with someone else instead of me makes her happier, then she deserves that.’*

It really was the most miserable time of the year.

“Mate?” Ron voice disturbed him from his Valentine’s Day thoughts. “I’m leaving to go meet up with
Luna now. You going to come along later in the day or do you want me to bring you back anything
from Honeydukes?”

“I’m fine, Ron,” Harry replied through his bed curtains. “Go on and have a good day.”

“Thanks, mate,” he said. “And I know this day will be tough on you. Just try not to feel too
depressed about it.”

Harry had long since admitted to Ron how he felt about Hermione, partly because he didn’t want his
best friend to be mad with him if Luna somehow helped himself and Hermione get together.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry lied. “Just enjoy yourselves.”

“I’ll see you later, then,” said Ron. Harry heard the door to the dormitory open and close, before
letting out another sigh. *‘Dumbledore was right,’* he thought. *‘Unrequited love is a
bitch.’*

In an effort to help make Harry understand his potions teacher, Dumbledore had revealed to him that
Snape once harbored feelings for Lily. Though thoroughly surprising and scaring Harry, he now
understood how difficult it was to go through something like that, and almost felt a small amount
of sympathy for the greasy git. Almost.

Deciding he needed to take his mind off things, Harry pulled back the curtains and swung his legs
over the edge of his four-poster. The day, despite being mid-February, was gorgeous, and he quickly
chose to fly around the grounds on his Firebolt to help pass the time. The rush of air always did
good for his mind. Grabbing his gloves, wand, and broom, he opened the door to the dorm and closed
it behind him before walking down to the common room.

Upon arriving there, he thought he had walked into a version of hell run by a woman. Although the
common room was not overly hot in temperature, everything was either a shade of pink or red.
Streamers with little floating hearts about them were hung from the ceiling, Valentine’s Day
decorations of all sorts were strung up about the room, even the fire was pink instead of its
normal orange and red.

“I’m going to have to talk to Dobby about this,” Harry muttered. He was halfway to the portrait
hole when he noticed someone sitting on the couch, apparently deep in thought. Turning to see who
it was, he was mildly surprised to discover that it was, in fact, Hermione.

He now had two options. One, he could sneak out of the common room as quietly as possible and try
to avoid a conversation with the girl...woman who currently made him despise Valentine’s Day more
than any other, or two, he could go and find out why she looked so lost in her own mind. Despite
his better judgement, curiosity won out in the end and he walked over to the couch.

“So how come you’re not in Hogsmeade today?” he asked from about half a foot behind her. Hermione
jumped about a foot in the air before whipping around to see who had startle her.

“Harry!” she exclaimed. “Don’t do that! Why aren’t you in Hogsmeade like everyone else?”

“If you weren’t so lost in thought,” he said, walking around the couch and sitting down on it next
to her. “You’d know that I just asked you the same exact question.”

“You didn’t ask me the same question, you left out the ‘like everyone else’,” she said
matter-of-factly.

“So you were paying attention,” Harry replied with a grin.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice me, so I stayed silent,” said Hermione. “I didn’t hear you sneak
up on me.”

“Oh,” said Harry, visibly disappointed that she didn’t want to be around him. “I...er...I guess
I’ll go then.” He stood up and made to leave but Hermione stopped him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?” Harry asked, sitting back down.

“You still didn’t answer my question as to why you’re not in Hogsmeade,” said Hermione.

“You didn’t answer mine,” Harry replied, not noticing that she had just successfully changed the
topic.

“I just wasn’t in the mood,” she said.

“Shouldn’t you be off somewhere making a bloke stumble over his own words with your charm?” Harry
asked, purposely using the same words he had in his previous year with Luna.

“Charm?” Hermione asked skeptically. “Hardly.” Harry did not fail to notice that she gave the exact
same answer that Luna had, and that in turn put a thought in his head.

“You fancy someone, don’t you?” he asked. Hermione’s eyes widened at this, and he knew he hit the
nail on the head. “I had this same conversation with Luna last year when she was pining away for
Ron.”

“Oh,” said Hermione. “Well...um...yes, I suppose you could say I fancy someone.”

Harry’s heart fell three feet at hearing this.

“Who is it?” he asked in as cheerful a voice as he could muster up.

“I’d rather not say,” said Hermione, reddening slightly.

“I think we’re a bit old for secrets,” Harry replied with a frown. “I did tell you a pretty large
one of mine about a year ago.”

“Shhhh!” Hermione said waving her hand at him. Ever since Harry had told her the prophecy, she
always tried to get him to keep quiet about it in public, even if he never mentioned it directly.
“I...I’m not really sure if I can tell you.”

“Of course you can,” said Harry, starting to get slightly frustrated. “Just open your mouth and let
the words come out.”

“Ugh, that’s not what I mean and you know it,” Hermione said in a frustrated voice.

“Then what do you mean?” Harry asked. “Because I don’t know why it would be so tough to tell your
best friend who you like.”

“That’s exactly why!” Hermione exclaimed. “I can’t tell you because you’re my best friend!”

It took a moment for her to realise what she said, but when she did her eyes widened and she
clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Hermione –” Harry didn’t have time to say anything else though, because she had just sprinted for
the girls stairs and bounded up them two at a time. A few seconds later he heard a door slam in the
distance.

*‘Why would she take off like that?,’* Harry wondered. *‘She can’t tell me because I’m her
best friend...’* He sat and thought about it for a little while. *‘There’s something I’m
missing here.’*

Then suddenly Luna’s voice came to him.

*“You fall right into the ‘completely oblivious’ category, right alongside Ron.”*

“Me?” he asked the room aloud. “She likes...*me*?”

Quickly deciding that he needed to know the answer to this, he ran over to the girls staircase and
shouted up it.

“Hermione! Can you please come down?!” he yelled. After waiting for about a minute, he realised
that she wasn’t going to come down, and he had no way to get up to her. Sighing he trudged back
over to the couch and sat down next to his Firebolt.

“So much for that,” he said absently picking up the broom. “I can’t get up there because of those
bloody stairs...wait a second.” Suddenly an idea came to him, and holding onto his broom, he ran
back over to the stairs and swung a leg over it. “Here goes nothing.”

Slowly, he ascended about two feet into the air and flew up the staircase. About twenty stairs up,
the familiar alarm went off and the stairs turned into a slide, but being on his broom, Harry was
not affected. Smiling to himself for his ingenuity, he continued up until he reached the door that
read ‘Seventh Year Girls’. Deciding that it would be best to knock first, he did. However when no
answer came, he supposed that Hermione must not have heard him over the wailing siren, and so he
carefully opened the door, just in case she wasn’t fully clothed.

She was, however, and she was lying face down on her bed sobbing. A frown coming to his face, Harry
flew into the room and gently closed the door behind him before dismounting. As he walked over to
her bed, the siren outside the dormitory went silent, which he was thankful for. Kneeling next to
the bed, he gently put his hand on her shoulder.

“Go away, Lavender,” Hermione said into the pillow. “I’m not in the mood to hear about who tried to
get upstairs this time.”

“I succeeded in my ‘try’ thank you very much,” Harry said in a dignified voice. Hermione instantly
turned to face him, eyes wide.

“Harry!” she exclaimed. “How did you get up here?!” he held up his firebolt for her to see and she
groaned, burying her face in the pillow again. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Well I was worried and it seemed like a rather good idea,” he said. “And it worked.”

“Yes, well...I wanted to be left alone.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I couldn’t...can’t stand the thought of you just rejecting me so easily,” she said in a
strained voice. The way her shoulders were shaking it was obvious to Harry that she was crying
again.

“Why would you think I would reject you?” he asked.

“Because you’re you!” she shouted though it was muffled. She turned to face him. “You could have
your pick of any supermodel-bodied women in the world. Why would you want plain old me?”

“What I want to know,” Harry said. “Is, if you like me, why did you not let Luna know anything
about it whatsoever?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know, and....wait. How did you know her pestering me about that all the
time?”

“Well...I...erm...”

“Did you put Luna up to that?” Hermione asked.

“We both did,” Harry replied. At her confused expression, he continued. “I agreed to try to help
Ron notice her and she said she would try to make you lo–like me.”

“You like me?” Hermione asked. “Why?”

“Because, despite what you just said, you’re the only person who knows that I wouldn’t want any
supermodel-bodied woman who likes me for being Harry Potter. And all of them but one feel that
way.”

"And who's that?" she asked sullenly.

"You, obviously," Harry replied.

"I do not have a supermodel body," Hermione scoffed. "Quite the opposite, in
fact."

"Actually, you're wrong," Harry said. "Not only are you the most gorgeous woman
I've laid eyes, you have both a body and legs that could knock any normal man
senseless."

Hermione’s eyes brightened with what could only have been hope, and she stared at him for a moment
before speaking.

“You really like me?” she asked, stunned.

“No,” Harry replied after a moment of thought. Her face immediately fell and Harry could swear he
almost heard her heart break. “I love you.”

It took a minute for her head to register the words but when she did her jaw nearly hit the
floor.

“Wha–what?”

“I. Love. You,” he repeated. “Have for over a year. Or, at least, realised that I did for over a
year. I think I may have been in love with you since the day I met you.”

“I...I don’t know what to say,” Hermione admitted.

“You could say that you feel the same way,” Harry asked, hope lacing his words.

“Oh, of course I love you!” she exclaimed in an exasperated voice. “How could I not after all these
years?”

“Well, there was Ron last year,” Harry said with a frown as he looked at the floor.

“Do you want to know why I dated him?” Hermione asked. Harry raised his gaze to meet hers. “He was
the closest I thought I would ever come to being with you.”

That was probably the last answer Harry expected to hear from her, and, if possible, his heart
swelled even more for her. Never breaking eye contact with her, he leaned in slowly and captured
her lips with his for the first time.

It was though a surge of electricity went through his body starting at where his flesh touched
Hermione’s. Every emotion he knew came forth as her lips parted and he felt her tongue run across
his lower lip. Almost by instinct, he opened his mouth and felt her tongue contact his own. Sighing
into the kiss, he brought his hand up to caress her cheek, only to feel her pull away, leaving him
with an empty feeling inside his body that he hated.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, praying dearly that there wasn’t.

“Well, your knees must be getting sore from kneeling on that hard floor,” Hermione said with a
slight smile. “Come here.” Although slightly nervous that he was getting into Hermione’s bed with
her, he did, his apprehensive state leaving immediately once he looked into her eyes.

“I never thought this would happen,” she said softly.

“I know,” he replied. “I felt the exact same way.

“Think of all the time we could’ve had together,” she said with a hint of sadness. Getting some of
his confidence back, Harry put his hand until her chin and tilted her head until their eyes
met.

“Then we should make up for it,” he said with the first genuine smile he smiled in a long
time.

“You know, up until now I hated Valentine’s Day,” Hermione said as she pressed her lips to
his.

“So did I,” Harry said into the kiss. “Merlin, so did I.”

Harry decided then and there that he would spend every Valentine's Day from then on out
thanking whatever gods were out there for what had just transpired. *'Funny,'* he
thought. *'Who would've thought I would go from despising February 14th to loving it in a
matter of minutes?'*

And at that point in time, Harry didn’t think his heart could ever hold more love than what he felt
for Hermione.

She proved him wrong about a week later.

---------------

Got cavities yet? And by the way, YES, that last line does mean what you think it means. Anyway, no
more from me for tonight. It’s almost six in the morning and I really need some sleep. Thank you
all for reading, and I hope you have a very miserable Valentine’s Day! Just kidding, of
course.

-G.S.



2. One Week Later
-----------------

I need to stop writing ‘one-shots’. I really do. Because every time I write a one-shot, I get
talked into turning it into a two-shot ::cough cough, *Muirnin*:: Nothing wrong with a little
smut for the soul though.

Speaking of which, a large thanks for Muirnin for betaing this for me...I don’t really consider
myself very good at writing adult romance, and so she is responsible for making this
Portkey-presentable at least.

WARNING: This chapter is rated NC-17 for very good reasons. Please use good judgment and the back
button on your browser if this is not your kind of thing.

---------------

Chapter 2: One Week Later

“Harry?”

“Hmm?” Harry looked up at Hermione who had put her quill down and was staring at him
intently.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “You haven’t written a word for that potions essay, and I *know*
that you shouldn’t have trouble writing it, given how you silenced Snape the other day with your
knowledge of tangleweed.”

“You mean *your* knowledge of tangleweed that you passed on to me,” he replied with a small
smile, causing Hermione to blush prettily.

“Well, that aside,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

Harry sighed and looked around the empty common room. He didn’t want to admit it to Hermione, but
ever since they had finally professed their love for each other on Valentine’s Day a week prior, he
had been having nightly dreams about his parents and Sirius. They weren’t nightmares; on the
contrary, they were wonderful dreams that always gave him a feeling of love and safety.

However, when he would wake and wish he were still asleep, in a world alone with his parents and
godfather, insurmountable guilt would wash over him. He now had Hermione; he shouldn’t be so greedy
as to wish never to wake from his sleep for the simple reason as to spend more time with those who
were already dead. It was something that kept constantly reminding him of the fact that he didn’t
deserve her.

The dreams were also never-ending reminders that those he loved inevitably ended up dead. His
parents, Sirius...Mrs. Weasley. When the Burrow had been attacked at the end of his last year, the
matriarch of the Weasley clan had been killed defending her family. Even though she could be a bit
pestering at times, Harry had always looked to her as a surrogate mother. Her death had hit him
just as hard as Sirius’ had. He could tell that it had hit Ron equally as hard, but he had Luna to
help him through it. Harry only had himself.

“Harry, you’re spacing out again,” Hermione said, now looking worried. “Can you please tell me
what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, covering her hand with his. “I...I just...”

“Are you having nightmares again?” she asked. He cursed mentally for her ability to read him so
well.

“Not nightmares, no,” he said hesitantly.

“...Then what?” Hermione inquired, once he trailed off.

“I’ve been dreaming of my parents,” he said. “And Sirius.”

“Oh...” Hermione said. “I’m sorry. Would you like to talk about it?”

“Every time when I wake up,” he started, knowing it was pointless to keep this from her any longer.
“All I want is to be back asleep, dreaming of them.”

“What’s so wrong about that?” Hermione asked. Harry looked at her incredulously.

“Are you kidding?” he asked.

“No,” Hermione replied curiously. “Why would I be? What, did you think that I’d be mad at you
because we’re together now or something?”

Harry blinked at her, stunned.

“Oh come on!” she cried in exasperation. “Wishing to be with those you love is completely
natural.”

“But I shouldn’t!” Harry exclaimed, running his hands through his hair. “It’s wrong of me! You’ve
given me the one thing I’ve ever asked for in the form of your heart, and I repay you by wanting to
stay asleep so I can see my parents instead of you!”

“Harry,” Hermione said softly turning his face towards her. “This is what this is about? You’re
guilty because you feel that you’re not being loyal enough to me?”

“That’s only part of it,” he mumbled.

“What’s the rest?” she asked gently.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, looking away from her.

“Of what?” Hermione whispered.

“Losing you,” he replied in a choked voice. Hermione quickly pulled him into a warm embrace.

“You won’t lose me,” she said.

“How can you say that?” Harry asked, pulling away so he could look at her. “After everyone who’s
died, how can you say that it’s impossible for me to lose you?”

“Because even if I die, you won’t lose me,” Hermione replied. “My heart is yours. Now, and forever.
Even after we die.” She pressed her lips to Harry’s in a loving kiss before he had the chance to
respond. A moment later, she pulled away and stared into his eyes trying to convey all the love she
felt for him in the gaze. “As for wishing to stay asleep so you could dream about your parents, how
could you feel guilty about that? Is it wrong to want to dream about those you love?”

“I suppose not,” Harry replied after a moment.

“Then don’t feel guilty about it,” Hermione said. Harry sighed and leaned his forehead against
hers.

“What did I do to ever deserve you?” he asked softly.

“I could ask the same question about me,” she replied. Harry pulled back and looked at her as
though she were mad. “I’m serious,” Hermione said, seeing the look on his face. “We’ve had this
discussion before. You’re Harry Potter. You could have your choice of any woman in the entire
world, yet for some reason you chose me.”

“I chose you because despite the fact that I’ve gotten you into more dangerous and life-threatening
situations than I can count, you still want to be around me,” Harry said. “Not to mention the fact
that you are the only person I would ever want to spend my life with.”

“Do you know that?” Hermione asked. “We’ve only been like this for a week. How can you already tell
that you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Harry countered.

“You want my answer?” she asked. Harry nodded. “Because I could never love another human being as
much as I love you. I might be able to be happy with someone else, but you’re the only person who
could complete me.”

“That’s a good answer,” Harry said with a smile.

“Well what’s yours?” Hermione asked.

“Dating is for getting to know someone better, right?” Harry countered, prompting her to nod. “Well
I’ve known you for over six years. I’d like to think that I know you well enough to make the
decision that you are the only one for me. If it weren’t for the fact that it’s neither practical
nor logical, I would probably ask you to be my wife right here and now.” Hermione felt her eyes
glisten with unshed tears.

“You really feel that way?” she asked, taking his hand in her own. “You’re not just saying
that?”


“I would never lie to you,” Harry replied. “You mean too much to me.”

Hermione bit her lower lip in thought for a brief minute before looking into Harry’s eyes and
making a decision.

“Come with me,” she said standing up, still holding his hand.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked as she led him out of the common room through the portrait
hole.

“The Room of Requirement,” she replied without hesitation.

They had reached the seventh floor corridor before Harry’s brain was finally able to process the
implications of that answer.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, watching her pace in front of the blank wall. Hermione stopped
as the door appeared and faced him, putting her hand on the doorknob.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she replied. Harry walked over to her and
kissed her gently on the forehead as she opened the door and they walked inside.

Harry was taken aback at what Hermione had the room create for them. There was a beautiful canopied
bed with white curtains situated against the back wall of the room. The combination of a dozen or
so candles scattered throughout the room along with a fireplace that included a gentle fire was
casting a warm glow over the room. Smiling, Hermione turned to look at Harry.

“Do you like it?” she asked. “I didn’t want to do anything overly tacky like a heart-shaped bed or
rose petals on the covers or –” Harry cut her off by pressing his lips to hers in an affectionate
kiss.

“Sorry,” he grinned. “You were rambling. And it’s perfect.”

Hermione smiled and wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck as he leaned in to capture her mouth
again. Thankful that quidditch had helped him develop some amount of strength, he picked up her
without breaking the kiss and walked over to the bed before turning around and falling backwards
onto it so that Hermione was lying on top of him.

“Make me yours,” she whispered to him as she ran her hands through Harry’s unruly hair. “Make love
to me.”

That was the last bit of encouragement that he needed. Thankful that they had discarded their
school robes back in the overly warm common room, Harry pulled her back into a heated kiss as he
started to undo the buttons of her blouse. Suddenly, he remembered something and quickly pulled
away.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, confused.

“Um....Is it...is it safe?” Harry asked tentatively, hoping not to sound too much like a bumbling
teenager.

“I took care of it,” she said, relieved that it wasn’t something else. “There’s a potion that only
needs to be taken once every few months.”

“When did you start taking this?” Harry asked, kissing her neck gently.

“A few days ago,” she moaned as he swirled his tongue on her skin. “I knew...I knew that this was
going to happen sooner or later.”

“Mmm,” Harry mumbled as he re-captured her mouth with his, while resuming unbuttoning her blouse.
Hermione quickly pulled it off her body once the last button was undone, and sat back on Harry’s
lap, looking appraisingly at him.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes,” she said, taking his wand from his pocket and holding it in
a way that was making him quite wary.

“So what are you going to do about it?” he asked in a low voice. Hermione grinned at him before
flicking the wand once, divesting Harry of all his clothes, boxers and all. Smiling, she leaned
back down over him before tossing his wand onto the pile of his clothes that had appeared on the
floor.

“Get that skirt off,” Harry growled. Though he loved seeing Hermione in the grey, wool skirts that
were part of the girls’ Hogwarts uniform, right now it was causing his growing arousal to chafe
fairly badly. Without a word, she got off the bed and undid the zipper in the back before letting
the simple piece of cloth fall to the floor. It was when she was standing there in only her bra and
knickers that he noticed they were a deep green. Curious, he arched his eyebrows at her.

“My favorite color,” Hermione said, seeming to have read his mind. She climbed back onto the bed
next to him and wasted no time in pressing her lips to his in a searing kiss. After fumbling around
blindly for a minute, Harry finally managed to undo the clasp of her bra, and looked in amazement
at her perfectly proportioned breasts as she shrugged the material off and tossed it to the ground.
Noticing where he was looking, Hermione blushed slightly and looked away.

“You’re perfect,” Harry said, quickly turning her face back to his. “All of you.”

He brought his hand up to one of her breasts and began to knead it gently, eliciting a moan from
Hermione. She arched into his palm and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, before Harry
rolled them so that he was on top. He continued to massage her while kissing her again, this time
more gently, trying to convey all the love he felt for her.

By this time, he was more than hard, and when he felt his erection come in contact with Hermione’s
damp knickers, he sucked in a breath. Hermione, having felt this too, made to push the last piece
of clothing blocking them away, but Harry covered her hand with his.

“Let me,” he whispered, looking lovingly into her eyes, prompting her to smile and nod. Harry
gently placed a kiss on her collarbone, and continued to trail kisses all along her body as he
continued his journey downward. When he finally reached his destination, Hermione lifted herself
off the bed so that Harry could pull the fabric off her.

He tossed the small bit of satin and lace on the pile of clothes, and sat back so he could look at
her properly for the first time.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in slight disbelief.

“I’m not *that* good-looking,” Hermione said, turning away slightly. Harry moved back on top
of her, letting his weight rest on her body, his erection pressing dangerously close to her
opening. Leaning on his elbows, he brought her gaze to meet his.

“Yes, you are,” he said with finality.

“Well, you’re a bit biased, then,” Hermione said with a smile. Looking into his eyes, she reached
down and gently took hold of his throbbing member, positioning it over her entrance.

“Go slow,” she whispered. Not breaking their eye contact, Harry nodded and slowly pushed forward,
letting him be surrounded by Hermione for the first time. He stopped when he reached her barrier,
wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“It’ll only hurt for a little while,” she replied, more to convince herself than Harry. He stared
deeply into her eyes, silently seeking permission to take the final step in their seven-year-long
relationship. To answer him, she wrapped her legs around the small of his back and pulled hard,
causing Harry to break through and sheathe himself completely within her.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked quickly.

“I will be,” Hermione answered, tears threatening to run down her face from the burning in her
lower abdomen. “Just stay still for a moment.”

Though it nearly killed him to do so, Harry obliged, and simply contended himself with kissing her
gently until the pain passed. After a minute, Hermione pushed him away slightly and nodded. Pulling
her body as close to his as he could, Harry began to thrust in and out of her, trying to go as
slowly as he could so as not to cause her more pain.

“Harry,” she softly moaned. “Please...go faster.”

Taking a deep sigh of relief, he began to pump faster, letting himself get lost in the sensation of
having him surrounded by the woman he loved. Since it was his first time, he soon felt himself
start to tense up, and began to thrust into her more emphatically, causing a sharp intake of breath
from Hermione.

“Oh god....” she moaned into Harry’s shoulder. Although Hermione had read that it was unusual for a
woman to come during her first time, she seriously doubted that she wasn’t going to. Suddenly, a
warm feeling in her body started and spread to the very tips of her fingers before shattering,
causing her to cry out in pleasure.

Harry, having felt Hermione’s orgasm, could no longer keep control, and with a few final thrusts,
emptied himself into her while spasms wracked his body. After a moment, he rolled off her and made
to pull out, but she kept him in placed with her legs.

“Not yet,” she said, bleary eyed. “I don’t want to lose the feeling of having you inside me.”
Brushing back a strand of her hair, Harry nodded. Smiling he kissed her gently and for some reason
felt tears threatening to spill from his face.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, noticing this. “What’s wrong?”

“I...I just,” he stuttered, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “I can’t believe how much I
love you right now.”

“I know,” she whispered, bringing a hand up to his cheek. “Harry...do you really want me to be your
wife?”

“You already asked me that,” he replied with a smile.

“I want to hear it again.”

“Of course I do,” he said without hesitation. “Especially after tonight, I could never see myself
with anyone else.”

“You realise this means you’re going to have to beat Voldemort,” Hermione said with a sigh. “You
can’t leave me here all alone.”

“Failure really was never much of an option,” he said. “But I don’t plan on failing,” Harry said,
kissing her forehead. “I plan on growing old with you and having lots of children and grandchildren
running around screaming their heads off.”

“How many children did you plan on having?” she asked lovingly.

“I was thinking maybe three,” he said.

“Not enough,” Hermione replied instantly. “I want at least six.”

“Why six?” Harry asked, slightly taken aback.

“One for every year I knew you and couldn’t be with you like this,” she replied. Harry couldn’t
help but smile at this, and gently pressed his lips to hers.

“Who knows,” he said. “Maybe we could even try to give the Weasleys a run for their money.”

“Well, you know,” Hermione said biting her lip slightly. “We will need lots of practice.”

“Hmm...” Harry said, pretending to be in thought. He already felt himself growing hard again inside
her, and he was sure Hermione felt it too. “That’s not a bad idea.”


“I know,” Hermione said as she flipped them over so she was on top. “I thought of it.”

---------------

There it is folks. I’m not entirely sure how good it is, so I guess you’ll just have to review to
let me know! Sigh...so much for writing a fic that actually stayed PG for once....

Remember the second Commandment of fic writing:

#2: THOU SHALL READ AND REVIEW TO APPEASE THE LORD, THY AUTHOR.

- Gacked from the Kinsfire Yahoo Group Message Boards