Something

lemon5225

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 24/03/2005
Last Updated: 24/03/2005
Status: completed

Harry goes on a mission -- to confess his love to Hermione. one shot. please review!

Chapters

1. Something

1. Something

Author’s Note: This is my first Harry/Hermione fic ever, so please tell me what you think! The title comes from the Beatles song, which is at the bottom.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money. Of course.

Something

Harry quietly opened the door to Hermione’s flat, hoping to surprise her. He guessed that after a hard day at work, she would be curled up on her couch, reading one of those thick books filled with impossibly complicated facts. Whenever he saw her like that, he was always forcibly reminded of a cat. She would have her legs tucked underneath herself, her hair frizzed up, framing her presence, her eyes gleaming with a predatory look as she absorbed the knowledge in front of her. All too often he had seen Crookshanks in that exact position, waiting to pounce on whatever object that had the misfortune of gaining his attention. Yes, Harry decided, there was definitely something cat-like about Hermione.

“Come on, Potter,” he thought. “You’re stalling.” He maneuvered the door closed as quietly as possible, then quickly removed his cloak and scarf and mittens, and hung them up messily on the coat-rack next to her orderly hung things. He crept forward, down her foyer, using all the skills he learned in the stealth and detection part of his auror training. And there she was, just as he had imagined. Today’s book was bound in dull red leather, with black letters proclaiming that it was Healing and Chemistry, by Frederic Aspirin.

Hermione had become a healer after they had all left Hogwarts and was forever looking for new cures. As young as she was, she was, of course, already at the head of her field—this was Hermione after all. She was well known for her seemingly miraculous work during the war and her innovative combinations of wizarding and muggle medicine. Harry had felt that healing had been a natural step for her after Hogwarts, optimizing her excellence in all subjects and drawing on her compassion and urge to help others. Just as becoming an auror had been a natural progression for him and Ron, both of whom felt the need to fight and stand up for what they believed in.

Harry sighed. The war had been a trying time for all of them. All the strategizing and planning and waiting and worrying—it had really got to him by the end. By the time Voldemort had finally attacked, Harry had felt something akin to relief, instead of the fear he had expected. At least the waiting around wondering when and where and how had finally been over. The battle itself had been draining and Harry didn’t really like to remember the details. Suffice to say that he had killed Voldemort, although it was nearly the last thing he did. He had collapsed and stayed unconscious for nearly two months. He later learned that is was only through Hermione’s never-ending efforts that he was still alive at all. She was the last thing he’d seen before collapsing, and the first thing he’d seen when he woke up.

---------------Flashback---------------

Harry opened his eyes slowly to see a blurry white room. As he tried to focus a little more, he thought he saw a large lime green blob flitting around. He closed his eyes, and then opened them again. Yes, it was a decidedly lime green blob. Harry frowned. Was he somewhere tropical? That must be it, he thought, a large green bird must have gotten into his room somehow.

The bird started tapping its foot, muttering to itself. This is getting stranger, Harry thought. Since when do birds tap their feet? He mustered all of his concentration and decided to ask.

“Bird?” he mumbled hoarsely. The bird turned around.

“Harry! You’re awake!” Harry frowned again. That voice sounded distinctly familiar. The bird had rushed to his side, smiling, and gently placed his glasses on his face. Immediately, the blob that he had thought was a bird condensed into a wildly smiling Hermione in her healer robes.

“Hermione? Where am I?”

“You’re at St. Mungo’s. You’ve been unconscious for two months, ever since we found you at Godric’s Hollow. Don’t you remember?”

The events leading up to Voldemort’s demise came flooding back to Harry. He remembered standing over Voldemort’s body as the world began to swirl. He remembered staggering, then falling as if in slow motion down to the welcoming earth. And his last memory was of an angel gliding towards him, singing his name, gently stroking his face, calling him back as he passed out.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You were the angel calling me.”

“I found you, Harry, as you were passing out. I thought I’d lost you. But everything’s okay now, you’re awake.” She smiled brightly at him, radiating warmth, care, and love. And suddenly it struck Harry that he was in love with this woman. Not just the platonic love that he’s always felt for her, but the kind of love that had his head and body tingling in a way completely unrelated to his weakened physical state.

------------------End Flashback------------------

As Harry slowly recovered, his confused brain had used his new found love as a life support—something to hold onto when things became too much. Had he felt this love at any other point in his life, he would have explained away somehow, convinced that he could never fall in love with his best friend. But by the time his brain was ready to think such rational thoughts, he was too far gone to try to deny it.

Harry had never told her how he felt, not wanting to ruin their friendship. And of course there was the ever present fear of rejection. But that’s what tonight was for. Tonight he would finally tell her after two years of pining for her. Harry had planned as much as he thought was possible and necessary in situations like these. He was going to surprise her, butter her up with a thoughtful present, confess his undying love, and hope for the best. Ron had asked if he had planned his speech, but Harry knew that he worked best under pressure. That’s how it always was; Hermione was the brain; Ron was the strategist; Harry was the impromptu fighter.

Harry shook himself from his reverie once again, and glanced up at Hermione. She was still absorbed in her book, unaware of his presence. It was now or never. Harry took a calming breath. And then he stepped into the room.

“Hermione.” She jerked her head up from her book with an apprehensive look on her face, but relaxed and smiled when she saw who it was. There was something about her smile that always made Harry’s knees go a little weak.

“Harry! What a surprise! Why are you here?”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about. Something I want to tell you.”

“You know my door’s always open to you.”

“Actually, it was locked. But luckily I’m handy with a wand.” Harry grinned cheekily when Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You knew what I meant. So what is it you want to tell me?”

Harry walked over to where she was sitting, and sat down on the coffee table across from her. She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he smiled again like a naughty school boy.

“It won’t break. I got you something.” He fished the brown paper package out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“But it’s not my birthday.” Hermione said confusedly.

Harry gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth in mock outrage. “Did you forget that it was our anniversary?”

“Anniversary of what?” Hermione asked suspiciously.

Harry smiled. “It’s been fifteen years and…” he glanced at his watch, “about five minutes since that troll almost killed you, and we became best friends; one of the best moments in my life.”

Hermione’s suspicion faded away, and she smiled. “I didn’t realize.” She said softly. “It’s sweet of you to remember, but we’ve never exchanged gifts before.”

“Well, I know that.” Harry admitted. “But this year is special.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I guess it’s one of those five things.” Hermione gave him a confused look. “You know. People always seem to have an obsession with fives; they seem to think it is an even number, although I distinctly remember learning that it was odd in muggle school. But for some reason, it’s always the fives that you celebrate most; twenty-fifth birthdays, fiftieth birthdays, fifteen year anniversaries.” He smiled. “So I thought it was appropriate. Anyway, I want our friendship to be an ‘even’ length.”

“You talk as if it’s ending.”

“Not ending, just changing into something more—if all goes as planned.” Harry thought. Out loud he said, “Just open your present.”

Hermione pulled off the brown wrapping to reveal a blue square velvet box, about the size of her hand. She looked at Harry curiously.

“Open it,” he urged.

She pulled open the box, and gasped. Starring back at her was a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a soaring bird, delicately wrought from silver filigree. “It’s so beautiful Harry! I don’t know what to say.” Harry smiled and gently picked up the necklace from its box.

“Let me.” He said, standing up. As he approached her, he said “You know, when I first woke up from my coma, I thought you were a bird. I saw you in those lime green robes, and was sure that a tropical bird had somehow invaded my room.” She giggled. “I wasn’t thinking very coherently at the time, and it was the only explanation I could come up with.” He said defensively.

He placed the necklace around her neck and she turned slightly so that he could fasten it for her. As he secured the clasp, his fingers lightly brushed her neck, causing her to shiver slightly, and a bolt of electricity went through Harry. He gathered her hair and gently pulled it out from under the necklace, placing it over her shoulder. He took a deep breath, deciding to plunge in and sat down on the couch abruptly, pulling her around to face him.

“Hermione, when I saw you then, right after I woke up, I felt something I had never felt before.”

“Well, as a healer, I am very glad to hear that you do not regularly go around feeling that people are very large parakeets.” She joked, but then fell silent at the serious look on his face. “Sorry, you were saying...”

Harry ignored the interruption, afraid he would loose his nerve. But then he looked into her golden brown eyes, and all his inhibitions crumbled and his words just came tumbling out. “Well, it was like a jolt really, as if my whole world just shifted, and everything changed. Or maybe my world just narrowed. To you. I fell in love with you the second you smiled at me. I knew I could never live without your smile, without you, in my life. I wanted to be the one to put that smile on your face, and take care of you the way that you had taken care of me. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you then, as soon as I knew, but something stopped me, and that same thing stopped me these two years. But I had to tell you, and I understand if you don’t feel the same way. Then we can just ignore this and continue what we have had for these past fifteen years. But I will always love you, and I will always get that same ecstatic feeling in my stomach, and weakening in my knees when you smile.” Harry smiled, glad and amazed that he had been able to get it all out without faltering.

Hermione was shocked. Her mind reeling with all of the things Harry had just said; long suppressed emotions rising through her like a tornado, taking her over. Hermione had fallen in love with Harry during their sixth year when she tried to help him cope with loosing Sirius. When he had finally opened up to her and let all of his grief pour onto her shoulder, she had been amazed at the depth of love that Harry had for the people around him. And she wished more than anything that that love was directed at her. Her sixteen year old body had shuddered at what it must feel like to have that intense passion focused on her, imagining his powerful green eyes sweeping over her body, his hands conveying his desire and love. But it had all been a hopelessly realized wish. So she had learned to cope without him.

She had always been jealous when he told her of a new girlfriend or love interest, but she pushed those feelings down, trying not to let them interfere with their friendship. In time, she had even dated a bit herself; although more out of loneliness than anything else. There were times during the war, when she just couldn’t sleep in her bed alone, needing that reassuring touch of flesh. After spending all day with the dying, she needed to have someone to remind her of life, even if it was purely physical. But when the final battle had come and she had seen Harry falling gracefully to the earth as if in slow motion, her entire world had stopped. Every feeling she had ever had for him surfaced with a vengeance.

----------------Flashback--------------------

The final battle had taken a great toll on both sides. The ground was spattered with bodies, and the air filled with moans. Hermione was frantically doing her rounds, trying to help the wounded, and comfort the dying, regardless of their chosen side. As she came around the corner of the house erected where Lily and James’ house had once stood, she saw Harry. He was alive! Her heart began to dance excitedly. She started towards him with a smile, but frowned as he staggered. Then he began to fall. Harry’s body hit the earth with a thud—his wand falling from his limp hand and his glasses dangling off his face. Hermione’s heart stopped. She sprinted towards him calling his name. She fell to her knees beside his body. All her healer knowledge pushed to the back of her mind as she stared at the man she loved dying in front of her.

“Harry, come back to me. You can’t leave me now. Please Harry. Come back!” Tears rolled down her face as she gently stroked his cheek. His eyes were half open and he gave her a feeble smile, before she saw his eyes roll up and his body slump. “Oh, no you don’t!” She brushed her fingers on his neck, trying to feel his pulse. There was none. Her healer instincts came back to her in a jolt, and she reached for her wand. She placed the tip against Harry’s sternum, and murmured “pulsare.”

This was a spell that Hermione had devised herself after she heard of CPR in a muggle medicine course she took. She modified it so that it not only jolted the heart, but transferred some of the healer’s energy into the body. In the fervor of the war, she had not been able to perfect it, so it was highly dangerous for both healer and patient, although effective. Thus far, she had been the only healer ever to perform it effectively—first on Neville after his run in with Bellatrix, and then later on Lupin. However, she had also tried it several times where it had not worked. Her mind painfully remembered the attempts she had made for Ginny. She had cast it until she nearly fainted in exhaustion, and her fellow healers had pulled her away. She prayed such was not the case with Harry, although she knew that she would cast it until it had completely drained her life energy, and they died together.

After three failed attempts, Hermione gathered her mind and strength, and whipped her wand toward Harry’s chest, nearly shouting the incantation. She felt a strong rush of energy leave her body through her wand, and then… after what seemed like ages, Harry’s chest rose in a feeble attempt at breathing. At this, she abandoned magic, and used muggle techniques to aid his breath.

When his breathing had finally stabilized, she pressed the voice portkey that healers wore to communicate. “I have Harry Potter here unconscious. I need a back-up team.” When she released her finger, the portkey carried her voice to the hospital where they monitored such things. Moments later a group of five nursed and one doctor arrived by portkey. She weakly told the healer what had happened, while the nurses loaded the unconscious Harry onto a stretcher.

“We can take it from here, Healer Granger. He’ll be at St. Mungo’s if you wish to see him later. Good work.” The healer said curtly, before walking over to grasp the stretcher. “Apparate to emergency room five on the count of three,” he commanded. “One, two, three…” And with that, they were gone, leaving Hermione sitting on the grass, alone. She slowly got to her feet; there were many other wounded that need her help. As she was about to walk away she saw a flash of metal, and on closer look saw Harry’s glasses sitting forgotten in the grass. She picked them up and tucked them into her pocket. One more reason to go visit as soon as possible, she thought to herself as she walked away.

---------------------End Flashback-------------------

Hermione gazed into Harry’s earnest eyes, and let the corners of her mouth curl up. She reached up to cup his face in her small hand. “I thought I lost you once. I’ll never loose you again. Never.”

Harry’s eyes widened with shock, and a huge grin split his face. “Really? I never thought it was possible!” His grin faded. “Wait, does that mean what I think it means. Because I love you; but if you don’t love me like that you’re not going to loose me. You don’t have to say this just so I won’t leave, because trust me, you can’t get rid of me.”

“Harry! Harry, stop.” Hermione quickly interrupted. “I do love, and I’m not just saying that.” She let her love flow from her eyes, so that he could see she was telling the truth. “Besides,” she smirked, “I have loved you far longer than you have me.” She said cheekily.

Harry’s eyes widened even more, if that was possible. “You have?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded. “Ever since sixth year.”

“Wow. I’ve been a fool not to tell you earlier. So much time we’ve wasted!” Harry jumped up from the couch, pulling Hermione with him. He pulled her into his arms and twirled her around the room exuberantly. At last he stopped, pulling her close. “I can’t believe this is actually happening. I’ve dreamt about it for so long.” He whispered into her ear. She shuddered at the feel of his breath on her neck, and murmured back, “me too.”

Harry pulled his head back to stare into Hermione’s eyes. His gaze wandered down to her lips. So soft. So inviting. Harry looked back up to her eyes, and seeing only love and consent in them, bent his head down to kiss her. Their lips brushed softly, and she smiled a little bit. Even just feeling that smile against his own lips, Harry’s knees went weak. Yes, he thought, there was definitely something about Hermione. And then all his thoughts disappeared as Hermione brought her lips back up to his.

All was right with the world.

Something in the way she moves
Attracts me like no other lover
Something in the way she woos me

I don’t want to leave her now
You know I believe her now

Somewhere in her smile she knows
That I don’t need no other lover
Something in her style that shows me

Don’t want to leave her now
You know I believe her now

You’re asking me will my love grow
I don’t know, I don’t know
You stick around now it may show
I don’t know, I don’t know

Something in the way she knows
And all I have to do is think of her
Something in the things she shows me

Don’t want to leave her now
You know I believe her now

~The Beatles