A/N: Another short, previously posted to my LJ ficlet. It's so short I'm not even bothering with a disclaimer. Thanks to everyone who consistently gives me reviews-I know I'm not a good replier, but I appreciate every one of them.
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He goes to her.
Two years of more-than-platonic-feelings, waiting-for-the-future, and it-isn't-their-time-yet, and he breaks it all with a knock on her door and promises that she knows she can't believe but does anyway.
She's read about it, of course.
She's read about protection and contraception. She's read about the pain that would accompany it. She's read that she probably wouldn't on her first time.
So she couldn't have been that surprised to see him, not when she'd researched it all and not when she let him in and not when she's the one who kissed him first.
Foreboding clings to her, but she pushes it aside. They deserve this, don't they? They deserve this, after two years of waiting-for-the-right-time.
She wants to feel his lips against hers. She wants to feel his hands on her breasts. She wants to feel him inside her. She wants to hear him whisper her name.
And he does.
He does and it hurts, but not as much as she thought it would. And she doesn't get there, not exactly, but it hardly matters. He's gentle and he tries to make it right for her and that's what matters.
What she isn't prepared for is how she feels afterwards.
His head is resting in the hollow of her neck and she runs her fingers through his hair, listening to the beating of her heart and looking at the stillness of the room.
A sliver of moonlight runs down the length of her Head Girl room, casting the rest of the room in a soft light. She can see the pile of homework on her desk, resting next to her S.P.E.W. badges. Knitted hats sit in the chair by her bed. On the floor is their clothing, hers mixed in with his. Her room is the only witness, the only thing that saw what happened between them.
She presses her lips to his forehead in a gentle kiss. He lifts his head and smiles at her. She smiles back and he kisses her before resting his head back down on the curve of her throat. She goes back to running her fingers through his hair and she's not sure if she's ever loved him as much as she does, right in this moment.
There's still a throbbing pressure between her legs and if she closes her eyes she can still remember what it felt like, what he felt like. She can feel his breath on her cheek as he said her name and promised that he loved her.
All around her room, it's silent. The S.P.E.W. badges lying on her desk. The homework. Their clothes on the floor. The hats in the corner. Their only witnesses.
That's when she starts to cry.
She can feel each tear as they slide down her cheek, mingling on the corner of her mouth until she can taste the salt on her tongue.
He lifts his head again, this time in alarm. His eyes burn with barely concealed panic. Is it me? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?
She shakes her head, no. It's not you. You were perfect.
She hugs him close, pressing her cheek to his. His hands slide along her back, confident and strong. She cries harder and her chest hitches.
He starts to apologize now and she's still trying to tell him that it's not him. She wouldn't have changed any part of this night. Not their fumbling, not even the pain, none of it.
Not when he's leaving.
Her tears slow and she grips him close, needing the simple comfort of listening to his breathing. She wants to keep him this way forever, right in her arms where nothing can harm him. That's all she's wanted. For him to be safe and happy and loved.
She's had a taste of it now. What they are. What they've been waiting-for-the-right-time for.
It's this silly notion he has, fighting Voldemort alone.
It comes down to me and him, Hermione. That's it. In the end, that's what it has to be. I won't let you come with me. I can't.
She wonders when he'll leave. If he'll wait until morning. If he'll say good-bye to Ron first. If he'll eat breakfast in the Great Hall and pretend that everything's normal and that this isn't his responsibility. She wonders if she'll wake up to gentle kisses and reassurances.
He seems to sense her need and he holds her close, pulling her down next to him.
Not yet. I don't have to go yet.
Okay.
So she rests in his arms, listening to him breathe, and she loves him more than she ever has, right in this moment.
The End