Behind Her Eyes

Summary: Harry is practicing Legilimency with Hermione over the summer before their sixth year, and he accidentally sees a memory that she’s kept secret from him for over a year. Tears and fluffy romance ensue.

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Behind Her Eyes

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Harry only had a quick moment to register that she’d cast the spell before he felt a wave crash down on his mind. He was getting better at this, as she hadn’t gotten through his defences. Her mind slowly retreated once she’d realized her attempt was pointless.

“That’s the twelfth time in a row you’ve been able to block me out, Harry. I think that’s enough Occlumency practice for you tonight,” Hermione breathed out heavily, sinking down into the couch behind her. “Your Occlumency skills have definitely improved over the past few weeks.”

Harry settled himself next to her, glad for the break. It was true that he was much more capable at blocking people from his mind now, but it still tired him out if he kept at it for too long. Unfortunately, their break was to be short lived. Harry wasn’t only practicing Occlumency, but he was learning Legilimency as well. Dumbledore thought the knowledge would be useful for him later in life and would help him block out Voldemort’s invasions more easily if he understood how they worked from a Legilimens’ perspective.

Dumbledore had asked for Ron and Hermione to help Harry over the summer with his training. Ron hadn’t been so keen on the idea of letting Harry invade his mind twice a week, but Hermione had jumped at the chance to work with Harry. So there they were, just the two of them, staying up late into the early hours of the morning, practicing.

Hermione was already standing again, ready to try to block Harry’s attempt to break into her mind, determination written all over her face. He aimed his wand at her, keeping eye contact, and cast, “Legilimens.”

He had expected to feel the normal resistance he’d come to associate with Hermione’s Occlumency skills, but instead found memories flooding his mind, passing before his eyes like a film strip.

Hermione was learning how to ride a bike, but she had fallen over and scraped her knee and was crying for her daddy — She was sitting at a table with her mother and father. A pink birthday cake was placed in front of her with a candle shaped like the number eleven embedded in the centre. She’d just blown it out when a large screech owl swooped in through a window and dropped a letter with green writing onto her cake — She was sitting on her four-poster bed with the curtains pulled shut around her, staring at a Time Turner attached to a chain hanging from around her neck. Tears were pouring down her cheeks as she whispered to the darkness, “I was only trying to help him.”

He tried to stop the constant flow of images, but before he could, one last memory played out for him.

Harry was lying on the couch closest to the common-room fire, facing the ceiling. His eyes were closed, but he was frantically tossing and turning, occasionally crying out. She hurried over to him, ready to wake him if he was having another nightmare. She rested on the edge of the couch and began running her hand along his cheek in soothing movements. The moment their skin made contact, his movements ceased and his face relaxed. Though he’d already calmed down, she continued to run her hand across his face and through his hair, twirling it a bit. Her eyes were slightly glazed with a sad, honeyed look in them. “I promise, Harry; I’ll do everything I can to help you. I won’t let you down. I promise . . .” Her whisper carried throughout the room, hanging in the air like a feather slowly floating away. She bent down to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek, but her lips had lingered longer than was warranted between friends. She pulled away slightly as if she were contemplating something before she lowered her lips again. Her soft, pink skin was only a hairsbreadth away from his — so close . . . She finally closed the distance between their lips. The kiss was short but soft and sweet, full of emotion and longing. Choking back a sob, she pulled away and hurried over to the stairs that led to the girls’ dormitories, pausing at the bottom to take a quick glance back at his still sleeping form before continuing up the steps.

The world came back to him in a dizzying fashion. His vision cleared only to find Hermione bent on her knees down on the floor. Her face mirrored his own, shock etched into every feature; though, hers seemed to be more out of fear than realization. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say when her eyes widened, as though she’d just seen him standing there for the first time. She bolted out of the room, dropping her wand behind her in her haste.

Hurt was making its way through his system; he’d just found out that Hermione potentially fancied him and she’d run away. She hadn’t even given him a chance to speak. Maybe, she thought it had been a mistake? Was that why she ran? He knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t help but feel bitter at the thought that Hermione had kissed him, but he hadn’t been awake to savour it. He’d been wondering for months now what those lips of hers felt like but hadn’t dared risk their friendship. He’d been dying to know her taste for what seemed like an eternity only to find out now that he’d finally been given that taste, but the memory of it had been stolen from him. The feel of her lips against his had been taken away from him. He couldn’t stand it. He wanted to take that memory back. He wanted to feel her skin against his. She couldn’t just show him that memory and expect him to let her run off like she had! No, he had to find her . . . now.

Picking up her fallen wand, Harry sped after her, trying to figure out which direction she’d run in. He figured it was a safe bet that she was in her room, so he began his search there. Opening the door, he found that his hunch was spot on. She was curled up on her bed beneath the sheets with her hair poking out from the side, sobbing.

“Hermione —”

“Go away!”

“Hermione, will you please talk to me?”

“No.”

Her response hardly deterred him, and he walked over to her after shutting the door behind him. She obviously thought that he’d left, as she poked her head out from under the covers at the sound of the door closing. She gave a small squeak when she noticed that Harry was still in the room and hid again. He smiled gently at her cute antics while trying to pull the sheets away from her face. She was giving him quite a fight. When he’d finally had enough of their little tug-of-war, he took out his wand, gave it a small wave, and smiled again at her indignation as the sheets vanished. She frantically began searching her pockets for her wand only to look up and find it in Harry’s hand.

“Harry!”

“What?”

Her face was tinged with red, as she desperately tried to find something to say. Apparently, she was either too upset to speak or she couldn’t find the words she was looking for because she remained silent in the end. She wiped her tears away while her shoulders slumped, and she began to take an intense interest in the wall across her room.

Going after Hermione had been all well and good in theory, but Harry had no idea what to say now that he was here with her. Reprimanding her for kissing him while he was asleep instead of awake and then asking her if she wanted to snog didn’t seem like a good plan. Luckily, she saved him the trouble of starting their soon to be (no doubt) awkward conversation.

“Well, go on already!” she cried in exasperation. “Go on and tell me that you don’t like me in that way and that you only think of me as a friend. Go on and tell me that I shouldn’t have kissed you while you were asleep. Tell me how much I screwed up our friendship and that you want us to take time away from each other for a while to sort things out. Tell me about how Perfect Prefect Hermione screwed up the best thing she had going for her.” A single, lonesome tear rolled down her cheek, but she hastily wiped it away.

He was stunned. She thought that he didn’t like her? So, that was why she had run away; she was embarrassed. She hadn’t changed her mind. She still fancied him! He almost laughed from joy but managed to hold it in. He didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her. He finally found his ability to form coherent sentences again and started in a stern tone, “You’re right. You shouldn’t have kissed me while I was asleep.” He paused for dramatic effect then continued with a much lighter voice, “You should have kissed me while I was awake, so I could have remembered it.”

His last sentence seemed to shock her out of her self-induced depression, as her head snapped around to view him properly. “What?”

“You heard me.” He spoke gently, and leaned over to her. He hadn’t even given her time to protest his close proximity before his lips had captured hers. She was rigid at first, still obviously astonished at his forwardness, but he didn’t care; he’d been waiting too long for some sort of sign from her that there was more between them than just friendship, and she’d finally given it to him. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him by.

She relaxed into his touch and finally started to respond, kissing him back, when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him and into his lap. Their lips were fused together, moving slowly at first, enjoying the softness and warmth. It was driving him mad, the kiss was too slow. He wanted more, needed more. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, begging for entrance, and he almost whimpered when he felt her tongue slide against his. Merlin, he was in heaven. He’d dreamed of this for so long, to feel this pleasure, to feel her against him . . . to just feel. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and let his teeth glide across it. His mind almost came completely undone after hearing the moaning sound she’d made. He wanted to hear her make that sound again; it was music to his ears, listening to the soft mewls she made just from a kiss, his kiss.

He pulled her closer against him and laid her out on her bed, lying himself on top of her without breaking their kiss. Teeth and tongues were everywhere, nipping, tasting. He pulled his mouth away from hers, smiling at her protests, only to replace his lips on her neck, kissing down. Her hands were fisted in his hair, holding his mouth against her skin, as though she might die if he pulled too far away. His hands that had been wrapped around her back were tracing along her sides and up to her face, which he cupped, as he returned to kiss her sweet lips.

They carried on like that for what seemed like hours, never going any further, enjoying the feel of each other without taking too much. It was unfortunate for Harry that it was late in the night and Hermione was still incredibly tired from their practice session. After they had finally calmed down and had been lying on her bed just holding each other for some time, she asked him to leave, saying that she was too tired to stay awake and that they would talk later.

He turned around before he left to ask hesitantly, “Hermione, when you say that ‘we’ll talk later’, do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?”

She giggled. “I mean it in a good way, a very good way.”

He smiled at her one last time, slightly relieved, closed her door behind him, and headed to his own bed. He had been right before; reprimanding her and asking her to snog was not a good plan. Forgetting to ask and skipping straight to the snogging part . . . now, that was a brilliant idea.

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A/N: This was a response to a Portkey challenge — Hermione’s Little Secret

I saw the challenge, and I couldn’t resist the plot bunny that was digging a hole in my mind. It’s just a one-shot, so I’m sorry for anyone who might want me to continue. I’ve got other stories that I need to finish first. I just wrote this to take a break away from my other fics. I hope people enjoy it. To my lovely beta, Nati, and to anyone who reviews, thanks.

— Amie