Lips and Reason

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Harry Potter characters, places, etc. They are the copyright of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Publishing. I just borrow them for my own entertainment pleasure. The song lyrics at the beginning aren’t mine, either—they belong to Robbi Rosa, and are from his song ‘My Eyes Adore You’.

Author’s Note: Fluff! That’s all there is. Fluff. I never thought I’d write something like this, haha. Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated, whether it’s constructive criticism or a happy review from a pleased reader.

*****

I know, I know how you feel
Most of us spend our lives waiting
For someone like you
It’s a new day

*****

Lips and Reason

Hermione Granger was always right. She always had the answer to every question, an explanation to every anomaly, and she always saw the clarity in the darkest of situations. Even in confusion, she would fight to sort things out in her head, and wouldn’t rest until she could figure it all out.

It wasn’t that she was a know-it-all. She didn’t have some sort of complex, either.

It was just the way it had always been. She had always been the rational one; the one everyone could count on to solve the complicated puzzle. Never once had this been different.

Until now.

He drove her mad. He was always so calm, always doing things that she never would have expected, something she never foresaw. He always seemed to do or say something that drove her over the edge once more, whether it was giving her a grin, merely looking at her, or telling her she wasn’t ugly. She strove to find clarity in him, to find some understanding for her own thoughts about him and his reactions to her, but she always seemed to fail. Things never followed a pattern, never once were as she thought they would be.

And she wanted to fix that. She needed to fix that, for her own sanity. She wanted to explore these uncharted lands, to elaborate a map of them, so as to bring understanding to herself.

Never once had anyone been so maddening. And it was frustrating…yet somehow, she liked it. She liked his way of acting, the way he gave her that lopsided grin at the darkest of times and fixed everything. The way he fixed his eyes on hers when she spoke, and failed to realize that that was the reason she became flustered and at a loss for words. The way he was so blissfully oblivious to the attentions so many girls gave him, to the way Hermione acted around him.

She wondered, not more than once, if he acted that way on purpose. Did he know how she felt, but ignored it?

She hoped not. That would, truly, make things with him even more difficult. She struggled to keep things to herself, against her wishes to just tell him. She struggled, day by day, waiting for some sort of sign that would tell her it was safe to act.

He was truly maddening, that Harry Potter.

***

“I told you to work on that essay beforehand, Ron! I am not letting you copy off mine! Honestly, what d’you…”

Hermione was speaking, cheeks red from her anger, eyes narrowed to slits. She had stood up, and was leaning over the table menacingly, her hands perched at the edges. Harry sat between her and Ron, not really listening to what they were saying to each other. His eyes were fixed on Hermione, on the way her hair curled down and fell over her shoulders, the way she so passionately spoke of responsibility (why was she talking about that, again?), the way she paused in her speech from time to time, observing whether Ron had been paying attention, and angrily flicked her tongue over her rosy lips.

In fact, he really couldn’t keep his eyes off her lips. He tried to, knowing he shouldn’t be thinking such things about his best friend, but his eyes didn’t want to cooperate. They were locked on her lips, taking in every detail of it, and sending his brain off into another world. How would it be like, he wondered, to kiss those lips? To hold her body tightly against his and confess everything before pressing his lips softly to hers…

Why were those beautiful lips pursed right now, anyway? His rationality seemed to be shut off completely as he tried to figure out why…she was leaning over him, practically, and several buttons of her shirt were undone...oh, Merlin…the things that came to his mind…

His eyes widened, and he hastened to look away. Slowly, the sound began to come back to him…

“Forgive me for having a life, Hermione! I have better things to do than listen to Snape!” Ron was sputtering, and was now standing, too, waving his arms around angrily. His shirt was haphazardly tucked into his pants, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his red hair was even messier than usual. He looked downright nutters, not to mention extremely annoyed.

“I’m sure being a Keeper is very hard for you, Ron. Please, forgive me for not comprehending your pain. It is not, of course, comparable to my busy schedule!” Hermione said icily, fixing Ron with a look that could kill and clutching the table tighter. Her knuckles were getting white, Harry noticed, “Oh, no, of course it isn’t! I have too many bloody subjects to take and Head Girl duties to boot! But no, you are so much more busy!”

“Not my fault you’re so effing responsible! You’re always looking for more work to do!”

“At least I do it.”

“Oh yeah? Well—“

Slowly, something clicked in Harry’s mind. His brain seemed to start working again, and he could finally focus, “Guys!” he interjected, hastening to stand up, “Could you stop fighting, just for a moment? None of us have actually finished the essay, anyway—“

“I have,” Hermione said loudly, glaring at Ron again.

“—so we should just try to get along, at least until we get it done,” Harry finished wearily. He fixed Hermione with a pleading look, “Please. Just…relax for a moment…”

He tried so hard to not let his eyes linger on hers. He really did. But his eyes seemed to be tired of taking orders from him now. They resolutely locked on hers, as if trying to send a hidden message she would never understand.

He didn’t notice the way Hermione’s eyes softened instantly, though. The way her mouth slowly went from a thin line to a small, almost imperceptible, smile. She blinked once, shrugged indifferently, and nodded, not really feeling her hands or legs.

“Good. Ron?”

“Yeah, whatever, mate.”

Harry grinned, glanced between the two of them, and beckoned them to sit back down. Peace was back between the three of them, though Ron kept shooting both of them bewildered looks. None of them noticed, however. They were much to immersed in their own problems to care about anything else.

Hermione dipped her quill in the ink bottle, and brought it back to a blank piece of parchment. She began to write, forcing herself to think about her schoolwork rather than Harry. Schoolwork was so very much simpler. Everything had an exact answer, unlike with him. With him, she felt as if everything she did was wrong, made her look silly, and made him feel revolted of her.

The Principles of the Calming Draught

What did she have to do to know if he felt for her or not without making a fool of herself? There had to be some guidelines for this…it couldn’t just be guesswork. Could it?

It is most commonly administered to patients with mental trauma or instability. In many cases, it is given as a complement to other healings potions, due to the presence of powdered moonstone in its contents.

She sneaked a glance at him, finding him staring at his own essay with a look of mingled bewilderment and frustration. She smiled. She loved that expression. Apart from making him look adorable, it gave her an excuse to talk to him, to move closer and give him small, intimate smiles to which only she knew the meaning.

Too bad Ron was there. If she helped Harry, she could be sure that he would protest, therefore ruining things completely and killing the mood.

The moonstone, also used in the Draught of Peace, bears the quality of aiding both the mind and the body, and restores emotional balance to the person. This quality makes it a crucial ingredient to the Calming Draught, as well as worthy of experimenting with in the making of new Healing Potions.

Since the chances of her aiding Harry out of whatever confusion he was in were slim, she decided to give in to her own frustration. She couldn’t think straight, anyway, and she had a feeling that whatever she had written was both wrong, and not related to her Transfiguration homework.

She grabbed a book, opened it on her lap, and pretended to read it while she silently fought with herself.

Okay, so she had feelings for Harry. She’d figured that out during the summer. The difference was that now, the physical attraction had begun to kick in, and it was becoming very effing difficult for her to ignore it. She really, really wanted to. She knew he was her best friend, and that attempting to become more would make things much more difficult for them. She knew that, in doing so, their friendship could be forever scarred, and never the same.

She knew she shouldn’t…but oh, how she wanted to. She supposed she could go on like this forever. She knew she could. She was strong, and very stubborn, after all. The problem was that she didn’t want to ignore her own feelings anymore. She truly just wanted to blurt it all out to him, every single thing. She didn’t want to keep it a secret anymore.

She glanced up at him from her book. He was now biting the end of his quill, apparently deep in thought about something. She noticed he hadn’t written a word, and wondered whether he was thinking about his essay, or something else.

The worst thing he could be thinking about was about a girl. This terrified Hermione beyond all measure, though she would never classify her emotion as ‘jealousy’. She was beyond that sort of thing, after all. She could accept that he didn’t feel the same way about her, that he only wanted to stay friends, but never that, while she frantically fought to find a way to confess her feelings to him, he was thinking about some other girl. She just couldn’t accept that. It wasn’t fair. It was incredibly inconsiderate of him.

“Err…I’m going to do my rounds,” she mumbled, needing something to keep her occupied. She needed something else to do, quickly, before she ended up making a fool of herself right then and there.

***

Her soft voice broke him from his reverie. He looked up, blinked twice, and waited for his brain to process whatever it was that she had said. Really, this was happening too much now. It was as if something had taken control of his body, and did whatever it pleased with him, pushing thoughts into his head, making him hear only half of what was spoken, and focusing his eyesight on certain parts of Hermione’s anatomy, namely her lips.

“What?” he asked, feeling only slightly stupid.

“I have to do my rounds,” she said, flashing him a quick smile and rolling her eyes, though she didn’t seem annoyed, “I’m Head Girl, remember?” she rolled up her parchment and grabbed her books, stuffing it all into her backpack. She placed her usual protective charms around it, ensuring that no one but her would be able to open it, and looked back at him.

“Yeah, Harry. She has a busy schedule, remember?” Ron added.

Hermione shot Ron an angry glare, “Yes, well…I’ll see you later,” she said, making her way to the portrait hole and leaving the common room. Harry remained watching the place where she’d been sitting, his mind picturing her clearly sitting there, smiling, and, occasionally, laughing. It was really a shame she didn’t laugh much. She had such a beautiful laugh…it was so soft, like a caress, and as rare as Ron’s maturity. He truly hadn’t heard it as much times as he wished he had.

“So, mate, have you gotten anything done yet?”

Harry forced a smile, “No. I’ve just been…thinking, you know?”

“Brooding, more like. You should see the look you get when do that,” Ron said, shaking his head, “Gin told me she thought it was cute once, which proves my point. You look bloody scary.”

“Err…okay…”

“Anyway, what were you thinking about?”

Harry held his breath for a moment, before clearing his throat, “A girl,” he said, shrugging.

Ron let out a low whistle, grinning, “Who?”

“Someone.”

“And that someone’s name is…?”

“Private.”

“Ah, c’mon, Harry. I’m your best friend, you can tell me!”

Harry shook his head, “No…I just…I need to think about it first,” he mumbled, “It’s kind of…confusing. I don’t know if I should…go for it.”

“You’re Harry Potter. I’ll bet she’s raving mad about you,” Ron said, shrugging, his voice sounding almost envious of the fact that half of Hogwarts wanted to date Harry.

“Yeah, well…”

Harry’s voice trailed off, and Ron let the matter drop after his questions got no answers other than a glare from Harry.

Ron’s logic would work with anyone other than Hermione, probably. She was different. She actually knew him. She was aware of how much of a pain he could be when he was moody, and how much trouble he was really in. She’d endured six years of friendship with him…surely she knew by now that he was just too much trouble.

His own words felt like knives across his heart. He knew Hermione didn’t think so lowly of him…she was much more compassionate and caring than that. She stood by his side because she knew who he really was, because she wasn’t some crazed fan girl driven by his looks alone.

And maybe it was because she meant so much to him that he felt doubt towards starting something with her. It would put her in so much danger, and their friendship could suffer from it.

It was trouble just thinking about her like this. He felt himself becoming weaker, as if at any moment, he would just say it, and snog her senselessly, forgetting all about her safety and Ron and everything else that stood in the way.

He wished he could do that. He wanted to do that. He fantasized about doing that…

But he wouldn’t. He just couldn’t.

***

The next day

“Harry?”

It was the first thing she said as she slowly opened her eyes and found her vision blurred. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but it was to no avail.

“Harry!” she cried out, this time more drastic and frantic, as if she were on the brink of death and he were so very far away from her…

She could hear footsteps frantically moving closer, urgent voices, but not the one she most wanted to hear. It was Madam Pomfrey, “Calm down, Miss Granger, everything is quite alright. You just need to sip up this potion—“

“But I can’t see! Where’s Harry?”

“That is the effect of the hex, Miss Granger. When you drink this potion, your vision will be returned to normal.”

“Hex?” Hermione repeated blankly, “What hex? Why am I in the Hospital Wing? And where in Merlin’s name is Harry?” her voice became steadily louder and shriller as she spoke, and the anxiousness inside her only deepened. What had happened to her? Last thing she knew, she had been doing her rounds at night, and then she was immersed in darkness.

“Please, drink this potion. Your questions will be answered shortly.”

She felt the edge of a cup pressed against her lip, and the liquid pouring into her mouth. The potion gnawed at her throat as she swallowed, making her gag and choke, before everything slowly begun to come into focus. Sunlight poured into the room, the breeze blowing inside through the open windows. Madam Pomfrey stood to her left, peering down at her, frowning. She desperately looked around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Feeling rather crestfallen, she looked back at Madam Pomfrey, “What…happened to me?”

“The details are unsure. We only know that you were hexed from behind, and left in the corridor. It happened yesterday, during your nightly rounds. Professor Dumbledore is already aware of the situation, and I assure you it is being investigated thoroughly.”

Hermione’s mind began thinking, calculating, “I was in the Dungeons,” she said slowly, “I remember that…”

Her voice trailed off as she heard more frantic footsteps rushing towards the Infirmary. The doors were banged open, and a very flustered-looking Harry came into view. Ron came closely behind him, also looking quite troubled. Ass soon as they caught sight of Hermione sitting up in her bed, they seemed to double their pace. Harry came first, skidding to a halt beside her and enveloping her in his arms.

“Hermione!” he gasped, holding her so tightly, she thought she would pass out. Not that she wanted to. His body was so warm, and it felt so very nice against hers…she would stay there forever, if she could.

“I…you don’t know how worried I’ve been…when I heard…I just…”

She tightened her grip around him, silent. They pulled away later, Hermione’s cheeks reddening as she saw Ron looking from her to Harry with a look of bafflement. Shaking his head, he walked slowly towards Hermione, hugged her fleetingly, and pulled away, looking embarrassed.

“We think it was Malfoy,” he said, scratching the back of his head, and Hermione had the fleeting suspicion that he didn’t really know what to say.

“I wouldn’t put it past him…” she muttered absentmindedly, frowning, “I just can’t believe he got away with it…I should have heard him.”

“Yeah, well, snakes can be very good at sneaking about,” Harry said darkly, crossing his arms.

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat, “Well, then both of you,” she said, looking at Ron and Harry, “You can talk to her for a few minutes, but be sure not to fluster her further. She woke feeling rather…anxious. I daresay she is fine now, but it would be best to wait a bit, just to be sure. I will be in my office.”

They nodded, and watched as she walked away. When she shut the door behind her, there was momentary silence, before Ron looked at Harry with an expression of dawning comprehension, and he drew in a breath.

“Oh,” he said simply, nodding.

Hermione looked at him, frowning, while Harry avoided his gaze, “What was that, Ron?” she asked.

“I just…understood something, that’s all,” he said, shrugging, “Anyway, I have to go now…I have, err, homework to finish.”

“You still haven’t gotten it done?”

“No…I’ll just…see you two at breakfast, then.”

He began to walk away, towards the doors, and Hermione watched him, feeling slightly confused. Usually, a simple comment like that from her got him riled up. This had to be some sort of alternate reality. Her gaze went back to Harry, who was staring at the floor, his arms crossed. Not really odd behavior for Harry, but still…maybe there was a connection?

“Err…Harry? What was all that about?”

Harry looked up to meet her eyes. He watched her expression of curiosity, the small furrow in her brow that indicated she was thinking…he watched her hair, rather frizzed, her eyes, tired yet enticing…he watched her lips, slightly pale…

And she still seemed beautiful.

And he just knew that if he didn’t occupy himself with something else, he would blurt it all out, right then and there.

“I dunno…you know Ron. It could be anything.”

“And yet you seem to be involved. Why can’t you tell me?”

Harry shrugged, “I don’t know what it is. That’s why. I’m sorry. I’ll go ask him, if you want…”

He began to turn away, ready for escape, but he felt something tugging at his sleeve. He turned, seeing Hermione leaning towards him, clutching his sleeve tightly. She uncovered herself from the sheet, edged towards him, and steered him closer.

“Tell me,” she whispered, her voice low and commanding. Strangely so, it seemed slightly seductive to Harry.

“I…” Harry was at a loss for words. She was so very close to him…he could hear her breathing, make out the sweet, soft scent of roses that always seemed to surround her…she was making this so hard for him. He knew he couldn’t, and yet all he wanted to do—all he needed to do—was lean forward, and their lips would touch…he would kiss those lips, finally.

“I love you.”

Err…that had been oddly fast. Usually such a confession would be preceded by a massive argument with himself. His heart gave a jolt, despite himself, and then he frowned. Slowly, he realized he hadn’t spoken. It had sounded so very much as if she had spoken, actually, but surely she hadn’t…

“I love you, Harry…” she repeated, looking at him straight in the eye.

It took him a few moments to process the fact that she had, indeed, spoken those words. That she had, indeed, repeated them to him so easily. That she felt the same way.

All the caution he had exerted, all the worry he had had…it all faded away to a blissful nothingness. It was all gone as he leaned forward and captured her lips with his, feeling her closer than she had ever been. It felt so inexplicably right, to be doing what he had imagined himself doing so very much. It felt so satisfying, knowing that he was finally kissing those tantalizing lips of hers that had haunted him so much, taunting him, challenging him.

Hermione was surprised with herself. All it had taken to get her to say it had been a little closeness and that look from him. She didn’t know how to explain it (she would work on that later), but somehow, he had told her, with that mere look, that he felt for her as well. With his loss for words, he had said everything. And then she had said it. Just like that. Right now, she was in a blissful state, a hand at the nape of his neck and another on his shoulder, her lips pressing against his. It was incredible to think that he was kissing her back, that he felt the same way…

He pulled back for a moment, breathless, “I love you, too,” he whispered, his forehead touching hers as he gave her a feeble grin, “For so long…”

“How come you didn’t say anything before?”

“I’d like to ask you the same question,” he retorted, grinning.

She smiled, “I was driving myself mad, you know. I think too much. I was so worried…I didn’t know what to do…”

“You have no idea…” he muttered, hungrily pressing his lips to hers.

“I still don’t know if I’ve done the right thing…” she mumbled, pulling back slightly.

He frowned, “What do you mean?”

“This could ruin everything…I don’t know. Can this just be a silly hormonal thing? Maybe…maybe we don’t know…maybe this isn’t real…”

“I don’t think this is an impulse, Hermione. From the first time I talked to you, I kind of felt something. I didn’t recognize it for what it was then, but…now I do. I know this is more than just hormones. I love you, Hermione…I do, for who you are, for everything about you.”

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes strangely bright, “Oh, Harry…” she sighed, shaking her head, “You sound so sure…you have to have worries of your own…”

“Yes…”

There was silence for several long, tense moments. They didn’t let go of each other, but they wouldn’t meet the other’s eyes. They both dwelled on their own worries, on what had been said…they both wondered what to do. They didn’t know what to feel anymore.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry…” Hermione said softly, letting out a choked sob. She began to let go of him, “I truly am. I’m sorry for ruining the moment …I’m sorry for not believing. It’s just…this is so new to me…I don’t know what to do…”

He didn’t let go of her, forcing her to look up at him, “You didn’t do anything wrong…”

Hermione shook her head, “I don’t know what to do…”

“Listen, Hermione…I understand if you want to let this end here. I know this can’t be easy for any of us. If that’s your decision, I’ll respect it, I promise you that. I’ll act like nothing happened, like those words were never said. But I’ll never stop loving you. I swear to God, I never will.”

He let go of her finally, taking a few steps away from her and fixing her with a determined, though slightly saddened look, before lowering his gaze to the floor. He didn’t want her to go. He really just wanted to hold her and kiss her like there was no tomorrow. But he wouldn’t force her to be with him. He wasn’t like that.

“Harry?”

He looked up at her, finding her standing beside her own bed, looking at him with a slightly worried expression. She moved slowly towards him, each step uncertain, as if she hadn’t quite finished thinking things through. It seemed to take her an age to reach him, but as soon as she did, everything seemed a blur. She brought a hand to his face, tracing his skin with her fingertips, and closed her eyes fleetingly, letting out a low sigh. She looked back up at him, and then leaned forward, brushing her lips with his in a soft kiss. As their embrace became more heated, as their arms locked tighter around each other and their worry melted to exhilaration, they knew this wasn’t wrong.

They knew this was how they were meant to be.

Their silly little worries—her tantalizing lips, his maddening behavior—drew them together in something much deeper, longer lasting…something that changed lives, righted wrongs, and opened new paths…something that could bring oil and vinegar together in a startling web of care and hope, of understanding and reasoning, recklessness and piercing emotions…

Something that could never be explained, for it was much too mysterious and unpredictable for the human mind to fully comprehend…

Something that is usually referred to as ‘love’, but for Harry and Hermione, it is referred to as what was meant to be.

And would, always.

-- FIN