Hey guys! Thanks so much for your reviews and your continued support. *hugs you all* I know that it's taking me far too long to update. I can only defend myself by saying I just started Uni and am still adjusting to the new life. I can't promise quick updates, but I can promise that they'll keep coming.
A/N: Remember how I said I wasn't going to use another cliffhanger?
…I lied. *gulps*
***
When she opened her door, she found Harry sitting on her bed, staring at his hands.
"Hey," she whispered.
"Hi," he said. "Any trouble getting away from Ron?"
"No."
She studied him. He was so serious now, ever since Dumbledore's death. She wondered how long he'd sat on her bed, alone with only his thoughts. Was he thinking of her? Or was he too caught up in Voldemort and the horcruxes?
Harry glanced up at her. "What is it?"
"Nothing," she said.
He traced his fingers in idle patterns over his knees. He seemed jittery. She sat next to him, suddenly unsure of what to do. She never knew the right thing to say to him anymore.
He knocked his foot against hers and she smiled. "Cute, Harry."
"How drunk did Ron get you?"
Her stomach was warm and her throat still tingled from the firewhiskey. "We only talked," she said.
Harry kept his tone neutral. "Talked?"
She almost broke then, spilling out all her insecurities and fears, and-oh-she hated that Harry had this power over her, this way of making her clam up and throat close up and heart stutter.
He took her hand, his fingers squeezing hers. It was almost enough to ground her back into reality again.
"He's beginning to figure it out," Hermione said.
Harry went still. "What out?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Us, you prat. What else could I be talking about?"
His eyes searched her face as if anxiously seeking to make sure she wasn't lying to him. "Are you sure?"
Well, he knows how I fell about you, at any rate. Doesn't seem to suppose you could return my feelings.
She squirmed uncomfortably, hating that those thoughts wouldn't leave her alone. She was here with him when Ginny wasn't. He couldn't do this without her, he'd said as much, and she knew that. She knew it.
"Is it so bad, if he does?"
Harry stared at her for a long moment, his face tight. "I… er… I dunno."
She spoke carefully. "Don't you think we owe it to him, Harry? He's our best friend. He ought to know."
Harry waited a moment before answering. "Yes, you're right. He should know. But…"
"What?"
"Hermione, how do you reckon he's going to react when he learns how long we've been keeping this from him?"
"Well, perhaps we could leave out some of… of the details…"
"Maybe."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's really going on here, Harry?"
He sighed and touched her arm. "Hermione, it's good like this, you know? I don't like hiding from Ron any better than you do, but it seems better, somehow, it being just between us."
She shifted. "It's Ron."
"I know, but it won't stop at Ron, you know it won't. If we tell Ron-"
"Then what?" she said. "Who's he going to tell? Or is he on speaking terms now with Voldemort?"
"Of course not."
"Then who are you afraid he's going to tell?"
"Well, Malfoy for one-not intentionally, mind you, but you know how Ron gets when he's upset. And then there's the rest of the Weasleys. He won't be able to keep a secret like that from them for long."
Hermione pulled back. "Ginny, you mean."
"Hermione," he said. "Look, it's not like that… it's…." He sighed and stood.
"Where are you going?" she said.
"Hang on," he said. "I'll be back in a minute."
She nodded, chewing her lip. She wiped her palms on her jeans and wondered if Ron had made it up to bed alright. He'd had an awful lot to drink.
Her eyes searched over her room, noting the books opened and labeled by the bed, the laundry piled in a corner. Her desk was perfectly ordered, the quills settled upright beside her stack of parchment. She always did like to be well organized.
The door opened and Harry was back, shuffling back and forth and looking young and awkward.
"About four months ago, I was in Hogsmeade. It was our last visit of the year, right before Dumbledore and I-" He stopped and swallowed. "Anyway, I was there all afternoon. I bought one thing."
He took a book out from behind his back and handed it to her.
"I don't know why I bought it, only that it made me think of you, and I knew you'd like it. It's a comprehensive history of Hogsmeade, dating all the way back to the early days of the four founders of Hogwarts."
Hermione hugged the book to her chest. It was old, smelling of dust and yellowed pages. "You were there with Ginny, weren't you?"
"Yeah. I was."
"And you bought something for me."
Harry nodded. "That's kind of the point I'm trying to make."
She ran her fingers along the cover, the words etched into the leather bound book. "Thanks."
"It feels like so long ago," Harry said. "All of it-Hogwarts, Ginny, Dumbledore in a way. I'll never forget it, but it isn't now, it's not real. I'm not hanging on to something that ended long ago."
She wanted more. But looking at him, his eyes hopeful, and she knew he was telling her the only way he could.
She held out her hand and he took it, his shoulders slumping in relief. She reached for him, the book dropping to the floor with a small thump. Her arms rested on his shoulders and he bent his head to nuzzle her neck.
She sighed, feeling warm and tingly. "Mmm."
"Happy birthday," he whispered, his breath warm on her ear. She turned her head to kiss his cheek and his hands slid down her back, coming to a stop just above her arse.
A burst of daring energy had her pressing closer until she could feel him against her hip. His body stiffened and she took a deep breath.
"Let's go for it, Harry," she said, her words hushed.
They'd experimented, they'd come close to it, but they hadn't gone all the way. Hermione suspected they'd both been waiting for a time that would mean something.
He kissed her neck and then her shoulder, his hands still moving up and down on her back in a way that made her shiver. He pulled back so he could kiss her, long and slow.
"I didn't give you the book so you'd sleep with me," he murmured.
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed his nose. "I know."
"I don't want you to feel pressured."
"I don't." She waited a moment. "Do you?"
He cracked a smile. "No."
"If you don't want to have sex, that's perfectly fine. I simply think that it… it feels right."
He chuckled. "You're amazing, you know that, Hermione?"
"Of course I know that."
They kissed again and then moved backwards towards the bed, finding some way to hold on to each other. She stepped over her book and landed on her bed with a small thump. He leaned over her, meeting her lips, his hands firm as they moved down her body.
***
She loved this feeling of lying in his arms, his lips moving over her neck and her face, murmuring words of endearment and reassurances that didn't mean anything. She stretched out, feeling her limbs relax and entwining with his. She didn't mind his weight pressed on top of her.
She doubted he was aware of what he was saying. She'd read somewhere that men were at their most open and vulnerable after sex. It had to do with the endorphins released or some such thing.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
She touched his face and he leaned into her hand, his eyes closed. She kissed his forehead, her fingers sliding along his cheek.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"Will you tell me why you don't want to tell Ron? The truth?"
His eyes opened. "Was he the one who gave you the earrings?"
She flushed. "What earrings?"
"The earrings that were in the box that fell out of your pocket."
She stared at him suspiciously. "How did you know about those?"
He shrugged. "I snooped when you were snoozing after… well, you know. They're from Ron, aren't they?"
"Why does it matter?"
His mouth tightened. "You're joking, right?"
"You're jealous."
He didn't say anything for a long time. "And so what if I am? I think I've earned that right. Are they or aren't they from Ron?"
"Yes," she said. "They're from Ron. Goodness, Harry, I'm not some tramp, you know. I don't go around kissing every bloke that comes on to me."
"You kissed McLaggen."
"Oh, please. He mauled me. That hardly counts."
"You… well, you and I… I mean, we didn't ever really define things…"
"Oh, honestly. It was you. And what are you implying? I'm not certain I like it."
Harry rested his forehead on her shoulder. "Nothing. Only that I think the world of you and I hate the idea of you belonging to someone else. Even Ron." He sighed. "My, but when did that happen?"
"Some time last night?"
His hand moved up and down her side, brushing over her naked skin in the lightest of touches. "It was long before then and you know it."
"When I crawled into your lap at the Leaky Cauldron and kissed you?"
"Quite possibly," he said.
"I felt so safe that night," she whispered. "Being in your arms like that… I've never felt like that with anyone else."
"Really?"
"Really, really," she said. "I still feel that way."
His hand stopped on her hip, pulling her closer until she leaned into his chest, his arms curling around her back. "Like this?"
"Yes," she said. "Exactly like this."
Only it felt quite different now that they were both naked. But that was okay too-more than okay.
"I'm so glad we're talking about this now," she said. "It was so hard before, almost like we were leading this double life. All I could think about was you, but we never talked about it."
"I know. It was strange, wasn't it? I think some part of me thought you'd disappear if I said anything."
She chuckled. "Yes, that's what it was."
"Hermione… that's why I don't want Ron to know. That's why I don't want anyone to know. I'm afraid it'll ruin it. Things are so awful, so uncertain now… it's safer for…." He stopped and seemed to reconsider. "It's just… it's better."
She knew she should protest. She could list every reason in her head for why this was a bad idea. But if she was honest with herself, she could admit she didn't want to tell Ron anymore than Harry did.
"Okay," she finally said. She kissed his jaw and settled down more securely in his arms.
His hand traced idle patterns over her back and it felt so perfect, being here with him. Their sixth-year of Hogwarts felt so terribly far away. It was only one more step, one small era in their journey, leading up to this moment, right now…
***
Dear Mum and Dad,
You're in my thoughts constantly. I can only imagine what you must be going through.
Oh, how I wish I could tell you what's happening. I'd tell you about my journey and my mission and how right this is, for me. I never believed I was worth much, no more than my next grade in school. It's like I've finally found something. I couldn't imagine being anywhere else.
It is hard. I know it is. I want to tell you I'll be fine, that nothing bad can come of this, but I can't-
"Hermione?"
Hermione jumped. A large spot of ink grew on the parchment. She wiped at it, turning her head to see Harry standing over her.
"What're you doing?" he said.
"Nothing," she said quickly, hunching down over her letter. "Go back to sleep."
Harry glanced from her letter to her face. "You were writing to your parents, weren't you?"
She sighed and crumpled her letter. "I was just thinking… my mum and dad… how awful it would be for them, not knowing where I am on my birthday."
Harry dropped to his knees beside her, eyes widening. "That's… I mean…" he struggled for a moment. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."
"I know," she said. "That's alright. There was never any doubt, was there? This is where I belong, Harry."
"But your parents…"
"I love them very much," she said. "But there was a divide there, you know. We lived in different worlds. And I love them enough to let them go. The more I hang onto them, the more danger they're in."
He thought for a minute, his face strange and naked to her without his glasses on. She touched his face lightly and sighed.
"Really-it's alright. Let's go start breakfast. We have a horcrux to destroy, do we not?"
"I-hang on, this is important…"
She leaned forward to kiss him, cutting off his words. She didn't want to talk about her parents. She wanted to throw herself into her books and research and forget.
She pulled away and began getting dressed, throwing her hair over one shoulder. Harry stayed where he was, a somber expression on his face.
"Hermione, you know how I feel about you, don't you?"
Hermione paused, her hairbrush caught between her teeth.
"Don't you?" he said again.
She pulled her hairbrush away, her hands shaking. "Careful, Harry," she said.
He started. "What?"
"I don't want you saying anything you'll regret later."
He flushed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She dragged her brush through her hair, wincing when it tugged at her scalp. "Nothing," she said.
You know he's still hung up on Ginny, don't you?
She glanced at her bed. I gave him a part of myself last night, a part that Ginny never did. Harry came to stand next to her. He didn't touch her, but his close proximity made her feel itchy.
"It meant something to me too," Harry said quietly. "No one's ever…"
She threw her hairbrush down, making them both jump.
"I'm hungry," she said, her voice bright. "Better head down before Ron gets suspicious, eh?"
She left without waiting for an answer.
***
There was a sense of surrealism surrounding their breakfast. She and Harry were polite-too polite.
"If it's not too much trouble, would you please pass the orange juice, Hermione?"
"Of course, Harry, it's no trouble at all."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She flipped through the Daily Prophet, reading off headlines that were of interest. She answered Harry's questions without looking directly at him. They were careful not to brush legs under the table.
To Hermione's relief, Ron didn't notice their strange behaviour. He was busy guzzling down a cup of coffee and pressing his fingers to his eyes.
"Bloody hell, what the fuck was in that thing?"
Harry snorted. "Weasley constitution, eh?"
"Sod off, wanker."
"Honestly, the pair of you are like children sometimes."
"Sod off, Hermione."
Hermione felt some stirrings of sympathy. "I could brew up some hangover potion for you if you'd like, Ron. It should help take away most of the symptoms."
Ron scrubbed his hands over his face and looked at her with bleary eyes. "Really? You'd do that?"
"Of course."
"Awww, Hermione, you're-"
"I know, I know," she said, waving a hand. "That's what you always say when I do something nice for you."
Ron managed a grin. "I guess it doesn't happen that often, then, does it?"
Hermione was about to make a reply when Harry jumped up, banging into the table. Hermione and Ron frowned at each other.
"What are you doing?" Ron said. "What did I say about sudden movements?"
"Ron, hush," Hermione said sharply. "Harry, what is it?"
Harry swallowed. "Malfoy. When was the last time we saw him?"
Hermione frowned. "I'm certain he was skulking about recently, didn't we-"
"No, we didn't," Harry said. "It's been ages, Hermione."
Dread began to grow in Hermione's stomach. "You don't think…"
"That's exactly what I think," Harry said. "We've been so wrapped up in-fuck."
"Well, where would he go?" Hermione said, her voice high-pitched. "He can't simply leave, can he? He can't go back to the Death Eater's, he betrayed them, Harry."
"Hang on…" Ron said slowly, sitting up straighter. "Are you saying… are you saying that git took off on us?"
Harry ignored him. "It's been too quiet around here. Malfoy, he would make trouble, he'd want to make life as difficult as possible for us. I'm sure he knows-"
Harry made eye contact with her for a moment before glancing away.
"Well, go on, then!" Hermione said. "There's only one way to know for sure, isn't there?"
Harry nodded. "Accio cup!"
Nothing happened.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and took a steadying breath.
"It's gone?" Ron said. He looked from Harry to Hermione and back again. "If the cup's gone, that means that…"
"Malfoy took it with him," Harry said. He sounded exhausted. "Fuck."
Harry seemed to run out of things to say. He shoved his wand back into his pocket and stalked from the room.
Ron looked like he was in danger of passing out. His voice was a hoarse whisper. "Hermione, what do we do?"
"I…" she bit her lip and shook her head. "I'll go after him… I suppose…"
She hurried after Harry, ignoring her trepidation. She hated feeling at such loose ends, not only with him, but with the entire situation. What good was she really? All she had were her books and her brains. Nothing she did seemed to be much help. Not anymore.
"Harry…" she said. "Harry… wait…"
He stopped short and she almost banged into him. He turned around, raking a hand through his hair. A mixture of emotions passed over his face.
"Yeah? Come to lecture me some more, is that it? Sorry, don't think I can take it at the moment, I'm a tad preoccupied."
"Harry, no!" she said. "That's not…"
Their voices were quiet. They were in the entrance hall, next to Mrs. Black's portrait.
"You know," he said. "I never imagined this as our morning after. I can't fight with you right now, Hermione. I can't do it."
She felt all her resolve crumble. "Oh, Harry," she said. "I'm not angry with you. Honest, I'm not. I'm terrible at this stuff. I'm feeling so many different things right now. It's… well, frankly… it's a bit overwhelming."
He stepped closer to her and nodded. "I know the feeling."
She searched his face, finding nothing but tenderness and relief. "Harry," she said softly. "Malfoy-we still…"
"Oh," Harry said, jerking back to himself. "Yeah."
Hermione thought quickly and came to a decision. "It scares me," she said, pushing Malfoy away for the time being. "How much power you seem to have over me. Do you have any idea what you could do to me?"
He gave a small smile. "I reckon I have a pretty good idea."
She felt warmth come into her cheeks. For the first time, she was certain. She loved him. Loved him. She'd given him her virginity, her trust, and now all she had to do was fall forward and hope he caught her.
"Harry, I-"
"Hermione! Harry!"
They jumped away from each other and Ron skidded to a halt in front of them, a letter clutched to his chest. His face was white.
"Goodness, Ron-"
"It's the Burrow," he said, panting. He squared his shoulder, his chin trembling. "They-the Death Eater's-they attacked…"
He struggled and Hermione felt her stomach bottom out. Harry pushed past her to grab the letter from Ron.
"What, Ron?" she whispered. "What's… what happened?"
"They're in the hospital," he croaked. "Mum and Dad and Ginny-they were the only ones there when…" Ron's voice broke, but he continued. "Dad got the brunt of it, he might not wake up. Gin's in rough shape… they tortured her…"
Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth. "Oh… oh, Ron…"
Harry lowered the letter, his face pale. "Come on," he said. He took Ron firmly by the arm and dragged him to the fireplace. "Can you floo?"
Ron blinked. "Er… yeah, I… Harry, we still have to find Malfoy…"
"Forget Malfoy," Harry said. "He's not what's important right now, got it?"
Ron nodded and Harry pushed him into the fireplace. Numb with shock, Hermione watched from afar as Ron flooed out, his words seeming long and drawn out. Harry took her by the elbow and pushed her in the fireplace.
"St. Mungo's," he said.
"Okay," she said, her voice catching. "Harry…"
"Go on," he said. "I'll be there in a moment."
She touched his wrist, but he pulled back. His gaze was shuttered.
"Take care of Ron, alright?"
"Alright."
She tossed her handful of powder. As the fireplace spun and danced around her, she couldn't help but wonder, selfishly, how this would affect them now.
They had been so close.
***