The Moment

isobel_pranger

Rating: NC17
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 22/07/2005
Last Updated: 22/07/2005
Status: completed

She placed her hand on the cold glass, as though she could actually touch him. That she could really make everything okay, or possibly even lift the weight of the world off his weakened shoulders. She wished that, just for a time, she had the power to make his life easy.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

The Moment Tell me that someday you’ll be returning

And maybe, maybe I’ll believe

It’s just enough to see a shooting star

To know you’re never really far

It’s just enough to see a shooting star

To know you’re never really gone

Oh, please don’t go

Let me have you just one moment more

Oh, all I need

All I want is just one moment more

You gotta hold me and make me believe

-One Moment More, Mindy Smith

Hermione wasn’t sure why exactly Harry would want to meet on a day like today. A day when the air is cold and the sky is overcast but not yet ready to rain. A day when everyone knows what lies ahead of him, that he’s just a day or so away from the breaking point. She spent the last week locked away in a library trying to think of spells and curses that he could use against one of the most evil wizards to ever live. She knew that there were many she hadn’t yet found. She knew there were more that she would never find. She hated that.

She found him sitting at a small table in a café in the muggle part of London. He was staring into a glass with a worried expression; like he wasn’t sure what he was doing there himself. It melted her heart to see him like that, so old and yet so young. Harry was a special breed of human, she knew. He was wonderful, and it was in moments like these that she wished him everything in the world. That someday, when Voldemort was dead and gone, that he could have a real family that really loved him. That he could live someplace quiet and in peace, and that his only care would be what he was eating for dinner that night. And in her heart, she believed that somehow, her Harry would have all that one day.

She placed her hand on the cold glass, as though she could actually touch him. That she could really make everything okay, or possibly even lift the weight of the world off his weakened shoulders. She wished that, just for a time, she had the power to make his life easy. She would never have that. And of all the things that often made her feel like a failure: her failed relationship with Ron, her inability to teach them both everything they would need to know, even her long-forgotten parents… it was that there was nothing, truly nothing, that she could do in the end to save Harry from his demons and himself.

He looked up and saw her there, looking at him with all her affections. Sometimes, when she looked at him like that, like he was a lost little boy all over again, it made his heart break. And it hurt him, very deep inside, that he didn’t share her faith. That she would believe he could be a murderer to the darkest of any other wizard ever, and he would be able to wake up the next day. He waved for her to come inside, out of the cold outdoors. She nodded, and walked the length of the shop to be inside. To be next to him.

She sat down and unbuttoned her coat, though she didn’t take it off because something in Harry’s demeanor told her that they wouldn’t be staying there very long. He lifted his mug and took a sip, smiling to her as she looked at him, their own private acknowledgement. It was no secret that she and Harry had secrets among them, even ones that Ron wasn’t in on. They had behaviors and body language they left their other best friend out of, because there was no way he could possibly understand.

“What did you want to talk about, Harry?” Hermione asked, never beating about the bush. She absently used a hand to wave down a waiter, who came to their table without hesitation.

“She’ll be on my tab,” Harry informed the man as he organized himself enough to copy down exactly what it was that Hermione wanted. Hermione shot him a frustrated look that he, in turn, ignored. She smiled to the poor man, and saved him no time in ordering a plain, black coffee. Harry gave the man a small smile as he nodded and promised to return soon, “I need to discuss… upcoming events.”

“You mean…” Hermione looked at the people around them in the shop, before dropping her voice to a whisper, “your next confrontation with Voldemort?”

Harry shook his head and placed his mug back down on the table, not looking in her eyes but instead into the pools of the cup, his expression stony and unsure, and “My final confrontation with him.”

Hermione’s eyebrows creased instantly, and her mouth opened of its own will as she sat and tried to think of something to say. As she tried to think of something intelligent or something that would keep him from going, “But…” she paused, “But Harry, I haven’t finished my research. I haven’t plotted or planned enough. I need more time, Harry. I need… I need…”

Harry smiled, a bit bitterly, “I know,” he said, solemnly nodding his head, “I wish I could give you more time. I wish I could give you days, or months… maybe even years and decades. And I know—I trust—that you would comb every source of information in the world and then some to help me with what we both knows lies ahead,” his eyes followed the waiter as he returned with Hermione’s coffee and he smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he handed him some money, “And the truth is… he’s always going to be ahead of me, Hermione. If I go tomorrow or I go in fifty years, there will still be a huge power gap that I can’t hope to fill.”

Hermione felt her eyes filling, “So that’s it, then?” she asked, trying her hardest to keep her tone rational and even, “You’re just going to walk blind into the biggest battle of your life? Is that your PLAN, Harry?”

“That has always been my preferred method, yes,” Harry said, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It’s not FUNNY, Harry,” Hermione objected, hastily trying to wipe away the few stray tears that had betrayed her and fell, “So what is this, then?” she asked, using a hand to gesture around the room, “What, is this goodbye?”

“It’s not g-“

“Good!” she said, her voice rising as she stopped at hope of the tears remaining in check, “because I’m not saying goodbye to you. Not now, not ever. So if you think you’re going to walk about of here, and walk onto that green field of death, never to return… you’re wrong. You can’t leave me, Harry… I need you here.”

Harry slid off of his chair and slinked down onto the floor, tugging her seat out of its place on the floor so she was turned to face him. He got down on his knees and held both of her hands in one of his and used the other to wipe tears away from her reddened cheeks, “It’s alright, Hermione,” he soothed, “It’ll be okay. I promise, I swear on my relationship with you that I will do everything I can to keep you safe. And if that means, in the end, that I have to go… then I want you to know that I did it in full intensions and for all the right reasons.”

She choked on her sob as she tried to speak, but he pressed a finger to her lips, “Shh, listen to me,” he said, looking directly in her eyes. “My life has been both cursed and blessed. Someone had a premonition before I was born that marked me for life. But my mother gave me a gift; even bigger and better than even bringing me into the world… she gave me the chance for a life, in place of hers. And in that she handed me you, and she gave me Ron… she gave me everything I hold onto in this world. And when I see that madman for the last time, I’ll,” he bit down hard on his lower lip, his own eyes threatening to overflow, “I’ll be thinking only of you. And someday, when you think back on this… our life, I want you to only think of the good things. The Quidditch, and Hogsmeade… of every time you informed me of something I should have known or all the times that Ron made a complete fool of himself. Could you do that for me?”

“Oh, God Harry,” Hermione sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck and bawling openly on his shoulder. He encircled his arms around her back, gripping her to his chest tightly. He rubbed small circles between her shoulders, as she hold onto him so tight he was almost sure she was holding on for dear life. “Harry,” she whispered, blinking away tears.

“What?” he asked, his tone a combination of soothing and desperation. Like he would do anything, anything at all in that moment to make her feel better. And knowing Harry like she did, he probably would, “What is it, Hermione?” he asked again, his hands resting on the sides of her face as she looked down on him, her vision blurred by her tears. He lifted himself up so his could kiss her everywhere, on her forehead, her cheeks, and once, possibly by accident, on the lips. “What can I do to make sure you’re okay?”

“Tell me you love me,” she said, smiling sadly as she bit down on her lower lip, “More than anything else… I need to know you love me, Harry.”

“Oh,” he choked, nodding his head, “I do,” he said quietly, “I do, Hermione. Maybe more than anybody else. Maybe more than anybody we know loves anyone else. Perhaps more than I can handle…” His eyes suddenly flashed when they met hers, and his lip curled upwards in the most inappropriate smile Hermione had ever seen before, “Come here,” he instructed, standing up.

“What?” she asked still very upset and even more confused.

“Come with me,” he said, grabbing hold of her hands again and motioning for the waiter to come. He dug hastily into his pocket, pulling out a large sum of money and forking it over to the man. The other man gave him a genuine smile and left, all before Hermione could think far enough ahead to stand up. Harry picked up her purse and handed it to her, pulling her by the wrist to the door.

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked, far too shocked to think. The sound of rumbling came from overhead and she looked up at the sky as Harry pulled her quickly through the streets.

In what felt like no time at all, she looked ahead again to find them at Harry’s front door. It surprised her, how the world had apparently stopped on its axis and the only people left on the globe where Harry and herself. He quickly unlocked the door, but stopped her before she could walk in. He put his hands gently on her shoulders to stop her from frumping in, swinging her purse and laughing… like she always did, “Wait,” he said, standing fully in front of her. He placed a finger on her lips, “Hermione… God, I don’t even know what to say.”

She nodded knowingly, unable to speak as well. Harry leaned forward so his mouth was close to her ear, “Close your eyes,” he whispered, before he kissed her lightly right beneath it. She gave a bit of a shake, though it would be unfair to call it a shiver, because she wasn’t really cold. She did as she was told, and was reward in kind with Harry kissing her soundly on the mouth.

He double-timed pulling her inside the flat with sliding his tongue between her lips. She must of moaned or made some other embarrassing noise, because she could feel him smiling against her as she tilted her head slightly to the side. They fumbled a little bit, him trying to get her jacket off and her trying to make that final step through the threshold.

They parted for air, and Harry kissed her on the forehead as she pushed back on the neck of his coat. He wiggled a little bit; to help her get it off, and then pulled her in close again to kiss her. And this time it continued all the way across the apartment to the bed he hid in the furthest, darkest corner of his bedroom. She’d asked him why it was that way once, and all he’d said was, “I spent six years sleeping behind really dark curtains. I can’t stand sleeping with any sort of light in the room.” And that she could easily understand.

He pulled her shirt up over her head as his knees hit the side of the mattress, and she’d just successfully pulled the tails of his shirt out of his trousers, they toppled backwards so she rested atop him. Her skirt rode up so she could straddle his sides. Her fingers worked quick and hard as she tried to get that bloody shirt off as fast as she possibly could. No sooner was it unbuttoned than Harry grabbed hold around her hips and flipped them over.

He tugged off the buttoned shirt by the sleeve, and tossed it onto the floor. Then he crossed his arms in front of him, and pulled by the hem of his undershirt until it was over his head too. Hermione couldn’t help but stare as she watched his chest muscles flex and move, and was able to gather herself when it came off the rest of the way, tilting Harry’s glasses just so and messing his hair up even more. She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the adorable sight he made, and that cause him to grin as well, “What’s so funny?” he asked, pointing to himself, “Am I what’s funny?”

Hermione nodded, “Yes.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, fixing his glasses and coming down on all fours above her, “You still think I’m funny?”

Hermione smiled out and puffed out air in a sad little laugh, “I think you’re everything, Harry.”

He nodded and kissed her neck, sucking and nibbling his way down to her bare shoulder. He used his hands to unzip her skirt, and started to peel it off slowly, using a finger on each side to trace down her skin. He moved with it, dragging it down and off her feet, flinging it carelessly across the room into their rapidly growing pile. He waited a beat or two at her feet, before dragging his mouth from the top of her knickers in a semi-straight line to her mouth.

She undid the front of his jeans, and dove her hands directly inside. She took care to leave her hand over his erection a little too long to be an accident, and once he was aware, gave him an affectionate squeeze as she slid her hands around back and pulled his pants all the way off. One of Harry’s arms slipped forward in surprise at her liberal move towards little Harry, and she giggled against his mouth.

He slid his fingers underneath the crotch of her knickers, slipping about in the wetness before he gingerly slid one finger inside. She gasped against his mouth as his thumb found her clitoris, and started to rub little circles in place there. He kissed her along the side of the face as her expression stay frozen, and her arms dropped down to the sides to grip fistfuls of… whatever she could get her hands on.

He didn’t stay there long enough for her to come; unfortunately, only just enough to get her all hot and bothered. If it was possible for her to become more so, that was. He spared her no time in pulling his own boxers off, and then took it upon himself to remove her underthings as well.

He grabbed hold of her wrist once again, leaning back until he was sitting up and so was she. He seated himself firmly in the middle of the bed, before he pulled her close enough so she was once again straddling his hips. Placing his hands on her hips, he pulled her up and over his tall and waiting erection, his breath becoming so rugged it seemed more like he was struggling to breath than anything else. When the tip was at her entrance, he looked up into her eyes, “Have you done this before?”

“Yes, have you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Is it alright then… if this isn’t the most soft and gentle moment you’ve ever experienced?”

She nodded and closed her eyes, gasping as Harry pulled her down and he plunged in further than any past lover ever had before. In response, Harry kissed one of her shoulders as he used his hands to guide her into a rhythm that she easily picked up on. “God,” she heard him whisper. She pulled her upper body far enough away so that she could see his eyes shut tight, all the while her lower body rocked against his, “I would stay for this,” he mumbled as she came close to him again, her chest pressed up against his.

“You can’t,” she stated, treating the side of his neck to several feather-light kisses, “But you can keep me,” she whispered in his ear, “I can be yours forever. No matter how long…”

She heard him groan, and he slipped one of his fingers down to her clit again, playing with it. Teasing it. She moaned and her head rolled backwards, arching her back further than she’d ever remembered being able to. He didn’t spare that moment though; he ducked his head forward and started to plant kisses all over her chest. Her collarbone, the valley between her breasts, even the breasts themselves. And the combine sensation only caused her to whimper and moan some more.

“Come for me,” he whispered to her neck, and her head returned to its upright position as if she could ask him if he was serious, “I want you to… do it for me.” His finger started to do some acrobatic twists, and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head as she felt herself flying towards the edge. She suddenly understood why Harry sounded like breathing was difficult before, as she tried to keep herself together long enough to make it through the last couple of thrusts.

She pumped him a few more times before her whole body exploded, tensing and shaking. Some faint part of what used to be her conscious heard Harry groan loudly, and, had she had any functioning nerves left, she would have been very aware that Harry had reached the brink as well.

She came down first; kissing the sides of his face and his neck and shoulders lightly as he rode it out. For the first time all night she noticed they’d become sweaty, that his hair was wet and sticking awkwardly to his face, as hers must have been too. She carefully brushed them off his forehead and out of the way, taking a moment to readjust his glasses as well. “Thanks,” he breathed.

“Anytime,” she said, kissing his cheek. She lifted her hips until he had fully left her body, and he toppled backwards without so much as a verbal warning. Hermione followed, bracing herself with her hands so she wouldn’t crush his chest, “Harry! Are you alright?”

“Bloody wonderful,” he said, smiling like a little boy who’d just found his Christmas gifts a month early.

She settled down, so her cheek was rested against his chest, and he played absently with her hair. She closed her eyes and reveled in the moment, finally allowing it to settle inside that it could very well be the last time she ever got to be with Harry. Sexual or otherwise. She thought, somewhere deep inside, that perhaps she should be insulted. That it hadn’t taken until they were both relatively sure that Harry was going to die before they allowed this to happen. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but be glad she got to share this moment with him at all.

“Oh Christ,” she heard him swear, as one of his hands came to rest someplace in the black fuzz ball that was Harry’s hair. She looked up to him questioningly, to see his features had become panicked, “You don’t… Hermione, I didn’t plan on this when I asked you to meet me today.”

“Of course not,” she said, propping up an elbow for her chin to rest on, “I imagine otherwise you would have said,” he voice adopted a deep, man-ish tone, “’Hermione, I’m leaving tomorrow and I might die. Fancy a shag?’”

He laughed, truly laughed, and she smiled too, “I’m sure I would have,” he agreed, “But I did mean what I said before. I do love you.”

“And I love you, as well,” she added.

“Hermione?” he asked, sounding a little unsure of himself.

“Yes?”

“If…” he started, “if I don’t make it. Do you think…? Do you think you could keep me with you? Everywhere, with you? So I don’t really have to miss out on anything important…”

She looked at him, startled, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Well,” he said, bashful and nervous, “In your heart. Could you keep me, proverbial me not the real me, in your heart? So I can be there for all the important things for you… and for Ron too. So I can be there when you both fall in love for the last time, when each of you gets married… I want to be there to see your children, and be a part of every moment of your lives. Even if I really can’t be?”

“Oh Harry,” she said, her eyes stinging once again, “Of course. You don’t even have to ask that. No matter what happens… we’ll always have you with us. Do you understand?”

He nodded his head and whispered, “Thank you.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione heard a knock on the door of her flat some two days later. Harry had left the next morning, leaving kisses in all the right places and having one more serious talk about what to do should he die in his final stint with Voldemort. She’d nodded and promised over and over again that she wouldn’t be sad, that she would cry over him should his time alive be over. And she promised again that she and Ron would never forget him, ever.

Hermione had kept her promise. She didn’t cry later when the Order confirmed that Harry had gone. She’d refused to go with Ron to wait, only forcing him to promise to find her once word had come that it was over. She locked herself away in her flat, bottle of wine open on her end table and a hole in her heart. She wondered, should Harry truly be gone when all was said and done, if she would ever stop wishing she could have him again. Wishing she could have just one more moment with him.

When the knock came, she rose slowly from her seat, not daring to hope that it would be Harry on the other side, demanding entrance. And she was right. She pulled back the door, to find Ron standing there, tears streaming down his face.

“It’s over,” her informed her.

“And Harry?”

“He’s gone, Hermione,” he said, his eyes going dark as he looked down to the floor, “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, “He knew it,” she said, looking down at her feet, “He knew he was going to die doing this.”

“I know,” Ron said, holding a hand out to her, “Come on, I want to show you something.”

She set her glass down on the little table by the door and grabbed her wand, returning to take Ron’s hand and have him lead her out into the street. There were witches and wizards dancing in the streets, fire works going off and jolly songs being sung. She watched them all and smiled to herself, this would have made Harry happy.

“This way,” Ron said, leading her down the road some more. She was eerily reminded of her last afternoon with Harry, and how she’d looked up and seen the grumbling clouds above. She looked up again, half expecting to see them again. Instead it was a clear night sky. There was a large moon, though not yet full, and a blanket full of stars overhead. She couldn’t help but smile to herself when she saw a shooting star bolt across the sky, ‘I see you, Harry,’ she thought, ‘up there, smiling down on us from heaven.’

And one day in the future, when she would look back on the days she had with the boy who lived, trying to put the memory down on paper, she would remember that moment.

‘There have been a great many wizards of the world since the creation of magic,’ she would write. ‘Some would be remembered for their power, like Merlin. Some would be remembered for their wisdom, like Dumbledore. And some,’ she would pen affectionately, ‘would be remembered for their hearts big enough to hold the entire world, like Harry Potter.’

FIN.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

Note: Well, that was my first ever Harry Potter smutfic. Did you like it? Oh! And I was a bit too hasty to beta, so all errors are mine.