Expected

Expected

It was nearly 3am before Harry began to make his way towards Gryffindor tower. His evening training with Dumbledore had run longer than expected, as Kingsley and Tonks arrived with some new intelligence on suspected Death Eater plans. Harry sat throughout the entire impromptu meeting, both listening and offering suggestions as to their next move.

In the months that had followed the disaster at the Department of Mysteries, Harry had dedicated himself to becoming more prepared, more mature, in the face of looming war. Every aspect of magical training that could benefit him was studied and practiced repeatedly. A handful of students, including Ron and Hermione, were also training with members of the Order, preparing for the worst. Even the Ministry had finally come around, and the Defense Association became integrated with DADA classes at every level.

And somehow, throughout the fear and preparation, Hogwarts still remained a school - a haven of safety, despite harboring a formidable army of students. While not one pupil had any illusions as to what was happening in the world outside, Dumbledore was insistent that they still focus on their day to day lives and studies, citing that a life lived in fear, was a life half lived.

As Harry came up the last set of stairs leading to the tower, he realized he was still too tightly wound to even consider sleep. As much as he longed to do a quick lap or two on his Firebolt, he resisted the impulse. Before the events of last year, he wouldn't have given a harmless jaunt on his broom a second thought. However, they couldn't be too careful these days, and the last thing he wanted to do was risk anyone's safety by chancing a moment alone outside the castle walls.

Feeling somewhat disheartened, he continued to plod towards the tower. However, when he finally looked up, he found himself outside a familiar corridor on the seventh floor. He couldn't help but smile at the ingenuity of his unconscious mind.

He began to pace, concentrating on what he might need to help soothe his nerves. Perhaps a space for a quick workout to tire him, or something similar to the common room, where he could be alone with his thoughts.

At the third pass he looked up, expecting to find the door. But instead of it's usual large and inviting brass handle, a sheet of parchment lay over the smooth surface.

'Go away please.'

He'd certainly never see it do that before.

Stepping towards the door, he felt around, wondering if the knob had somehow gone invisible. After he had smoothed his hands over the entire surface, he lifted the parchment.

"Surely you can't be serious," he muttered, while inspecting the parchment. The ink disappeared, to be replaced with a new phrase.

'Please leave now, or I will be forced to dock house points.'

"Dock house points?! What for?" Had he really begun to argue with parchment?

'You are out well past curfew.'

"I'm permitted out past curfew, you stupid... er... stupid thing!"

'You are neither prefect, nor Head Girl or Boy - therefore you are in violation of Hogwarts' rules and guidelines, an offense punishable by docking of house points.'

"You're a piece of parchment, how exactly are you going to dock house points from me?"

Oddly, he was finding this highly amusing.

'I've been given the authority to do so.'

"By whom?"

'None of your business!'

"You don't even know what house I'm in!"

He grinned, suddenly feeling accomplished at outwitting a sheet of paper.

The ink disappeared, and for a moment, Harry thought that was the end of it. But then he saw a series of fine lines crisscross the surface, and coalesce into a single word.

'Gryffindor'

He smiled.

"Oh really, and how do you figure that then?"

'The Slytherins don't use this room. The Hufflepuffs would never be out this late past curfew. A Ravenclaw, while curious about this parchment, would have left after the threat of deducting house points. So that only leaves Gryffindor...'

He was about to say something, but the parchment continued.

'Furthermore, since you think you're allowed to be out past hours, and I know for a fact that you are not a prefect or Head Boy, then I really must ask you to leave.'

"Oh really, and why is that?"

'Because, Harry, the occupant doesn't feel like speaking to anyone at the moment.'

His eyebrows raised in surprise.

"The occupant?"

Someone who could deduct house points, and was brilliant enough to devise her own snarky parchment.

"Hermione?"

'Yes, now please go away. Thank you.'

"But I'm not...," he stopped arguing with the note, and knocked on the door. "Hermione? Hermione, are you in there?"

'Honestly, what part of 'go away' did you not comprehend.'

"Shut it you!" He knocked again, louder. "Hermione?"

The door bulged slightly on one side, as the large brass fixture appeared beneath the parchment.

It read 'Satisfied?', with no loss of sarcasm. He ripped it from the door before entering.

The room was almost pitch black, lit only by the small fire in the corner. The decor was mostly dark wood and leather, reminiscent of a small library or study. On the floor, leaning against the worn leather sofa, sat Hermione. Her dressing gown was tied loosely around her, and her feet where covered in large fuzzy slippers. She continued to stare into the dying fire, gently swishing the remnants of a brandy snifter.

"Guess my parchment's not nearly as clever as I thought." She didn't bother to look up.

"Actually, it was quite clever. Got me a bit flustered to be honest."

She smiled, but it didn't touch her eyes. She kept her gaze fixed on the fire

"Hermione, what are you doing in here? And since when do you drink?"

"I don't actually, just a taste now and then." She glanced up at him and tilted her glass, that same humorless smile returning. "This would be a 'now', as opposed to a 'then'?"

He sat down, and she turned back towards the fire.

"Hermione, did... did something happen?"

"What - you mean Ron didn't tell you? Oh wait, of course he wouldn't, would he."

Harry could feel a horrible knot of fear tense up within his stomach. To have Hermione, the strongest person he knew, sitting here in the dark drinking...

"What is it? Did... was someone hurt? Was there another Death Eater incident? Oh Merlin, did something happen to one of the Weasleys?" Harry sat tense and numb, waiting in horrible anticipation for her to respond.

Her head snapped around to his, her eyes wide.

"Oh, Harry... I'm so sorry. No! It's not anything like that! Nothing like that at all. I didn't mean to make you think..."

He let out a breath and relaxed. She sighed, then set her glass aside before scooting towards him. She clasped his hands.

"Harry, I'm sorry - you see, this... this is why I wanted to be left alone. It's... it's just so stupid!" She looked down. "You know," she worked her way up to the sofa, then took a breath to steady herself, "you obviously needed to use the room. I should be going."

"Hermione, what is it? What's the matter?"

"Harry, please," she looked down at him, his green eyes blazing at her in all earnest, and it only made her feel worse.

"You... you have so much to deal with already. You shouldn't have to hear about my insignificant problems on top of everything else." She gave him a wistful smile, then stood.

"I'll just be going to bed, see you in the morning."

"Hermione, wait," he clasped her wrist, and when he looked closer, he could see the tears in her eyes. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Oh, Harry, it's silly really. Please," and she pulled her wrist from him, trying to keep her voice light. "I was just feeling a bit sorry for myself is all. Pathetic, really, I know." She turned away from him. "I mean, I can't... I shouldn't, feel anything like that with... with everything that's going on."

"Hermione," he stood. "You're allowed to have feelings you know, no matter what's happening."

She sighed.

"It's not that, it's just... there's so much else going on. People with real problems, and I'm in here crying over my lost integrity."

"Your... sorry... your integrity?"

She gave a soft laugh and looked at him.

"Silly, I know. Like I said, I'll be fine. Please Harry, the last thing I want to do is burden you with something as daft as this."

"Oh please, like you haven't listened to me prattle on enough times. It's the least I can do. Besides, hearing other problems, things that other people are going through... I dunno, sometimes it helps me put things in perspective."

She squinted at him, and he stared back at her.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, it's just... I forget sometimes, how much you've changed. I mean... Harry, when did you become such a... a grown up?"

And because it was Hermione, he could laugh at the absurdity of her question. They both knew full well what necessitated the change in him.

"That was such a daft question, wasn't it?" She smiled back at him. "But you know, as much as Dumbledore insists on Hogwarts remaining, first and foremost, a school - well, it works, you know? I can forget sometimes why we've all changed the way we have. I can pretend that it really is just still school and the biggest concern I have is how I'll do next year in NEWTs."

"Yeah, when a match gets closer and closer, I can do that too. Pretend that the only important thing is how quickly I can grab the snitch."

"He's right, you know - we all have to keep living our lives as normally as possible, despite everything that's going on. Otherwise, I think we lose sight of what we're fighting for... what we're trying to protect."

He could only nod.

"I just... I don't know Harry. I just didn't expect this war to make me compromise myself the way it has."

"Your integrity?"

"My integrity. Seems a bit silly, doesn't it? To be this distraught. But then, you know how emotional 'us girls' can be." She rolled her eyes to emphasize her point.

He smiled at her, though still confused. Then something struck him, and his stomach twisted.

"Um, Hermione? What... what does y-your integrity have to do with Ron?"

Her eyes widened, and even in the dim glow he could see her face flush.

"Oh," she looked down, embarrassed. "I don't... that is to say... I don't know how much of it is Ron, really. I mean, it is him, but... but it's me as well."

"Y-you and Ron?" His palms had gone cold and slick and his chest hurt. He wasn't entirely sure why.

"I... I did something... something I'm not too proud of. Actually, something I'm quite ashamed of, and swore I'd never, ever do."

"You... you did?" His face felt cold now, and he was certain that a lead weight had taken residence in his stomach.

"I did," and the tears were back in her eyes. "Harry, you don't understand. You see, my parents... me and my parents... there are certain values we share.

Values they raised me with. Things they expect of me and I expect of myself, and I just couldn't... because there are apparently other things that other people expect of me... I couldn't... I couldn't hurt him like that Harry... I couldn't simply say 'no' to him..." Tears began to stream down her face.

"Oh...," was all Harry could muster. It was no secret that Ron fancied Hermione. Everyone seemed to know it, though he was certain that Ron had never actually told anyone. Because if he were going to tell someone, then certainly it would be Harry, his best friend.

Because best friends always share things like that. Especially best friends that both happen to know the girl in question.

Because if he... if Harry, ever fancied a girl, he'd tell Ron.

Especially if they both knew the girl in question.

Especially if it happened to be Hermione.

He would have told Ron in a heartbeat.

And Seamus has an authentic piece of Merlin's cloak he'd like to sell.

Harry snapped back from his thoughts when Hermione dropped onto the sofa and stared into the fire again. Harry slowly sat down as well, completely stunned.

"This room, it's almost an exact replica of my father's study. He used to read to me in here, and we'd discuss all sorts of topics, from history to philosophy. He told me once, that the single most important thing a person has is their integrity. If you have that, then at the end of the day, it doesn't matter what else has happened. You've been true to yourself and those around you. And I swore I'd never, ever compromise my integrity."

Harry wasn't certain how much more he wanted to hear, but she continued.

"We had just finished our training for the evening, then headed out to do rounds. And I don't... I'm not sure why it happened, exactly. I can only guess that something must have finally occurred to Ron. I think... I know this sounds odd Harry, but I think he's only now just figured out how serious, how dire, everything is. I'm guessing something happened during his training, because he seemed so very urgent about everything."

She picked up her glass and began swirling. Harry continued to sit in silence, his chest growing tighter and tighter.

"We'd nearly made it to the dungeons before he worked up the nerve. I could tell something was off, because he's not usually that quiet. But we'd stopped near one of the tapestries, and that's... that's when he told me. Did you... did you know?" She was staring into the fire again, as was Harry, neither one looking at each other.

His mouth was dry, but he responded.

"I... I suspected. I think... I think everyone did."

"Apparently you're right, because, according to Ron, not only does everyone seem to know that he fancies me, but apparently they all expect us to be together."

"Y-you and Ron?"

"Exactly. Me and Ron." Her voice had gone flat. "Doesn't anyone realize... Harry... there is a war going on around us. A WAR! So why is it that apparently the only thing some people talk about is how I'm somehow expected to be with Ron?! As if that's the most important thing in the world right now!"

"Er... "

"I know that we do the best we can to pretend that everything's normal. And that's really great. We need that. But for some things, it's just," she sighed. "Some things simply aren't more important than what we're facing. And as much as it hurts, some things simply have to be sacrificed in the name of the greater good." She swallowed the remainder of her brandy.

"Your integrity?"

"And wants," she murmured, then closed her eyes and drew a deep breath as the liquor settled warmly in her stomach. "I shouldn't be talking to you about this." Her voice was low, almost a whisper.

"But you are. And I," he swallowed painfully, thankful she wasn't looking straight at him. "I want to listen."

She took another deep breath, then set her glass down. She drew up her knees and hugged them, locking her stare on the dying fire before continuing.

"He said that he'd finally come to realize how little time we may all have, and that he didn't want to waste that time anymore. He told me he'd had feelings for me for a long time now, and when... when I told him I suspected, well, I think he just expected me to fall into his arms or something."

Harry was utterly confused. He wanted to ask what actually did happen, but she took a breath and continued.

"I told him... I felt I had to tell him that now wasn't the time. He wasn't too terribly happy about that. He began arguing that everyone else can see how we belong together, why couldn't I see that as well, so I," she sighed, "I had to lie to him Harry."

"You... you're upset because you lied to him?" Harry imagined that only someone like Hermione would be so distraught by having to lie to someone. But the thought that Hermione didn't want to be with Ron on that level made Harry feel loads better, if not a bit guilty for the relief it brought him at Ron's expense.

"I told him that I wouldn't commit to anything, wouldn't make any declarations whatsoever in regards to my feelings, because I felt that doing so would be admitting that I think we're going to fail. Oh, I said it in more words than that, and some part of me believes it, but that isn't... well, it isn't the whole truth."

"If he had accepted that, I don't think I'd feel so horrible right now. But then... then he asked me if there was... someone else. And when I said no, he didn't believe me at first."

"At first? You mean... is there someone else?" That cold feeling of dread returned.

She sighed, then tucked her head down while still hugging her knees.

"We both know how... how volatile Ron can be sometimes. How passionate. I just didn't think... no, that's not right... I knew. I knew that if I told him I didn't want to be with him like that, it would do completely irreparable damage to the three of us right now. There are more important things at the moment, things that are required of the three of us, that are expected of us, and I felt that I couldn't risk that in the face of this war we're fighting. I didn't have faith in him, and I didn't have faith in us as friends, to tell him the truth. But what's worse is that I lied to him so completely and effectively, and I never thought I'd ever have to do that to one of my best friends."

She sighed again, then continued.

"You know how we've been studying occlumency and leglimency? How Dumbledore figured it'd be a good idea, since we're so close to you," she paused, her voice muffled. "He didn't believe me, Harry. So I... I told him he could 'look' for himself."

Harry had never willingly allowed someone to read his thoughts via occlumency, but from the few times it had been done by force, he knew it was something rather intimate.

"I let him look into my head, into my thoughts, because I knew I could convince him that way. I knew that I could twist what he was seeing into what he wanted to see," she was sobbing now. "I manipulated my best friend. When did I become the type of person who... who could do that to someone?" Her small body was shaking as she cried.

"Hermione," he scooted closer to her, then placed his hand gently on her shoulder in an effort to calm her. She looked up at him, her face red with tears.

"Harry, this... all of this... it's turning me into someone else. And I shouldn't... it isn't right to talk to you about this, because you're dealing with this on a much larger scale. It's just... I've spent so long pushing aside what I wanted for the need of the greater good, and it's never been a problem before. But now... now I've had to manipulate my best friend. The things I want... the things I need to protect and keep to myself... it's made me lie and manipulate and what good can come of it? I've sacrificed my wants and now my integrity all in the name of the greater good, and I can't... it isn't who I want to be. It's who I need to be, and I'm just... I don't know that I'll even like the person I'll be by the end of all this."

"Hermione... I understand. Really, I do."

"I know you do - you've so much to deal with and it's just ridiculous of me to put this on you. I'm so sorry Harry," she sniffed.

"Don't be, Hermione. Don't ever be sorry that you talked to me. You're my best friend, and you've always been there for me."

"But you've so much..."

"I've always had 'so much', but you've always been there to help me. I should be able to do the same for you."

He conjured some tissues and handed them to her. She smiled, then wiped her eyes and nose before vanishing them.

"Thank you, Harry," and she scooted over and hugged him. "You've no idea how much it helps."

He hugged her back, absently smoothing her hair.

"But I've not really done anything."

She nestled against him as he adjusted his arm to drape over her shoulder.

"You've listened, and that's more than most have done. I just don't understand, Harry. How do you manage the... well, the crushing responsibility of it all? I'm horribly distraught because of a lie, and I can't imagine what you've had to do, how you've had to change, in the past few months."

He thought for a moment.

"It's... well, it's priorities I suppose. Putting what's most important for everyone overall in front of what," he looked at her, unnoticed, "what I want. I've had to learn to listen and think before rushing off, to realize that what I want may not be in everyone's best interest. I mean, what else is there to do, Hermione? The fight with Voldemort has to come first, and only when we've defeated him, that's when we can worry about the rest."

She gave a soft laugh.

"And when exactly did you become so wise?"

"Well, I've had help," he smiled.

And they sat like that for a moment, wearing faint smiles and enjoying the silence.

"Harry," her voice sounded small. "Do you suppose I did the right thing? I mean, the wrong thing, but for the right reasons?"

He closed his eyes, then sighed.

"I think... I think if you'd just told Ron 'no', that he would have always doubted your reasons. If he thought there was someone else, then I don't know how he'd react, and I don't know if he'd be able to set it aside if you needed to work together. I... I think you did what you thought was best Hermione, even if you're not happy that you did it."

She placed her hand on his chest, just over his heart.

"Thank you," she sighed in relief. Another moment passed before Harry spoke.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Is... is there someone else?"

She was quiet for a minute, and Harry could almost swear she was holding her breath.

"You know how I thought Ron might not be able to understand, if I told him there was?"

Harry didn't say anything, and she continued.

"I didn't think he'd be able to accept the fact that I didn't feel that way about him - that I didn't fancy him in return. I don't think he could accept that and still be capable of being friends with me, at least, not quickly enough."

She took a deep breath.

"But... I...I could. If someone... if they didn't feel the same way I did about them, I'd be able to still be friends with them. I could still fight by their side, because even if... even if they didn't love me like that, I'd still love them, and I'd still die to keep them safe."

She sat up a bit, and tilted her head to look at him.

"He was right about one thing - we don't know how much time we all have left, and we should live it to the fullest. Do... do you believe that Harry?"

Harry swallowed. She was much too close, and he could see the flecks of firelight in her eyes. His arm still draped over her, and his hand felt cool and clammy.

"I, Hermione, I don't know what's in store for any of us. There's already been so much... I mean, we've lost so many...," he closed his eyes, and focused on her question. "Yeah... yeah, I do..."

"Because, there is someone else... and if... if he didn't feel the same way, I... I'd understand."

"Y-you would?"

"Yes... because there's already so much he has to deal with... so much responsibility. But, I need to tell him. I need him to know that... that I love him. That I've loved him for a long, long time now. And even if he doesn't, even if he can't, feel the same way, I won't let that change anything."

"Hermione," he could see the tears welling in her eyes. But then she placed her hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing his eyes closed beneath his glasses. She laid a warm and gentle kiss on his lips - soft, but with the slightest bit of urgency, of fear. He could feel her lips tremble against his, and then all too soon it was over, and her forehead rested against his.

"Just once, Harry, I wanted you to know that you're loved, that I love you, and I always will, no matter what." She kissed him again lightly on his forehead, then quickly pulled from his embrace and stood up.

Harry was in such a state of shock, of delirium, that it took him a moment to process what had happened. By the time he opened his eyes, Hermione was already halfway to the door.

"Wait," he cried, then ran after her. "Hermione," he laid a hand on her shoulder, and could feel her trembling, "what... what just happened?"

"Harry, please," she turned around and smiled. "You don't have to say anything, really. I... I understand. I just wanted you to know... I thought you should kno..."

He kissed her back. Not with gentleness, but with longing and urgency. In that moment he forgot every reason he ever had for not admitting his feelings - for not acting on his feelings - until now. She'd removed his fear and now, now he could show her everything he'd been hiding, suppressing, for all this time.

He leaned into her, his kisses becoming broken and erratic with desire, and she could only gasp in surprise before kissing him back.

He found her mouth again, his tongue licking past her lips until she opened them, sighing into him. He tasted her, still in unbelievable shock at what was happening. But every rational thought had fled, replaced with a stark need to be with her.

He searched, trying to find that distinct taste that was simply her, and for a moment he thought he'd found it, then realized it was the brandy...

...the brandy...

Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, and this time it was Hermione who had her eyes closed in delirium. Her head was tilted back, waiting for him to return. He held her shoulders, in awe of her sudden overwhelming beauty - her lips slick and swollen, her hair thrown back from her flushed face. Her dressing gown had started to come undone, and he could see the blue silk straps of her nightgown.

He did his best to once again push aside his desire, desperate to find his rationality. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, confused.

"Harry?" There was uncertainty in her eyes, and as much as he wanted to kiss her again, he had to know.

"Hermione, tell me... tell me it isn't the brandy, or... or pity. Please, tell me. I need to hear.. tell me it's me... that it's just me."

"Oh, Harry," she touched his cheek gently, then removed his glasses. She set them down, then lightly grasped his face with both hands. She was merely an inch from him now, his vision of her clear even without his glasses.

"Maybe it gave me the courage, but never the desire. I've had that for ages now. I can barely recall a moment that I've known you that I haven't loved you in some way. But Harry, this... it scares me how much I... how much I need you. Just you."

"But," his brow furrowed, "Hermione, why? Why me?"

And a smile of disbelief played on her lips.

"Don't you know?" She searched his face, looking for some sign of understanding, and realized sadly that he didn't understand at all. "Well no, I don't suppose you would. Not with those awful people that raised you and then this ridiculous burden you have to shoulder."

She fixed him with her stare, willing him to hear and comprehend what she had to say.

"Harry, even with that... with all of that, you're still the most amazing person I know. Even before Hogwarts, despite what those awful people did to you, you still became this wonderful person. You have so much compassion and courage - things that are just a part of you, no matter how hard they tried to take that away. You fought every single day to become the person your parents wanted you to be, whether you knew it or not. Never mind the magicks and the destiny and the prophecy - Harry, you're simply the best person I, or anyone else, could ever hope to know. How... how could I not love you?"

Large tears fell from her eyes, and she had to keep blinking to clear her vision. But her gaze never strayed from his.

"It's never been about the scar or the fame or the destiny - it's just been you. Simply you."

And then she kissed him, doing her level best to imbue the importance and sincerity of her words.

"I love you, Harry," she breathed between kisses, "just for you."

And for Harry, it was the answer he never knew he was searching for.

His arms wound tight around her body, clutching as if he never meant to let her go. Her arms encircled his neck, and he lifted her slightly off the ground as she moaned against him.

They continued this way, gasping for air between kisses and moans. Eventually they found their way back to the sofa, where Hermione pulled back from him and shrugged off her dressing gown. She stood before him, her blue silk nightgown clinging in all the right places. She removed his tie and Harry quickly shrugged off his robes and kicked off his trainers before they both fell on the sofa together. He hovered over her, then began pressing soft kisses along the column of her neck. She squealed ever so slightly, and the way her body was shifting against him sent a warm rush of tingles over his skin.

He pulled back a bit to look at her, and an unmistakable blush reddened her cheeks. She was biting her lip, a nervous grin playing on her face.

"Is... is something wrong?"

She glanced around the room, a near perfect replica of her parent's study, and Harry's eyes followed.

"You'll think it's silly," she whispered, "but I feel as if my father's going to walk in at any moment."

He laughed softly, his head pressed into the crook of her neck. He could feel the slight tremors as she began to laugh as well.

It felt so good to laugh.

Silence fell as their laughter subsided, and Hermione slowly pushed Harry back as she sat up. When he was sitting up as well, she made her way towards him and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her brow was knit in concentration as she deliberately focused on each and every button. She pushed his dress shirt off his shoulders, then pulled his undershirt free from his trousers. As soon as her hands made contact with his torso underneath, Harry immediately pulled the shirt over his head and threw it into some unknown corner of the room.

She sat kneeling on the couch, her hands smoothing over his chest as she admired him. It was Harry's turn to blush as she studied him so intently, her hands moving deliciously slow as she felt every curve and plane of him. Her hands smoothed up and over his shoulders and arms, then back again as she memorized him, and then suddenly it wasn't the palms of her hands anymore. Suddenly it was her fingernails raking lightly across his chest, and the abrupt shock of sensation caused him to moan and arch his back. His eyes rolled back into his head as her nails left trails of fire in their wake.

A smile lit up her face then, watching Harry react so viscerally to her. She reached out to do it again, and gasped when he grabbed her wrist.

"Don't... too much," he warned, his eyes still closed.

He didn't notice her smirk as he released her wrist.

Harry's head was tilted back, and though he could feel her shift on the sofa, he wasn't prepared for what she did next. All he knew was that his head was swimming and dazzling bursts of color were spotting his vision.

She had taken both hands, and started at his waistband. In a flurry of movement, she raked them both up his chest, causing him to arch and moan loudly, and when he did, she straddled him, fastening her warm mouth onto his neck, delightfully suckling a particularly sensitive spot (and he had never realized exactly how sensitive his skin could be until now). The cool satin of her nightgown pressed against his chest while she playfully scratched at his back, tickling and teasing. He gripped her tighter as she continued to suckle and tease, and he was certain by now she could feel the distinct effect she was having on him. When she finally released him, she pulled back and looked at him, and a huge grin spread across her face.

"What," he smiled back at her, breathless.

"Love bite," she exclaimed, then attempted to leave a matching one on the other side of his neck. He defended himself by flinging her onto her back and marking her in the same way, despite her squeals of protest, which slowly became moans and murmurs.

When he pulled back to inspect his work, her face was flushed and her eyes dark with desire. Her hand drifted up to the mark she'd left on him, her fingers tracing it softly.

"Are you mine, Harry," she whispered, her eyes locking with his.

And he realized in that moment that he'd always been hers. Some part of him had always belonged to her.

"Yes," he murmured.

"Do you... could you, love me?"

"I... I don't know, Hermione." He could see the tears begin to well in her eyes. "I know that you're the most important person in my life. I know that I'd die to protect you and that I never, ever want to see you unhappy."

"But," she blinked away more tears, "you could probably say the same thing about Ron."

"Hermione, when you told me before that you'd done something with Ron, I felt like a part of me was being slowly strangled. My chest hurt, and I didn't know why. I can't tell you that I love you, although I think I do, because... because I don't know for certain what love is. I... I have no memory of love. But I do know that I couldn't live without you. If anything happened to you, then there would be nothing left for me, not even Ron. Is that... is that love?"

All Hermione could do was nod.

"Then, I love you Hermione." He touched the mark he'd left on her, his fingers tracing her neck. "Does this mean... are you mine as well," he asked, his eyes large and hopeful.

She came to him, the tip of her tongue licking against his lower lip, drawing his open mouth to hers. She was slow and deliberate, building a painful thread of delight and tension within him. When she finally released him, he was breathless.

"Always. I've always been yours, Harry," she smiled. "And right now, all that matters in the world is you and me, and how we belong to each other."

"And nothing else?" He looked at her, volumes of questions in his eyes... Ron? Voldemort? His destiny? The fate of the wizarding world?

"And nothing else," she assured.

He kissed her then, a wealth of emotion pouring out of him. She matched him, writhing and opening beneath him, giving him love and compassion and sanctuary.

And nothing else mattered.

************

Written in a time of blissful ignorance - Friday, July 15th... ah, the simple days. This was my way of coping with the bated breath we were all holding then. You see, I had actually managed to avoid each and every spoiler, so I didn't have the faintest clue as to what was coming - the utter carnage of the Hermione that we all knew and loved from the first five books. The unholy fruition of OBHWF. The character assassination required for it to come to pass.

And so, in hindsight, I can't help but laugh at the irony of this ficlet. The fact that I have Hermione freaking out because she lied... the fact that she's so worried about the person she's becoming in the face of war...

Hell - if she only knew then what we all know now...

Oh well, I don't care if people think I'm delusional. Hell, most had thought that already! However, I'm apparently both militant and illiterate for giving a certain author much more credit than she deserved - thinking she was building up this fantastic subtext into a rich and brilliant relationship - WTF was I thinking?! But you know, finding out it was all accidental - it just makes it all that much cooler! We discovered utter genius in something meant to be mundane, accidental brilliance between two characters who made a profound connection that WAS NEVER MEANT TO HAPPEN! How wonderful is that?!

So yeah, I'm still aboard, even if it requires scuba gear to be on deck!!

-Tara