Best Friend With Benefits

Elessar1201

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 14/09/2005
Last Updated: 14/09/2005
Status: completed

Hermione has sworn to make sure Harry has anything he needs...anything.

Chapters

1. One Shot

1. One Shot

Benefits

You're too important for anyone

You play the role of all you long to be

But I, I know who you really are

It was going to be the longest week of my life.

I knew it the first day we were there. We got off the train at King's Cross, and Harry's aunt and uncle were there, and that horrible cousin of his.

They looked at us in horror, as though we were filthy or diseased or asking them for money. I glanced at Harry, but he just shrugged. I have since learned that that's the way they look at everything, but especially anyone who has anything to do with the magical world. Harry tensed, then squared his shoulders and strode toward them.

Ron and I followed, dragging our trunks with us.

“This is Ron and Hermione,” Harry said shortly. “They're my friends, and they'll be staying with us.”

Mrs. Dursley gasped as though he had used the worst swear words imaginable, and Mr. Dursley turned a dangerous shade of purple before wagging a fat finger in Harry's face. That Dudley scooted around behind his father. Ron snorted in disgust.

“Now see here, boy—” he began, but Harry grabbed his hand by the wrist and got up into his face.

“You see here,” he said. “We'll stay out of your way, I'll pay you for your expenses, and we'll be gone in a week. I promised Professor Dumbledore I'd come back, so I am, but nobody's taking my friends away from me.”

“Pay me?” Mr. Dursley said incredulously. “With what?”

“I've got money,” Harry said, turning away and picking up his trunk. Ron and I followed. It might have been a bit rude, but I couldn't think of anything to say to the Durselys, anyway.

“You've got money?” Mr. Dursley bellowed, waddling along behind us. “Then you owe me for more than just one week, boy!”

Harry stopped short, and Ron and I had to swerve to avoid running into him. “I've got enough money,” he said slowly, and I could tell he was only just coming to this realization, “to pay you for seventeen years of room and board, and not even miss it.”

Mr. Dursley turned an alarming shade of purple and a strange gurgling noise started in his throat. Honestly, I'm surprised he hasn't had a heart attack yet. He is not a healthy man.

“And by the way,” Harry said, and now he was grinning. He glanced at me and Ron quickly, then back at all three of his relatives. “I can't do magic for another month—”

“Damn right, you can't—” Mr. Dursley began, but Harry cut him off.

“But Hermione and Ron are both seventeen already,” he said, “and can do all the magic they want.”

Mrs. Dursley drew in a shocked breath, and big bulky Dudley began to back away from us. Ron rolled his eyes again, but I just smiled brightly at them. Harry turned on his heel, picked up the end of his trunk, and left the five us to follow him. Ron and I did so gladly, though the Dursleys did only after glancing around the station for any other possible option.

There was an awkward moment when we tried to divide up bedrooms, but it was easily enough settled when I took the guest room, and Ron conjured a camp bed in Harry's room. I didn't like that Dudley's room was between me and my boys, but I took comfort in the obvious fact that Dudley didn't like it, either.

Most of the week varied between awkwardness and hostility. At least, between us and the Dursleys. The first night we were there, I made the mistake of entering Mrs. Dursley's kitchen and offering to help with dinner. I have never actually had knives thrown at me before, but now I know that a Shield Charm does indeed repel them. Every situation offers opportunities for learning.

During the days, it was the three of us. Ron and I had backed away from our relationship. It made me a bit sad, because it had taken us so long to finally admit that we had feelings for each other. I still had them, and so did Ron, but they had to go on the back burner. We both had to put Harry first, and we understood that Harry was going to be the center of our lives for a while. And, perhaps a bit strangely, that was all right. We didn't resent Harry for it; in fact, it felt right and proper that for now, at least, he should come first. Ron and I had an unspoken agreement that since Harry was the one who had to do the really hard stuff, we'd do whatever we could, anything at all in our power, to make sure Harry had whatever he needed.

Breakfast the second day was full of muttering and grumbling. I read the Daily Prophet while Mr. Dursley read the London Times and growled any time Ron or Harry asked me a question about something in the paper. Mrs. Dursley served us each one piece of toast, and while Harry didn't seem to think anything of this, I saw Ron gaze wistfully at the plates full of bacon and potatoes in front of Dudley and Mr. Dursley.

Finally Harry put down his napkin and made to stand up, but Mrs. Dursley was there in a flash.

“You're not stepping a foot out of this kitchen until these dishes are cleaned up!”

Harry snorted and turned to Ron. “Listen, mate, would you wash up the dishes while I go grab some money?”

Ron gave a positively wicked smile. “Be glad to, mate. Wouldn't want my mum to find out I hadn't pulled my weight…”

I smothered a laugh as Ron flicked his wand at the dishes. Instead of doing it quickly and efficiently, he moved one dish at a time, sending it flying, twirling, looping, and dancing through the air to the sink. I was trying not to laugh, but it was impossible. Before long I was clutching my sides and gasping for breath. Ron even dropped a plate right in front of Mrs. Dursley; it shattered on the kitchen floor, but before she could be properly outraged, he had magically repaired it. Mrs. Dursley simply put a weak hand to her forehead and sank into a chair, while Mr. Dursley sat watching in purple-faced rage until he stomped out of the kitchen and out the front door.

Harry came back to the kitchen with his money bag and watched Ron's show with a grin on his face. I was grateful to Ron for knowing how to make Harry smile, but I couldn't help a little pang of wistfulness. I sometimes wish I had that gift.

“Ready to go?” Harry said from the doorway when Ron finally sent the last dish, magically cleaned and dried, into the cupboard.

“Yes!” I said, relieved to be getting out of there. Ron and I followed him out. Once the door was closed behind us and we were away from the house, I said, “I expect she'll get out every one of those dishes and wash them again.”

Harry laughed, and Ron looked affronted. “They're clean! I learned from my mum, after all!” We walked along together, alert but enjoying each other's company, until Ron said tentatively, “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate to be a demanding houseguest, and my mum would kill me if she found out, but I'm starving, mate! Any chance for a real breakfast?”

And that was our routine for most of the week. Ron or I would do the dishes, then we'd all go out to breakfast, go shopping, go to films—which Ron had never seen before—anything to keep our days occupied. We stayed away from the magical world, and we didn't talk about what would happen once this week was up. We couldn't entirely pretend that the problems facing us were gone; we were always being followed by a member of the Order, for example, and occasional Apparations or Disapparations would sound to remind us. But we enjoyed ourselves as much as we could in the little time we had to do it. It was only a week, after all.

On the fifth night we were there, Ron, Harry and I sat up in Harry's small bedroom playing Exploding Snap and Wizarding Chess. Well, they played, and I read, but it was comfortable. I was reading one of Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts books that Sirius and Professor Lupin had given him two Christmases ago; it was very advanced magic, and I was enjoying it immensely. Ron and Harry pretended they didn't notice me doing this, because it was too close to an acknowledgment of real life. I think it may have been making Harry tense, though; he kept glancing over at me and unconsciously rubbing his shoulders.

Suddenly we heard Mrs. Dursley scream from downstairs, then we heard more adult voices yelling. We jumped up and raced out of Harry's room and down the stairs, wands drawn and fearing the worst, but when we skidded into the parlor all we saw was Mrs. Weasley's head in the fireplace.

“Aunt Pentunia!” Harry said. “Shut up! I can't hear her!” Mrs. Dursley kept screaming, and Harry gave me a beseeching look.

“Sorry about this, Mrs. Dursley,” I said. I knew it was terribly rude to hex my hostess, but I waved my wand and muttered, “Silencio!” and Mrs. Dursley fell silent.

Mrs. Weasley sighed, but only said, “Thank you, dear.” Then she turned to Ron. “Ron, dear, I need you to come home for a bit.”

“What for?” Ron said.

“Well, everyone else is either working or on duty for the Order, and I've finally gotten Fleur to agree to spend the night with her parents in France,” Mrs. Weasley said. “They've been so worried about her. She hasn't left Bill's side since that awful werewolf attacked him and she does need a break, the poor dear. I need you and Ginny to take turns giving him his potion during the night. “

Beside me, Mrs. Dursley slid silently to the ground in a dead faint. We ignored her.

Ron glanced over at Harry. “Just for the night, though, right?”

“I'll be fine, mate,” Harry said, frowning. “Bill's the one that's hurt. You go, all right? We'll see you in the morning.”

Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a grateful look. Ron didn't seem convinced, but I said, “I'll Floo if anything happens, okay?”

Ron finally nodded, said, “See you in the morning, then,” closed his eyes tight and Disapparated.

I flicked my wand at Mrs. Dursley so that when she came to she'd be able to talk, though I had doubts about allowing her to do that. Harry and I walked back up the stairs, and from behind him I could see again the tension he was holding in his shoulders. He rolled them uncomfortably, and I could tell how hard the muscles beneath his t-shirt were.

We walked into Harry's room and shut the door. He ignored the scattered cards that had fallen to the floor when we had run downstairs, stepped over the little chess men still wrestling on the carpet, and flung himself on his bed. I sat down on Ron's bed and picked up the book I had been reading, but I was watching Harry at the same time. He sighed deeply, then pulled Quidditch Through the Ages out from under his bed.

“It's all right, you know,” I said quietly.

He glanced up at me over his book, and I think there was more embarrassment than surprise in his eyes. “What's all right?”

“That you're worried,” I said, shrugging. “You don't have to hide it from us.”

Harry looked away. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “Ron takes his cue from me. If I'm worried, he worries.”

He was exactly right about that, but I was surprised that he had noticed it. “Well, yes,” I admitted, and was pleased to see him smile slightly. “But not me, Harry. You can't hide your feelings from me even if you try. So don't bother to try, all right?”

He reached up and began to knead the muscles of his neck. “Yeah, all right.”

“Here,” I said in exasperation, setting my book down. “Let me do that.”

I knelt behind him on the bed. He dropped his hand and let his head hang so that I had access to his neck and shoulders. I placed my hands on his shoulders and just let them sit there for a minute. I had never touched Harry like this before; up to now it had only been friendly hugs and casual gestures. But this was different. His shoulders were so strong, and I could feel the solid muscles through the t-shirt. Suddenly my hands felt hot and tingly.

“Hermione?” Harry said when I didn't move.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, shaking my head. I began to rub his shoulders, pressing down to dig my thumbs deep into the tension, trying to unknot some of the knots. At one point he actually moaned, and it startled me so much I nearly stopped. I kept going because I didn't want him to feel self-conscious. I was here to help him, after all.

I leaned forward a bit to massage up the sides of his neck. I never noticed what a great neck he had, and when my fingers brushed against the stubble growing along his jaw, I actually shivered. What was the matter with me? This was Harry, for Merlin's sake, my best friend. And I was supposed to be interested in Ron.

“Hermione?” Harry murmured.

“Mmmm?” I said, leaning back to rub the center of his back again. I couldn't take that leaning forward any more; I was tempted to press my breasts against his back. I could smell him now, his skin, and it was making me edgy.

“What's up with you and Ron?” he asked, and I wondered if he had somehow read my mind. A flush was creeping up his neck; I knew he didn't like to ask personal questions like that. “I mean, did you work things out after Dumbledore's funeral?”

I moved my hands upward to rub his arms. God, they were strong. I think I was salivating. I blew out a breath of exasperation; who had flipped this switch inside my body?

Harry must have heard the little noise I made, because he raised a hand and said, “Sorry, none of my business…”

“Of course it is,” I said. “We did work things out, but we're not together. I mean, we're not a couple. Not right now.”

He blew out a breath. “It's because of me, isn't it?”

“No,” I said calmly. “It's because of circumstances. You're not to blame for the circumstances.”

“So you broke up?”

“Rather like you did with Ginny,” I reminded him.

“Huh,” was all he said. “I wish you hadn't. I want—well, I want you to be happy.”

“I know,” I said. I kept my voice gentle, even though I was starting to get angry. I knew this man a lot better than he thought I did. “You think everyone has a right to be happy.”

“Well, they do—” he said, raising his head.

I shoved it back down and massaged his neck roughly. “Everyone but you, right?”

He started to speak, but stopped. He rested his forehead in his hand and said, “I can't think about that right now. I can't think about myself.”

“I know that,” I snapped. I stopped massaging and sat on the bed next to him. “That's why I'm here, and Ron. To think of you when you won't think of yourself.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “What are you thinking of me right now?”

“That you're a great stubborn prat,” I said sullenly.

He smiled and turned his body so he was sitting flush next to me. Suddenly I didn't feel so sullen any more.

“You know what I miss?” he said. “About being with Ginny?”

“What?”

“I don't—” He was blushing again, so I just waited. “I don't want you to think I was using her, because I really did like her…”

“I would never think that,” I said seriously. As if.

“But when we were together…you know…”

“Snogging?”

“Yeah,” he said, “or, whatever…I felt better.” He paused, trying to find words. Describing his feelings was not Harry's strong suit, so I waited some more. “I mean, I felt like I wasn't so alone…it just felt good to touch someone. And I was…I don't know…less tense or something after…”

He trailed off, leaving me wondering just how far he and Ginny had gone. I always thought it was just snogging, that Harry would never shag Ron's sister, no matter how much he liked her.

“Did you shag her?” I asked bluntly.

He turned bright red and scowled at me, and it was so cute I wanted to kiss him.

“No,” he said. “But, we did some other things…” Then he raised his eyebrows. “I can't believe we're talking about this. You won't tell Ron, will you?”

“No,” I said. “Anyway, Ginny would kill me if I did. But you don't have that—that outlet any more. Do you miss it?”

He shrugged and looked away. He wouldn't admit it, he'd never admit he wanted something he couldn't have, but I wasn't stupid. I'd read a lot about this, and I knew there was nothing like a good shag to ease a bloke's tension.

I was starting to feel a bit tense myself.

“Does your neck feel better?” I asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said. “Almost as good as—”

I raised an eyebrow, but he didn't finish the sentence. I was well aware he was going to say something like, “Almost as good as getting a blow job,” or some other such disgusting male thing. That thought made me salivate again, and I sat on my hands because I suddenly wanted to touch him so badly.

I was definitely tense. “The thing is, Harry,” I began conversationally, “there just aren't that many ways open to us to relieve tension, are there?” Oh my God oh my God oh my God. I couldn't believe I was going to do this.

But hadn't Ron and I both said that we'd do anything to help Harry, to keep him from worrying too much, to take care of anything that was bothering him? There were things that I could do that Ron couldn't…things that would make Harry feel happy and relaxed, at least for a while, and wasn't that worth just about anything?

“No, I guess not,” he answered. “If we were at Hogwarts I could go flying, but there really isn't anything to do here.”

“Why don't—” My throat went dry, so I cleared it before trying again. “Why don't I rub your back some more?”

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised. “Er, all right.”

“Lie down.”

I got up for a minute and he stretched out on the bed. The muscles of his back and rear end flexed as he settled in. I took a deep breath, then climbed up on top of him.

“Hermione!” he said, trying to turn around.

“Sorry,” I said with as innocent a smile as I could manage. “I can't reach you properly unless I do this.” Unless I straddle your hips and squeeze you between my thighs…I closed my eyes for a moment, trying once again to get back under control.

I started at his shoulders, rubbing methodically, trying to relax him. Slowly I moved down his spine, massaging the well-defined muscles on either side. Finally I reached the waistband of his jeans. I hesitated, and let my hands linger there for a minute.

“It's really not the same, is it?” I asked.

“No,” he mumbled into the pillow. “But it's good.”

“Harry,” I said, gathering all my courage. “Take your shirt off.”

A pause. “What?”

“I know it's good, but I can make it better,” I said. “Take your shirt off.”

I got off him and let him sit up. He looked at me suspiciously, but removed both his glasses and his shirt. He went to lie down on his stomach again, but I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. His bare, hard shoulder.

“Lie on your back,” I said.

So he did. In just his jeans. He folded his arms behind his head and looked up me curiously, squinting slightly. He looked like a Playwitch model. He looked perfect.

And tense…

“Harry,” I said, sitting down beside him. I rested a hand on his smooth chest, and I thought it would burn me. He was frowning slightly now. “I know we're friends, and I don't ever want that to change. But that doesn't mean we can't help each other… er… relieve some tension.”

He stared at me for a long time. “What are you talking about?”

I was usually good at explaining things, but I wasn't sure I could articulate this. I closed my eyes, let go of the ball of tension in my belly, and tried not to think. I wasn't very good at not thinking, but I tried to follow my instincts.

Bracing myself on his strong chest, I bent down and kissed the skin next to it. At first I kept my lips closed, but he smelled so good, so Harry, that I couldn't resist opening my mouth a little and tasting his skin. I moaned, just a little, and my breath came a little faster.

“Hermione?” he said, his voice shaky. I didn't answer, but kissed higher up his chest until I got to his neck. Slowly his hands came up and rested on my waist. He had such big, strong hands.

Suddenly he pulled me up so that my face was level with his. One of those big hands was on the back of my head and he pushed me down to him into a fierce, hot kiss.

Oh, God, I thought. I had never felt anything like that. All the intensity that I knew was inside him, all the focus and energy I'd seen him give to other things, he was now pouring into that kiss. I felt like the Golden Snitch in a high-stakes Quidditch match, like I was the only thing that mattered to him at that moment. He slid his mouth across mine, running his tongue over my lips and getting them wet. I was no novice at kissing, but this raw, almost desperate heat was new to me.

I clung to his shoulders and returned his kiss with everything I had in me. And I guess I had more in me than I knew, because the more I kissed him, the more the desperation grew in me, too. I squeezed his shoulders and rubbed the palms of my hands over his chest. My hands were hot, burning. The more skin I felt, the more I wanted to feel.

In one swift movement, Harry grabbed me and flipped me over. The world tilted and I had to cling to him, the only real thing in it, to keep from falling into space. Now he was half on top of me, and I could feel how hard he was. The bulge in his jeans was pressed against my leg, and I reached down and grabbed his arse to press it against me even harder. I squirmed; what I really wanted was to have my legs wrapped around his waist.

“You feel so good,” he panted against my throat. “I never knew…”

He was the one who felt good. His long legs were entwined with mine, his thigh pressed between my legs. I couldn't think, I could only feel his breath on my neck, his hard muscles under my hands, and his leg pushing against me, rubbing me even through my jeans. I started grinding against his leg, trying to increase the pressure. I didn't know what I was doing, only that I had to feel more of that.

“Oh, God, Hermione,” Harry moaned. He started grinding against me, our wrapped up legs holding each other close. I raised my head and bit his shoulder, then ran my tongue across the skin. He tasted so good, I could lick him everywhere. That seemed like a very good idea, actually, so I ran my tongue over every bit of skin I could reach, while I kept grinding against him.

I suddenly realized that his hand was sliding up under my shirt, and I shifted so that he could reach my breast. I wanted his hands on me, everywhere, and I instinctively pushed myself into his hand. He slid his rough palm over my nipple, then pinched me gently through the satin of my bra. I think I cried out, it was so intense. I thrust against his leg even harder, my body seeking a satisfaction I'd read about but never experienced. At least, not with another person.

I don't know what happened to my shirt or my bra, but I realized I was half naked when I felt Harry's mouth on me. He sucked me hard, laving his tongue back and forth across my nipple as he did. Between that, and the knee still rammed between my legs, I had no control over myself. I pressed against him until I came with my jeans still on.

I couldn't catch my breath, I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I have never felt so languid; it was like I had no bones, and I could only lie there pressed against Harry while waves of pleasure shocked through my body. Harry had stopped whatever he was doing to watch me, and once I came down I was a bit embarrassed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Mmmm…” I said. “Can't move.”

“Oh.”

“In a good way,” I offered in what I hoped was a helpful tone of voice. Another wave pulsed through me and I gasped. Finally, I took a deep breath and looked up at Harry. “Just give me a second, all right?”

“All right,” he said warily, still watching me. After a few seconds he said, “I was afraid I had hurt you.”

Had I been that loud? I wasn't paying attention to anything but how Harry was making me feel. “No,” I said, “not hurt. The exact opposite of hurt.”

It took a few minutes for me to be able to catch my breath. I sat up and kissed Harry on the mouth again, and this time it wasn't desperate, but deep and beautiful. I felt it all the way to the secret places of my heart, where I wanted to give him everything I had, anything he wanted. That desire was so intense it scared me a little; this wasn't supposed to be about love. I moved back and pushed him over onto his back again, the way we had started out. His dick was still straining against his jeans, and I ran my hand up and down its length. He thrust up into my hand, so I pressed harder. His fists clenched the bedsheets, but I took my time, experimenting with pressure and movement.

It wasn't exactly a real experiment, since he seemed to like everything. At one point I pressed my face to it, and he grabbed my head and pushed down, so that he was thrusting hard against my open mouth. I decided the jeans had to come off, and with a flick of my wand, they did.

Now we were both naked. My languid feeling was dissipating and I felt a new urgency to be close to him, to slide as much of my skin over as much of his skin as I could. But his dick was now standing straight up, and I couldn't take my eyes off it. It seemed big to me, but I didn't have anyone else's to compare it with. I reached out a hand and grasped it, and Harry sucked in his breath.

That was an interesting reaction. I squeezed it, and he moaned. The sound sent shivers through me, and I could feel myself getting wet again.

“This is really a wonderful thing, Harry,” I said, utterly sincerely. I slid my thumb across the tip.

He gave a breathless laugh. “Thanks,” he said. “I like it.”

“So do I,” I said. I ran my hand up and down it, cupping his balls, squeezing him lightly, loving the way he reacted to every little touch. My breath was coming faster; I couldn't get enough of touching him like this.

“Hermione,” Harry panted. His neck and face were red, but I didn't know if that was from the exertion or something else. “Could you—” He paused and licked his lips, and now I knew the flush was from embarrassment.

“What, Harry?” I said, feeling daring. I bent over and kissed his belly and his hip. “What do you want?”

“Could you…kiss it?”

I went still, imagining it. “Kiss it?”

“I mean…er, suck it?”

My mouth started to water. Slowly I kissed my way over to his dick, feeling it rub against me as I moved. I kissed my way across his nest of hair and up the side of his shaft. Then I licked around the head. Harry closed his eyes and bit his lip. Finally, I lowered my mouth over the whole thing.

I couldn't fit it all in my mouth, not by a long shot, so I wrapped one hand around the bottom half. I sucked him and let him slide through my hand and thrust into my mouth. Oh, God, this was good. Harry moaned, but I was moaning, too. Sometimes he thrust hard and I gagged a little, but not because I didn't like it. I liked it a lot. I liked seeing Harry losing control like that, knowing that I was the one who made him so hot.

“Hermione,” he said, “stop, stop.” His hands fumbled trying to push my head away, off his dick.

“Why?” I asked. “I like it.”

“I do, too,” he said, “but I don't want to end it that way.” He sat up and reached for me, pulling me onto his lap for another deep kiss. Soon his hands returned to my breasts and before long I was writhing against him again. He lifted me and took my nipples in his mouth, one after the other, while I tried to wrap my legs around his waist. I was going completely wild again, and when I felt his hand slide between my legs, I actually cried out.

But then he flipped me again. God, he was so strong. All I knew was that I had to cling to him, had to keep pulling him closer, I had to get closer to him. He wrapped his arms around me and put himself between my thighs. The head of his dick slid between my folds, and then he thrust hard and was inside. I gasped. He filled and stretched me, and it was the most incredible thing I had ever felt.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, holding himself still. “Does it hurt? I heard—”

“No, it doesn't hurt,” I said. “It's fine.”

“Good,” Harry said, dipping his head to kiss me. I wished he hadn't, because it was such a sweet gesture, I began to feel things I promised I wouldn't. But he began to thrust slowly into me, and all thoughts were driven out. Once again I clung to him, knowing that there would never be anything in the world like the feeling of him inside me. Faster and faster he thrust, until I changed the rhythm and came again. He murmured in my ear—I don't even know what he was saying, but it pushed me over the edge. He followed me over, and I held him as close as I could as he went utterly tense, then pumped himself inside me with that air of desperation I often felt from him. Finally he collapsed on top of me, as boneless and drained as I was.

I could have lain there forever, stroking his back while he nuzzled into my neck. It was one of the sweetest moments of my life, and I knew that while I had wanted to do something for Harry, he had given far more to me. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but he already knew that. And it would be a burden for him to hear it now.

“Harry?”

“Unhh…” The great prat was half asleep.

“That was amazing,” I said quietly. “I'm really glad we did that.”

He raised his head and glanced sleepily at me. “Are you?”

“Yes,” I said. “And if you wanted to do it again some time, that would be all right.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Give me a few minutes.”

I punched him lightly on the shoulder. “I mean, we're still best friends, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, and I hated the wary tone that had come into his voice.

“We could be best friends with benefits,” I said. “That could be good.”

He looked relieved, and I felt a bit hurt that he was afraid I was going to start pushing for some sort of commitment or something. That wasn't what this was about.

“Yeah,” he said, “that could be really good.”

“But I don't think we should tell Ron.”

Harry frowned at me. “I thought you said—”

“I did,” I said. “We're not a couple. But he still might not like to hear about it.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “All right, then.” He paused for a moment looking, away from me, then said, “Hermione, that wasn't just about me being tense was it? I mean…I care about you…” This last was mumbled into my shoulder. “If things were different…”

I felt myself melting inside. He was giving me everything he could, and it was precious to me. “No, Harry, it wasn't just about that. I care about you, too.” I stroked his messy hair. Maybe some day things would be different.

He lay back down and rested his head on my chest. Before too long, his breathing evened out and his muscles relaxed, and I knew he had gone to sleep. I glanced down at his handsome face and tears welled up in my eyes. The world might be a dangerous place for us, and this week was going to be far too short. We would deal with that, the three of us together. But here, tonight, I was happy. I had made Harry Potter smile.

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