What You Need

Bingblot

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 14/11/2005
Last Updated: 14/11/2005
Status: completed

He should not have done that. He absolutely should not have kissed Hermione... But he had-- and now what was he supposed to do? One-shot.

Chapters

1. What You Need

1. What You Need

Disclaimer: Look at the ship—does this really sound like something JKR would write? Didn’t think so.

Author’s Note: Written for and posted at the fanfict00bs LJ community. One-shot.

What You Need

Oh God…

He could not have just done that. He should not have just done that. Why had he done that?

He had kissed her. He had kissed Hermione!

He should not have done that…

He absolutely should not have done that.

He tried to remember, tried to pinpoint the exact moment when he should have just left or stopped—but he couldn’t. Oh he knew he shouldn’t have kissed her; it had been the one thing he’d promised himself he would never do (again, that is) but he couldn’t have helped it. He’d come across her in the middle of a nightmare as he wandered the halls of Grimmauld Place where they had set up a temporary base while searching for the horcruxes; she’d been crying, making small pitiful noises as she tossed and turned in her sleep; how could he have not woken her up and then comforted her? And so he had…

“Hermione,” he shook her shoulder gently. “Hermione, wake up. It’s okay…”

She awoke with a tiny start, her eyes wide, lost, until she saw him and before he could react, she had thrown herself at him, clutching him tightly around his waist, her face buried in his shoulder. “Oh Harry, you’re alright. You’re alright…”

He put his arms around her automatically, patting her back rather awkwardly. He didn’t know what to do with a crying Hermione in his arms; he had never been comfortable with crying girls, not since Cho in 5th year and had never even imagined that one day Hermione would break down and cry like this… He felt an odd pain in his chest as he heard her muffled sobs and felt her body shake from the force of her emotion. This was Hermione, the vague thought crossed his mind; she, of all people, should never have to cry like this…

“Sshhh, it’s okay. I’m okay. It was only a nightmare,” he murmured softly, not quite knowing what he was saying but needing to say something to comfort her. “It’s okay. I’m here. I won’t leave you…”

It was a few minutes before her sobs subsided and she let go of him.

She managed a watery, trembling smile. “I’m better now. I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Sorry, for what?”

“For crying all over you like that. I- I didn’t mean to; I just- I just couldn’t help it. I- I dreamed you were dead…”

He stared at her. She was apologizing for crying—crying because she was afraid for him… “No,” he said. “It’s ok. I- I didn’t mind,” he finished rather lamely.

She smiled a small, grateful smile at him, tears still shining in her eyes.

Without conscious thought, he lifted his hand and wiped away the tears on her cheeks with a gentle finger. Their eyes met and held—and something happened. He didn’t know what, or why, but before he could think what he was doing, slowly, inexorably, he found himself leaning into her, closing the distance between their lips… Until his lips touched hers and he kissed her…

A gentle kiss, just enough for him to taste the saltiness of her tears on her lips, feel the softness of her mouth, the warmth of her…

Until he realized what he was doing and tore himself away with a gasp. “I’m sorry!” he croaked out and then he ran, panic giving speed to his feet. He needed to get away, needed to stop this…

Oh God, what had he done?

He had run to the farthest empty room in the house in his need to get away and all the while, the question, what had he done, echoed in his thoughts.

He had kissed Hermione. He had crossed that line you just don’t cross with your friends. He had broken his own promise to himself never to kiss her…

Not again. Not after the last time he had kissed her.

That time had been something of an accident too. They had gone to a cave that had been one of the Death Eaters hide-outs in the last war against Voldemort, on the chance that another horcrux might have been hidden there—and somehow, he didn’t know how, he and Ron and Hermione had gotten separated. He had suddenly realized he was alone in one of the tunnels and he didn’t remember when the last time he’d seen them had been. He’d panicked, running back through the tunnel, occasionally calling out their names, fear and a nameless apprehension and dread filling his mind. He had brought them into this; they had come here with him, because of him; he would never forgive himself if anything happened to either of them… He- he needed them; he needed to find them again…

It had seemed like forever before he had finally heard her voice, “Harry!” and saw her running towards him and had felt a surge of relief so powerful it had made him dizzy. He had hugged her hard when she came up to him and in the madness of the moment, in the sheer light-headedness of his relief, he’d kissed her, quick and hard, on the lips, before he’d drawn back, dismay at what he’d done breaking through the cloud of relief in his mind.

She’d stared at him, and he’d stared back—and who knew what would have happened if they hadn’t both heard Ron’s voice from down the other tunnel, “Harry! Hermione!”, and they had just had time to separate before they’d seen him.

Ron’s presence had effectively ended the moment and he’d deliberately pushed the kiss out of his mind until they’d finally left the cave and found themselves back at Hogwarts—where they had decided to stay, at least temporarily, while Hermione searched through the entire library for any clues as to the locations of the horcruxes. He had pleaded tiredness and left, not looking at Hermione—as, indeed, he had avoided looking at her and meeting her eyes the entire rest of the day after that kiss.

He had decided to dismiss the kiss from his mind, had nearly forgotten about it (except in odd, random moments when he’d find himself staring at Hermione’s mouth before he caught himself). It had been an accident; it had just been because he was so relieved to see her again; it had been a kiss of friendship, like the kisses on the cheek Hermione occasionally gave him. (Never mind that for some reason he could still remember the feel of her lips against his…)

It had been an accident—and he’d promised himself it would not happen again. It couldn’t happen again.

He couldn’t kiss Hermione; she was his best friend. And he didn’t think she liked him in that way, even if she and Ron weren’t dating, having gone back to their usual bickering friendship. She was his best friend. And that was that.

Besides, he still liked Ginny that way… Ginny, whom he hadn’t seen since Bill and Fleur’s wedding… Ginny, his first girlfriend… Ginny whom he really fancied… He had broken up with her for her own good but in the moments when he allowed himself to think of life after Voldemort, she was always part of it… It was the one thing he thought of as certain, if—when—Voldemort was defeated; he and Ginny could be together again…

So he had no business to be kissing Hermione, to even be thinking about kissing Hermione!

But he had—again. And now he didn’t know what to do.

He had kissed her—twice now.

But… but… he couldn’t! There was Ginny and- and… he just couldn’t! Hermione was his best friend!

What would this do to their friendship? He couldn’t stand it if things suddenly got awkward between him and Hermione… It was partly why he had been so determined that he would never kiss her, never let anything happen to change the comfortable friendship they had…

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it in aggravation. He absolutely should not have kissed her—but he hadn’t been able to help it either.

He let his head fall back against the wall he was leaning against, closing his eyes on a sigh.

He was going to have to face Hermione again soon; he could hardly avoid her when it was only the three of them—but just for now, he’d stay here and try to figure out how to act around her when he saw her again…

Maybe he should just act as if nothing had happened, as if the kiss had been an aberration and had meant nothing…

Maybe…

For a moment, he wished desperately that he could talk to Ron about this—talk to anyone about this. But there was no one. He couldn’t talk to Ron about having kissed Ron’s former girlfriend and best friend; he would rather live on Hagrid’s rock-cakes for a month than talk to Ron about his feelings for Ginny…

There was no one. He needed to figure this out on his own.

He was dreaming, he had to be.

There was no other way for him to be walking through grounds he knew, heading towards a spot he knew all too well, the lake at Hogwarts.

“Having some problems, Harry?”

He turned—and knew he must be dreaming. “Dad?”

James turned his head to grin at his son. “You really must be confused to have called me. What is it?”

“I- er-” Harry began uncertainly, “I don’t understand.”

“Oh don’t worry, Harry. I’m not a ghost or anything; you’ve just called me out of your subconscious as it were because you were worried and wanted to think it out—even in your sleep.” James paused and then continued, giving Harry a curious look. “So what is it?”

“I- IkissedHermione,” Harry blurted out very quickly in one breath, looking away.

James bit his tongue to keep from grinning. “And what’s the problem?”

Harry stared at his father. “What do you mean, what’s the problem? She’s my best friend! You don’t kiss your friends! And besides, there’s Ginny too and Ginny’s the girl I fancy…”

James frowned slightly. “Are you so sure about that? You did break up with her, you know and you haven’t seen her in months.”

“But that was to keep her safe. I- I’d still want to be with her if it weren’t for that. I- I was happy with her; I liked being with her…”

James looked thoughtful. “I think, Harry, you mean you liked snogging her. Do you really care about her that much, as a girl and not just as a friend and your best friend’s younger sister?”

“I- I think so,” Harry said wondering why he somehow couldn’t answer as positively as he felt he should be able to.

“Why do you care about her so much?” James asked.

“I- we get along. She’s fun and pretty and- and- she likes Quidditch as much as I do,” Harry finished lamely, for the first time beginning to wonder just why he did like Ginny. Why, after so many years of knowing her, had he started to fancy her? Was it really just because she had become so pretty and she was good at Quidditch? Was that really it?

“Harry, that—that’s what you say about a friend; it’s not a reason to care about a girl,” James spoke carefully as if unsure of Harry’s reaction.

“But…” Harry began and then stopped, not knowing what he could say to protest that. It was true—and he suddenly wondered what he had liked about Ginny other than snogging her…

“And Hermione? How do you feel about her?”

“She’s my best friend; of course I like her.”

“You care about her too, don’t you?”

“Of course. She’s always been my best friend, always been there for me. I- I couldn’t imagine my life without Hermione,” he answered automatically, not even needing to think about it.

James smiled to himself. “You know, Harry, I’ll tell you something I heard once and realized the truth of with your mother. It’s not about being with the girl you like to be with; it’s about being with the girl you need to be with.” He paused and then looked at Harry. “When you think about people you need, who do you think of?”

“Ron—and Hermione…” Harry answered slowly. “I think of Hermione…”

“Not Ginny?”

“Noooo,” he admitted, drawing the word out grudgingly.

James nodded. “And did you like kissing Hermione?”

Harry felt himself flush and looked away. “I- yes,” he admitted reluctantly.

Again, James had to stifle a smile. “Sometimes kisses really do happen by accident—and sometimes, sometimes they happen for a reason… I think, Harry, you need to think more seriously about your feelings for both Ginny and Hermione—and just why you’re so convinced it would be a disaster to acknowledge your kissing Hermione.”

Harry grimaced at his father. “That’s your advice? To think more? You’re not a very helpful person, are you?”

James grinned teasingly. “I don’t have to be. I’m your dad; you’re stuck with me.”

Harry finally cracked a smile. “Yeah, guess I am. Thanks, I think. I did want to talk about this to someone.”

“Even if the someone is basically your subconscious?”

“Even then.”

James smiled at Harry. “You’re doing okay, Harry. You’re doing okay. Your mum and I are proud of you.”

“I- thanks,” Harry said.

James nodded and slowly, he turned and walked away…

Harry awoke, opening his eyes slowly to the dim room feeling as if his mind had somehow been traveling without his body and he’d only just returned to it.

His mind still whirled in the same confused thoughts that he’d closed his eyes to. Ginny… Hermione… Ginny- his first, real girlfriend… Hermione- his best friend…

He remembered the days he and Ginny had had together, days that seemed like a dream when he thought about them now. He had been happy then. Didn’t that mean he and Ginny were meant to be together? Ginny, who was so pretty and- and so good at Quidditch…

And yet… It was true that he didn’t need her; he hadn’t even missed her much at all, had hardly thought of her in these last few months…

On thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure what had drawn them together…

He found himself thinking of Dumbledore’s funeral and telling Ginny they couldn’t be together—and how, well, easily, she had agreed. There had hardly been a protest at all. At the time he had rather appreciated it as it had made it all that much easier for him; he had thought of it as her understanding his thoughts and feelings. For the first time, he wondered if it meant something else, something less positive. Something like a lack of loyalty, he thought reluctantly, feeling guilty just for thinking it of her.

And also for the first time, he thought of Hermione and how she would have reacted if it had been her he had been breaking up with.

Immediately, he could hear her voice in his mind, intense, determined… Don’t talk nonsense, Harry. Don’t even think about going off alone to play the hero and leaving me behind; I’m not some helpless damsel in distress and you don’t need to protect me. I’m not going to let you go off alone. He knew the exact tone she would take, the implacable tone that said it would be pointless to argue with her. She wouldn’t have let him go; she would have insisted on coming with him, no matter what he said, as she had… He knew that, knew it as well as he knew his own name. Because he knew her, knew her loyalty and her courage…

She would never have let him go. Not like- not like Ginny had.

Hermione was—different, more loyal.

It’s not about being with the girl you like to be with; it’s about being with the girl you need to be with…

The girl he needed…

And that was Hermione.

Hermione was the girl he really cared about, the girl he wanted, needed, to be with… He suddenly knew that, was filled with a calm certainty that made him wonder how he could ever have been so uncertain about this.

It was Hermione he wanted, needed, to be with…

But that would make her a target.

Even as he thought it, his instinct, as always, to protect those he cared about, he knew that, for once, it didn’t matter. This was Hermione—and he couldn’t not care about her, wouldn’t not act on his feelings for her—because he knew that she knew what she’d be getting into and she could take care of herself. She had been with him for everything, was still with him now… And even if he didn’t believe in her ability to take care of herself (which he did; he, of all people, knew just how powerful and how smart she was), he knew she wouldn’t let him go.

He was, he thought, stuck with her—because he needed her and because she wouldn’t leave him. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He found her in her room. She wasn’t sleeping even though he’d half been expecting her to have gone back to sleep but she hadn’t.

She turned sharply when he came in and an odd expression, part uncertainty, part relief, part hope, part nervousness, crossed her face fleetingly when she saw him.

“Harry, I--” she began and then trailed off, looking unsure of herself and rather uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Hermione, I-” he began at the same moment and then stopped as they both exchanged weak smiles.

She gave him a look that told him to go first.

“I- I’ve been thinking,” he finally said, sitting down next to her, and then fell silent again, not knowing where to start or what to say.

He looked at her, his eyes studying her as if he’d never really seen her before, as memories from the past six and half years flashed through his mind like a series of pictures.

Her eyes faltered and she looked away finally, as awkwardness hung in the air between them. “Thinking about what?” she asked.

Slowly, he lifted a hand to touch her cheek, bringing her head up so he could see her eyes. “Thinking… about you, about us…”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly at that last word and he stopped again, in an agony of uncertainty and confusion as he just looked at her, not knowing what to say or how to express what he’d realized, what he felt. (Even if he didn’t know what to call his feelings for her; he just knew he cared about her, needed her—and liked kissing her… And for now, that was enough.)

And then, in that moment, he could have sworn he heard his father’s voice in his mind, sounding half-exasperated, half-amused, and wholly encouraging. Don’t tell her; just show her how you feel…

And he did.

Slowly, deliberately this time, he leaned in, his eyes closing automatically, until his lips touched hers and he kissed her.

And it was—different, now that he knew what he was doing. He was aware of the slight flutter of her breath against his cheek, of her hands moving to tentatively settle on his shoulders, of the softness of her lips and the taste of her… Aware of it all and the sweetness of it and the sudden consciousness that not only was she not protesting but she was kissing him back, a knowledge that made him feel a rush of exhilaration.

Yes, this was what he wanted… She was what he wanted…

The kiss ended slowly and he drew back slightly to look into her eyes.

Neither of them said anything for a moment; everything that needed to be said had already been said in that one kiss and both knew it.

But finally, Harry said with a slight smile, “That was what I was thinking about.”

A small, answering smile curved her lips. “I was thinking about that too.”

“I guess it’s true then.”

“What’s true?”

“What they say about great minds.”

She laughed softly and he kissed her again, drawing her closer to him and letting his mind go blank of everything but the feeling of his lips on hers.

Ron might be less than thrilled; there were still 2 horcruxes left to find and destroy and they didn’t seem to be anywhere closer to finding them than they had been a week ago; he had moments of doubt as to whether he’d even be alive to see his 18th birthday… But for the first time, he decided that those troubles would wait until later. At that moment, all he cared about was this—being with Hermione, kissing Hermione… and the knowledge that, after all, the right girl, the girl he really needed to be with, had been right in front of him all the time… And he was going to take advantage of every minute now that he finally knew just what she meant to him…

~The End~