Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy. Never thought I would update this story this quickly.

It's settled. I'm officially the worst liar in history. I can't believe Hermione actually bought that or at least, that she pretended to. But what she could gain in doing that is beyond me.

Coming accross a muggle coffee shop, we decided to go for a drink but found ourselves stuck at the last available table in the far corner of the room, shielded from view a few feet away from any other table. The privacy was nice but it apparently made her prone to confidences. Not that I really minded, I love talking to Hermione. Throughout my years at Hogwarts, she was the only one I could truly confide in without having to fear her reaction. Ron was my best mate, there was no arguing that, but the cold that had happened between us during our fourth year left me scared of how he would react at any given thing. Hermione never got angry. She was often aggravated by my antics, but never angry. But this was not a discussion I was prepared to have with her, ever.

After breathing in the aroma of her black coffee - I can't imagine how anyone could ever drink that, I drink mine with more sugar than actual caffeine, but I suspect now that her long study sessions have been helped by the abundant consumation of that beverage - she looked up at me and I knew I was in trouble. She gave a quick look around her to ensure that we were alone, then she leaned forward so that she was closer to me. 'Harry, I need to tell you something. It's been driving me nuts.'

'Oh?' I said, trying rather unconvincingly to sound nonchalant, a task made quite difficult by my voice shaking. I was terrified to see her give me a suspicious look but she didn't, instead her eyes went to her joined hands on the table. I tried to take a sip of my own coffee but found that my anxiety made it near impossibly to swallow anybody. My eyes watered as I refrained a cough, choking on the warm liquid as it went down with great difficulty and I waited for her to continue.

'You know how the lights always go out at the exact stroke of midnight at the Ministry's Ball?'

Oh, bugger.

'Well, last week, when they turned off the lights...somebody kissed me.'

Bloody fuck.

At that moment, I think I would have preferred facing Voldemort again to having to sit in front of her and pretend that I was shocked. That I didn't know she had been kissed. That I wasn't the one who had kissed her. 'Oh, really? Who kissed you?'

The words 'worst. liar. ever.' could have been written on a large flashing sign above my head with an arrow pointing at me that it wouldn't have been more obvious that I was lying. But somehow, thankfully, she missed it. I don't think I could have been able to resist the urge to grab her and snog her silly on top of the table if she had looked up at me right that moment, for the memory of the one kiss we had shared hit me with a rare intensity. I was heading towards her as the clock counted down the last seconds leading us into the new year and I was only a few steps away from her when the lights went out. I'm positive she hadn't seen me yet. And then, like a stoke of genius - or rather, stupidity - I saw my opportunity. I have been in love with her for almost a year, but I've sworn to myself that I never would do anything about it. I could never do that to Ron. But with darkness' cloak, she would never know. And I would be able to live on the memory.

But the moment I pressed my lips against hers, I knew it would never be enough. One kiss would never cut it, it only made matters worse. It only made me want her more. Need her more. I pulled away and dove into the crowd, seconds before the light returned. Once I was shielded from her eyes, I turned and looked at her. A dreamy expression on her face and her fingers softly pressed against her lips, she was more beautiful than I'd ever seen her.

'I don't know! That's what has been driving me nuts!' she said, finally looking up at me. I let out a poorly concealed sigh of relief as she dropped her face in her hands.

'Well, I guess, it could pretty much be anybody. I mean, there were a lot of wizards at that ball, there's not really any way to know...' I began, trying to dismiss the issue before she made it near impossible for me to not blurt out that I had been the one who had kissed her, which I was pretty close to doing. How could it be legal for her to be so gorgeous? Her hair was brought up on top of her head in a loose bun that allowed for a few bouncy curls to frame her face. Her hair is far less bushy than it was when I met her, puberty had done most of the trick, but it still has that unique quality that makes her stand out of everyone else. She wears little make-up, but her lips always have a natural red tint that reminds me of strawberries. And her eyes, such lovely eyes, are so dark that I often find myself lost in their abyss when she speaks. It's put me in embarrassing situations more than once, when I found myself unable to answer her questions because I hadn't been concious she had asked one in the first place, mesmerized by her eyes.

'But Harry, I need to know! It was the best kiss of my life!' she pleaded, reaching out to squeeze my left hand with urgency. And just like that, she rendered me speechless. The best kiss of her life? No, no. It couldn't be. I must have imagined it. Had she simply said she wanted to find the person who had kissed her to smack him on the head, I could have lived with it. But this? This made lying to her and hiding my feelings from her that much harder, because the kiss had been as spectacular for her as it had been for me. And that meant she had feelings for me too. Immediatly, I realized that was foolish. She didn't know who had kissed her, she could not have feelings for someone she didn't know. Apparently, either I'm simply an amazing kisser or the magic of being kissed by a stranger in the dark had done the trick.

Placing my other hand on top of our joined hands, effectively cupping hers, I looked straight into her eyes and gave it all I had. 'Mione, any guy who's coward enough to kiss you in the dark and hide away afterwise doesn't deserve you.'

There, not such a bad liar after all. Except, of course, that it's true.

Harry was right, I think I'd known it deep down inside the moment I opened my eyes and there was no man standing in front of me. But I think the wounded teenager in me held on stubbornly to the memory of that kiss. For most of my teenage years, I never felt beautiful. Or wanted. My fourth year at Hogwarts marked a change, as I became the object of the Durmstrang champion's affections but when he left I found myself the buck-teethed, bushy-haired friend once again, both to Harry and Ron. My fifth year was dreadful. My sixth year, a bit better, especially the second half. Ron was my first serious boyfriend and to this day, the man with whom I've had the only significant relationship of my life. I think this is what hurts the most. Yes, I've been loved and felt desirable for a certain number of years. Yes, I go on dates. But none of this matters when I find myself alone at the end of the day in an empty flat with a cat that's getting too old.

'I know,' I said, my shoulders sagging. 'But I can't help it. Harry, I can't think about anything else. It's gonna be even worse when I return to work and can't do a bloody thing!'

Not that my job entailed me doing much, these days. I work as the Head of Exhibitons at the London Museum of Wizarding History, situated in what appeared to be a run-down building to muggle eyes but was in fact quite charming. We had just opened a new exhibiton reviewing Hogwarts' History on Christmas Day and the research for the next exhibition is already quite advanced - I haven't changed that much since Hogwarts, after all. So basically, I spend my days backing up my research with credible sources and contacting other museums. Harry, on the other hand, lives a much more thrilling life as an Auror, even though the job doesn't entail the same dangers it did during the war these days. But there are still dark wizards to be seen to and sometimes I find myself unable to sleep at night because Harry either forgot to call me to say he was safe at home or was on a mission overnight. It doesn't come anywhere near the worry level I sometimes reached during the war. But I'm scared for him.

Noticing he hadn't said a thing, I frowned then pulled out my hand from the trap of his and reached for my cup of coffee. I was surprised to find it was almost cold. How long had we been sitting there? Certainly, it couldn't have been that long. 'What's wrong with you, Harry? You're quiet tonight. Something to hide, have we?'

He choked on his drink and I had my answer. Of course he had something to hide, or maybe he was not hiding it so much as I had quickly centered the conversation on myself and only myself. But either way, he definitely had something on his mind. Had he not mentioned that he had some thinking to do, after all?

'No. Nothing to hide,' he blurted out, waving his hand with his palm up in front of him to accentuate his words. Faced with my doubtful expression, he let out a sigh and I had to fight the impulse to flash him a sufficient smirk. Not at all my style, more of Draco's style actually, but it was so tempting. 'Fine. Something to hide. But I can't actually say anything without ruining...a lot of things, so I'll just stay unexplicably quiet and listen to you talk your head off.'

I glared at him, deciding to let go of the subject considering it seemed to be related to his job and I'm used to him having to conceal things from me when it comes to that. But I certainly was not going to let go of that comment. 'Talk my head off? I'll let you know, Harry Potter, that I do not talk my head off.'

'True. It would be a shame, you have a lovely head,' Harry said, a lopsided grin on his face. Without me noticing it, he had finished his drink and was now playing with the empty cup. I reached accross the table and landed a playful swat on his shoulder and he half whined, half laughed as he rubbed the spot where I'd hit him.

The rest of the conversation went on pretty much along the same lines, him teasing me more than once. And then after our third cup of coffee and upon noting that it was well past midnight, on a monday night no less, we both decided to apparate home as soon as we could find a quiet place where no muggle would see us. But apparently, there was some sort of muggle conspiracy going on, because we had been walking, bundled in our coats and scarves in the cold winter air, for more than fifteen minutes without finding an unoccupied dark alley or an empty street. Watching out for any of those, I suddenly felt Harry's eyes burning holes in the back of my skull. Turning to look at him, I was met with a smile. 'What?'

'Sorry, I was just thinking that...You look beautiful tonight,' Harry said, apparently taken back by the fact that I'd noticed him watching me. Or rather, felt it. I rolled my eyes and reached up to feel my hair. I'd just run out of the shower and tied it up to meet up with Ginny for supper after work, not giving myself a second look in the mirror. I certainly didn't look beautiful, at any rate.

'Very funny, Harry. I didn't really have the time to get fancied up so please, don't mock me.'

How could she not think that she was beautiful? It was beyond me. The simple fact that she did not spend several hours on her appearance only made her even prettier in my eyes. She didn't have to try, she simply was.

'Don't be ridiculous. You look amazing,' I said, poking her side with my finger. She squirmed out of my reach with a small scream then slapped my hand away and we shared a laugh. I was glad to see her drop the subject. What was I supposed to say, that I thought she was probably the most beautiful woman I had ever been given to see? Oh, there are more gorgeous, of course. But none of them can hold a candle to her, she's in a category all of her own. It's about the cleverness you can see in her eyes, the way she looks when she's worried. Even in the expression on her face when she's aggravated with Ron or me.

'Why on earth can't we find a simple dark corner?' Hermione sighed, shaking her head as she stopped to give the area we were standing in a thorough examination. I have to admit that the thought of finding a dark corner for completely different purposes crossed my mind right then. I didn't really want to leave Hermione, but at the same time, I knew that I had to report for work early the next morning and that if I stayed with her, the conversation risked coming back to the kiss I knew we had shared and she did not. So, with a firm yet gentle grip on her arm, I pulled her into an unlit portion of the street, shielding us from vision.

'Here. Dark corner. Well, not so much a corner as a spot, really, but don't be so damn picky.'

'Oh, wonderful, shall we snog?', she said with a grin. For the mere seconds between the moment she said the words and when she broke into giggles, the most explicit imagery invaded my mind. Forcing a laugh to match her own, I reached into my back pocket for my wand, eager to part with her.

'Well, good night Mione,' I said, instinctively pulling her into a hug. It was meant to be a quick and simple embrace, but it went on for much longer than I had planned. After a few seconds, I felt her arms tighten around me and I felt her cold nose in the crease of my neck. I tensed and wanted to pull out, but I found I was unable to. I was no longer eager to part with Hermione. She was the first one to break the embrace, a look of confusion on her face as she took a step back.

'Good night, Harry,' she said, her voice sounding absent. I watched her apparate out and stood there in the darkness, feeling my stomach sink. Had I just betrayed myself?

Author's note: I should be very much asleep right now. Hopefully, you liked this part. I will try to write more as soon as I can.