Disclaimer: See Part 1
Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, who reviewed on Part 1. I'm so glad you're enjoying this! And now, Part 2-which shows I'm apparently incapable of writing a fic without some Ginny!snark in it. Enjoy!
An Affair of the Heart
Part 2: Simple Truths
Hermione couldn't decide whether to love Ron or hate him for his interruption.
For the first time, there had been-something-in Harry's eyes and his expression when he looked at her, something she'd never seen before, something she'd nearly given up hope of ever seeing.
It had started the moment she'd stepped out of her room and he'd seen her. His jaw had visibly dropped before he closed it again and the look on his face-part awe, part surprise, and wholly admiration-was a look she suddenly thought she'd been waiting her whole life to see on Harry's face. And she was very glad that she'd given in to impulse that day a few weeks ago and bought this dress. It wasn't at all what she usually wore being more form-fitting than she felt entirely comfortable with but she'd seen it, tried it on in a moment of pure feminine weakness and bought it in the same mood. And she realized, too, that part of her motives in buying the dress had been because she wanted to see if she could get Harry to look at her as something other than just his other best friend-see her as, well, a woman.
And if the look on his face was any indication, she'd succeeded nicely.
She couldn't help but feel some surprise when he helped her into her cloak; it was one of those sweet gestures he made on rare occasions. Then he'd opened his mouth and said, in a rather odd voice, "You look- you look nice" and somehow those plainest of words were transformed into the best and most eloquent compliment ever through the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice as he said it.
His fingers brushed her shoulders and she had to suppress her gasp and shiver. But then her eyes met his and everything inside her stilled. He was looking at her in a way she'd only dreamed of seeing and she could almost swear that he had felt something when he touched her too.
Time slowed, stopped; his eyes darkened with something she could almost believe was desire…
And then Ron had interrupted, as blithely oblivious and eager for his Mum's cooking as a little boy could be.
She stepped back away from Harry, suddenly unable to meet his eyes as she made a big production of putting on her scarf before they stepped outside-since their flat didn't allow direct Apparition inside or out of it.
At the Burrow, they were greeted with the usual warmth and welcome by Mrs. Weasley as she fussed over them all while Mr. Weasley smiled his welcome. Ginny's greeting of Harry was almost embarrassingly single-minded; Hermione couldn't decide whether to hate Ginny for her confidence or envy her for never being shy about making it quite clear that she, at least, still rather fancied Harry, no matter that they hadn't actually dated for more than a year now.
Hermione stifled a frown and a pang of undeniable jealousy at how Ginny was clinging to Harry's arm as if she was afraid he would disappear if she didn't told on to him and how she was monopolizing his attention. Harry smiled and answered all her half-teasing, half-flirtatious words-but Hermione knew him well enough to think she detected a bit of stiffness, of being uncomfortable, in his expression and his bearing-only to wonder in the next moment if maybe that was more her own wishful thinking than anything else. For she did want to see that Harry wasn't completely thrilled at Ginny's patently obvious flirtation and willingness to go on as they had before, never mind that it had been more than a year ago and a year in which Ginny had barely seen Harry at all.
She had so hoped that after more than year, Harry might be over Ginny…
Now she wondered if she'd been an idiot to hope it. Ginny was so very pretty, after all, and not at all subtle about liking Harry-and Harry had cared about Ginny before, maybe still did care about her-only this time, there was no threat of Voldemort keeping them apart.
Ginny had kept Harry behind, distracting him with her pretty questions, so they were the last two to enter the Burrow's living room when Ginny stopped in the doorway and, looking up, said, "Oh look, mistletoe!" with a mixture of pleasure and surprise and just a touch of endearing shyness. Hermione wondered if she were being completely unfair to Ginny to suspect that Ginny's surprise was entirely manufactured; she wouldn't put it past Ginny.
Harry colored-and for a moment, Hermione wondered if he'd glanced at her…
And then in front of the amused, and indulgent, eyes of the Weasleys-and the horrified eyes of Hermione-Harry kissed Ginny on the lips. Ginny's arms promptly slid around Harry's neck as her eyes closed and she kissed him back with an eagerness that was clear to be seen.
Hermione's gaze seemed fixated, with masochistic fascination, at Harry's hands where they lingered-or seemed to linger-on Ginny's waist. She was reminded of the last time she'd seen them kiss like this in public, that day in the Gryffindor Common Room in 6th year, except that time, Harry's arms had been holding Ginny to him… But she sternly quashed the renegade flicker of hope that thought encouraged. Of course he couldn't quite kiss Ginny with the same abandon in front of her parents-and her five brothers.
It seemed like an eternity-a hellish eternity during which Hermione couldn't breathe for the pain in her chest-before Harry and Ginny broke the kiss and drew back, Harry blushing and Ginny smiling, to meet the wide grins of Fred and George, the amusement of Ron, the speculative surprise in Bill's and Charlie's and Mr. Weasley's eyes and the motherly happiness in Mrs. Weasley's eyes.
And then it almost seemed as if the room exploded into merriment and good-natured teasing and Mrs. Weasley's delight at seeing her daughter and her almost-son together (and Hermione realized that Ginny and Harry had been together so briefly that no one had ever thought to tell the other Weasleys so only she, Ron, Harry and Ginny herself were aware of their past history).
Hermione stood it as long as she could, having pasted a smile on her face that could have passed for sincere in front of anyone with the possible exception of Harry, who had always had the uncanny ability to tell when she was lying, but Harry wasn't looking at her. Harry was preoccupied with answering the jests of the twins and even Bill and Charlie-and, Hermione noticed, Ginny still hadn't let go of his arm.
It wasn't even as if Harry were declaring undying love for Ginny; no, he was laughing it off, joking about it, saying any guy who'd found himself under mistletoe with a pretty girl would have done the same and he was just lucky and even pointing at his scar with a laugh, as proof of just how lucky he'd always been.
But still, Hermione couldn't stand it. She wondered how it was possible that, even though she'd never really hoped that Harry might care about her as more than just his best friend, and even though until that very evening, she'd never even dared to hope that Harry might ever kiss her-somehow the truth of seeing Harry and Ginny together- again- was just too much for her.
Ginny, who was so pretty and so lively and good at Quidditch and everything Hermione was not. Ginny, whom Harry had cared about, his first real girlfriend.
Ginny and Harry-and even Hermione had to admit, with another pang, that they looked good together, with their respective coloring. Harry's black hair made a perfect contrast for Ginny's vivid red hair, his handsomeness (and Harry had become handsome, in his own way) offset with Ginny's beauty. They looked probably much as James and Lily had looked together…
And Hermione couldn't stand it.
She slipped out of the living room and ran blindly, not even thinking where she was going, until she stopped to find she'd run into what had been Ron's old bedroom-and where Harry had always stayed whenever they'd visited the Burrow over the years. She wished desperately she could just Apparate back to their flat and not go back down there to face the merriment of the rest of the evening; she was feeling about as merry as a funeral and despite all her fondness for the Weasleys, at the moment, she hated the idea of being with them.
God, why did it hurt so much? How could it hurt so much? It wasn't as if she'd ever really hoped that Harry would come to see her that way… It wasn't as if Harry had ever really been hers to feel jealous of his kissing Ginny. It wasn't as if Harry cared about her that way.
But somehow, it did hurt. Seeing Harry and Ginny kiss like that had hurt more than anything she'd ever felt, hurt all the more because she could see, all too clearly, that Ginny, with her charm and her outgoing personality and her confidence, was so beautiful. She was everything Hermione was not.
Hermione knew that she was only passably pretty, knew she could be bossy and a know-it-all and she wasn't, had never been, popular. She'd never really had any friends except for Ron and Harry, never really felt as if she fit in among other girls. She- she just wasn't that kind of girl.
And she'd thought she was resigned to it. Until today and seeing Harry and Ginny together and she'd suddenly realized that she really had no hope at all. Harry could have any girl in the country and not just because of his status as the Boy Who Lived but because he was, after all, good-looking and rich but more importantly, a genuinely good person. He was funny and kind and generous and honest…
He could have anyone he wanted. Why on earth would he ever want to date his rather plain, bookish best friend?
She sighed heavily and blinked back hot tears, trying to calm herself down so she could go down again and be fit company for the Weasley's Christmas dinner.
"Hermione?"
Hermione sucked in a sharp breath and stiffened her spine before hastily flicking the last tears out of her eyes and praying Harry hadn't noticed her action before turning to face him with a fake small smile. "Yes, Harry?" She tried to sound completely normal, as if it were usual for her to simply disappear for several minutes in the middle of a family gathering.
His quick frown told her that Harry didn't buy either her nonchalant tone or her smile-and that he'd seen her tears. And for the first time, she felt a fleeting flare of anger that Harry-who understood her so well and knew her so well-could also be so blind, deaf and dumb that he didn't know she loved him. "What's wrong?"
She forced a slight laugh that even to her own ears sounded brittle. "Nothing. I just- I just had a passing headache for a while."
Harry stepped completely inside the room and shut the door firmly behind him-and Hermione noted in some detached corner of her mind, that the room seemed to have noticeably shrunk since when they'd last stayed here, because Harry was now much taller and had filled out since he'd stayed here so many years ago.
"I wish you wouldn't lie to me," Harry said flatly. At some other time, his words might have been funny but not now. He paused and looked at her searchingly for a moment and then he asked, "Is this about Ginny?"
The quiet question broke through the walls and besides, she'd never been able to lie very well to Harry. "I- yes," she finally admitted, her voice so low he could barely hear it. "But it's ok," she hurried on to say. "I- I'm not surprised; I've rather been expecting that you and Ginny might," she swallowed before she continued, "get back together. After all, you know you and Ginny only broke up because of the danger and now that danger's gone and, well, she obviously still cares about you, Harry. You should get back together," she said, managing a smile, and wishing she hadn't just been babbling like an idiot.
Harry was frowning still. "No," he began. "I- Hermione, I didn't mean to, didn't really want to kiss Ginny but it was the mistletoe and when I would have made it only a quick peck, she pulled me in and kept me there and I could hardly just shove her away." He stopped, seeming to realize that his words sounded rather like an excuse, and then finished decidedly, "I won't be getting back together with Ginny, Hermione. I don't-I don't care about her that way anymore. I don't want her. I want-" he stopped abruptly and then looked at her again before seeming to decide and finishing, "I want you."
Hermione sucked in her breath sharply at hearing those words she'd convinced herself she'd never hear. I want you, I want you, I want you…
And oh, she wished she could believe him. She knew Harry, didn't think he would lie, but years of insecurities had been brought to the surface with her minutes of thinking of Ginny versus herself and couldn't be put to rest that easily.
"But you- you can't! I mean, Ginny- she's so pretty and- and fun to be with. I- I'm not like that. You- You can't; you don't mean it, Harry, though it's nice of you to say."
She hadn't been looking at him as she said this but at the dead silence that followed her words she finally had to look up at him and flinched at the expression on his face. It was a mixture of disbelief and shock and-yes-annoyance.
"Why can't I mean it? What did you think was what happened earlier back at the flat? I know you felt it too." Hermione's eyes widened. She'd thought she'd managed to hide her reaction. "Did you think I just act that way every time a pretty girl walks in or that I react that way every time I touch any girl? Do you think I'm that shallow?" he asked sharply.
"No!" Hermione burst out. "No-I-I don't know," she faltered, trying to explain what she really couldn't; it had been instinct, almost, self-protection after so many months of telling herself Harry could never see her that way. "I thought it was-I don't even know-just a physical thing and I wasn't sure I hadn't been imagining it and Ginny's so pretty and you fancied her before and-and look at me! You could date any girl, so much prettier and- and sexier-than I am…" Her voice trailed off towards the end after the rush of words escaping her lips. She wasn't looking at him, couldn't look at him.
And then his arms reached out and pulled her against him, not roughly but firmly, holding her in place, her body pressed against his. Her breath left her in a gasp and she stared at him in surprise and almost reluctant pleasure and the beginnings of hope and happiness.
"You're crazy," he said quietly and intensely, his eyes holding hers. "There is no one prettier or sexier than you-why do you think I've been fantasizing about you and only you for two months now?" He asked the question in something like a self-deprecating tone which she might have found funny if she weren't so shocked.
"You- you've fantasized about- about me?"
"Constantly," Harry answered bluntly, although the color in his cheeks showed that he was uncertain about being so honest about this.
And she felt the last of her doubts fly away. She couldn't not believe him, not now, now with that look on his face and the huskiness of his tone that she'd never heard before, and more than that, the heat of his hands on her lower back burning her through the fabric of her dress… Oh she believed him and she was suddenly filled with an almost reckless surge of joy, amazing given that only a few minutes ago she'd been convinced her heart was broken.
Hermione began to smile, a teasing glint entering her eye, herself again with all doubts put to rest. "Only two months? I've been fantasizing about you for a lot longer than that."
His eyes widened and his breath caught as he stared at her for a long moment. And then he closed the distance between their lips, kissing her, and although he might have meant for it to be a gentle kiss, the moment his lips touched hers, any thought of gentleness or that it was their first kiss, vanished from his mind in the flare of passion that sparked between them.
She slid her hands into his hair, holding his head in place, not that he showed any sign at all of wanting to end their kiss, her lips parting, welcoming the thrust of his tongue. And dear Lord, but it felt so good… He felt so good, tasted so good… She was vaguely aware of hearing a soft moan and only belatedly realized it had come from her own throat as she arched against him.
One of his hands slid down to her hip while the other moved up her back in a slow caress and then forward to cup her breast through the material of her dress and she finally broke the kiss as her head fell back on a soft, breathy cry. He didn't pause, his lips moving down the line of her chin and her neck, pausing to kiss her here or lick her there and then his tongue darted into a sensitive spot, the hollow on her throat, and she gasped, her hands clutching him tighter against her, even as they explored his shoulders and his back.
His hand slid inside her dress and her bra to flatten against the bare skin of her breast.
Dear God…
She had no idea where she found the presence of mind or the strength but some small corner of her mind retained enough coherence to interrupt and she realized where she was and how close they were to the point of no return and managed to gasp, "No, Harry."
He stopped, lifting his head to look at her, his eyes darkened with desire, a flicker of doubt, of hurt, passing over his face.
She kissed him lightly, quickly, on the mouth before closing her eyes, her forehead resting against his chin as she tried to regain her breath and her thoughts. "Not here, Harry, not now." She raised her head to meet his eyes. "We can't-the Weasleys-they're probably wondering what happened to us. We need to go back down."
He let out a frustrated breath. "Do we really have to?"
She couldn't help a slight laugh at his disgruntled tone that, for a moment, made him sound much younger, even as she could feel the hard evidence pressed against her that he was most emphatically not a little boy anymore.
"You know we do."
"Yeah, I suppose so."
She moved to put some space between their over-heated bodies, part of her really wishing she could damn the sensible side of her and continue where she and Harry had left off.
She hurriedly straightened her dress and checked to make sure she looked presentable before she looked at Harry.
He met her eyes and a small, rueful smile curved his lips. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have--"
She cut his words off with her lips, kissing him hard on the mouth. "Don't say that. I wanted you too." She smiled slightly. "Wait until tonight."
"I hope everyone eats quickly," was Harry's response and Hermione laughed, kissed him again lingeringly, loving that she could kiss him now, letting him feel the promise in her kiss but pulling away before he could draw her closer and deepen the kiss.
She left the room with a last smile for him.
Hermione paused before re-entering the living room, hoping she didn't look as thoroughly kissed as she was and hoping she didn't have a ridiculously happy smile on her face, although she had less hope of the latter, given how happy she was feeling. Harry wanted her! He wanted her…
Luckily, no one asked her where she'd gone when she re-entered and moved to sit next to Ron who was talking with the twins and Charlie about the prospects for who might win the League next year. Hermione listened quietly although she heard little and understood less, given that her interest in Quidditch couldn't really have been said to have increased at all in the past few years. In all honesty, the sum total of her interest in Quidditch had pretty much begun and ended with Harry.
Harry came in a few moments later and moved to sit next to her, joining in the Quidditch conversation as Hermione's interest in the talk suddenly increased.
Then he did something that caused her heart to stutter and then fill with happiness.
Casually, almost as if he did it without thinking although Hermione could tell he was being quite deliberate about it, he reached over, taking Hermione's hand and placed it on his knee, where he rested his hand on top of hers.
It was a small gesture, perhaps, but an incredibly significant one.
No one noticed immediately until she heard a small intake of breath from where Ginny stood, talking with Mrs. Weasley.
Ginny looked from Harry to Hermione with dismay and suspicion in her eyes. "How long has this been going on?" she asked, her voice sounding rather shrill and drawing the attention of all the Weasleys.
Harry looked at Hermione, meeting her eyes, letting her know silently what he was going to say, before turning back to Ginny. "About 7 minutes or so," he said with deceptive casualness and then answered more seriously, "But I've wanted it to happen about two months now."
He could see the moment Ginny realized the significance of the 7 minutes, that it had actually been her mistletoe trick that pushed them together.
She went white then red. "No," she said in a strangled voice.
Harry didn't answer in words but calmly slid his arm around Hermione's waist, in a move that rather surprised Hermione as she realized that Harry must be rather annoyed at Ginny for her possessive greeting as well as her little ploy with the mistletoe, despite the good that had come of it.
The rest of the Weasleys who had been watching this little scene turned to look at Ron, as if automatically acknowledging that Ron had the right to react first.
Ron blinked, looking at his two best friends for a moment and then his lips twitched, he grinned and said, "I knew it!"
Whatever Harry had been expecting Ron to say, it hadn't been that and he stared, the unspoken question clear on his face. How did you know?
Ron's grin widened and he began to laugh. "Sorry, Harry, but if you wanted to keep your feelings about Hermione a secret, you need to try harder than that. I've known you too long and you were a tad bit obvious, especially to another wizard."
The tension in the room was dissipated as every man in the room burst out laughing at the dumb-founded expression on Harry's face.