Disclaimer: HP and everything else you recognize still belongs to JKR (however little she might deserve it.)
Author's Note: First posted at the fanfict00bs LJ community.
Fluff- for Anne, because she needs it.
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"It's Charlie."
Two words were all it took to completely shatter the relative peace of their night. They had just been talking, idly, in the house on Grimmauld Place which they were using as their base of operations since there was really no safer house in the wizarding world. And then there had been a knock on the door-which had startled them enough since only a very few people knew they were there-and Harry had opened the door to see Remus and Tonks.
They stepped inside, quickly, glancing back at the empty square to see if there were any loiterers, and didn't even say hello before simply blurting out the news. Just those two words. "It's Charlie."
Harry swallowed hard, taking in the grim expressions on Remus' and Tonks' faces. Somehow every nightmare he'd ever had seemed to flash through his mind; he remembered seeing Mrs. Weasley's boggart the summer before 5th year-in this very house, he thought numbly.
Ron took a step back, his skin suddenly gray. "Is- is he-" he choked out but then stopped, not able to say the word.
Remus hurriedly continued. "He's alive!" he assured Ron. "He was just hurt; there was a little skirmish earlier. He's in St. Mungo's now. We're here to take you to him. Your family's waiting."
Ron swallowed and then stepped forward. "Ok," was all he said.
Remus looked to Harry and Hermione, standing as still as if they'd been turned to stone, almost identical expressions of shock, dismay, grief and sympathy on their faces. "Harry, you can't come. It- it's not safe. You- Voldemort-" Remus stopped, looking uncertain.
Harry said what he knew Remus had been about to stay, quietly. "I'd draw Voldemort's attention to St. Mungo's and it'd be dangerous for everyone."
A sad expression crossed Remus' face and he nodded.
"I understand." Harry's voice was almost toneless and for a moment, he sounded very old.
Tonks spoke up now. "Hermione- you can come, if you want to."
Harry's-and everyone's-gaze turned to look at Hermione.
Hermione looked from Ron's stricken expression to the equally stricken one on Harry's face-and then stepped closer to Harry, slipping her hand into his. "No," she said, unnecessarily. Her voice faltered slightly but she continued bravely. "No, I- I'll stay with Harry. He- he shouldn't be alone."
Remus nodded once, a flicker of-approval?-flitting over his expression, before he turns to Ron. "Do you have anything you want to bring with you?"
Ron shook his head slowly as he turned to look at Harry. "I-" he began, wanting to say-something-but Harry interrupted him before he could.
"It's ok. Just- just go be with your family. And tell them-" he swallowed and then continued, "tell them I'm sorry."
For a moment, Ron's expression crumpled to show the extent of the fear he was feeling.
Hermione stepped forward to hug him. "I- I'm sure Charlie will be fine," she tried to assure him although the slight waver she couldn't keep out of her voice kept her words from being as comforting as she wanted them to be.
"Yeah," Ron managed to choke out. "I- I'll see you," he said to both of them and then turned to Remus and Tonks. "Let's go."
~*~*~
"Harry?"
Harry awoke with a start, automatically grabbing his wand as he sat up.
Hermione started back, flinching in spite of herself at this proof of just how much Harry had changed. He'd never been one to wake up quickly (he'd told her once that he wasn't a morning person) but nowadays, the slightest sound woke him and he was able to switch from sleep to instant alertness in the blink of an eye. She could only be glad that he was, at least, able to get some sleep these days. He hadn't slept much when they first started this search for the horcruxes, always nervous about a possible night attack, until finally, she'd managed to set up protective wards around Grimmauld Place which would alert them if ever anything with a hostile intention approached the house. It had taken some weeks of research and testing but she had managed to make the ward so it was resistant to being dismantled from outside the house. Only then had Harry felt safe enough to sleep at nights without staying up to keep watch.
"Hermione? What is it?" Harry's voice was concerned. She'd never woken him up at night before and there had been something-a slight quiver, a hint of tears-in her voice when she said his name that instantly had him worried.
"I'm sorry for waking you up," Hermione apologized softly.
"It's okay," he assured her hurriedly. "What is it?"
"I- I just couldn't sleep. Do you mind if I stay in here with you? I- I don't feel like being alone right now."
"Of course." Quickly, Harry scooted over on his bed, pulling back his blankets to let Hermione in.
He lay on his back stiffly, having moved over as far as he could until his side was pressed to the wall and no part of him was touching Hermione. This was Hermione, his best friend, he told himself repeatedly. He didn't-he couldn't-think about her as anything else. She only wanted some comfort and he was not-could not-should not-take advantage of it. This was Hermione and he didn't care that way about her.
But not all his increasingly frantic admonitions could make him unaware of the warmth from her body, the weight of her lying beside him, the sound of her breathing-just the knowledge that she was there.
And then all other thoughts vanished as he heard her breath hitch in a stifled sob. "Hermione! What is it?" He paused. "Are- are you worrying about Charlie, about Ron?" he ventured.
"N-no," she answered with another stifled sob. "And yes, sort of."
At any other time, he might have laughed and teased her but not now. She sounded so-vulnerable-and it tore at him.
He shifted closer to her, ignoring the part of his mind that was protesting. This was Hermione and he was her best friend-and she needed comfort so he would comfort her.
She continued with another hitched breath. "I- I started thinking about my- my parents."
"Oh," he said quietly, understanding dawning on him. Of course…
Hermione's parents had been put under Order protection months ago, for fear of their being made targets by Voldemort in an effort to get at Harry. Hermione had had to see them and explain as much as she could about how they would be relocated to another community where they'd live under assumed names, under the constant surveillance of the Order, for their own safety. She had also had to tell them that for safety reasons, she would not be able to either send or receive owls directly from them. Any owls would need to go through the Order and could not be sent any more than once every couple months or so.
So they had gone into hiding and Hermione had heard from them only twice since then.
But what was worse was that the very night after the Grangers had left their home, it had been burned to the ground. A harsh warning and a threat that had filled Harry with the cold certainty that everyone he knew was in danger.
The Order had placed a watch on the Dursleys' house in Privet Drive as well-although the Dursleys remained unaware of this as Harry knew all too well how they would react to the knowledge.
He turned onto his side to face Hermione, putting a tentative arm over her. "They'll be okay, Hermione."
Her breath hitched in her chest again. "I- I miss them, Harry. And I worry about them," she admitted softly.
It was the first time she'd ever admitted as much. She tried not to talk about her parents too much and kept herself busy as much as possible with researching about the Founders in an attempt to guess what the other horcruxes might be, along with reading and rereading what little information on horcruxes she could find, as well as researching about Dark magic and other curses and hexes which might be able to help them.
Harry sometimes thought that Hermione was reading and studying more now than she would have been for her N.E.W.T's. He thought it again now-and wondered, for the first time, somehow, what he would do without her…
She was studying and reading so much-until her eyes were sore and there were shadows under her eyes-for him. She was here and not at Hogwarts, not Head Girl or anything-because of him. She had helped him more than anyone else, had done so much, all for him. She had given up her parents for him…
He was suddenly filled with gratitude and affection and something else he'd never felt for Hermione-or anyone-before: tenderness.
He tightened his arm around her ever so slightly, shifting just a little bit closer to her, wondering if she would push him away or move away herself.
She didn't.
Instead she shifted closer to him-so close he could feel her breath tickling his cheek.
He swallowed the obstruction that had suddenly arisen in his throat at her closeness and tried to speak. "I-I'm sorry," he said, his voice just barely more than a croak. "I- I wish…" he trailed off but he knew she knew what he had been going to say. I wish I could do something to help. I wish I could promise they'd be okay.
"I know," she said quietly.
Then, even though he couldn't see her, he somehow knew that she was struggling not to cry anymore, trying to calm herself.
He knew her, knew how she hated to seem weak, almost as much as she hated not knowing the right answer to something. It was why she always hid in the times she cried. She wasn't like most girls who cried in public-and, he sometimes suspected, cried in public deliberately in order to incite sympathy. Hermione didn't do that; he'd only seen her cry twice in all the times he'd known her and the first of those times, when he and Ron had made up after the First Task in 4th year, she had run off to hide immediately. The other time was at Dumbledore's funeral and that was it.
"You're the strongest person I've ever met, you know that?" he found himself telling her softly.
He sensed rather than saw her slight smile. "I'm not that strong."
"Yes, you are." It was easier, somehow, to say out loud these things he'd only thought before, here in the dark when he knew she couldn't see his face. "You are strong-and you make me stronger too. I- I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes."
"Really?" Her voice was quiet and filled with doubt and some wonder as well.
"Really."
She didn't say anything more and neither did he, but he felt oddly comfortable now. It seemed so-natural-somehow, to be lying next to Hermione in the dark like this. And it didn't matter that he'd never been this close to Hermione before, never shared a bed with anyone before…
And somehow it only seemed natural to move his head slightly and brush his lips against hers-tentatively, the most fleeting touch of his lips to hers. He wasn't even sure what made him do it, ignoring the tiny voice in his head warning him that this would change everything and might just make things very awkward between him and Hermione. He just knew he wanted to-suddenly, amazingly, given he'd never really thought about kissing Hermione before-and it seemed, inexplicably, like the right thing to do.
She didn't move away from him or say anything and he sensed her staring at him and was just wondering if he could try to pretend it hadn't happened when he felt her move and then he felt her lips touch his, lingering for just a moment-just long enough for him to realize this was a real kiss-and then it was over.
His heart had begun to race and he didn't stop to think about what he was doing-that this was definitely going to change everything-as he kissed her for real, his arm tightening around her… Her lips softened and then parted as she kissed him back and he knew a flare of joy, and then he forgot everything else in the taste of her (who knew she would taste this good?), the feel of her, the warmth of her so close to him…
They kissed softly, gently, exploring each other's mouths lingeringly.
When the kiss ended, they were both breathing faster. Harry was suddenly, uncomfortably aware that he was hard and straining against his boxers and pyjama bottoms.
"Hermione," he breathed, "I- that was…" He trailed off, having no idea what to say.
"I know," she said softly and quickly brushed her lips against his again.
She settled back beside him as he rolled over onto his back, putting a little more distance between their bodies.
There were a few more minutes of silence as Harry wondered what exactly had happened and what this would end up doing to their friendship and then she spoke up, sounding uncertain, "Should I leave?"
"No!" he reacted instinctively. "No, stay here," he finished in a calmer tone, not even sure exactly why he was so sure he wanted her to stay but his reaction to her question had been too swift and too sure not to follow.
Again, he sensed rather than saw her slight smile, but she said nothing more.
He lay on his back staring blindly up at the ceiling wondering how it had happened that he had kissed Hermione and- and liked it so much… Wondering when she had become so important to him that just the thought of her crying or sad hurt him… This was Hermione, his best friend-and now, something more than just his best friend… He didn't know what she was anymore-he just knew she was more.
He had no idea how long it was before he realized from the evenness of her breathing that she'd fallen asleep and, obeying a sudden impulse, picked up his wand and whispered "Lumos" quietly, not wanting to wake her up.
He studied her sleeping face in the light from the tip of his wand with an attention he didn't think he'd ever given her face before, noting the smoothness of her skin, the shape of her eyebrows, her eyelashes, the curve of her cheek and her lips-she had very pretty lips, he noted, lips that made him want to kiss her. She was so pretty-how had he never noticed it before?
With a whispered "Nox," he put his wand down and settled back beside her, wondering at the warmth he felt inside just from watching her sleep. He felt-peaceful, happy-in a way he couldn't remember feeling in a long time. Not even-he realized suddenly-not even from those few weeks when he'd been with Ginny last year.
Ginny. He thought of her with a little pang of guilt. He tried to remember her expression at Dumbledore's funeral, the grief and then that intense one when they'd broken up-tried to remember how he'd felt at seeing her-and then found, to his dismay and surprise, that he couldn't, not really. He could only picture her vaguely, at best, and even the memories conjured up no particular feeling in him, more a vague feeling of warmth as if he were remembering something that had happened a very long time ago but had no effect on his life now.
And he suddenly realized, too, that today had been the first time he'd thought about Ginny in a very long time. He had thought about her often at first, seen her at Bill and Fleur's wedding (though he'd avoided talking to her)-but then he and Ron and Hermione had begun their search for the horcruxes, for real, and he'd stopped thinking about her that much. He'd been too busy, too preoccupied with the horcruxes and Voldemort and everything else that he'd simple forgotten to think about her. Had forgotten to miss her.
Ginny was, he thought now, something from the past. A pleasant part of those months of his life last year, before Dumbledore had died and before he'd realized he needed to find and destroy the horcruxes alone, a time that he thought of now as having been the last attempt at a normal life. But it-and she-were just that, his past. And he'd moved on, had to move on, had to change.
And Ginny wasn't a part of that. She wasn't a part of his life now. He had changed too much, he realized-and suddenly he knew that even if all the horcruxes were destroyed and Voldemort defeated, he and Ginny couldn't be together. It was over-for real, for good-in a way that even the break-up hadn't achieved. And somehow, he didn't even feel regret or a sense of loss at the realization. It just seemed-inevitable, almost.
Beside him, Hermione stirred slightly, her hand which had previously been holding the covers relaxing and then moving to rest on his shoulder.
He turned his head so that his lips brushed her fingers for a moment. Ginny was part of his past; Hermione was-now. She was-more… He needed her and he cared about her-and he liked kissing her, wanted to kiss her again…
He yawned, feeling sleep overtake him and his last thought before he succumbed was to wonder if she felt the same way about him…
~*~*~
Oh God, what have I done?
Hermione opened her eyes to the consciousness that not only was she lying in Harry's bed but she was curled up next to him, her cheek resting against his shoulder, her hand on his chest.
Carefully, slowly, so she wouldn't wake him, she lifted her hand and tried to shift away from him so she wasn't pressed against his body.
Oh God…
She hadn't meant-hadn't thought-for this to happen when she came into Harry's room last night. She had been lying in her bed trying to sleep but thoughts about Charlie and wondering how he was and how the Weasleys would be coping kept her awake-and then had led to thoughts about her own parents. She tried not to worry about them too much because she knew they were, after all, much safer than she herself was-but she wondered if they understood why she needed to be here, wondered how they were doing, adjusting to being given, overnight, completely different identities and lives. And then the tears had come.
And suddenly the darkness and the silence of her room seemed oppressive and so unspeakably lonely that she simply had to get out, had sought out the comfort of the one person she knew would understand.
She hadn't planned-hadn't thought-of anything beyond her simple need for some company and comfort. But even if she had, she would never have expected Harry to kiss her-it was Harry, after all, who still tended to look uncomfortable with any physical gestures of affection, Harry who thought of her as only his best friend…
And then he'd kissed her, the lightest, briefest brush of his lips against hers and for a moment, she'd almost convinced herself she'd imagined it-as, goodness knows, she'd imagined being kissed by Harry before. But no, her lips had been tingling and she could sense something of his own surprise at what he'd done and before she could think better of it, she'd kissed him.
Kissing Harry was-was so- sweet-felt so right, somehow, almost natural-as if she'd been kissing him for years now, or as if she'd been meant to kiss him…
But now she could only wonder, with panic beginning to creep in to the edges of her thoughts, what would happen to their friendship now? How would he react? Would he regret it? Maybe-maybe it had just been an instinctive, boyish response to having a girl in bed next to him and he hadn't really meant anything by it.
In fact, the more she wondered, the more likely that seemed.
Of course he hadn't really meant anything by it. But he was 17 and he'd found a girl lying next to him, no matter that he might never have thought of her as being a girl before-so what would be more natural than to take advantage of the moment?
But she wondered, with a pang, how on earth she was ever going to be able to hide her own feelings for him now that she knew what it felt like to be kissed by him, to kiss him…
She sighed softly and then, glancing over at him, saw that he was awake.
Calm, she had to be calm… Act as if the kiss had meant nothing…
She felt herself blush hotly at the intimacy of waking up next to him-even if nothing had really happened-and promptly ruined her resolution of acting nonchalant by blurting out, "What was that?" And what she meant was, Why did it happen?
He blinked and then she was absolutely astounded to see a sudden gleam of amusement in his eyes and the slightest of smiles on his lips. "I think it's called kissing."
She smiled involuntarily, responding automatically to his humor. "You know what I meant. Why?" She paused and then added, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice, "We're friends."
"And friends don't kiss each other like that," he finished the thought for her.
She blushed again and nodded, averting her eyes, too self-conscious and uncomfortable to look at him anymore.
Slowly, he moved one hand to touch her chin, gently forcing her to look at him again. Uncertainty and nervousness were clear to be seen and heard in his eyes and his voice as he said, "I- I think I-like you as more than just a friend. I- is that okay?"
She smiled, seeing the relief in his expression, and shifting closer to him once again, kissed him lingeringly. "I think," she whispered against his lips, after a long moment, "that's the nicest thing I've ever heard."
He smiled and kissed her again, his fingers tangling themselves in her hair.
More than best friends… He didn't know exactly what that meant or how their relationship would change-but at that particular moment, it didn't matter.
More than best friends-and for right now, that was enough.