They say that the eyes are the mirrors to the soul, but what about the lips?
Harry had always thought that Hermione's lips moved much too fast. Since he first met her on the Hogwarts express that first year, her lips were always moving. Most of the time, it had something to do with him and Ron. He didn't even have to look at those lips to know what she was saying. He would glance at them, and know that he and Ron had screwed up. Sometimes they didn't seem to stop. Only when they slowed down did Harry try to get a word in edgewise.
In second year, however, those lips stopped for good. Frozen solid in a moment of clarity when Hermione discovered the secret to the Chamber. They were closed tightly, like they always are when she was thinking. Harry will never forget how they looked, and has that image burned into his brain. He remembers visiting her in the hospital wing, and thinking how desperately he wanted to see those lips move again.
In third year, her lips told many stories; tension, fear of the unknown, fear for him; a forced smile; an occasional grimace. Harry could see right through her. But in the end, in the Shrieking Shack, the hurt and betrayal she felt thinking that Lupin had helped Sirius; well, Harry could never forget the look of astonishment on her face, and the position of her lips. Open, slack and pale, only for the color to come back upon learning the truth of who the three remaining Marauders really were. What a twist that was.
Fourth year, the Yule Ball had her lips all done up in pink gloss. He couldn't believe how pretty they looked. They were such a beautiful contrast to her brown eyes and her blue dress. He could certainly understand what Victor had seen in her, and wondered why he and Ron hadn't noticed her before now. Thinking back, he felt pride in her, and a bit ashamed at both himself and Ron, and how they acted that night.
Fifth year, Harry didn't want to look at her lips; he was too preoccupied in feeling sorry for himself. Wondering why those lips, had already been communicating to Ron and not to him. He could not have cared less if he didn't see her lips for a long time. Until the Department of Mysteries, that is. When she was unconscious. Those lips closed like they were when she was petrified, only this time there was still life in her. And when they finally spoke some words, he never thought he'd ever want those lips to stop moving.
Sixth year, everyone's lips seemed to be awfully busy, and attached to members of the opposite sex. Ron's were almost permanently attached to Lavender's. Much to his chagrin, Ginny's lips seemed to be a bit more interesting to him this year, but were also regularly attached to Dean. And he had no clue what was going on with Hermione. Her lips seemed to belong to someone else, and moved independently from her brain, as Harry barely recognized a sound that came out of them this year.
And now it was the summer before the start of seventh year. His last year at Hogwarts, and he wasn't going back. He had thought long and hard about what he wanted to accomplish before the end of the year, and one of those things was finally making Hermione's lips stop moving.
If he had to say exactly what happened, he wouldn't have been able to. All he knew was that during Bill and Fleur's wedding at the Burrow, he had spent a lot more time looking at Hermione's lips.
Initially, he owed it to too much firewhiskey, and celebrating with the boys. But long after the wine and whiskey had worn off, he still came back to her lips.
He had watched her that night, laughing and joking and singing with the family. She was so happy. He loved to see her smile. And during the meal, he watched her eat; watched as her tongue slipped out and licked the edges of her lips clean, then slowly watched them get wiped by a napkin. They were always pink and moist and plump. He wondered how they stayed that way, even after being wiped clean. He imagined it must be some sort of cosmetic spell she put on them. He wanted to touch them, and see what they felt like in person. And he wanted to touch them with his lips. See how they felt against his own. Oh, he couldn't get this thought out of his head.
As the days slipped by, the thought of kissing Hermione remained. He couldn't understand it, and couldn't stop thinking about it. Sometimes, he thought it was just a crush he had developed on her. She had developed into a very beautiful young woman from the bushy haired little girl he had once met. She wasn't drop dead gorgeous like a model or anything, but classically beautiful, like a Roman statue.
Other times, he thought that it was just his anxiety about the mission he had set out for himself, finding and destroying the Horcruxes. Was he going to survive this mission? Was he ever going to see her after this was all over?
After dinner one night, he was on kitchen duty with Ron, helping to gather and wash all the dirty dishes. Ron, of course, used magic, as he was allowed to already having turned seventeen, but Harry had come to enjoy the meditative process of washing and drying the dishes by hand. The two boys had reached a compromise where Ron magically gathered and washed them, and Harry dried them and put them away by without magic..
Placing the last dish in the cupboard, Harry had caught a glimpse of Hermione out the window. She was putting something away in the shed for Mrs. Weasley. Ginny was out there with her and had started back toward the house. He decided to go outside and check things out, using the fact that he wanted some fresh air as an excuse to leave the kitchen.
As he passed Ginny on the path toward the house, he asked her if she and Hermione still needed help. Ginny assured him that Hermione had everything under control.
Harry and Ginny's relationship had gone back to that of siblings that summer. It made Harry happy to know that Ginny didn't seem to harbor any hard feelings toward him for the breakup, but it still made him a bit uneasy about the time he spent with her. He couldn't understand how she could be so blasé about it. `Well, another lesson learned about women,' he thought.
Harry reached the shed, and opened the door, finding Hermione placing a box up on a shelf.
"Hey," Harry announced to her as he let the door shut gently behind him.
"Oh, hi, Harry. I'm just finishing up." Hermione said to him.
"Good," he said. "Care to take a walk?"
"Sure," Hermione answered.
Harry led her down the path to the open field behind the Burrow, the one the boys often used to play their makeshift Quidditch matches. Looking up at the sky, he was thankful that the wisps of clouds from earlier in the evening had moved on. The night was a dark indigo, marked by brilliant stars and planets.
Hermione soon followed his gaze up at the sky as they continued walking.
"What are you looking at?" she asked him.
"Oh, nothing in particular." Harry paused. " Well, a few things, actually." He answered her, smiling a bit.
Hermione didn't ask, but she thought she knew already. All she had to do was to look at him questioningly and he answered.
"Well, for one, Sirius. I'm always looking for him. And, of course, my mum and dad," he said.
"Well, I can understand how you can find Sirius," she said. "Er, I mean, his constellation. But, I didn't know you had found out your parents' constellations," said Hermione.
"I haven't found out. I have no clue when they were born. Only that my aunt Petunia was older than my mum." Harry stated, matter of factly. "I just like to think that while I'm looking for Sirius, I can look for my parents as well."
"Oh, Harry," said Hermione, looking away and sounding a bit down.
"Oh, don't be sad. It's ok, really," Harry said, in an upbeat tone. " I've just sort of developed an interest in looking for certain constellations."
Hermione stopped and looked up at him, smiling in disbelief. "Really? Since when?"
"Oh, I don't know. I guess it's always been there. Just, recently, certain things have begun to mean a bit more to me than they did before."
"You mean before, Dumbledore…" Hermione didn't finish her sentence, as Harry had cut her off.
"Uh, yeah," he said, shaking his head.
Hermione could tell that Harry didn't want to talk about it, and didn't pursue it.
"Come here, I want to show you something." He motioned to Hermione, while still looking up at the sky. They had walked over to the edge of the forest, behind the Burrow, so that they could face the northern sky. Harry sat down in the grass, and invited Hermione to join him.
"See that bright star right above us?" He pointed, while looking at the sky. "Well, that's Jupiter, not a star at all. And those two brighter stars to the left?" He motioned again, "Also planets. That's Saturn and Pluto, right next to each other."
Hermione just stared at the sky with him, not saying a word.
Harry continued. "Those stars up to the right are Draco." Harry pointed toward the Northwest.
Hermione turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Draco?" She asked.
"Well, I'm still trying to figure out what he's up to," Harry said, rather nonplussed. "Maybe his stars will tell me." After a few minutes, he added, "Can't see Sirius tonight, though, he must be off having a bit of fun with my parents." He chuckled.
Hermione laughed at this as well.
"And did you know, that your birth chart and my birth chart are almost identical?" Harry added.
Hermione looked at him incredulously. "How do you know that?"
"Well, I mapped them out, didn't I?" Said Harry. "I had a lot of time on my hands during the summer these past few years, and Dudley's got all these Astronomy reference books that he's never used. So, I did a bit of research." Harry added. "And, you know, Ron's chart is completely different from ours."
Hermione started laughing at this added bit of information. "No, it isn't, you just made that up," she said.
"I swear, I didn't," laughed Harry. "You and I both have Pegasus in the Northern sky, mine a bit to the east, and yours a bit to the west. Ron doesn't have Pegasus anywhere on his chart. Ironic, isn't it, considering you and I rode a winged creature together."
Hermione was silent. She didn't know what to say to him, as she had no way of processing this information. She knew Harry wouldn't be going on like this if he weren't serious. She knew he wouldn't be taking the mickey out of her like this. She kept looking up at the sky and at him, awestruck. When she finally started to speak, Harry answered her question for her.
"I've just been spending a lot of time thinking these past few weeks," he said, looking at her. "I've been doing a lot of thinking, about my future, our future."
He didn't have to say another word. Harry took this chance to make his move. He looked down at Hermione as she looked up at the sky. She turned her head to him, and stared at him. Harry thought that he could see the look of understanding on her face, and turned his head to her, and finally placed his lips on hers.
And he kissed her. And suddenly, all of the stars and planets that he had been just looking at exploded behind his eyes. He pulled back, and opened his eyes and looked at her. Looked at those lips that he had so longingly wanted to feel. And they were everything he had hoped they were. `Soft, and plump and rather springy,' he thought. Staring at her, waiting for a word from her, he hesitated to give it another go. When no words came out of those lips, he asked her, "Is this ok?"
Hermione nodded her head, smiling a bit, and reached up to meet him halfway. Harry's desire to snog her senseless was hard to overcome, but instead, he let the moment just happen. He reached around her head and pulled her face toward him, kissing her deeply, like he would never kiss her again. He wondered whether he should attempt any more contact than just his lips, when he realized that Hermione's tongue was slipping out over her lips. His heart jumped to his throat, and he opened his mouth for her. This was more than Harry had even thought possible for this evening. He had thought he'd be apologizing to her at some point tonight, but instead found himself fighting for breath, not anticipating the kiss lasting this long.
They finally broke apart, and Harry could tell that Hermione was blushing. She had a small smirk on her face. This caught him by surprise.
"Wow, Hermione. I didn't expect…"
"I know you didn't," she said. "Neither did I."
Grabbing hold of his face, she pulled him close, and kissed him again. Breaking apart once again, they just stared at each other, silently.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw a shooting star. When Hermione's head turned just as quickly as his did, he realized she had seen it too.
Turning to each other simultaneously, they smiled.
Harry put his arm around her, and they snuggled together.
Even under the dark evening sky, Harry could see the pink on her cheeks, and the redness in her lips. Those lips that he had finally succeeded in making stop move. It was the most beautiful sight had ever seen.
fin
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