Hopelessly

Title: Hopelessly

Category: Romance/Humor

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: H/Hr

Spoilers: None, really.

Summary: Nothing like snogging in a linen cupboard on Valentine’s Day, eh?

Disclaimer: No matter how badly I wish it, Harry will never be mine, even though JKR’s a mean author who abuses dear, sweet Harry – and not in the fun way that we do aboard the HMS Pumpkin Pie.

~

Harry sighed. It was Valentine’s Day, and all he wanted was a little peace and quiet. Ron had dragged him to his sister’s party, insisting he needed to get drunk or laid or at least properly snogged. Harry, on the other hand, was sick of parties and girls throwing themselves at him, and now he found himself hiding in a linen closet.

Bit uncomfortable, but at least no eyelash-fluttering blondes were clamped on his arm. Of course, he liked blondes as much as the next bloke, but he would have rather had a genuine one, one who wasn’t trying so hard to impress him…one who was natural…unaffected.

He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, and just as he did so, the door opened and a feminine head peeked in.

“Harry? Is that you?”

Harry relaxed considerably when he recognized the voice as Hermione’s, soft in the darkness.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Instead of asking what he was doing in a cupboard or trying to drag him out, she squeezed in and sat down beside him.

“I reckon you’ve got the right idea,” she said, building herself a little next of linen to settle into. Her arm and leg brushed against him all the while, tiny moments of warmth.

“Not enjoying yourself?” Harry asked with a bit of surprise. Hermione might have had trouble with the opposite sex back in Hogwarts, but she’d long ago become quite a beautiful woman who had no trouble finding dates.

“Not so much. This isn’t really my idea of fun – I’d much rather be at home with a good book. What about you? You ought to be out there soaking up the attention.”

He knew by the tone of her voice that she was teasing him. “Well, as much as I love having brainless women attaching to me like leeches, I’m just not in the mood tonight.”

She patted his arm in her very Hermione way. “Someday you’ll find a woman worth your attention.”

“So will you,” he replied. “I mean, a man. I’m assuming you’d want a man.”

Hermione laughed. “Yes, that’s my preference. I just wish more of them had your good sense. I’ll never understand why mature, intelligent men want the stupid bints I always seem to get passed up for.”

“They must be mad – that’s the only explanation. Besides, not all of them prefer the bints. I’ve watched more than a few men pine away for you.”

Hermione made a noise between a sigh and a snort. “I guess I’m never really satisfied with them, either,” she murmured as she scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder. He suspected she’d been drinking a bit prior to joining him in the closet. Hermione always became strangely affectionate after drinking. “Maybe I’m just looking for the wrong kind of man.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, feeling her hair brush softly against his jaw. “Maybe you’re just not sure what it is you really want.”

“Yes…” she sighed and frowned, losing herself in thought. Harry waited for her to speak again. When she did, he almost choked on the very air he breathed in.

“Why do you suppose we never dated?” Hermione asked. “It’s not as though we’re not compatible, and we’re both attractive people…”

Harry would have shrugged had she not been using his shoulder already. She put forth a good question, even if there was a bit of alcohol behind it, a question that had come to him before, but he’d never dwelt on it.

“I don’t know,” he answered eventually. “Maybe we were both too scared to risk it. I know back before we finally defeated Voldemort, I wouldn’t have done anything to chance losing you.”

She squeezed his arm affectionately, saying without words that she understood, appreciated what she meant to him…and that she felt the same.

“Did you think about it, ever?” she asked.

Harry swallowed. “Yeah. Now and then. …Did you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I used to imagine what it would be like…I always thought it seemed like a great idea, honestly, but…I don’t know. I guess I never believed it could actually happen.”

“It could,” Harry said impulsively, spurred on by her warm weight against him. “It could, if we wanted it to.”

“What if I wanted it to?” she said, lifting her head to look him in the eye. “Sitting in a closet with you is the best fun I’ve had on Valentine’s Day in years. I think that says something.”

“I think you’re right,” Harry said as she inched closer. Her breath drifted across his face, warm with the faint scent of champagne. Then she pressed her lips to his, sweet and urgent. He kissed her back with the same fervor. Her lips were thrilling, full of all the unfulfilled desires of many long years. He’d dreamed of kissing her before, of much more than that, in his wilder dreams – of tasting her lovely skin and feeling her heat all around him. What the dreams hadn’t shown him was the feeling of peace that now stilled his heart as he kissed her, the feeling of rightness and home, the true, loving home he’d never known until now.

“Hermione…”

“Hmm?” she hummed against his lips.

“You realize we’re snogging in a closet like a couple of teenagers?”

She laughed. “Well, we never had time for that sort of thing when we were teenagers, so I say it’s high time.”

She scooted into his lap and drowsily nuzzled his neck like a happy kitten. Her arms twined around him and her nuzzling turned to warm, damp kisses.

“Do you want to go to my place, maybe?” she asked, her lips still against his neck.

He shivered. “Oh, God, yes.”

~

Harry reluctantly left Hermione’s flat late the next morning after a mind-blowing evening, a very nice wake-up call, and perhaps the best shower he’d ever had (Hermione was a fantastic back-scrubber).

When he strolled into the flat he shared with Ron, he found the kitchen in disarray and his roommate on the couch with a pile of food on the coffee table and the television (which still fascinated him) turned to cartoons.

“Oy!” Ron cried, turning as he heard the door shut. “This better mean you took my advice and got properly shagged for once.”

Harry flushed. “Well, um, sort of.”

“You either did or you didn’t, mate, and I sure hope you know the difference by now.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s not that – I’m just not sure you meant for me to take your advice with this particular person.”

Ron narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t shag my sister, did you?”

“No!” Harry cried, wincing at the very thought. “I’m not stupid, you know. I don’t fancy being beaten up in a dark alley by you and four of your brothers, thanks.”

“Oh. Good.” Ron glanced meditatively at the piece of bacon he’d just picked up. “…You’re not trying to tell me you’re gay, are you?”

“Again, no! I think someone might have noticed by now if I was.”

Once more, Ron turned to his food. Harry watched as his eyes widened over a slice of toast. “Cor, you shagged Hermione! You did, didn’t you?”

Harry studied his shoes. “Um…yeah…I guess I did.”

“You guess…you guess?” Ron leapt from the couch, gesturing wildly with a fork. “Harry, it’s Hermione! If you were looking for a one-night-stand, you shouldn’t have bloody well picked Hermione!”

“I – I wasn’t, it wasn’t like that…it just happened…but it was more than that.”

By this time, Ron had come face to face with Harry, pointing the fork in his face. “It better damn well be more than that, because I’m going to kill you if you break her heart, Potter.”

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Harry huffed. “And I never threatened you with an eating utensil.”

“Well, that was different,” Ron said, crossing his arms. “Hermione never really fancied me that much, but for as long as I can remember, her whole world’s revolved around you.” Ron paused to eye him contemplatively. “So you’re in love with her too, eh?”

Harry couldn’t help a smile. “Hopelessly.”

Ron sighed. “Just try to keep your hands off each other when you’re around me, all right? Last thing I need to see, thanks.”