Disclaimer: See Part 1.
Author's Note: I apologize for how long it's taken to write and post this chapter! Just an Epilogue to go and then this fic will be done!
Miracle
Part 3
Friends and Lovers
Harry tossed back another shot of firewhiskey, setting the empty glass down on the table with unnecessary force.
Ron frowned and grabbed the bottle, removing it from Harry's reach. "Okay, mate, you've had enough. What's wrong with you tonight, anyway?"
Harry eyed the bottle of firewhiskey before saying grimly, "Nothing."
Ron let out a disbelieving snort. "Right, Harry, you're drinking like you're on some sort of sacred mission to get seriously sloshed tonight and you've hardly said two words to me since I got here. What is it, honestly?"
Harry sighed and then found himself blurting out-the alcohol must have loosened his tongue, he thought idly-"It's Hermione."
Ron stifled the urge to pump a fist in the air in victory. "What about her?"
"She's leaving."
"She's going to be at Hogwarts, Harry, not on the other side of the planet. And she's not leaving, as you put it, for weeks yet."
"Hogwarts is too damn far from London. And then she'll be busy with teaching and stuff." Harry paused and then added in a disgruntled tone that made him sound much younger than his 25 years, "I don't want her to go."
"It's a great opportunity and you know Hermione would be a great professor. She's already got all the rules memorized and you know how she loves to be able to enforce rules," Ron said with a smile that was half-teasing. "So what's your problem with it?" he asked, although he suspected he knew the answer.
For a split second, Harry considered telling Ron the truth but then decided he couldn't and opened his mouth to make some excuse, he wasn't even sure what-but then heard, to his horror, his own voice say, "Because I love her and I don't want her to be so far away." He shut his mouth, making a mental note to never drink so much again; his tongue seemed to develop a mind of its own when he got enough alcohol in his system.
Ron fought hard to keep from smiling but couldn't quite restrain the beginnings of a smug smirk. "Have you told her that?"
Harry looked at Ron as if he'd suggested the impossible. "What? How could I?"
"Pretty easily, I think. It only takes three words and you do know how to talk."
Harry glared at Ron. "Haha, funny," he shot back. "And no, I didn't tell her, considering I didn't even realize it myself until after she told me she was leaving."
Ron sat back and studied Harry. "So why didn't you tell her then?"
"I couldn't do that! She even asked if I could think of a reason why she shouldn't go-I told her I couldn't. She wanted to accept; she was so excited about it," Harry added softly. "I couldn't take that from her."
Ron briefly considered banging his forehead against the table in frustration but decided that inflicting pain on himself would hardly be the smart way to act, to say nothing of being unpleasant. "But you didn't actually tell her." He didn't wait for Harry to respond before he continued on. "You know, Harry, and I say this as your best mate, you really can be an idiot sometimes."
Harry glared at Ron again. "Thanks, you pick me right up there," he said sarcastically.
Ron sighed a little as he studied Harry. "You should tell her how you feel, you know. How do you know she doesn't care about you that way too?"
"She's never said-she doesn't act differently around me," Harry began. "And if I told her I loved her and she doesn't care about me, then that'll make things really awkward between us and I don't know if I could deal with that." He paused and then added, so softly Ron had to strain to hear him, "I don't think I could live without Hermione as a friend. She's always been my best friend."
Ron sat back, understanding. It was typical of Harry, who valued friends so much from having grown up without any for so many years, to be more afraid of losing a friend than hopeful for more. He should have guessed that Harry would much rather stay just Hermione's best friend for life rather than risk potentially losing her friendship. Harry was brave-no one doubted that, least of all Ron, who knew better than anyone else just what Harry had faced-but not when it came to relationships, his friendships.
"I think, Harry, you're underestimating the strength of your friendship," Ron began more soberly. "You're right that you've been best friends with Hermione forever; I think if Hermione was going to stop being your best friend so easily, it would have happened years ago," he added with a small smile.
Harry didn't respond, just stared moodily down at the table and his empty shot glass as he considered Ron's words.
"Besides," Ron continued carefully, "are you so sure that Hermione doesn't love you too? You know how much she cares about you. Hell, half the time when Hermione and I were together, I was jealous of you."
That got Harry's attention and he jerked his head up to stare at Ron. "You were? Why?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea how much Hermione talks about you when you're not around? She was always worrying about you, talking about you, thinking about you; you've been the most important person in her life for as long as I can remember. Do you honestly think she doesn't love you too?"
"I don't-I don't know," Harry answered lamely.
"I think, Harry, if you just let her go without telling her how you feel because you're afraid, then you're a bigger idiot than I ever thought you could be."
Harry gave Ron a tired glower. "Thanks, mate. If I'm ever in need of a pick-me-up for my ego, I'll be sure to give you a ring," he informed Ron sarcastically.
Ron sighed. "Harry, seriously, tell her how you feel. I am willing to bet a hundred Galleons that she loves you too."
Harry stilled before looking up at Ron with a mixture of hope and uncertainty in his eyes. "What if she doesn't?" he asked very softly.
Ron met Harry's eyes honestly. "You won't know until you try and I'm pretty sure that she does." He paused and then added with a slight smile, trying to lighten the moment, "And if she doesn't, then I'll owe you a hundred Galleons."
Harry gave a wan smile and only nodded once.
Ron sat back, changing the subject to one less charged, and hoped he had read Hermione correctly-although it occurred to him that he'd never had the almost psychic ability which Harry had always had to understand Hermione's thoughts.
~*~
Hermione opened the front door of her flat and smiled when she saw Ron. "Ron! What are you doing here? Did Luna get back safely?"
"Hi," Ron greeted Hermione. "Luna's fine; she says hi and that we should all meet up for dinner in the next week."
Hermione nodded. "Of course. So, what's up?"
"I-er- just have a quick question to ask you." Ron looked suddenly a little uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
"Okay, what is it?"
"Hermione, you're my best friend in the world along with Harry," Ron began.
Hermione smiled but gave Ron an odd look. "I know that, Ron."
"Right," Ron let out his breath and then decided to simply blurt it out. He was sure he was right… "Are you in love with Harry?"
Hermione gaped at Ron, for a moment convinced she'd misheard him. He could not-he had not-how had-she had thought she'd been so successful at concealing her feelings… "I- I…" she floundered, not sure what she could say to such a direct and entirely unexpected question, feeling color flood her cheeks.
Ron grinned suddenly on seeing Hermione's rather uncharacteristic speechlessness and shell-shocked expression, seeing everything he needed to know in the hot blush coloring Hermione's cheeks and in the look in her eyes. "I knew you loved him."
He let out a brief laugh and with a light, "I'll see you," let himself out of her flat before Hermione could recover from her surprise and embarrassment.
Hermione blinked at the closed door of her flat for a long moment, her thoughts a mass of confusion. Oh God, Ron knew… But what about Harry? Surely- surely Ron wouldn't tell Harry-would he?
She suddenly dreaded seeing Harry, was terrified that there would be some change in his behavior that would tell her that Harry knew how she felt and was trying to let her down gently, not wanting to hurt her.
Thank goodness she'd be moving to Hogwarts within the next two months…
~*~
"Harry, what--" Hermione began, frowning slightly as she opened her door the next night to see Harry leaning against the door frame.
He gave her a slightly crooked smile. "'lo, Hermione." He half-stepped, half-stumbled inside and she drew back in shock.
"Harry, you're drunk!" she scolded, although she kept her tone mild.
"No, not drunk," he corrected. "I've been drinking, yes, but I'm not drunk."
And after all, Hermione could see that he was right; she knew what Harry was like when he was drunk and he was speaking too clearly to be drunk.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, moving to sit down on the couch but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"I lied," he blurted out.
For a moment, shock flattened her features and he waited until she blinked and then frowned a little. "Lied? About what? When?"
He studied her for a moment and then finally spoke, taking the last step off the metaphorical cliff. "I lied before when you asked me if I could think of a reason why you shouldn't move to Hogwarts."
"What- what do you mean?"
"I can think of a reason," he said softly, stepping closer to her. "I can think of a reason," he said again.
Her lips parted to ask what but he spoke before she could.
"This," he breathed, his voice oddly both rough and yet tender at the same time. "This is why you shouldn't move," and with that, his mouth crashed down on hers in a hard kiss, his hands cupping her face gently.
And part of him was shrieking that he was being incredibly stupid and reckless-but he ignored it and kissed her anyway, kissed her with every particle of love and passion and desperation in him. Any second now, he thought, she was going to shove him away from her. Any second now, she would tear her lips from his and slap him for acting like some sort of caveman and just grabbing her. Any second now, she would hex him into the next century. Any second now…
She didn't.
Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck, her body arching against his, as she kissed him back forcefully, her tongue tangling with his. And he just had time to feel a spurt of elation before she pressed her hips close to him, her body nudging at the growing hardness in his trousers and any coherent thoughts he had left disappeared like a puff of smoke. Oh dear God…
He finally tore his mouth from hers when oxygen became a dire necessity, although he kept his arms around her, holding her against him. He stared down at her, eyes wide, panting. "Hermione, I-you--" he stammered.
A small smile played on her lips and she leaned in and deliberately kissed him again, her lips teasing his, her tongue tracing his lips until he groaned deep in his throat and pulled her in even tighter against him, claiming her, possessing her…
Passion rose up inside them and took hold of them both-passion and something deeper, stronger than that: need.
Need fueled his actions as his hands slid over her body, touching, exploring, discovering, caressing…
Need took over his mind, stopping any conscious thought until he found that they had somehow managed to stumble their way into her bedroom and onto her bed and some semblance of rationality broke through his lust-clouded mind when he had succeeded in baring her body to his gaze from the waist up.
He sucked in his breath sharply, pausing to simply stare, admire, savor the sight. She colored hotly under his scrutiny but didn't otherwise move, just lay there, staring up at him, her eyes dark with desire. "God, you're so beautiful," he breathed and reached out to touch her, caress her.
His hands cupped, stroked, teasing her nipples until they hardened even further, and until she was flushed and making small, incoherent noises of arousal and desire that went straight to his groin. He discovered, explored, learned her body with his hands and then with his lips and his tongue, until he felt like he was on fire, dying, yearning… Until the softness and smoothness of her skin was all he knew in the world…
She was the one that took the initiative to divest him of his own clothes until they were both naked and reaching out for each other, skin against skin, their breath mingling, the very beats of their hearts mingling, their hands wandering until they seemed to be everywhere at once and they were both panting and burning and beyond any sort of coherence or rationality.
And he thought that nothing in his entire life-nothing in the entire universe-was as important as her, as being with her like this, as touching her, as caressing her, as showing her with his lips and his hands and his body just what he felt for her…
He lost touch with the world as she became his reality, the bounds of his universe narrowing down until it only consisted of him and her, the heat of her, the wetness of her, the passion of her-and it seemed as if the sum total of his entire life was in her eyes… She filled his senses, his mind, his heart, his very soul, until there was no room for anything or anyone else…
He entered her in one smooth stroke, feeling her stiffen and bury her face in his shoulder as she clutched at him, and he stopped for a moment, valiantly ignoring the fact that he felt like he might just explode then and there, to savor the heat of her and the wet tightness of her around him, surrounding him. God, yes… He'd never felt anything better in his entire life…
He met her eyes and was slightly stunned to see the sheen of tears in her eyes. "Hermione, I didn't hurt you, did I?"
She shook her head swiftly, blinking back the tears and cupping his face between her hands to bring his mouth to hers to kiss him long and lingeringly. "No, I just can't believe you're really here, that this is happening."
At any other time-if it had been anyone else who'd said it, he might have smiled-but somehow at that moment, he couldn't. It was too important to smile-and he felt the same way. "It is," he only said, very quietly and very certainly.
There was a flicker of some emotion he couldn't quite identify in her eyes and then she tugged him back to kiss him again. "I want you," she breathed softly against his mouth.
And the sound of her voice, husky and full of all her own arousal and desire, restored any of the urgency which had been momentarily pushed aside, making him shiver, and broke through what little restraint he still possessed and he began to move.
Their bodies fit perfectly together, flowed, danced in the most primeval rhythm-in harmony, as they always had been… Until it all exploded around them in glory, a blaze of passion that roared through them and momentarily transported them to that heaven that only lovers can know, until they returned to earth…
It was some time-minutes? hours? it could even have been years for all he was aware of time passing-before some semblance of sanity returned to him along with the stunning reality of where he was and why and what had just happened.
My God… It really had happened. He had just come over to Hermione's flat with no clear purpose in his somewhat alcohol-induced sluggishness of thought-at least enough alcohol to get rid of the filters between his brain and his mouth which usually operated to stop him from blurting all his thoughts out-and in a moment of insanity, he'd kissed her. He had kissed her-and she had kissed him back. The thought warranted emphasis because it was one of the things he remembered very, very clearly, before his body had completely taken over his mind and-and-she had kissed him back… She had kissed him and touched him and returned all his dizzying lust and passion in full and equal measure.
And that brought him here now, lying naked in Hermione's bed, with Hermione lying equally naked in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder.
He had just slept with Hermione. He tried out the thought again more matter-of-factly: he had just had sex with Hermione. (He blotted out the automatic insertion of 'absolutely amazing, wonderful sex' from that statement.) More than that, he had just made love to and with Hermione.
It had been love-making; it hadn't just been a shag or about lust. He loved her, was in love with her, absolutely, irrevocably, so deeply he couldn't imagine how on earth he hadn't known it before, so natural did it seem now.
And she-what did she feel? He knew she obviously felt something more than platonic friendship for him; that had been made blatantly, delightfully clear-but was it love?
He somehow sensed that she was going to speak before she did, sensed that she was going to break the comfortable silence.
Her voice was quiet. "Did you mean it? What you said earlier, did you mean it?"
He let out his breath, sternly clamping down on his sudden nervousness-ridiculous, given where they were and what they'd just been doing. "Yes," he paused, and then added, "and, well, no."
He sensed rather than felt her slight flinch and intake of breath and he shifted his head to meet her eyes, seeing the combination of confusion and the beginnings of hurt in them-and somehow, seeing that flicker of vulnerability in her eyes told him what he needed to say. "I meant it because I don't want you to move so far away-I meant this," he added on impulse, moving his hand in an unmistakable caress on her bare back, and knew she understood in the sudden flush on her cheeks and the warmth of her eyes.
"But I won't-I can't-ask you not to go." He felt the pressure around his heart relax slightly at the words. He hadn't quite realized he would say them but now that he had, he knew they were right. "I- I love you; I'm in love with you," he confessed, rather baldly but there was nothing else to say. "But I know what a great opportunity this is for you; I know how much it means to you-and I am glad for you. I just- I just couldn't let you leave without telling you."
An odd expression passed over her face and then she sighed. "Oh, Harry, I love you too and I've been waiting to hear you say you loved me for years now."
"I- I didn't know," he said lamely.
A smile crossed her face before she kissed him quickly. "As long as you know now."
"I do." He smiled into her eyes, seeing all the love he'd ever wanted in them, and wondered how he'd ever gotten so lucky to be here with Hermione, to have Hermione love him.
They smiled at each other for a long, quiet moment, which she finally broke by saying, "I don't want to leave you."
His arm tightened around her, a sense of calm filling him. "We still have these next couple months and then, we'll have the weekends…"
"And Floo calls and owls," she added, understanding as she always did.
"Yes."
And as he kissed her again, his fingers tangling in her hair, he knew they'd be okay. He would miss her but he wouldn't- he couldn't- hold her back from taking a position she would excel at. And he trusted her, loved her-and, after all, that was what really mattered.
The trust of loving and the faith of being loved-what more did he need?