So Simple

So Simple

Summary: Hermione just wanted to go on an innocent walk to think things over, but is joined by a certain someone.

Author's Note: A little out of season, but it was just sitting in my files so I posted it. Please tell me what you think!

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The breezes flew back and forth on the stone path, whipping the burnt hues of fall into a flush of color.

Hermione closed her eyes and surrendered herself to everything that was sentient.

She could feel the hard stone pathway beneath her feet, the carpet of leaves softening and endearing her step. A pleasant coolness pervaded the air, creating a faint reddish blush on her cheeks, and causing teariness to the eye. Her V-neck cardigan sweater, a conservative cream color, made her blend beautifully in the panorama of fall colors the scenery provided her with. Her wavy brown hair only added to the amalgamation of the background.

She had originally come to find herself through reading. Instead, she was getting what she expected from reading on the walk back.

Not that she was complaining.

She was so warm when the world around her was cool, and she couldn't have been more comfortable. It was one of those times where her skin felt so soft, and things so crude such as impracticalities and misfortunes seemed impossibilities as she walked in her world of Elysian enchantment. Hogwart stone of textured gray intermixed, melded with evergreens; set off by the bare branches of those which were deciduous.

A smile graced her lips, lightening all around her. It was so perfect. She, all alone on the way back from an exhilarating read at the Grounds, walking back to the Heads Room was treated to this wonderful moment in time. Fall, Fall, had to be the most beautiful time of the year.

Best of all was the breeze. She couldn't get over it! It was beautiful. Cool and soothing, it whipped around her face, caressing her, whispering of delights she had been denied this past year. It would touch her hair, persuasive in its subtleties, and shoot off at once into a different direction, beckoning for her to follow. She may be in paradise now, but Heaven was where the breeze went.

As a small child she used to run with the wind, letting its sweet tales of wild and exhilarating joy shoot through her veins. Now, as the stoic adult in such matters, the breeze's tantalizing tendrils ran through her hair, intoxicating and pervasive. Come it said, forget your troubles.

She tucks a couple strands behind her ear nervously.

Oh she wishes she could.

But even in her comparable bliss at the moment, underneath all of the contentment was an underlying cold—a deep and pervading pool of guilt and gnawing doubt. A shiver that had nothing to do with the sudden coldness wracked her body.

“Hermione!”

Her brown hair spun as she looked to see who interrupted her daytime adventure.

“Herms,” Harry said as skidded to a halt at her side, panting a bit with effort, “I saw you from the common room windows, had to come out.”

Her eyes squinted a little bit, “Don't call me Herms, and you came all the way from there?”

“Mhm.”

She stopped walking and looked at him, “To see me?”

He paused for a moment, as if considering, and answered with a slight smile, “Yah, I guess so.”

Harry's ridiculously tousled hair was stealing her breeze. The breeze had apparently found a much more fun place to play, for it seemed only Harry was receiving any of its caressing touches. Or, she mused, it was because he was so much bigger, and was blocking the wind.

She hadn't seen Harry for a while.

“Were you reading out there? I was wondering where you were, you've been disappearing a lot lately.”

Blunt. Harry was forward in just about everything he did, approaching problems being just one way he was so.

But in all honesty, she had. “Yes, I suppose so.”

The brisk air was just beginning to leave its rosy mark on Harry's cheek, and his eyes grew clearer.

Harry stayed quiet for a while, apparently brooding her last answer. He only wore a thin sweater with a collared shirt underneath, and was hunched up a bit and Hermione could tell he was cold. She couldn't help but feel a bit superior in her relative comfort, for it seemed the coldness she spoke of earlier had temporarily disappeared

They walked for a while, it was a good ten minutes before they would get inside, and it was beautiful outside so they took their time.

She fretted a little. Harry always made her uncomfortable in ways she didn't quite grasp.

“Wellllll,” he drew out, “let's take a seat.”

They had reached a fountain, and he took a seat on the edge and patted the stone beside him. He smiled.

“We really should get back to our Head duties, Harry. Patrolling starts in less than a half hour.”

He was completely unaffected by her reasoning, and reiterated, “It won't take long, just sit please.”

He was so content and self-assured, that she could not refuse. It would do her no harm. She sat down and looked over.

Harry simply looked back. A faint mist from the fountain was hitting their faces, but it added to the sensual feeling of it all, for it gave them a better grasp of their senses. And a better grasp of their senses gave them more appreciation of this wondrous day. Harry, she noticed, was not cold anymore.

“I think we need to talk Hermione.”

“I appreciate it Harry, but I really have it covered,” Hermione said, clearly reluctant.

“That would account for the loads of times you've disappeared, not been concentrating in class, and simply spacing out all of the time?” Harry asked, a fading slight smile still on his face.

Her heart lurched a bit, but it could have been because of a couple things. Either he had touched a truth, or it was because he had looked her in the eye at the end of his statement. She figured it was both.

A blush came to her face that wasn't particularly a by-product of the cold.

“That's how I cope.”

Harry was undeterred, “Cope, by means of…”

The breeze had once again taken its place around Harry. How his eyes were so green was a mystery to her…

It struck her that as long as she had known Harry, he was still an unknown quantity to her. These past two years, she had seen less and less of him, and as a result, found herself looking at a stranger.

The stranger, however, looked back at her as though he knew everything about her.

“Cope, as in coming to terms with what's happened and what will happen,” she said, somehow not believing what she was saying. She hoped her voice didn't say so.

“And by `terms' you mean…”

Instantly, she was defensive, “Why are you so all on the emotions thing anyways?”

“I just want to help,” he said, clasping his hands on his lap.

“Well thanks, but the last time I checked you weren't involved in a relationship.”

“But I—“

“…or ever been in one longer than a few months. So as much as I appreciate the offer, I can't see how you'll help me.”

Harry immediately went silent.

A few minutes passed by, as they walked in the uncomfortable silence. Why had she said it? She had been defensive lately, and had been nothing short of rude to a lot of people. Now that she thought about it, it was Harry who had been taking the full brunt of her attitude, as he had once again, thanks to her...

Before she could say anything, Harry continued, “Because, Hermione, if anyone should want or need help on dealing with consequences, I could give them loads of experience…I've certainly made a lot of mistakes with my relationships with people…and have had things happen that make me cherish them more than…well, I don't know…than 'anything.'”

He said it patiently, and calmly, but he pronounced the word “need” with a twinge of emphasis that she did not overlook.

Her temper was still hot, but his words placated her.

Her eyes cast downward, finding nothing open for looking at but the ground. Where a short while ago the leaves were so colorful, now, upon looking closely, they seemed to have black dots of imperfections marring their perceived perfection.

He didn't have to say what his experience was—she had been there with him. It seemed as though that were part of another life.

“I'd still like to consider myself your friend, Hermione.”

His words shocked her, even though deep down she knew it shouldn't have surprised her.

“I know…I know these past two years have taken away our `best friend' status, but I'd like to still think I can help you out when you need it.”

Hermione took a deep intake of breath. They both had known, due to her relationship, they had been drifting apart. But never, never had they openly declared it. Now that Harry had done so it opened a chasm within her that she felt she immediately needed to close.

Harry too, seemed to be overtaken by the enormity of what had happened.

He choked a bit as he continued, “So, I am simply asking, as your old best friend, one time comrade…that you'd just listen to me once...”

Hermione felt like crying.

“So I'm asking…with every good intention possible…What do you mean by `terms',” Harry once again repeated. He was not at all condescending, as she herself thought she might have been in this situation, but strong in his initiative, eyes full of emotion.

Still not making eye contact, she replied, “By `terms' I mean finding what it takes to move on.”

She could not hold out any longer, and his green orbs locked onto her eyes, “And those `terms' would have nothing to do with shame, or self-doubt?”

She wanted, and nearly did say “No” but she couldn't make herself lie to Harry, and as a result, said nothing.

A silence ensued as only the steady fall of water and bustling of leaves could be heard. She was cold, and shivered, but did not break eye contact with Harry.

Harry stood up, eyes glimmering with indeterminable emotion. He stared at her, and she stared right back. She felt so corrupted, so unsure. Every since…well, every since it happened, she hadn't been the same. They hadn't been the same, and it was because of her.

It took all of her remaining will power to stay in his powerful gaze, her strength was waning, and he seemed to realize it.

Harry stood up and kneeled down before her, “I want to be your friend again Hermione.”

She couldn't reply, tears filled her eyes. Her soul screamed its agreement, but her body seemed oddly lethargic. It couldn't do anything, it couldn't move—it was locked, frozen.

“I missed you.”

He said it so simply, yet in its simplicity its conviction and sincerity reached levels her heart could barely handle.

He stood up, casting a latent glance filled with care, affection, but also with a hint of deep despair; and sighed. His head turned, and looked, seemingly longingly at Hogwarts. His body set as if he had just reached a deep internal decision.

Suddenly she panicked. He was going to leave her! She could sense it, she could just feel it! This was final; he was going to turn any moment and would never come back to her!

So many could have left her by now, and she had deserved it. And now Harry, her solid, behind-the-scenes friend, was going to leave.

How she wanted Harry with her! Purely instinctual, her need for him grew by the moment. And now, because of her, because of what she had become, he was going to leave her for good, like he should have done a long time ago. She wanted to grab him, beg at his feet for forgiveness—but he didn't deserve her, she hadn't the right—

Here, here was the first time they had talked, just talked, alone in more than a year. And it would be the last time.

She closed her eyes, willing him not to go, but knowing in her heart that he would, and probably was already gone.

Finally, the situation became too hard for her to bear, and she slowly, tantalizingly raised her eye lids.

Harry was there, standing, a small, kind smile gracing his face.

So many would have just simply given up, but he hadn't. Harry was Harry. Loyal to a fault, and loving to the end.

Her heart flipped and glowed as he spoke the words, “I'm not going to leave you.”

She was slowly getting up when she felt his hand deftly make its way into hers. She couldn't help but liken it to the breeze that had caressed her earlier—so subtle, yet intoxicating in its smoothness.

However, unlike the breeze, when she was up and walking, Harry didn't leave her. For a moment, a single and infinitesimal moment, she felt sheer bliss—a happiness she had never known existed. She walked as if on air, on a cushion of elation that no carpet of leaves could ever match.

For the first time in a week, ever really, she felt truly warm and safe. She could be here forever and not mind. Harry, she could tell was deliberately shortening his pace to match hers, and was holding her hand as though it were a baby bird. His hair stuck out spectacularly and his high cheekbones gave him, in her opinion, a windswept, handsome look. He was quite handsome, all the girls said so, and it was only until these moments that she truly appreciated the statement.

“Though,” she thought as she let out a small choking laugh, “with his glasses his look was just downright adorable.”

She was suddenly aware of the thoughts was thinking, and that they were one of the issues which made her so uncomfortable around him.

Suddenly, she was very warm and began to stifle. A burning sensation arose in her chest—not an unhealthy one, just one waiting to be released, pent in and aggravated. Soon, however, it was tainted, corrupted by intense black feelings...

She wasn't ready! How could she possibly interpret these feelings when she hadn't even put down old ones! Tears began to form as she was simply overridden with emotions.

Harry, ever-aware, immediately noticed, “Hermione…come on, let's talk about this right now.”

There was no where to sit, so he simply sat down on the grass and put his back on a tree. He looked up, but she tearily replied, “I want to stand, right now.”

He merely nodded and wrapped his arms around his knees, and waited for her to regain her composure.

The previous reluctance in talking of this matter had long been dissipated. “I don't know what to do anymore Harry. Everything I used to do lacks depth and meaning.”

He didn't mention the cold fact that he too had, up till this point, been subjected to that category of `everything'.

“He…he told me that it was my fault…that everything had crashed down because of me. I tried so hard, Harry, I tried so hard.”

Harry once again remained silent, being a good listener and deigning it wasn't yet time for him to talk.

“Yet everytime I said something, we would argue…He would say things, that…that hurt me. But how can I blame him, when it was my fault we were arguing in the first place…I could have said something different, but somehow I always messed it up…I tried…”

Harry's ears rang with injustice, but once again remained quiet.

“And now, that he's gone, and with someone else…I'm…”

Harry chose this time to fill in her blank, “Broken?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

They both kept quiet, as fall once again established its presence within their consciousness.

Hermione sat down right in front of Harry, clasping her knees to her chest.

They just stared at each other, silence speaking the feelings that words could not grasp in its incompetence.

A sudden breeze flew across both of them, stealing their glances and attention.

Harry suddenly spoke out, “When I was little, there used to always be breeze that greeted me when I walked out of the house, much like the one that just crossed us.”

Hermione waited as he continued, “It used to leave me breathless in its purity—a divine moment of bliss that gave me, however short, a respite from the suffocating Dursleys.”

Sometimes she forgot what he had been through, even before magic came into his life.

She had forgotten a lot about him.

“I used to run with it, willing it to bring me to places other than the Dursleys. It never quite worked, but it was worth it.”

Harry was smiling by this point, “And sometimes, when I feel a breeze like the one today, I do the same thing. Dumbledore once said that the first time he glanced out the window during our first year, he caught me doing it.”

Hermione smiled, and laughed at the thought of it.

Harry, at once heartened by her response, crawled to where he was sitting right beside her, “And he told me, a couple nights before he died, that ever since that moment, he took up running with the wind.”

They both chuckled at the warm memories and thoughts the old Headmaster recollected in their heads.

“I can just see him now, white hair flying in the wind, dashing across the fields of Hogwarts, pure joy radiating in his smile, and his eyes twinkling in delight,” Harry said, “Sometimes when I do the same I feel as though he's running with me.”

Hermione looked up to him with an endearing grin.

“Then I realize how ridiculous my thoughts are, but then suddenly realize that within that ridiculousness is the stuff that truly makes relationships.”

She put her small hand over his, and they both looked at each other and smiled, as they once again submitted to their memories of their cherished friend.

They sat there, for a while. Time was nothing, as they simply sat in contentment and peace.

A squirrel, obviously put off by their presence near his home, had taken to bounding around the tree, standing up on its feet and sniffing the air.

As soon as the squirrel ran off to another tree, Harry broke the silence, “But I never, never once reached that sense of completion when I thought of yours and Ron's relationship.”

A deep blush covered her face, couldn't he just leave it? Especially at a moment like this…

“But through no fault of your own.”

She looked at him in surprise, “Oh Harry, you don't' have to say that, I—“

“Oh I'm not saying it, if anything; it simply did not work out. In fact, I would go so far as to say you were the better of the two, just because you tried the hardest.”

He pulled her up, not letting go of her hand, and they once again began to walk. The squirrel, at once, ran back to his abode.

“If you could just get over the untruth that you are to blame, you'll realize that it was a relationship that, though it was destined to commence, was never destined to last.”

“You know this to be true,” Hermione asked?

“Yes.”

They once again walked in silence. Hermione once again relished the fact that he was holding her hand. She wished he was just holding her, instead of her hand! With him she felt safety, assurance, and warm affection.

Suddenly, she was filled with an invigorating call of the heart,

“So do I.”

Harry, though taken by surprise, smiled wide, “Well, good, because it's been breaking my heart to see you down like this, especially when it had nothing to do with you.”

They walked, this time uninterrupted by words, for no more words seemed to be needed to be spoken. The nonverbal communication that they had developed years ago had come back, never quite deserting them.

They radiated happiness, and they both knew it, soaking in each other's rays of contentment.

Hogwart's corridors had never seemed so bright.

“Amabo te”

The Heads Suite opened up, and they stepped into the room, where they were faced the Head's Common Room—which consisted of a couple recliners and a love seat.

“You tired?” asked Harry.

“Nope,” Hermione answered, a feeling of benign foreboding overtaking her.

“Excellent, neither am I” and with that he brandished his wand, and the fire started blazing, immediately pushing back the coolness Fall had wrapped around their bodies.

They took a seat on the love seat, letting go of their clasped hands reluctantly as they did so.

When they sat down, they both realized the unbearable distance that was set between them.

It has to be like two feet, Hermione thought, as they both inadvertently stared at the hated space.

So they sat there for a good, well, what seemed a half hour, until Hermione couldn't take it any longer and scooted over. Little did know, Harry had cracked at the same time as she did, and they knocked heads.

“Owww…said Harry,” as they both laughed at their shyness.

“Oh quiet you big baby, you don't here me whining,” Hermione countered.

His answer was wrapping his arm around her and drawing her close. Hermione bent her neck and fit perfectly on his shoulder. She could here his heartbeat through his warm skin, and she could tell it was going much faster than usual.

Conveniently forgetting that hers too was racing at the speed of light in anticipation, she reveled in her feminine mastery over the male holding her close.

So they sat there, comfortable and calm, faces flickering in the warm firelight. Shadows played across the room, cast about happily by the fireplace. They seemed to be the reincarnation of Hermione's heart—frolicking, leaping, and twisting with joy.

“I'm sorry I snapped at you,” Hermione suddenly blurted out.

It took Harry a while to remember that they hadn't been like they were forever, then responded, “It's okay, it was all for the better.”

“Yes it was,” Hermione said as she gazed up at Harry, who was beaming at her.

Harry gently pushed her back off of his shoulder so that they were staring at each other.

Harry moved closer, and their foreheads touched.

Chocolate melted into emerald, hands found their ways to the other. Harry's left arm found its spot on Hermione's left hip, and his right snaked behind her and rested on the small of her back. Hermione's left hand shot to grab his shoulder and her right gently cradled his face.

Both of them took quick intakes of breath as all of this happened simultaneously.

Harry could not help but move into the loving touches of her hand. They could not help but lose themselves in each others' eyes. Breathing seemed nonexistent, both of them having held their breath for a while now. What they were breathing in - each other - seemed so much more fulfilling.

Nothing, nothing seemed to exist but the beautiful person in front of them.

Hermione swallowed thickly, “If I kissed you right now…would it complicate things?”

Harry, breathing quick shallow breaths answered simply, but with a small smile on his face, “Oh no Hermione…it's so simple.”

And he kissed her.

For how much they wanted to hold, touch, and grab each other, the first moments of their first kiss they were rendered immovable. So riveting and captivating it was that they were frozen in utter bliss, each their bodies and mind intertwining to intermix with the other's on the graceful curves of their lips.

Their souls danced and played while their bodies remained still. Portraits politely turned their heads, smiling at the sweetness of the moment. The only thing that was divine enough to watch was Time itself, which apparently stopped to watch the momentous moment.

Finally, slowly, they pulled away, both of them holding them close with their hands. Hermione possessively clung to the back of his head, while Harry grasped her body close. Both of them were breathing heavily, searching into each other's eyes which were burning with excitement, passion, and love.

“So simple…” whispered Harry, as he closed the small space separating their two yearning bodies and souls.

Hermione did not answer but let Harry gently, ever so softly, push her back on the couch, where he laid on top of her and they lost themselves to the passions of the night.

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