Something to Sleep To

Amethyst

Rating: NC17
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 31/07/2006
Last Updated: 31/07/2006
Status: completed

SWS. In Hermione’s efforts to bring Harry a little peace on his birthday, she finds herself facing an unexpected struggle of her own.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

Title: Something to Sleep To

Author: Amethyst J

Category: Romance, Drama, and a wee bit of Angst

Rating: A hearty NC-17, if I do say so myself

Word Count: 5,862

Prompt: Harry's dealing with the war with Voldemort, and Hermione wants to help him relax for just a moment on his birthday.

Summary: In Hermione’s efforts to bring Harry a little peace of mind, she finds herself facing an unexpected struggle of her own.

Disclaimer: This all belongs to JK Rowling, and if she wants to steal this and use it in her next book, that would be completely legal (and completely fine with me). Just as long as she doesn’t try to substitute Ginny for Hermione again, because she can’t be replaced, damn it.

A/N: Thanks to my betas on this one. They were invaluable. And yes, I stole the title from a Michelle Branch song, which has nothing to do with the story. I just think the line fits.

~

She stood outside his bedroom door at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, steeling her nerve. Now was the perfect time to do it. Ron was still at the Burrow, spending a little time with his family after the big wedding. Harry had opted not to stay there – she suspected he wanted to spend as little time around Ginny as possible – and Hermione would be damned if she let him spend a night alone in that awful house. And so it was the two of them.

The clock had chimed midnight awhile ago. It was Harry's birthday now, just the right day for it…. Though no light shone beneath his door, Hermione had a feeling he was still awake.

She took a deep breath. It was now or never.

Two brisk raps on the door, followed immediately by Harry's voice saying, "Come in."

"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asked as she shut the door behind her. It was a mere formality; Harry was in bed, but he was clearly wide awake.

"No."

Hermione sat down gingerly on the edge of his bed. "Happy Birthday."

It was a moment before he answered. "Is it my birthday? I'd forgotten."

"Yes. I'd suspected you had. We should celebrate later."

Harry shifted restlessly. "Now isn't really the time for celebrations."

"Of course it is. You've come of age. It's a very important birthday. …We do have time for a little happiness, you know."

Harry sighed. "I suppose." An awkward silence stretched between them. "Was there something you wanted?"

Hermione eyed him carefully. Could she come right out and say it? No, no, that would scare him off….

"I thought you might not be sleeping for awhile. Sometimes, with certain thoughts, it's hard to be alone. I just thought I'd see if you wanted company."

He almost smiled. "Thanks, but I wouldn't want to keep you from sleeping, too."

"You wouldn't be," she said, taking his hand in a forcedly casual manner. His palm was cool and calloused under hers. "I haven't been sleeping well either."

"You haven't? Why not?" Harry asked, his eyes so suddenly alit with concern that Hermione had to marvel a little bit at his emotional flexibility…granted, he didn't usually have that kind of flexibility, stubborn as he was. But…well, he always seemed to be more flexible with her.

"Probably for the same reasons you haven't been sleeping," she said wryly. "That, and…well, the loneliness. Gets to be a bit much sometimes."

Harry squeezed her hand. "You don't have to stay, you know. If you miss your family –"

"Oh, no, that's not it! I mean, yes, I miss them, but that's not what I meant." She shifted closer to him under the guise of trying to become more comfortable. "I'm not lonely because I miss them or because I don't have friends around…nothing like that. I just wish I had someone who was more than a friend. Do you know what I mean?"

What a sly, silly girl she was, dancing around the subject, hinting at what she was after…as if she was after anything at all. She wasn't, she reminded herself. Her only purpose tonight was to make an offer, to give Harry the peace and comfort he needed and deserved. The last thing she wanted to do was wheedle him into it.

"I do know what you mean," he said. "I'm beginning to wonder if maybe that was the only reason I was with Ginny last year…"

Something like hope flickered inside her. "Maybe," she replied vaguely. "That's how I felt about Ron."

"Really?" Harry said, suddenly interested enough to bother to sit up in bed. "But you guys have been going at each other for years now. I thought that meant –"

"It meant Ron fancied me," Hermione interrupted. "But for me, it just meant I was annoyed most of the time. It wasn't until this year, really, that I actually considered him as…boyfriend material, I guess. But that was quite the flop, wasn't it?"

Harry grinned. "I'd say Won-Won got what he deserved, at least."

Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Do you think he doesn't deserve me?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know what he deserves, but…I think you deserve better. Someone who at least understands what you're saying ninety percent of the time."

"I guess that rules you out," she teased.

The lightness glinting in his eyes was refreshing. "Oy! You're the one who said I was ‘more fanciable than ever,’ remember?"

She blushed. "Yes, I suppose I did. And unfortunately, it's true," she added wryly.

Harry blushed as well. "Unfortunately?"

"Unfortunately for us," she explained. "We're the ones who have to make room for your big head."

Harry shook his head. "You know it doesn't really matter to me. Besides, I really haven't had any opportunity to utilize that particular gift lately."

Feeling just a little more daring, Hermione patted his knee. "I think you just need to find a girl who knows the real you. Someone who's been there with you."

Harry nodded absently and then looked at her oddly, as if seeing a complete stranger in her place. "Hermione…you're the only one who's been there."

"Well…maybe it's me you need," she said softly. "And I'll always be here, you know…if you ever need comfort or help…forgetting."

Even in the darkness, she could see the deep flush spreading across his face, and she knew he had understood her meaning.

"Um, Hermione –"

"You don't have to say anything," she said quickly. "Just…know that the offer stands."

Heart pounding, she stood and went to the door. The urge to flea was overwhelming. He hadn't quite rejected her, not exactly…but her heart had been stricken by it none the less.

"Hermione," he called, and she stopped. "You could…stay. If you wanted. I mean, to sleep. You can sleep here if you want," he added hastily.

His bumbling boyishness eased her pain with its sheer adorableness, and she couldn't stop a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I wouldn't want to impose on your bed space – unless you want me to stay," she replied tentatively.

Harry's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and then smiled nervously. "I guess…I'd rather not be alone, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," she said, approaching his beside once more. This time he lifted the covers and scooted over to make room for her, and she slid in, feeling the warmth surround her and relax her body.

The bed wasn't very large and it was impossible to be comfortable without touching in some way. Harry seemed to resign himself to the inevitable and threw away his awkwardness – either that, or he just wanted the contact – because he drew her close with one arm around her, allowing her to settle into the crook of his arm. She was happy to rest there, breathing in his subtle scent until sleep overtook her.

~

Hermione decided that the best place to celebrate Harry's birthday would be at her parents' home. The last thing Harry needed was to be cooped up in a gloomy house on that of all days, much as he loved the fresh air and sunshine, and though the Burrow might have been easier, magically speaking, she suspected Harry'd had enough of the Burrow lately.

There was no reason to suppose the location to be anything but safe, considering Hermione had requested the Order place protective wards on the home before she left for her sixth year, and considering she'd invited Lupin and Tonks to attend, and that Harry himself would be there, she felt they had the best protection possible.

Thus, she and Harry flooed to her parents' house, shortly before Lupin, Tonks, Ron, Fred, and George arrived by Apparation. The rest of the Weasleys that remained in England were not told about the event – Hermione felt the presence of Mrs. Weasley or Ginny might be rather stressful to Harry, and she desperately wanted him to feel happy and relaxed for one day.

Hermione's mother made one of her marvelous cakes that Hermione had greatly missed on her birthdays away from home, and after Harry had finished attempting to teach Ron how to play football, they devoured said cake, sitting on the patio.

"Cor, Mrs. Granger, I think this is better than my mum's," Ron said, scarfing down his third piece.

"Yeah, I didn't want to say it in front of you, mate, but it really is," Harry agreed, working at a much slower pace on his second.

Hermione beamed with pride as her mother blushed happily. "Well," she said, "I've heard enough praise of her cooking to know that's a high compliment indeed."

"Definitely," Harry said.

Hermione smiled to herself. She could tell by the look on her mother's face that she approved of Harry, which was exactly what she'd been wishing for when she planned to have the party at her home. Her parents and her two best friends hardly knew each other, and she hated that.

After the cake was completely and totally consumed, Tonks declared it was time for gifts, and she ceremoniously dropped hers in front of him, which make a suspicious cracking sound. She blushed and sheepishly shot a reparo through the box, which made Mr. and Mrs. Granger start.

"Oh! Sorry! I forgot you were Muggles. Hard to imagine you not used to seeing magic, the way Hermione can whip it out."

"One of the best I've ever taught," Lupin agreed, and Hermione felt her own cheeks begin to grow hot.

"Not as good as Harry was in your class," she protested, trying to move the spotlight off herself.

Harry shook his head. "You're mental, of course you were."

"But I failed that exam, don't you remember?" She shuddered imperceptibly as the memory passed over her.

Lupin chuckled. "That's right, your boggart. You ran out in hysterics because you thought you'd failed everything."

Hermione smiled weakly at him. The truth was that her boggart had never been McGonagall, that she told that lie because she knew everyone would believe it, and that her real fear scared her in ways the boggart had never intended or anticipated.

What she'd seen that day was the horrifying sight of Harry, pale and lifeless, under the wand of Sirius Black. After third year, it had changed – dementors bearing down on an unconscious Harry, after that, Voldemort delivering the final blow…but always the same. Harry, gone. She still struggled with boggarts now, at 17 years of age.

Conversation moved on, although she noticed Harry eyeing her as if he had read her mind…and perhaps he had, if he'd been brushing up on his Legilimency. Harry opened his gifts, and slowly, people began to straggle away. Ron went back to the Burrow, lest he face the wrath of his mother. Lupin and Tonks left half an hour later to do Merlin knew what. Shortly after, Hermione's parents went inside to do the dishes.

Now they were lying side by side in the grass, staring up at the stars that could just outshine the suburban lights.

"I see a pumpkin," Harry murmured.

Hermione snorted. "There is no pumpkin, Harry."

"But the real ones never look remotely like they're supposed to – you can tell they were all named before people had glasses. I mean, look at Pegasus – it doesn't even have a head, really, just a stick of a neck."

Turning her head to look at him, she chuckled, "Maybe they just had to draw stick figures like you."

"Oh, very nice," Harry teased. "Your Care of Magical Creatures drawings weren't much better."

A few moments of companionable silence passed before Harry spoke again.

"So your boggart, it's not really McGonagall telling you you've failed, is it?" he asked.

"No," she said quietly. How could she lie to him? "It shows me you, actually."

"Me? Why…why are you afraid of me?" Harry asked, alarmed, turning on his side to face her better.

"Oh, no – not like that. It – it –" she sighed. "It shows me you dead, Harry."

He slumped slightly. "Oh."

She eyed him carefully. "You're not going to die, though. Don't even start thinking that."

Harry swallowed. "What's to stop it?"

Hermione quirked her lips. "Me. I won't let you."

Harry smiled faintly. "Bossy as usual." His tone was playful, but something in his gaze was serious, sharp, as though it were trying to read something in her soul.

"Hermione…what you offered last night –" She tensed at the words – "Did you do it because it was something you wanted, or…just because you thought I needed it?"

"Both," she answered, surprised by her honesty. "I'd do anything for you, Harry. Anything that was humanly possible, and then some. But I don't think I could have been the one to offer that if I didn't want it just a little bit."

Propped on one elbow, he kept looking at her that way until, finally, he leaned over and kissed her tentatively on the mouth.

The kiss confirmed all the truths she'd been fighting against – that she was, indeed, desperately attracted to Harry; that she did want to be with him in every way; that she'd fallen in love with him; that he was the only one for her…the only one she could ever truly give her heart to.

He pulled away, wide-eyed and red-lipped, and for a moment she was convinced she couldn’t do it – how could she give her body to him, loving him as much as she did and knowing he didn’t feel the same?

But then he smiled slightly, and she knew she couldn’t refuse him.

“We should go home,” she whispered. “My parents – they’re just inside –“

He seemed to understand, and he helped her up off the ground. They went inside and Hermione said her goodbyes to her parents as she normally would, giving them no reason to suspect that she’d never been more nervous in her life.

She flooed home first, and when he stepped into the drawing room seconds after her, he did just what she’d expected he would – he kissed her again. His lips were warm and firm and made her forget her reservations and fears, inhibitions and self-control. He tasted of cake and lemonade, and she found she wanted to taste more of him, consequences be damned.

Harry pulled away, breathing heavily, and as she took in the dazed look in his eyes, it struck her how young they really were – just a couple of snogging teenagers. How easy it was to forget when they were surrounded by darkness, shouldering responsibilities most adults would never know.

He was much too young to have to be fighting this war. Peace…a little peace was something he needed, and deserved. No matter what the cost to her, she would give him that.

She took his hand and began to lead him upstairs, and he followed like the boy he still was, deep down. That’s all they were, really – a boy and a girl, clinging to each other when it was all they had.

She took him to his room. In hers…it would be too close to home. If it happened there, the memories would be all around her, constantly, making her long for something she couldn’t truly have. Much better to keep it at a distance.

Once inside, she gave him no time to question her, lest her resolution fade. She kissed him once more, claiming his lips as her own, allowing his tongue to drive all thought from her mind.

Harry’s breath was hot on her skin as he gently urged her onto the bed and moved his kisses to her throat. She let the irresistible heat settle over her and soak into her skin, giving her body the power to overrule head and heart.

Harry’s hands grew restless and crept under her shirt, rough-skinned and teasing. Her skin was unaccustomed to such careful attention, and her body pressed automatically closer.

Gradually, as time was lost in the heat of his kisses, his hands worked a new kind of magic, touching her in ways she’d never even touched herself, peeling off her clothes as if he were unwrapping a long-awaited present. Well…she supposed she was a present; it was his birthday, after all.

Soon he had her naked beneath him, and it occurred to her that if she were going to go through with this, if she were going to give herself to him as nothing more than an escape, she ought to do it properly. A distraction was what she’d wanted to give him, after all; he’d certainly be more distracted if her hands were on his naked skin, too.

While he paused to gawk at her (he was an ordinary boy in that respect, at least), she sat up and reached for the hem of his T-shirt. He caught the hint and allowed her to pull it over his head.

She took in what of his body she’d exposed. His skin was pale, but his shoulders were broad and his chest and stomach were muscular – not excessively so, but certainly well-toned. For the first time, she truly acknowledged that her Harry really was of age. Maybe some things about him were still boyish – his way with girls, his sense of humor, his grin – but his body was inarguably that of a man.

She reached out and touched him, feeling the solid muscle stretched over his lean frame, and this seemed to inspire him to kiss her again. He was doing a lot of that, the kissing – not that she was complaining, of course; she simply hadn’t expected it. What she’d expected was that he would strip her down, take one look at her, and begin the intercourse. This was much closer to what she’d actually hoped for…what she’d been fantasizing about for a very long time.

He moved from her lips to her neck, his tongue darting out now and then to taste her skin. A moan pulled itself free from her throat and, remembering herself, she reached down for the button of his jeans. She slipped it free and slid the zipper down easily. Trying to push them down herself didn’t work; she couldn’t reach properly, and he was too busy kissing his way down her body. She pushed at the hem with her foot, hoping he’d take the hint. He didn’t.

Sighing, she did the one thing she knew would get his attention. She slipped her hands inside his pants, rubbing his erection through his boxers. He gasped and looked up at her with some surprise.

“Might want to take those off,” she whispered with a nod in the general direction of his pants. He glanced downward and blushed before he backed away far enough to shove his jeans and boxers down to his knees and kick them the rest of the way off. While his attention was momentarily diverted, she took a good long look at what had been covered moments before. What she saw sent her mind reeling.

Oh, God, that was Harry’s penis jutting out…it was erect…and it was erect for her.

She met his eyes as he crawled back up her body, now entirely naked. Just the thought was unnerving. They were both naked, Harry had a penis, and he was about to put it inside her. Of course, she’d known that this was the reality of what they would be doing – but now, as it occurred, it was so…surreal.

Harry’s lips descended upon hers once more and his hand slid up her side to touch her, and with that, her thoughts slipped away like smoke. With his nimble fingers caressing her breast and his thumb grazing her nipple, she was even too distracted to wonder where he’d learned to touch a girl this way. He worked on her like a Memory Charm; who knew he’d gotten so clever?

For a little while, she forgot her resolve to make this about him, forgot to do anything but languish in his attentions as his lips traveled downward, pausing to take each of her nipples between his lips and lave them with his tongue until the heat sweeping to her groin was nearly unbearable. His fingers soon began to travel ahead of his lips, brushing over her thighs and eventually slipping a finger into her folds.

She couldn’t help crying out as he touched her there, somehow managing to hit her clit perfectly the first time. He focused in on the spot and forced her with the gentle pressure of his fingertips to writhe beneath him with a kind of pleasure she’d never known.

Her eyes had been tightly shut, but she opened them against the assault on her senses to find him looking back at her with wonder. That was a familiar look – she’d seen it on his face the first time he’d successfully levitated his feather in charms class first year. It was a look full of thrill and exhilaration and awe at the incredible power he held, and she found she loved that look when it was directed at her, doing what he was doing.

And then he rasped out her name, their eyes still locked, and the flash of heat hit her again, threefold this time, and the tension that had been building within what seemed like every nerve in her body suddenly released, sending her into a frenzy of sensation. She’d never before felt quite so alive.

As she came down from her high, panting and trembling as though she’d just run a mile, she met his eyes to find him watching her with a tentative grin forming on his face.

“Did you –“ he wet his lips slightly with a flick of his tongue – “did you just -?”

Hermione smiled, embarrassed for some reason. “Yeah.”

His grin broadened and he leaned in to kiss her again. “Hermione,” he murmured as he pulled away, “I know you just – you know – but…can we…?” He trailed off vaguely, but his meaning was completely clear by the hopeful expression on his face. She smiled to herself and shook her head.

“No. I’m not done with you yet,” she said, and with that she pushed him onto his back, determined to make this the best night of his life.

Placing a hand on either side of his face, she kissed him deeply; that seemed the best place to begin. She slid over his body as she did so, allowing her skin to brush against his in the most intimate of places. A groan gurgled up from the back of his throat and she took that as her cue to leave his lips, to let her tongue trail along his neck and watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. She ran her hands over his torso, up his chest and back down to flatten her palms against his abdomen. His muscles twitched beneath her fingers as she leaned forward to flick her tongue against his nipples. She was surprised to find just how arousing it was to arouse him. Something about the way his hands gripped the bedcovers beneath him left her wet and wanting more.

His heavy breathing tempted her to go further, to push him further towards his breaking point. She kissed her way down his body, dipping her tongue into his navel just to hear him gasp. She flicked her eyes up to his to find him watching her intently – waiting to see what she would do next.

Well, it wouldn’t do to disappoint him now. Skipping over the area he was currently eyeing with anticipation, she nipped at the skin of his inner thighs, watching him jump, and moved slowly upward. Experimentally, she pressed her lips to his sac; he gasped again, and she knew she must be doing something right.

She eyed his penis speculatively. Taking him into her mouth seemed an intimidating task; she had no idea what she was doing, after all. She might hurt him. But she supposed she could pleasure him without going to such extremes.

Steeling herself, she gave a long, firm lick to the underside of his penis. He cried out, and she grinned to herself. Now that was a reaction. She tried it again, this time swirling her tongue around the head. If the way he arched his back was any indication, he’d enjoyed that. She worked him with her tongue until his moans took on an especially desperate tone, and then hesitated. If she kept this up just a little longer, it would all be over. They’d never take the final step…she could save the last thing she could give him for a later date.

As soon as the thought entered her head, however, it was chased out. An ache deep within, beyond mere arousal or lust, demanded that she be joined with him. Nothing less would do – her heart seemed to flutter in her chest like a bird in a cage, demanding to be set free, to find his and be one with it. The overwhelming need pushed away all her fears of pain and heartache. There was now only him, her, and her undeniable love, and there was no going back.

She removed her mouth from him, to which he responded with a frustrated groan, but she hurriedly sidled up beside him, meeting his mouth as it sought hers, and he took over as she’d hoped he would, pushing her gently onto her back as he hovered over her, kissing and caressing her already sensitized flesh.

In the dimness, she was vaguely aware of his name rolling off her tongue in breathy whispers, urging him for something, anything – she knew not what. Soon his fingers were probing at her damp sex once more, stroking her clitoris and easing inside her. His teasing was almost too much to bear, and she pulled him closer with her arms around his waist and her legs about his hips. None too quickly she felt the head of his cock probing at her ready entrance, and in one millisecond – one that seemed to last an eternity – in one firm thrust, he tore through her barrier and was sheathed deep within her.

At first all she knew was the pain – that, and the strangled gasp that issued from his lips – but he eased it away with tender kisses and the easy, knowing touch of his fingers. When he began to move within her, the pain slipped away to be replaced by a slow burn, a heat that grew with every movement of his hips. In her heart, she knew she could never regret this. More than the physical pleasure of the act, she felt a missing piece of her soul sliding into place, a sense of rightness, that here, her body wrapped around his, was exactly where she was meant to be. She didn’t think about the consequences, of the pain that would come when she had to give this feeling up. She lost herself to the waves of pleasure that ebbed over her, gradually increasing in strength. Harry groaned and increased his pace with every thrust, dropping his head into the crook of her shoulder, muttering her name and other unintelligible exclamations against her skin. As if from far away, she heard her own answering moans and gasps, and she matched his movements with her own.

As she rocked her hips into his, she felt it coming on, hot and powerful and completely unstoppable, snaking through her legs, making her toes curl, and up her arms through her fingertips. It boiled in her stomach and finally bubbled over, bursting outward in an explosion of ecstasy. Her body moved on its own volition, now certainly disconnected from her head, and she bucked and writhed against him, crying out as she was overtaken by the sheer force of it.

Coming down from her high, she was vaguely aware of his release, spurting into her, but its heat could barely compete with the fire that was her own climax. He collapsed against her, panting, as her every nerve hummed and throbbed in tiny aftershocks.

Harry rolled off her as if he could barely muster the energy to do so, and she, too, lacked the energy to do much more than curl into his side, allowing him to draw her close. She wouldn’t bother thinking about it for now – he had a satisfied, peaceful expression on his face, and in the end, that was all that mattered. The rest could be dealt with later.

~

When she woke, his body was curled around hers, at first warm and soothing. She felt safe in his embrace.

And then her mind awoke fully and she recalled everything that had transpired the night before, planted firmly in reality by the ache in her groin and the stickiness between her legs.

That was when she started to panic.

Gods, she’d had sex for the first time…with Harry. More that just that…they’d touched each other in ways that Hermione never thought they would. It was all too much to take in…too much to handle while she was lying naked in bed with him. She had to get out.

She slipped carefully from his arms and scurried to clothe herself, throwing on the skirt she’d worn yesterday without knickers and tugging on his shirt from last night, as it was closest, and she was almost at the door when his groggy voice stopped her.

“Hermione? Wh-where are you going?”

She turned to find him sitting up in the bed, the sheets pooled around his hips – lovely, leanly muscled hips that looked like they’d been sculpted by a Renaissance master. His eyes were trained on her, but he was squinting without his glasses. He looked…heavenly. She wanted to rush back into his arms, but the mad fluttering in her chest kept her inert.

“I – I was just…leaving,” she replied uncomfortably as she spotted her knickers peeking out from under the bed.

“I guessed as much, but why?” he prodded. She racked her brain for a reason, any reason but the truth, but before she could answer, he continued on. “You think I’m a cad, don’t you?”

His head was hung now, his eyes averted, his entire posture screaming with guilt. She felt her heart start to collapse in on itself; there could be no doubt that he’d been acting on hormones last night, not from his heart.

“No, Harry,” she said. “Of course I don’t. I…I was the one who suggested it, wasn’t I? It’s all right. I’m fine with it.”

She started for the door again, her heart crumbling away like earth in a landslide. She could only try to brace herself for it; she’d known it was coming, after all…

“I wasn’t using you,” Harry blurted out behind her, and the panicked note in his voice made her turn, breathless, as he continued. “I mean, you know, I didn’t do all that last night just because you’d offered. I…I really wanted you.”

Hermione stared at her bare feet, biting her lip. “Harry, that’s nice of you to say, but you really don’t have to make more of last night than what it was –“

“Hermione, listen!” Harry interrupted, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I really wasn’t using you. I…I wouldn’t have done that, not to you. I can’t tell you exactly how I feel about you because I don’t know, but I wasn’t just looking for a shag last night when I kissed you. It…it sort of came out of nowhere, but…you were so beautiful…. You were the only person in the world I wanted to be with last night, and…well, I don’t want you to leave and act like this never happened.”

It wasn’t a declaration of love. It wasn’t exactly romantic. But if it had been anything else, it wouldn’t have been Harry, and as far as Hermione was concerned, it was everything she needed to hear.

“Oh…Harry,” she said faintly, seating herself on the edge of the bed behind him. She felt tears of relief welling at her eyes and fought them back. “I didn’t mind last night – I would do anything for you – but I couldn’t bear the thought that you might never feel the same way about me…that that would be the end of us.”

“Hermione, I…I’m sor –“

“No, Harry, don’t,” she interrupted, reaching for his hand. “Everything’s all right now.”

Harry nodded and his gaze traveled over her. His mouth quirked upward in an amused half-smile. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“It was the first one I could find,” she said sheepishly.

“It looks good on you,” he said with a grin. There was a playful glint in his eyes that suggested he was thinking more of what was under the shirt than the shirt itself. He drew her closer with an arm around her middle and kissed her, and this time as he began to take her clothes off, she participated without any trace of hesitation.

~

“Last night was the best night of my life,” Harry told her some time later, as they were lying sweat-soaked and sated between the sheets. His fingers were tracing patterns along her back, and she’d never felt more content in her life.

“That’s kind of what I was going for,” Hermione replied, smirking up at him.

“Well, you succeeded brilliantly, as usual,” he said, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. “You know you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, right?”

Hermione blushed. “I highly doubt it, but thanks.”

“Don’t doubt it,” Harry insisted. “You are. I just can’t believe you want me.”

She turned to snuggle closer to him. “Who else would it be? You’ve been the most important thing in my life since first year when I followed you right into the face of a three-headed dog.”

“I dunno. I’d say after all I’ve put you through, you deserve a normal life. You…you deserve someone that can give that to you.”

“And you deserve some peace. You’ll probably never get much of that; that’s your life.” She kissed him and pulled back with a slight smile. “My life is helping you, and so it’ll never be normal. I suppose you think I have a choice in it, but I don’t. I…I care too much about you to walk away now. Besides, you’ve proven yourself to be quite a good shag. I think the cost is worth it.”

Harry laughed. “I never would have expected that to come out of your mouth, Hermione Granger.” He kissed her tenderly. “But I’m glad you’re with me. You…you make it all seem possible. This destiny or whatever you want to call it. I couldn’t do it without you.”

Hermione could only smile up at him, her eyes a little watery.

“And, you know…last night, and the night before, I slept better than I have in a long time,” he added, grinning. “You’re better than warm milk.”

Hermione snorted. “Thanks. But I know what you mean…”

They settled back into a sleepy embrace and found a little more peace, perhaps even enough to last them for the struggles ahead.

The End