Do You Love Me?

Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman? - Bryan Adams

“To really love a woman
To understand her - you gotta know her deep inside
Hear every thought - see every dream
N' give her wings - when she wants to fly
Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms
Ya know ya really love a woman

When you love a woman you tell her
that she's really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one
Cuz she needs somebody to tell her
that it's gonna last forever
So tell me have you ever really
- really really ever loved a woman?”

Do You Love Me? - Chapter 3

Harry apparated into the living room after a long day of work. Two Death-Eater raids and tons of paperwork to match. Life was all happy, happy, joy, joy.

“Hermione, I'm home.”

No response.

“Hermione?” Harry called again going into the kitchen.

Suddenly, he was hit by an overwhelming scent - smell - wait, whiff of something. His eyes began to cloud and tear.

“Her -uh,” he sharply gasped.

“Oh God! Harry! Sorry! EVANESCO AIRE!” he heard Hermione scream.

Still momentarily blinded, Harry grasped for something to hold onto. He felt Hermione slip her hand into his.

“Sit down,” she said.

“What in Merlin's world is going on?” Harry said drawing a barstool near Hermione's and taking a seat as he removed his hand from hers. Quickly, he wiped his eyes as he took in his surroundings.

There were onion peels all over the kitchen tabletop. Plastic “Weezard Wizard's Grocery” bags were strewn over the counter behind their barstools. In the middle of the table lay about twenty full plates of chopped onion.

“I was just about to get another plate,” Hermione said.

“Ummm… Are you trying to make onion stew? I love you cooking. Honestly, I do. I do. But I have to warn you, Hermione. Ehh… Onion stew tastes terrible and I'm sure it doesn't need that many plates of onions. I think you've cut up enough to last us a year. I didn't even know we had that many bags of -. Wait, are you crying?”

He had finally had a good look at her. Her cheeks were splotchy. Her eyes teary. And her nose. Her nose was pink and seemed slightly swollen.

She stayed silent avoiding his gaze.

He knew when she cried. During the War, she had been his constant support. His rock. Even Ron had bailed on him during their eleven years of friendship. But she never had. They were best friends first and foremost. He liked to think that he knew her better than he even knew himself.

“Hermione, did something happen at the hospital? Was Angela Millstone baiting you again?” he asked.

And before he knew it, he was enveloped in one of Hermione's famous, crushing bear-hugs as she started to cry. She had jumped off the barstool and stood in his arms.

“Harry, I'm so sorry,” she whispered again and again.

He patted her gently. Harry never did well with crying women.

“What are you sorry about? Are you okay?”

“I'm such an idiot.”

“Definitely not one of the words I would use to describe you.”

The tears stopped. Her cheeks glistened. Hermione laughed.

“And what words would you use to describe me then?” she asked.

Hermione had given Harry the perfect opening. To be romantic. She could just imagine what those tall, dark handsome heroes would say from the romance novels she used to sneak from her mother's bookshelf. They would look into the heroine's eyes, move closer, and whisper the sweetest words of poetry or power. Their praises would be as high as goddess divine, or even as simple as the love of my life.

She thought she had calmed down since Angela's words in the morning. And she felt guilty for doubting her relationship with Harry. She was an idiot. But Harry had woken up all her insecurities again. Harry just wasn't romantic. But did that mean… Did that mean he didn't love her? That they were predictable like Angela said. That they expected to end up with each other. That this - everything that was going on between them - was convenient. She hadn't believed him when he had professed his love for her previously. That was the truth. It didn't seem genuine because she didn't think he ever showed any other signs of loving her. But now. Here. Right here and right now. This is what she was actually asking him: `Do you love me? Really and truly, do you love me?'

Cryptic though it may be.

Poor Harry had no idea he was being tested.

“Hermione.”

“Yes?”

“No, umm… I mean the word I would use to describe you with is Hermione.”

“That's my name.”

“I know.”

Suddenly, Hermione turned from Harry and started to clear the kitchen tabletop. That was definitely not what she was expecting.

Harry was confused by Hermione's reaction. His body missed Hermione's warmth.

“So what happened today?” he asked.

“Angela thinks I'm leading you on,” Hermione responded briskly as she started to throw out the onions and wash the plates in the sink behind Harry.

“Leading me - what?”

And Hermione didn't want to be cryptic anymore.

“Do you think we're predictable, Harry?” she said turning around and resting her hands on the edges of the kitchen sink.

And for the first time during the span of the night, Harry spoke up.

“I don't know why that is any of Angela's concern if we are predictable or not. And what's wrong with being predictable, Hermione? I want `predictable'. And I never thought I would ever hear this from you. How can you forget the War?”

Hermione quickly sucked in her breath.

“Why are you making this about the War? Don't make this about Tom Riddle. I'm asking you about our relationship.”

“Because you're not happy.”

“I've been having doubts about us, Harry.”

“Why? What have I done?” he said suddenly standing up and facing her.

“It's not you. It's me.”

“Do you think we need a break?”

“Harry!”

He was furious and upset. Was she really having doubts about them? “Do you think we need a break?” he repeated choking on the last syllable. She was going to give up on them after everything they had been through.

Hermione felt her own heart tear into two. She didn't notice the same happening to Harry. She couldn't - wouldn't look at him.

“May - maybe, we should.”

And just like that, she apparated out of their apartment.

The last six months of Hermione's life were hell on earth. He didn't love her. Eleven years of friendship gone. She though that no matter what happened they would have stayed friends. But this wasn't something trivial. Together they had gone through so much. Hogwarts. The War. The Horcrux hunt. Adjusting to life after the War. Living in Grimmauld's place after graduation. And then moving into Godric's Hollow. Healer & Auror training.

And she knew now that she loved him. Loved him so much that it hurt. But it didn't matter. Because he didn't love her.

She moved back to her parent's house.

But today she was going to meet Harry again. He was giving a speech at a charity event. She and Harry had created the War Veterans' charity with the help of the Creevey brothers.

And somehow Ginny had convinced her to go on a blind date. Tonight. Of all nights when she was the most vulnerable.

See, she was moving on. Imagine her surprise when at exactly seven o'clock she opened the door and found the person she least expected. He was staring at her. His green eyes flicking angrily across her face.

“Hermione, who's at the door?” her mother called.

His expression softened.

(A/N): I'm dying to know your reaction! Can we show some love for Hermione? How do you feel? Did you love it? Hate it? How should I improve? Was it anything you expected? I'm sort of scared about this chapter! Please, please review.

I'm excited to write the next chapter. I want to thank all my anonymous reviewers, pottercrazy, ivy, izzieq, mushypeas, lorel, mathiasgranger, margie19142, Harryluver05, Free28, oneiros lykos, princessoftheworld, Amazing Sorceress, Molly, alayneni, and Bra4goten. Your encouragement and criticism was extremely valuable to me. I wrote review replies for everyone. I hope I was able to answer your questions. Once again, thank you so much for reviewing.