Interlude

Demosthenes

Rating: NC17
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 20/07/2007
Last Updated: 20/07/2007
Status: completed

In a time of war, a moment of comfort becomes something much, much more.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

I'm a bad person. I'm not supposed to post this yet, but I remember losing another fic, Expected, in the backwash of HBP. I'd hate to lose this one too, as it may be the last bit of HP fic I ever complete (depends on how thoroughly my heart gets ripped out come Saturday).
So, my apologies to the mod whose community this was meant for. I may get chewed out, but I'd rather get this out there. I'll take whatever lashing comes.
And thanks to sbeegee, my fantastically porn-eriffic beta!

Interlude

"Bloody hell Harry, watch it!"

"I'm sorry, Ron... sorry!"

Hermione finished performing the locking and silencing charms, then immediately started a magical fire of bluebell flames, to illuminate and heat the underground chamber.

"Hold on a moment," she conjured a mattress and pillow from a few rocks, "set him here."

Ron grimaced as Harry laid him down on the makeshift bed. Hermione set to checking his wounds. She raised his shirt to inspect the welted red mass of skin that covered his abdomen.

"What does it feel like, Ron? Is it more burning or stabbing?" She pulled a handkerchief from her bag and used her wand to wet it.

"Er, a little of both I suppose."

"But more of which?"

"Bugger all Hermione... it hurts, alright! It just bloody well hurts!" He was nearly shouting. Hermione seemed completely unperturbed. Harry watched silently over the both of them. She sighed, then tried again.

"I'm sorry Ron, I know it hurts. But is it more the skin that hurts, or deeper down? I need to know so I can treat it properly."

Ron closed his eyes, the strain of concentrating through the pain evident on his face.

"It's... it's the skin, Hermione. It's burning, but it aches as well."

She gently dabbed the dirt away from his skin, her brow knit. Ron closed his eyes again, trying to will the pain to go away.

"What is it, Hermione," Harry asked in a low voice.

"I'm not certain... it's just... " she thought for a moment. "Harry, roll up his sleeve, but be gentle about it." Harry did as instructed, a grimace crossing his face as he saw the angry red color of the old welts on Ron's arm from his encounter at the Department of Mysteries.

Ron opened his eyes again to see what Harry was doing. He gave a sharp intake of breath when he saw his arm.

"What... why's it look like that?!"

"It's a tergumé spell... it attacks your skin, causing it to redden and burn and then..." her voice dropped off suddenly.

Ron's eyes suddenly grew wide and Harry whipped his head around to look at her.

"Then what, Hermione?"

"Erm, I'm fairly certain I can stop it. I just need to combine a few of the things we have here."

"Hermione, what does it do?!" Ron was becoming frantic.

She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.

"Ron, if left untreated, it causes your skin to peel away from your body." Both of them gaped at her. "But," she gently grabbed his hand, "I can fix it, I promise. I'll come up with something. Just... just give me a moment to think, alright?" Her expression was soft, her voice both pleading and reassuring. She gave him a small half smile and he closed his eyes and nodded. She turned and began to rummage through her bag.

The sudden flight from Hogsmeade had been harrowing for all of them. They had gone to the village, preparing to travel up to Hogwarts for another search of the abandoned school—they believe they'd narrowed down another possible horcrux. But, a sudden and quite successful attack shortly after they arrived had driven everyone from the village. Somehow the three of them had managed to stay together, while being pursued and attacked by a group of five Death Eaters, all intent on capturing Harry and killing the rest of them.

They'd fled into the Forbidden Forest on Hermione's urging, too wounded to apparate back to Grimmauld Place. One day, during a painfully dull History of Magic lesson, she had done some extracurricular reading. She came across accounts of underground hideouts that had been carved out beneath the forest floor centuries ago by magical poachers. Curious, she had asked Hagrid to accompany her one Saturday afternoon to see if they still existed. Once she discovered the first one, she devised a means to detect the rest, certain the knowledge would come in handy one day.

She couldn't have been more correct.

When it became more and more apparent how much danger they were in, Hermione decided she'd be prepared. In addition to all the extra spellwork and defense training she practiced at Grimmauld Place, she always kept an emergency kit of potions and ingredients with her, just in case.

And now she desperately needed to conjure something from her ingredients more potent than the sum of her parts. She could hear Ron and Harry speaking in hushed tones as she moved towards the furthest corner of the earthen chamber and laid out the contents of her emergency kit. She didn't know how long they'd have to run, or how much she'd need to ration, so she chose her materials carefully and set to work.

A few moments later she was ready.

"Ron," she spoke, and they both stopped and looked at her. She noticed that Harry had his hand on Ron's shoulder. "I have something that should work, but it... it might hurt a little. I'm going to test it and see if does the trick, so I need you to brace yourself."

Ron looked up at Harry, who nodded while giving a reassuring squeeze. Harry then looked at her. He'd become the leader—everything they did now was either under his directive or with his permission. She dipped her wand into the vial she'd just mixed, then let a drop fall on the darkest red patches on Ron's belly. He hissed in pain and writhed as soon as it touched his skin. It took all of Hermione's resolve to observe him with clinical detachment. She leaned closer to look and saw the sploch created by the potion had turned the skin back to a healthy pink, rather than a violent red.

She grinned and looked at them.

"It works... oh thank Merlin!"

"Considering how much worse it felt than the bloody curse, yeah, I should hope it worked!" Ron's voice was loud, but no longer angry or scared.

"Are you going to smear that all over my skin then?" He smirked at her.

"You only wish," she teased. "Besides, there wouldn't be enough that way." She held up the small vial. "You'll have to drink it. It will work slower, and I won't lie, you'll probably hurt worse than you do now, but that will pass once the potion's done the trick."

"Hurt worse!?"

She gave another reassuring smile.

"Don't worry. I'm going to have you drink it, then put you into a bewitched sleep. You shouldn't feel a thing."

"You're certain?"

"Yes, Ron, I'm certain. You won't feel a thing. In fact, you won't be aware of anything at all. Now here, drink this before you become any worse. You'll probably be out for the better part of a day, but I figure we're safe here. I doubt anyone else knows about these chambers and they're specifically shielded against detection anyway, unless youâ€™re specifically looking for them, which is highly unlikely." She handed him the vial and smiled again. Once he drank it, she cast the spell just as he began to feel the effects of the potion. He grimaced, turned to face the wall, then his features softened as he fell into a deep and undisturbed sleep. Harry squeezed his shoulder again, then stood up and began to pace the chamber.

Hermione took a healing crystal, and levitated it above Ron. It changed to a brilliant glowing blue, indicating he was healing. She left it suspended above him, sat back and gave a sigh of relief.

"So, he'll be alright?"

"Yes. That combination should do the trick just fine. I'm glad I had those particular potions with me." She looked up at him, noting how different he looked. So much older at the moment, a frown and look of seriousness creasing his features. He looked weary, yet powerful. The leader of their small group—the savior of the wizarding world.

"What about you, then?"

"What about me?"

Harry suddenly kneeled before her and pushed up her left sleeve. Her arm was nearly purple from wrist to elbow and she hissed and pulled away when he tried to touch it.

"Leave it alone, Harry, it's... it's worse than it looks."

"Hermione, you've been favoring it since," he paused uncomfortably, trying not to think about how theyâ€™d been injured. "You need to do something for it."

"Harry, it's just bruised. It will heal on it's own. And besides, what about you?"

He tried to look innocent but failed miserably.

"Let me see your ankle, Harry. Don't make me bind you." Her voice was soft but forceful.

He sat down and extended his leg, then pulled up his pants. The ankle was swollen and various shades of purple.

"Reducio," she cast, and the ankle returned to normal size but was still much too dark. She gingerly removed his shoe and sock and saw the foot had turned dark as well. She accio'd her kit and pulled out another vial.

"Here, you'll need to drink this."

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"Hermione, I'm not taking anything unless you treat your arm."

"Harry, my arm will be fine given a bit of time. But your foot - the blood's collecting there, Harry. You shouldn't have been walking on it and now it desperately needs to be fixed, otherwise it could get seriously worse."

"Fix your arm, then I'll let you fix my ankle."

"Harry..."

But he gave her a stern look that nearly made her wither. She'd never seen him like this before, and it both worried and fascinated her.

"Fine, would you be happy if I took an analgesic? I don't want to use the stronger potions unless it's absolutely necessary."

He took a moment to consider.

"Alright, then."

"Thank you!" Then she pushed the vial into his hand while she rummaged through the kit again. "Go on, drink it! I need to find an analgesic," she said dismissively. She continued searching through her bag while watching him from the corner of her eye. He drank and gave a tiny hiss. She stopped and watched his ankle slowly return to it's normal color. She prodded one of his toes.

"Can you feel this?"

"Yes."

"Wiggle your toes."

He did, and she was satisfied.

"Good, no permanent damage. That should also have healed some of your other nastier bruises. I saw you hit that tree too," she half joked. He gave a rueful smile, then became serious again.

"Your turn."

"Right," she went through her bag, then grabbed something and swallowed quickly.

"Alright then, I guess I should conjure something for us to..."

He narrowed his eyes and grabbed her left hand and pulled the sleeve back. Her arm was still purple and his voice was low and dangerous.

"Hermione, you promised!"

"I took an analgesic Harry! It dulls the pain but doesn't heal immediately, alright!"

"What did you take?"

"A... something to dull the pain!"

"A potion?"

"N-not exactly..."

"Show me!" Again, that stern tone. She begrudgingly reached into her kit and pulled out the small bottle.

"ASPIRIN!! YOU TOOK BLOODY ASPIRIN!?"

She withered.

"It... it has codeine! Honestly Harry, it's all I need! I'll hardly feel a thing in a few minutes. It works rather well. My parents prescribe it all the time. Please, Harry... we... we need to conserve what we have. I promise you, it really is worse than it looks."

He sighed.

"C'mon then, we all need to rest while we can." She changed the subject quickly and stood, conjuring two more sets of mattresses and pillows. She also managed to produce blankets and covered Ron while Harry continued to pace.

"Harry, please," she yawned, "you need to rest as well. Don't make me stun you." It was a lame joke, but it seemed to work. He leaned over and dragged his thin mattress towards the sealed entrance.

"Just in case," he told her.

"Promise me you'll actually sleep, Harry. The locking charm I used will set off a claxon if anyone breaches the door. It would wake the dead, so please, sleep while we can, alright," she pleaded.

"Alright, I promise," he sighed. "But that goes for you as well!"

"I will, this medicine will drag me under shortly." She stood and stretched, then muttered an incantation that dimmed the firelight but maintained the warmth. She checked on Ron one last time before settling in.

"Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Hermione."

**

Fever dreams weaved in and out of her sleep. They were running from the village trying desperately to stay together. She tried to run but her feet suddenly sank into the ground. She began to thrash about and then she felt his hand on her shoulder. Harry was standing over her, and she didn't know if she was asleep or awake, but she was comforted just the same. She smiled at him, then fell into a dreamless sleep.

**

There was a warm flush of sleep in her cheeks and it took a moment to remember where she was. She closed her eyes, still feeling disoriented from the pills she'd taken earlier. How much earlier, she couldn't say. Her perception of time was painfully distorted.

She also couldn't figure out why she was awake.

She looked over at Ron and he was still blissfully bewitched, the crystal still a deep blue color. Then she heard it; a muffled sound coming from the dark corner of the room.

Harry.

She was careful as she sat up, not wanting to make any noise. She winced as she rolled on her injured arm, but the slight buzz created by the medication was enough to dull the pain considerably. Without it she was certain she'd have cried out. Once she was sitting, she could see him better.

He was sitting up as well, hunched over and facing the corner. He was shaking slightly and her first thought was that something had gone wrong with the restorative potion she'd given him.

"Harry?"

The shaking stopped suddenly and he stiffened.

"Harry, what's the matter? Does it still hurt?" She wasn't thinking clearly. Any other time it would have been obvious to her that something was terribly wrong.

"Go back to sleep, Hermione." His voice was unnaturally deep.

It took a bit, but she finally managed to stand and move over towards his makeshift bed. She slowly sank to her knees behind him, careful not to step on his glasses, and put a hand on his back.

"Are you alright? Do you need another potion?" She yawned.

"Hermione, please... just go back to bed!"

"You promised to rest." She murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Hermione! Just leave!" He hissed at her.

The tone of his voice snapped her out of her stupor. Warning bells went off in her head and she was suddenly quite awake. She moved quickly between him and the wall and grasped his shoulders forcefully.

"Harry, what's the matter!?" Her voice was forceful and full of concern.

"Hermione, please...," his voice was suddenly weak and he still wasn't looking at her.

"Harry," she whispered, reaching for his face and gently lifting it up. Even in the dim firelight she could see the tears glistening off his cheeks. His eyes looked red and raw and she wondered how long he'd been like this. In all their years together she had never once seen him cry, and the sight of it frightened her worse than she could say.

He quickly pulled back from her and swiped at his face, then stood up. He turned away, crossing his arms over his chest. He no longer had that stern and commanding air about him. His shoulders were hunched and his head was down and he looked... he looked like that scared little boy she'd met all those years ago.

Her breath hitched and she had to fight valiantly to keep from crying.

She stood again, took a deep breath, then came up behind him.

"Harry," her voice was strong. "Harry, look at me!"

"Leave me be, Hermione, just this once. Please!" He pleaded.

"Look. At. Me." Her tone brooked no refusal. He sighed, then slowly turned and raised his head. She stepped towards him, clenching him into a tight hug. He stood limp in her grasp and she began to murmur into his ear, mimicking her own mother's comfort. Although she didn't feel it, she had to be strong.

"Shhh," she whispered, and began to rub small circles against his back. She could think of no appropriate words, nothing that didn't sound trite or insincere. She just continued to whisper nonsensically into his ear, rubbing circles on his back, until he began to shudder. Slowly she felt him grow heavy in her arms and they sank to the floor. She leaned against the wall and held him while he cried. She murmured to him and soothingly ran her fingers through his hair—for how long, she couldn't say.

"I can't do it, Hermione. I don't know how." Barely a whisper.

She didn't have to ask what he meant. All these months they'd been working, facing Death Eaters, hunting and sometimes living on the run...it was all too much. For all intents and purposes, they were still nearly children. They should be worried about exams, dating and Quidditch; not trying to bring down a homicidal maniac while hunting artifacts and destroying pieces of his soul.

Truth be told, she wasn't quite sure how they were doing it. How they managed the stress and the danger and the true weight of what they were doing. She was too afraid to ask herself how they did it each and every day. She only knew that it had to be done.

"You don't have to do anything right now, Harry," she stroked his hair, "just rest."

"But I can't, not ever..." his voice caught just a bit, and it broke her heart.

"Shhh," she offered. "You can right now, just for a moment. I'll keep watch."

He was quiet, then, "I'm... Hermione, I'm afraid."

He had never said it before. They had all felt it, of course, but to hear him say it made it horribly real.

"It's alright to be afraid, Harry. We're all afraid."

He pulled away, facing her.

"It's not just Voldemort and the war. What if I can't protect the two of you? What if I lost you both? What if... what if you died because of me?"

"Harry..."

"No," he stood, stepping away from her. "The two of you are only here because of me! Because you're my friends. And he'd kill you, he'd make his Death Eaters kill you, or worse, just because he can, because he knows... he knows it will ruin me."

She grabbed his shoulders, staring directly into his eyes. "We won't let him."

"What if I can't stop him? I don't know how to fight him and keep us safe. I could barely do it tonight. What happens when I go after him?"

"We worry about that when it happens. Until then, we keep up the hunt, we keep destroying horcruxes. We'll figure out the rest as it comes along. We always have."

"You always have," he added.

"Not alone."

He glanced over at Ron, still blissfully ignorant of the world around him.

"He could have died tonight."

"But he didn't," she held his face, staring straight into his eyes, "that's the important thing, Harry. We do what we have to do, and we can't worry about what might happen. We simply can't."

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

"You must think I'm an idiot," he closed his eyes.

"Never," she smiled. "Truth is, I don't know how you do it, the weight of the world on your shoulders. I only know that you do, somehow."

"It's you and Ron. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Then I'll make sure that never happens, right?" She pulled back and smiled at him.

"Right," he grinned, then sniffled a bit.

"Oh, Harry," she swiped an errant tear from his cheek with her thumb. "You don't always have to be the strong one, you know. That's why you have us."

He sighed, gently cupping her hand on his cheek.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"Anytime," she smiled, then stepped into his embrace.

She pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to his heart beat, while he lowered his head to rest against her neck and shoulder.

He squeezed her, and she laughed.

"Thank you, Harry."

"Whatever for," he spoke into her hair.

"For letting me comfort you for a change."

He laughed in return, pulling back from her.

"Anytime," he smiled.

Without thinking, she held his face and kissed him—a friendly gesture, at first. But she lingered for a just a second too long, applying a bit more pressure near the end as a flurry of emotions, built up for too many years, began to come forth. She forcibly pulled back before it went further, blushing and smiling and hoping he hadn't noticed.

Harry stared at her, mouth agape and color rising in his cheeks.

She bit her lip.

"Hermione?" He looked completely bemused.

"Oh, Harry," she chewed on her lip some more. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I did mean to, but, I mean... oh," she was completely flustered.

"I don't want you to think I did that just to make you feel better. Not that I don't want you to feel better, mind you, but that's not why I did that. It was just, well, you seemed like you were feeling better, and you smiled, and I was just so happy, and I didn't realize what I was doing. I mean, I did mean to kiss you and all, but not like... like that, exactly. I was just overcome, you know, caught up in the moment, as it were. It's just that I love you so much and..."

She clapped both hands over her mouth, looking completely mortified.

"I mean, I care for you. I care for you so much. Just like I care for Ron and Lupin and Hagrid and... and..."

But she couldn't finish her rambling list, because Harry was kissing her.

Her eyes were wide in shock, trying to register exactly what was happening. In a flash, every argument she'd ever had with herself as to why she could never be with Harry (he doesn't think of me that way; I'm not pretty enough; we're in too much danger; there are more important things, like friendship and bravery) swirled through her head in a tumult. Then she felt his hand, his thumb grazing her cheek, tilting her head. It silenced the noise and the worry.

She closed her eyes and finally kissed him back.

It was bliss; as if she'd stepped away from reality for just a brief moment. All she knew was the touch of his hand, cradling her face and expertly guiding her bewildered mind through the most passionate kiss she'd ever had. His lips would pull away from hers, drawing breath before returning for more. He'd push and pull ever so gently, building a rhythm as his lips worked over hers. She could only respond in kind, daring to move her arms over his shoulders; her hands softly fisting tufts of black hair as his arms encircled her waist.

She continued kissing him; the smallest part of her mind afraid to stop for fear that she'd never be able to do this again.

She felt his hold loosen. He pulled back from her and she reluctantly followed. His hands still rested on her waist, and he was taking shallow breaths. Her cheek rested against his, her arms still about his shoulders. She was afraid to move.

"I shouldn't have done that," he whispered, finding his voice at last.

Instantly she could feel the tears prickle in her cheeks. It was the rejection she knew would have to come, but at least she got to kiss him, really and truly kiss him, just once.

"I understand, Harry. I'm... I'm sorry," she took a deep breath, relishing the embrace, before stepping away.

"Sorry for what?"

She couldn't look at him.

"It's not your fault, really. I shouldn't have kissed you in the first place. I mean, I know you must miss," she couldn't say the name, just yet, "That is, I know you've been... lonely. It's been months we've been at this and... and, I'm sorry. It was terribly inappropriate of me."

"Hermione," his voice had regained a bit of that commanding air. She looked up at him.

"I'm not... I'm not 'lonely' at all. Is that what you really think?"

"I," she hesitated, "I think I let my guard down and got carried away, Harry. And I'm sorry if that provoked a reaction that you hadn't really intended to take. But I understand, really." She tried to smile, but couldn't.

"What... what makes you think I didn't intend to do that?"

"But, you just said..."

"I said I shouldn't have, not that I didn't want to."

"Why... why shouldn't you have," her face was burning.

"I dunno, there are so many reasons," he sighed, frustrated. "Timing, for one. It's been months since Ron told me you'd both decided it would never work between you, but still, it didn't feel right. Then, I never thought you'd see me as anything more than a boy you had to protect. I just didn't dare try for anything more than that, because if I did... and if you didn't..."

"You couldn't risk our friendship," she finished.

"No, I couldn't."

She took a deep breath, summoning her courage, and stepped towards him. She stood, barely an inch away from him now, staring into his eyes.

"I always told myself that you could never... I mean, I'm not very pretty, or athletic, am I? Just a swotty know-it-all who doesn't always realize when to let well enough alone, yeah? So, it's been easy to tell myself that it could never work. That I'd ruin our friendship and it wasn't worth losing that over some crush."

She lowered her head, taking a breath.

"Problem is, it isn't just a crush. It hasn't been for a long time now."

She sighed, then kissed him again, slow and deliberate. Too many years of reserved emotions poured out of her, building into something dark and passionate.

She leaned him against the earthen wall, building the same push and pull rhythm he had started before. Only this time it was slower and stronger, as she worked her body against his into a delicious friction.

His mouth found hers, matching her intensity. He clutched at her, kneading bits of skin as her shirt rode up her back. At some point he realized that his leg had worked itself between hers, and she was now bearing her weight down on it was they writhed against each other.

His eyes rolled back beneath the lids.

Her hands began working beneath his jumper, cool against his overly warm skin. She slid them up and down his back, trying to be gentle with her bruised arm in the process. They moved just a bit the wrong way, and she hissed, pulling back.

"My arm," she explained, seeing his alarmed expression.

"I'll be careful," he rasped, bringing her down and draping her on a mattress. He drew her arm up, laying it over her head. Her hair was splayed out in a dark, chestnut halo, highlights dancing in the glow of the fire. Harry knelt over her.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, before kissing her again. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but you are." He nuzzled her neck, and she gave a delighted sigh.

Now her leg had found itself between his, and as he bore his weight down to kiss her again, there was no mistaking the effect she'd had. They continued to work themselves into a frenzy, though somehow, through the haze of excitement, Harry was still being mindful of her injuries.

His hand had found its way across her torso, and, with a slight hesitation, he moved to cup her breast. He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.

She arched her back, thrusting herself into his hand, then moaned into his mouth.

Tiny stars exploded behind his eyes.

He continued to kiss her, holding himself up on one elbow while his hand continued to explore, grasp, massage... He came up for air, and before he could kiss her again, she placed a hand against his chest, stopping him.

He looked puzzled, lost, then worried, as if he'd done something wrong.

She grinned at him, then began unfastening the buttons on her shirt.

Harry thought his heart would come out of his chest.

When she reached the third button, something occurred to him, and he placed his hand over hers, making her stop. He looked up, and she followed his gaze to Ron, his back to the room, still sleeping in the corner.

"The crystal," she spoke, breathless. "It's still bright blue. He's completely bewitched until it turns back to quartz."

He looked at her, his eyes dark with concern.

"How long?"

"Several hours yet," a smirk played on her lips.

"And... and he has no idea what's going on around him?"

"Absolutely none."

He reached for his wand and summoned one of the blankets. With a flourish, he fixed it to hang like a curtain, blocking Ron from view, but keeping it low enough to view the crystal.

She smiled, then went back to unfastening her shirt. He didn't stop her.

When she finished, she looked up at him, and he lowered his gaze, focusing on his hand as it swept the edges of her shirt open.

He wasn't sure where to begin, completely overwhelmed at the expanse of skin before him. In his hesitation, she scooted out from beneath him, then sat up. She rested her head against him, exposing her neck and shoulder. He reached up, tentative, then smoothed his palm between her shoulder and blouse, sliding it down one arm, then the next.

She reached behind him, tugging on his jumper. He sat back, pulling it completely off as quickly as he could. It stuck a bit around his neck and ears, and as he yanked it off and tried to refocus his vision, he saw that she'd just finished unhooking her bra. The straps draped loosely off her shoulders as she held the front protectively against her chest. She had the most contradictory air of being both modest and wanton; her flushed cheeks, full lips and dark eyes offset by an almost timid expression.

"Infusco," she whispered, making the fire dim to nearly nothing. Harry moved toward her, his hand brushing over her upper arm, pulling her closer to him as he kissed her. The other arm fell away from her chest, then soon both arms were around him, pulling him down on top of her.

Feeling woefully inexperienced, Harry was quick to follow her lead, as the kisses became slower and more intense. With each pass she would linger, suckling his lower lip until a quiet, smacking dissonace signaled she'd broken for air, only to come at him again.

Her hands exerted astonishing pressure, working against his back as she both felt and pulled at every inch of him. When she opened her mouth to his, he instinctually drew in her tongue. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she clutched him, lifting herself up and pressing against him.

He could barely think with the amount of sensory overload he was experiencing. He'd only just felt her tongue inside his mouth, then suddenly he could feel the exquisite sensation of her breasts pressed tightly against him. She had grabbed him, working her mouth against his in an almost desperate frenzy. He could feel her hardened nipples as they slid across his torso, and when he thought he could take no more, she moaned — a deep and primal sound that threatened to undo him.

He broke the kiss abruptly, trying to regain some semblance of control. This was all so new to him, and so easily ruined if he didn't take a moment to calm himself. He leaned forward, lowering her the scant inches to the mattress, then hovered. Her hands slid down his torso, his side, his waist — he never broke eye contact, even in the dim light, until her hands stilled. Then she felt his hand on her belly, slowly working it's way up the curve of her ribs, until it finally encompassed her breast. His touch was feather-light, her nipple barely grazing the center of his palm. He stared at her intently, his hand not moving, as he pondered what to do next. Desperate to please her and not look like the inexperienced, over-eager teenager that he was, he looked at her. Hermione's heavy-lidded eyes stared back into his, dark with anticipation. Her lips were parted as she softly panted, acknowledging his complete power over her.

It was all the confidence he needed.

His fingertips gave an impossibly light touch, as he swirled them over the mound of her breast, gauging her reaction. She moaned again, arching up from the mattress and lolling her head back. He watched, fascinated, as her eyes met his; this time with a look of playful defiance, as if she were daring him to touch her again.

He swiped at her, this time raking her ever-so-lightly with his nails. She hissed, arching again, but not breaking eye contact.

He smiled, growing more confident in their little game, then deliberately drew his fingertips slowly around her breast until he was cupping it. She bit her lip, and then he began to gently knead her, focused on every nuance in her expression as he varied the pressure and speed of his hand. He waited until he seemed to be doing it properly, before he reached for the rigid flesh of her nipple.

She gave a soft gasp as his thumb and forefinger began to trace the motion of a pinch. With each pass he applied the most minute increase in pressure, waiting to see how much she could take. When he seemed to reach the appropriate force, he leaned down again. He was kissing her, his hand alternating between breasts, changing from kneading to massaging to pinching to grasping.

His diligence was rewarded by the deepening and more guttural sounds of her gasps and sighs.

She had moved to his neck, her lips now working fervently as she suckled on one spot. Between that and the way her legs were beginning to wrap around him, he had nearly lost control.

Hermione gasped for breath as Harry suddenly pulled away from her, and she lost the grip on his neck. Even in the dim glow, she could see a mark forming where her mouth had been on him.

She smiled.

"Come here," he muttered, feeling more confidant by the minute. He slid his hands around her back, and lifted her up, then settled into a kneeling position, guiding her to straddle him. He held her, and she threw her arms around his head, tilting her head down to kiss him.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered, breathless.

"Hermione," he whispered in return, "I should never have waited so long." He looked at her, noticing her radiant eyes. The firelight created a blue halo on the fringe of her hair, and cast a bizarre mix of shadows that writhed like frantic snakes across the earthen ceiling behind her,

He kissed her collarbone and shoulder, worked back towards the hollow of her neck, then eagerly made his way to her breasts.

"Hermione," he moaned, splaying his hands out upon her back and tilting her away until she was completely exposed to him.

He fastened his mouth to her, and she cried out.

His lips worked eagerly, as the flat of his tongue slowly moved back and forth across the underside of her nipple; both of them unconsciously grinding against each other.

"Hermione," he'd murmur between the wet smacking sound of his lips making their way between each breast.

She'd fastened her hands behind his shoulders to steady herself, her head thrown back and occasional moans and sighs escaping her lips.

"Hermione," he said again, moving across her chest. She was dimly aware of more sounds, unrecognizable sounds... and when he brought his mouth down on her breast again, a scream of pleasure ripped from her throat; her fingers gripping him so tightly that his skin had gone white.

He pulled back immediately, afraid he'd done something terribly wrong.

She threw her head towards him, clutching him tightly.

"Oh God, Harry, do it again. Wh-whatever it was you were doing... please."

He was laying small kisses on her shoulder, holding her to him.

"What was it? What did I do?"

"I... I don't know, exactly," she was breathless, "but it was amazing."

He grinned, reveling in the praise, then tried to remember what had happened. He had been kissing her, had kept coming up for breath and stealing glances at her, thrown back and displayed for him. The shadows and ribbons and firelight were dancing on the wall behind her, flashing and moving and...

He leaned her back slightly, her body nearly limp. He moved his mouth over her breast, his lips barely grazing her skin.

"Hermione," he repeated again and again, in something that definitely wasn't English.

All Hermione knew was that suddenly there were hundreds... no, thousands, of impossibly light tongues lashing at her nipple, tickling and teasing and vibrating...

She was shrieking incoherently, bouncing up and down on him while he did his best to hold her upright. She was dimly aware of his hands on her, as a sudden and delicious tension rapidly coiled within her. Harry's mouth was shooting electricity through her, connecting every pleasurable nerve in her body. She could feel herself grinding shamelessly against him — against his arousal, and she didn't care. She wanted to be ripped open and filled with him, split apart and whole at last.

The pleasure was too much. She was desperate for release.

Then she clutched a fistful of his hair and screamed his name, her body becoming rigid, then shuddering and spasming while he held her tight.

She fell on him, her body twitching as she gasped for breath. He kept giving her small kisses along her shoulders and arms, chanting her name in a soft whisper. Slowly, he lowered her back to the mattress. He tried to position himself along her side, but she wouldn't let go. He kissed her several times, relaxing her enough to release him. Then he lay by her side, watching the beads of sweat glistening on her skin in the blue firelight. Her chest was still rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to regain her breath, and it was doing the most fascinating things to her breasts.

He gave one the lightest touch, and it sent an aftershock of shudders through her.

He smiled, amazed and fascinated by her body. He felt immensely proud for his accomplishment and her obvious satisfaction.

After another moment she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as her body finally drifted into deep relaxation. She turned her head, opening her dark eyes and looking at him with the most peculiar expression he'd seen. She was radiant—even in the dim light her face was glowing, and the most serene, contented smile graced her features.

"That... my God, Harry, that was wonderful," she blushed. "What did you do to me? I can't even begin to describe what that felt like."

"Parseltongue," he grinned, the back of his hand lightly tracing her cheek. She gave a soft laugh, grabbing his hand and turning it over to kiss his palm. "It was the firelight on the ceiling. I didn't realize it at first, but some of the shadows must have reminded me of snakes. I must have spoken Parseltongue without even thinking about it. Took me a moment to figure it out, when you asked me to do it again."

"I may ask you again, if I ever recover," she sighed, continuing to kiss his palm.

"Anytime," he took her cheek and pulled her into a kiss. He could already feel the intensity rising between them again. Before he knew it, he had climbed over her, and she was working him into a frenzy. He pulled back, gasping for breath.

"Hermione... I... I need to stop. We need to stop."

She tilted her head back, looking upside down at Ron's healing crystal.

"We have hours yet, it's still blue."

"No, it isn't that. I, I just can't anymore or... or it's going to hurt."

"Hurt?" She looked at him, worried, and he cast his gaze down between them. She brought her hand down, placing it against his groin, and he hissed.

"I'm sorry, oh, Harry, I'm sorry," she sounded nervous as she pulled her hand away. "Did I hurt you? Am I doing something wrong?"

"Not at all," he laughed ruefully. "In fact, you couldn't be more perfect."

She blushed.

"It's just... if I don't... you know," he tried to explain. "If I don't do what you did, it's... it's going to ache for hours."

She swallowed.

"You mean if you don't get t-to have an..." she blinked rapidly as she hesitated with the word, "an or-orgasm."

He couldn't help but find her adorable when she was flustered, which had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

"Um, yeah," he said, feeling sheepish.

"Oh," she replied, then began chewing her lip. "Well, um, that's not... I mean, is it a problem with me?"

He blinked, trying to comprehend what she meant.

"I mean, if... if you can't, you know, with me..." she covered herself while trying to scoot out from beneath him.

"What," he stopped her, noting the look of embarrassment on her face. "No, no that's not it at all. I mean, I'm perfectly, erm, capable, and all. It's just, I didn't... I didn't want to assume that you... that you wanted to, uhm, do anything, you know, more..."

She gave a soft laugh, wrapping her arms around him.

"Oh, Harry, you silly boy," she kissed him. "Don't you know I'd have given my wand arm to be with you, like this?"

When he didn't reply, she moved out from beneath him and sat up.

"Harry," she said, "you remember what I said earlier, about not worrying about what's going to happen? I meant it. I know what lies ahead, what we still have to do, and I do know how dangerous it is, I always have," she sighed. "The thing is, I told myself not to tell you how I felt before, because I was afraid. I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same, but worse than that, I was afraid that if you did feel the same, and, Merlin, if something did happen to either one of us, it would be devastating. I didn't want to live, knowing exactly what I'd lost."

"But, the thing is, we're here right now. And we don't know what's going to happen. What we do know is that we have a few hours, just a few, where we're safe and protected and we don't have to worry about anyone else. I know that I've loved you for ages, and no," she silenced him, "you don't have to say anything. Just know that I intend to take full advantage of this moment, because I don't know when or if it'll come again."

She swiveled her legs beneath her, then sat up on her knees, leaning forward.

"I love you, Harry, and I want to be with you, in every way imaginable, for as long as I can. And, I promise," she reached for his waistband, "that it won't hurt."

She kissed him, while her hands fumbled with the belt. He moved to help her and they stood, making quick work of his jeans. Then he set to work on removing hers.

"Lumos," he whispered, causing the blue bell flames to grow. Hermione's arms moved to cover herself. He could see her cheeks reddening, but she refused to look away.

"I... I want to look at you," he choked. Her eyelids fluttered in a series of blinks, and she began to work her lip. He reached for her arm, stroking it lightly until she let both of them fall away.

He stepped closer, bringing his hands up to frame her cheeks. He gave her a kiss, alleviating her tension, then broke away while her eyes were still closed. He let his hands drift over her torso, taking in the delicate texture and color of her skin. In the brighter light, he could see the pinkness of her nipples, and marveled at the pebbled skin. He kissed it, and she sighed.

He continued to frame his hands further down, tracing the flare of her hips, and smoothing over the soft mound of her belly. He kissed her belly button, then pressed his cheek to her tummy, lingering there. His fingertips hooked over the top of her knickers, sliding back and forth along the band, pulling the elastic away from her skin, gaining courage.

Her hands rested on his head, as she stared down at him, waiting for his next move. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally hooked his fingers on both sides, then slowly began to drag them down her thighs. His cheek stayed firmly against her, until he'd reached her ankles and she gingerly stepped out of the pink cotton.

His hands wrapped around the back of her legs, sliding up her calves, dipping behind the knees, and flattening around her thighs. They came to rest across the soft and firm curve of her ass, then one hand came over her hip, then stopped over a patch of impossibly thick and silky hair.

He could feel the heat coming from her, and nearly tasted her scent. He looked up, and her eyes were still closed. He stared down at his hand, resting over her. Unsure of what to do next, he leaned forward, kissing the soft mound of flesh, which elicited a deep sigh and tremor from her.

"Harry," she whispered, "please. I... I want to see you too."

Reluctant, he stood and noticed the darkness of her eyes. She gave him a quick kiss, then stared at him, her eyes raking over his body. He recognized that fascinated look of hers, which he'd seen in classes when they were learning something new and interesting. It seemed so bizarre, to see that same expression that she'd had so many times before, while she was standing naked before him. It was difficult to reconcile the two images of her, but all thoughts flew from his head as her hands began to graze over him.

She reveled in the taut feel of his chest; the smooth planes of muscles that twitched beneath the surface as her hand moved over the skin. She'd touch a small portion at a time, as if memorizing it, then would lay a feather light kiss on it, before moving to the next bit. She continued doing this, only stopping when he'd hissed and pulled back when she tried to kiss his nipple ('Don't. Too sensitive,' he'd said through gritted teeth). She kneeled, working over his abdomen, loving the feel of his burgeoning six pack and the raised portion of his pelvic bone, before it smoothed into his spare belly. She looked up at him, and he fixed her in a stare. She never broke eye contact, as she grabbed the top of his briefs, pulled, then readjusted her grip to allow them to slide over his erection. She could feel it spring free, as it softly bounced against her chest while she continued sliding the briefs off his legs. As he stepped out of them, she finally leaned back and looked at him—at it.

Her hand came up, tentative, and she didn't know what to do. It was almost comical, the way it stood out, bouncing in a rhythmic twitch. She was fascinated, and more than a little frightened when she realized that, somehow, it was meant to fit inside her. With renewed determination, she reached up, and gently grasped it. Harry made a strangled, choking sound, and she smiled, recognizing his excitement. She gave a gentle squeeze, noting his reaction as his head was thrown back, and he'd grasped her shoulders.

Holding him here, feeling his helplessness, she felt powerful.

"Harry," she whispered, "tell me what to do."

"S-squeeze it again, and... and stroke...," his voice trembled.

She did as she was told, and he moaned some more.

"Her-hermione..." his knees were buckling as she continued. "You... you need to stop now...I... I can't... I'm going to..."

She stood, releasing him. He was both relieved and disappointed, until she grabbed him, kissed him, and he could feel the full expanse of her naked body against his.

His arms wrapped around her, taking in the feel of her. He could feel that silky patch of hair, rubbing and enticing his engorged member. His hands found her ass, and, instinctually, he wanted raise her up and enter her in one swift movement. It was a difficult, denying that urge, but he knew he had to let her set the pace.

Just then she pulled away, then lay down before him on one of the mattresses. He kneeled before her, then stopped. She looked at him, puzzled, then he summoned his wand. With a flick he'd enlarged the mattress into something wider and more comfortable for the two of them. Then murmured a charm, swirling his wand above her abdomen.

"Protection," he explained.

He set it aside, and then, before continuing, he remembered something else. One of those things he'd heard from the other fellows, when it came to things like this.

"Hermione," he began. "I don't want to - to hurt you."

She smiled at him.

"You won't, I mean, not really."

"But, I thought... I mean, I'd heard that it does, you know, for a girl, the first time..."

"Oh, uhm... normally it does."

His heart suddenly plummeted, and he looked away.

"This isn't... it's not your first time, is what you're saying." He struggled to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"What? Oh, Harry, no, that's not it at all," she rushed to explain. "There's, oh, this is difficult. Harry, do you know why it usually hurts the first time, for a girl?"

"Erm, no, not... not really," he was feeling woefully uneducated at the moment, more so than he ever had in Hermione's presence, and that was saying something.

She sighed.

"There's... there's this thing... this bit of something that gets, uhm, torn," he looked at her, alarmed. "But sometimes, well, uhm..." she was blushing furiously. "Harry, do you know how I'm afraid of flying. You know, deathly afraid?" He nodded. "Our first year, during flying lessons, I had a nasty fall. It's what put me off, you know, but, uhm, well, that bit of me, it got torn. It... it just happens sometimes, with accidents and all."

"So you... you haven't..."

"Merlin, no!"

He looked relieved, then noticed her expression change as she sat up. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed.

"Did... did you really think I had?" He could hear the fine edge of anger and hurt in her voice.

"Uhm, no... not really. But you said..."

"And just who, exactly, did you think I'd slept with, Harry?"

"No one!"

"Do you think I just do this randomly, you know, in life or death situations. This is how I cope or something?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, but you obviously thought it," she pulled at a blanket, covering herself up. "You know, it's not like I asked what kind of experience you had, Harry. And I don't want to know, either." She sniffed, and he could see the tears in her eyes as she scrambled about, looking for her clothes.

"I don't have any, not really," his heart began to sink again as he'd seen how much he'd upset her.

"Because what you did earlier, that was just a novice fluke."

"Yes... yes it was. What I did earlier, I didn't plan that, and it's not something I've ever done before. I just... I just wanted to make you happy, Hermione. I wanted to make you feel the way you were making me feel," he grabbed her shoulders, stilling her. "You make me feel... Merlin, Hermione, I can't even begin to explain how you make me feel. I didn't want to disappoint you, and I didn't want to make you think that I was some kind of clumsy idiot. I just wanted to be... to be careful with you, because... because you mean so much to me." He brushed away a tear that fell from her eye.

"I didn't think you'd slept around, or anything, honestly. It's just, the way you said it, I mean, really Hermione, I'm insecure enough as it is."

She laughed.

"I didn't want to think that you'd been, like this, with anyone before, because I was afraid I wasn't... that this wasn't, special."

"Harry..."

"It's just, you mean the world to me, you really do, and I couldn't bear to think... you know," he finished lamely. He thought about how heartbroken he felt, at just the thought of her with someone else; of anyone else seeing that contented smile, of hearing those soft gasps and sighs. He thought about the way she made him feel, how just seeing her smile could lift his spirits, or how seeing her sad could ruin him. He wanted her more than anything in the world; wanted to keep her safe and protected and happy—always happy. Then he realized that he'd give up his own happiness for her. He'd do anything for her.

"Hermione, I... I think I love you."

"Don't say that, Harry," she clutched her arms protectively around herself. "Don't say that unless you really mean it. I told you, you didn't have to say anything."

"But," he looked into her shining eyes, seeing not just her, but a world of possibilities for the both of them, together. "But, it's... it's true. I don't think I've ever felt this way before, I mean, not like this."

"Like what, Harry," her voice was soft.

"Like, like it would kill me to be without you. That I couldn't bear the thought of you with anyone else, but, if you were with someone else, and you were truly happy, then I'd rather be miserable for the rest of my life than ruin that. I know that doesn't make sense, I mean, how can that make sense, that love makes you so sad. But, you make me feel... you make me feel like I'm, I dunno, like I'm better than I am, because I know there's no way I deserve this... to be with you."

"Does that even make sense, Hermione? 'Cause if it does, then I think... I think in some way, I've always loved you."

"Oh, Harry," she grabbed him, pulling him down with her. "That makes more sense than you can possibly know."

"It does," he asked between kisses.

"Oh, yes," she kissed him again, "absolutely."

If he lived to be one hundred years old, he didn't think he'd ever understand it. All he knew was that he was in her arms again, and she was smiling, and that's all that really mattered at the moment.

He could feel her exquisite body, sliding underneath him, and all was right with the world.

She reached over him, gripping his bottom as she threw her leg over his. He felt her slide that wonderful part of her body, slick and wet, over him, and he almost lost his mind.

He thought, for never having done this before, she certainly knew what she was doing. For just a brief moment he could imagine her, sitting in her bed at Hogwarts with the drapes closed, reading the kind of books you'd never find in the school library. He wondered if she would have pored over books on this subject the way she did her school books.

If at all possible, he became more excited.

"Harry," she breathed into his ear. He paused, and she reached down for him. He bit his lip, trying desperately to hold himself back. She guided him against her, and he could feel her part, ever so slightly, and the intense, moist heat inside her.

"Just... just slide," she let him go, then slowly worked herself against him. He could feel the length of him being coated in that wet heat, and she tilted herself up, resting higher up on him than before. Then suddenly he felt something give, and just the tip of himself had pushed just a bit deeper inside.

"Go slowly, Harry. It... it shouldn't hurt, but I'll still need... need to stretch." He could hear it in her voice, the nervousness, mixed with excitement. She felt exactly as he did, and he couldn't help but think that this was another great adventure that he'd have with her. Yet another thing that she'd guide him through, and see him through safely. He trusted her, more than anything, and now he'd trust her with his heart.

"I love you, Hermione. I always have," he said, staring into her eyes.

"Oh, Harry, I love you too."

They kissed, and then slowly, oh-so-carefully, Harry pushed forward into her.

She gasped, and her legs tightened around his, drawing him in further.

He couldn't begin to describe what it felt like. He'd heard other guys joke about; try to describe what it was really like, but nothing he'd ever heard even came close. He was completely inside her, and every nerve he had was attuned to the bit that was finally connected to her. It was hot and impossibly slick inside, and he could feel her heartbeat, as the walls pulsed around him. It was difficult to stay still, but soon enough, she'd began to move against him, and that's when he thought he'd really lose control.

She started slow, and the cool air hit him as he pulled out. Then she thrust him forward, and that first real taste of friction made his eyes roll back and all coherent thought fled from his mind. She set the pace; drawing him in, pushing him out. He was dimly aware of a deep series of moans that accompanied each movement, then realized that it was him. He struggled to focus his eyes, to look at her face and try to guess what she was feeling.

She had grabbed the back of his head, and was staring into his eyes. Her other arm gripped his, and her mouth was open in a perfect, tiny 'o'. Each time he thrust into her, the most delicate and startled gasp would escape her lips, as if she were surprised with each movement.

His heart swelled for her. He could never imagine anything more perfect, and he leaned down to kiss her, soft and deep, while they slowly continued. He could hear her panting in his ear, as he held her tightly and she clutched him. He bit his lip, trying to control himself, but all too soon he could feel he was going to lose control.

He propped himself up, watching the most erotic of expressions flash across her face with every movement.

"I'm not going to last much... much longer," he gasped.

"S'okay," she breathed back, her arm clutching his again. She tilted up towards him, allowing him deeper access. Her chest pressed tightly against his, and he could see the soft swell of her breasts grow each time he pushed into her.

It gave him the most wicked idea.

"Hermione," he whispered into her ear, in Parseltongue, then pulled back to look at her. Her eyes opened wide, and she gasped.

"Oh, Harry," she moaned, and he immediately tilted his head down, latching on to her breast. His tongue lashed against her hardened nipple, as he continued to keep the rhythm between them. He could hear her start to moan incoherently, then start to cry out.

What he hadn't realized was the effect it would have on him. Still mostly unfamiliar with female anatomy, he nearly exploded when he felt her start to grip him. Her hold on him became outrageously tight, and, when she finally crested and screamed, the vise-like series of clenching pulses that engulfed him caused him to scream quite suddenly. He came in a rush, quivering as she drew everything from him.

**
He wasn't sure, but it felt as if he might have lost consciousness. There were stars swimming in his vision, and a ringing in his ears. And, oddly, he could feel tears in his eyes.

When his vision finally swam back into focus (or, as much as it could without his glasses) he found her smiling at him, the same errant tears lining her eyes as she gave little fits of laughter.

His heart felt light; lighter than it ever had. And contentment, like he had never known, settled over him.

"Are, are you alright," he asked her, smiling and tracing the contours of her face with his fingertips.

"Never better," she grinned, her hand resting over his heart.

"I love you, Hermione." He could feel the true weight of his words like he never could before.

"I love you, Harry." She laughed again, then tilted to roll him off of her. With a soft squelch of sound, he felt himself slide free. She dissolved into a fit of giggles, and he couldn't help but join in. He lay back, and she snuggled beneath his arm, her head resting on his chest and her hand over his heart. She muttered the incantation to dim the fire, before falling asleep.

He stole a glance at the healing crystal. It was faded, but still blue.

He pulled the blanket over them, kissed her forehead, wrapped his arms protectively around her, and fell asleep in seconds.

**

She woke with a start, feeling odd. She felt hot and sweaty and not at all herself. Something was wrong. She was... she was naked!

She tried to sit up, but couldn't move. Someone was holding her...

Then it all came back in a rush.

She thought it had been a dream. But she could feel his heart beating beneath her hand, could smell his mingled sweat with hers, and the dull throb of ache between her legs.

She blushed.

Carefully she tried to pull away from him, but even in his sleep, he held onto her. A small frown creased his features. She kissed his cheek, and his hold loosened. She sat up, looking for the healing crystal and trying to gauge how much time was left.

"Less than three hours, yet," she murmured, then stretched.

Had she really just done what she thought? With Harry?

She turned and looked at him. The blanket had been pulled off of him when she sat up, and he lay there, wearing nothing but a blissful smile.

She went to cover him, then glanced down and noticed they were not alone. Whether Harry knew it or not, he was absolutely ready for another go around.

A dozen thoughts, each more naughty than the last, flitted through her head.

She reminded herself of what she said earlier. When would they ever get a chance like this again?

**

It was the moaning that woke him up. His moaning...

Remnants of what happened earlier were swimming to the surface. And he'd been having the most exquisite dreams. But, when he finally opened his eyes, he realized he hadn't been dreaming at all.

Hermione was straddling him, leaning back and shamelessly riding him. Some part of him must have realized what was happening, because he was already gripping her hips, and seconds away from climax.

Just the sight of her, and he couldn't hold back. With a defiant grunt he came, spilling into her.

She collapsed on top of him.

"G'morning," she whispered.

"I'll say," he panted. "That... that's not fair... I missed most of that."

"Less than three hours left," she yawned in explanation, and he glanced at the crystal. He spooned up behind her, and they both drifted into sleep.

**

She could feel his hand, cupping her breast. It moved down to her waist and she leaned back into him, dimly aware of what was happening. He entered her, then grasped her breast as she moaned and rocked against him.

It was different, on their sides like this; slower and somehow more intimate, though they couldn't see one another. Hermione grabbed his hand from her breast, and guided it down between her legs. She lined up her fingers over his, and taught him how to touch her just so. He was a quick learner, and soon, Harry was moaning softly into her ear as they both came.

**

They continued in fits and starts, drifting in and out of sleep. Each time they woke to something brilliant and unexpected from the other; both becoming quickly familiar with each other's bodies.

Harry was also mindful in making sure that Hermione was just as satisfied as he was, each and every time.

**

When Harry awoke for the last time, he was fully dressed. The fire was glowing brightly, and the floating curtain that had hidden Ron from view was gone. The crystal above him was pale, with just the smallest tinge of blue left in it.

He looked around for Hermione, who was on the other side. Her back was to him, and she had her potions pack open before her, as if taking inventory.

"You're awake," she said, not looking at him.

"Uhm, yeah," he said, feeling disconcerted. He sat up, trying to piece together what had happened.

Had it all been a dream?

"Ron should be up any minute. I had a chance to look him over. The skin's cleared up nicely."

"Hermione," he questioned.

"We should be able to apparate just fine, as soon as we're far enough out of the forest. We really should consult with the Order as soon as we return; make certain they know about the attack and that we're alright."

"Hermione, look at me."

She wouldn't move.

"Hermione," he repeated, the commanding tone back in his voice.

She turned to face him, tears streaked down her cheeks.

"Is it wrong, Harry," she whispered. "To want to stay here? To want to forget everything and everyone else out there and just stay here, with you, where you're safe?"

"No," he stood before her, brushing her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Part of me wants the same thing. Now that I have you, that we have each other, I don't want to risk losing you. It's very tempting to keep you here, locked up and safe where I know nothing can harm you."

"As if I'd let you go on without me," she kissed his palm.

"I'm afraid to lose you, Hermione. Even more so than before, because I know... I know what you really mean to me."

"I know. Believe me, I know. I can't even think about losing you, or I start blubbering like an idiot."

"Then we do what you said. We don't worry about what's coming. We just do what has to be done, and then..."

"And then," she smiled at him.

"Just know, I'm going to do everything I can to protect you."

"As if I'd do anything less?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

They kissed; a slow and passionate kiss filled with promise and hope. When they broke, Hermione stood there, her eyes closed and leaning against him, gasping for breath. He gave her another quick kiss, before stepping away. She took a deep breath, swiped at her last few tears, then walked over to Ron.

The crystal was now completely quartz. She plucked it from the air.

Harry stood next to her. He reached for her hand, taking the crystal. She gave him a quizzical look.

"Memento," he smiled, kissing her hand.

She grinned back at him, then turned to Ron.

"Ennervate."

Ron gasped, taking a deep breath of air.

"Bloody hell," he exclaimed, looking up at Harry and Hermione, who smiled back at him. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking himself over.

"How do you feel, Ron?"

"About a million times better. Thanks, Hermione."

"I've looked you over," she said, and Ron smirked at her. She continued, "I think you're alright now, but it wouldn't hurt to have a professional healer give you a proper once over when we get back."

"Actually, I don't feel too bad."

"Yes, but still," she persisted.

"Alright, alright. And what about you two then?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, the briefest trace of guilt flickering between them.

"What about us," Harry asked.

"How's your ankle and your arm? If I'm gonna have to have Pomfrey or someone take a look at me, then you'd best get checked out as well."

"Right," Hermione answered, a bit too quickly. "You're absolutely right."

Ron finally stood, then raised his shirt and looked at his stomach, making sure all traces of the curse had gone. The three of them then set about to packing their things, then removing any sign that they'd been there.

With a bit of sadness, Hermione vanished the last makeshift bed. She felt Harry come up behind her, and squeeze her shoulder. She turned and smiled at him, then grabbed her kit and made her way up the earthen steps to the entrance of the cavern. She cast a charm, causing the hidden door to become transparent, then the three of them looked around, making sure the coast was clear. Satisfied, she opened the hatch, and Harry carefully climbed out first, his wand at the ready. He beckoned the others, and the three of them cautiously made their way out of the Forbidden Forest and back towards Hogsmeade.

Once they reached a point where the apparition charms from Hogwarts no longer had effect, they left for Grimmauld Place.

Ron apparated first. Before Hermione could follow, Harry grabbed her arm, and gave her one last kiss. She blushed and smiled, gave him a quick peck, then disapparated.

He would do his best not to worry about what could happen. Instead, he decided to focus on what did happen; on what he had now.

He pulled the crystal from his pocket, concentrated, and turned it blue. Somehow, some way, there would always be time for them. Of that, he was certain.

He would succeed, they would succeed, because they simply had to; him, his best mate, and now, his love.

With a smile, he apparated to join them.

_ _ _ _