With a snarl of frustration Harry sat up in bed and hurled the book he had been attempting to read at the opposite wall. It hit the corner of Phineas Nigellus' frame, startling the occupant from his slumber, before bouncing loudly to the floor. How could he have been such an idiot?
"If you don't mind," the old headmaster drawled," some of us are trying to get some sleep here. Not that I expect you to have a care for another's wellbeing; your own troubles are of course all too pressing."
"Shut up." Harry lay back down and stared at the ceiling trying to work out what he could have done differently. As Phineas continued to drone on about youth being wasted on the young he replayed the conversation in his head.
She whirled round to face him. "Harry I'm in love with you."
He looked at her for a few seconds in bewildered astonishment before opening his mouth to reiterate the statement. However a vacuum seemed to have been formed in his brain and into this newly vacated space stepped the difficult, awkward part of his brain which had caused him problems earlier. Instead of professing his undying love he said, "but you still never wrote to me." It sounded petulant even to his ears. "You say you loved me but you couldn't bring yourself to tell me. Couldn't you even just have written me a normal letter anyway? I never heard from you for weeks at a time why couldn't you just have let things stay the same between us?"
Her bottom lip wobbled as the colour drained from her face and Harry couldn't help but think that this conversation was going disastrously wrong.
"I take it you don't feel the - the same way then?" she hiccupped.
"No that's not -"
But she had already fled the room leaving him to his bitter self-reproach.
Why was he always such an idiot when it came to women? This wasn't just any woman either this was Hermione, the one person in the world that he didn't want to hurt and he seemed to be doing nothing else. All he had to do was open his stupid mouth and tell her once and for all that he loved her. Was that really so hard? Apparently so.
Realising that Phineas had finally shut up, Harry kicked off his shoes and then rolled over to turn out the lamp next to his bed. Settling back against his pillows he shut his eyes and tried to let his mind drift off to sleep. However it just didn't seem to be happening. Every time that he shut his eyes he was greeted with the image of a very familiar witch smiling back at him, it was really quite distracting. His conversation with Hermione kept circling round inside his head; all the things he could and should have said coming to mind now that it was too late to say them.
Eventually though he must have fallen asleep because the next time he squinted at his watch in the moonlight it was nearly 3am. Deciding it was pointless to try going back to sleep again he groped for his glasses and put them on before leaving his room and silently creeping down to the kitchen; as he reached the door he hesitated slightly as he saw light spilling out under it before cautiously pushing it open.
Startled by his intrusion Hermione's tear-streaked face shot up to stare at him before she registered who it was and continued to stare into the cup of tea held between her hands.
"You don't see a Grim in there I hope," he joked nervously trying to break the tension.
It didn't work.
Hermione smiled half-heartedly before continuing to brood over the mug. "The kettle's boiled if you want a cup of tea." Her voice sounded thick and croaky as though she'd been crying for a while.
Glad of the excuse to be doing something he quickly made his way across the kitchen and busily set about pouring the tea. As he reached for the milk he chanced a quick glance across at Hermione. This only served to make him feel worse than he already did. Sitting there in her thick, fluffy dressing gown, with her curls hanging over her face and looking so defeated she seemed so vulnerable. And it was all his fault.
Quietly he sat facing her at the table and the two of them slowly drank their tea in silence. Sitting there in the dim light afforded by only a few candles the walls of the kitchen loomed up out of the darkness and seemed more imposing and oppressive than at any time since Harry had moved in. The house was deadly silent other than a few creaking floorboards and it was so late that even Kreacher had gone to bed. The only sound in the dark kitchen was the crackle of the candles and a soft barely perceptible snoring coming from the corner cupboard.
As he lifted his cup to take a sip of tea he realised that Hermione had unintentionally mirrored his movements exactly. Catching her eye over the rim of the mug he couldn't help but feel a thrill of nervousness.
"I'm really sorry about before `Mione. I'm an idiot, I didn't really -"
"No," she cut him off as she set down her mug, "I'm the one who's sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I wasn't going to but it was eating me up inside and it just sort of came out." She looked down shamefacedly before taking a deep breath and starting again. "When I was in Australia it was easier to convince myself that it was just a stupid crush, but then I saw the article in the paper and I realised that if there was any chance you might have… I just had to know. I'm sorry, just forget I said anything." A tear slowly wound its way down her cheek.
"No."
Hermione looked up at him perplexed, but Harry thought he could see a glimmer of hope in her eyes but it was snuffed out so quickly that he wasn't sure if it had been a trick of the candles.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean don't be sorry. I'm glad you told me, you did what I was too gutless to do before."
She smirked, "Harry you're one of the least gutless people I know… let's not argue about that just now though." She added as he was about to argue.
"I just mean that you admitted what I couldn't - God that sounds like such a cliché."
"Harry," her face had gone deadly white by now, "are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"That depends on what you think I'm saying," he smirked as she clicked her tongue in exasperation.
"Harry it's not funny; don't wind me up!"
He laughed, and was rewarded by seeing her face light up in a smile. He felt as though he just drunk a flask of Madame Pomfrey's Pepperup Potion, every nerve in his body was tingling and his head felt curiously light and airy. "Hermione," the words came out as though someone else was speaking them, "what I'm trying to say, very badly, is that I do love you too."
Hermione gaped at him, but it was obvious that she was desperately trying to stop the corners of her mouth from twitching up into a smile. "I… I…" she gave up and a huge grin spread across her face.
"Well," Harry grinned back, "in eight years that's something I've never seen, Hermione Granger lost for words."
She laughed, "and in eight years that's something I never thought you'd say to me."
Now it was Harry's turn to look amazed. "You mean you've… for that long?" she nodded at him. "Wow I'm slow. But what about Ron, I thought the two of you…?"
Hermione blushed, "well you were so caught up with Cho and then Ginny that I just sort of gave up on you. I know your ego might find this hard to cope with but I wasn't going to wait around for you forever Harry - I'm kidding," she added as he opened his mouth to protest. " The truth is I never thought my feelings for you would be anything but one sided, besides you had enough to cope with Ginny, and Ron being a moron, not to mention everything else."
Harry felt oddly ashamed as Hermione revealed the true extent of her feelings. "Hermione I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to wake up to what was right in front of me. Until recently I kept telling myself you were nothing more than a friend, I just -"
" It's all right Harry," she walked around the table and took hold of his hand, "you're friendship was enough, I was lucky just to have had that."
The feel of her hand in his was doing funny things to his heart rate and he was finding it hard to concentrate on anything but the way her hair curled around her ears, shining gold in the candlelight.
"And now?" he gulped, turning fully in his chair to face her.
Hermione seemed to scan his eyes for a moment as though searching for something and she must have found it because the next moment she leaned towards him and when her face was just inches from his she whispered, "and now I'm very, very lucky."
There lips met suddenly as Harry pushed himself to his feet and took her in his arms. He was floating on air and all he could sense was Hermione; the feel of her curls as he ran his hands though her hair and the scent that was so peculiarly hers - parchment and ink and a perfume that reminded him of wild flowers. They might have stood like that for a second or an age, Harry didn't know and he didn't care, the Knight Bus could have driven through the kitchen and he wouldn't have batted an eyelid. All that mattered was Hermione and that she was kissing him.
Eventually he had to come up for air, but he refused to let her go and Hermione didn't seem to mind in the slightest. Her eyes were full of tears but she had the biggest grin plastered across her face.
"So -" his voice came out as a croak and he cleared his throat with a laugh, "so, what do we do now?"
Hermione lightly traced her fingers along his cheek as she considered. "Well first of all Harry Potter you're going to kiss me again," her eyes sparkled with mischief, "and then who knows, we've got the world at our feet you and I. I'm not bothered what we do as long as you're there."
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