No Reason

Glassesfreak206

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 08/10/2007
Last Updated: 08/10/2007
Status: completed

It didn’t matter in the slightest because it felt so good. And so right. The kind of right that made her forget about the kind of wrong that was waiting outside for them, sipping water and talking about Quidditch.

Chapters

1. One

1. One

He folded his arms, moved away from his chair and began sulking. “I hate it,” he grumbled, “when they're so late.”

“They spend all their time shagging, it's a wonder they even make plans at all,” Ginny laughed.

Harry ignored the turn in his stomach quite successfully, rolled his eyes, sipped at his water and checked his watch. “Can we leave if they don't show in half an-”

“So sorry we're late,” Hermione said hurriedly, pushing her coat down on the chair and sitting down.

“Someone couldn't find the right exit,” Ron muttered, sitting down next to her.

“So sorry we're late,” Hermione repeated crisply, glancing at the menu, “Someone couldn't find the car keys.”

“Alright,” Harry said with a sigh and dominant voice, never taking his eyes off the menu. “You're here, despite everything. Order.”

There was a silence at the table as Ginny eyed Harry from behind her menu.

“No need to get snappy, Harry,” Hermione mumbled, nibbling on some bread. The redheads at the table exchanged glances. Harry was usually left alone when he got like this, quite randomly.

“I'm hungry,” he said simply and surprisingly calmly.

“I'll take the chicken,” she responded, setting the menu down.

“Fish for me,” Ginny said, putting hers down.

“I'll take the fish, too,” Ron said, sipping some water.

“Excellent,” Harry said, bringing the waiter over. The four ordered and continued to catch up on their work schedules. The food arrived shortly after Hermione and Ron had a little disagreement on whether or not Colton deserved a Kiss or not.

“The food's arrived, we should change to a cheerier subject,” Hermione said, taking her plate with a smile. “Thank you,” she smiled.

Ron smiled to the waiter and put his plate down after he received it. “Let me ask you a question, mate,” he started.

“Oh Merlin,” Hermione whispered, burying her head in her hands.

“Ron,” Harry said weakly.

“No, no, let me do this,” Ron silenced his wife and friend with a wave. “Let me ask you,” he started again, to the confused and uncomfortable waiter, “Did you lose anyone in the Second War?”

The waiter stammered and Hermione pushed him with a soft shove. “Please, just leave, I'm so sorry about this.” The waiter nodded and walked away as quickly as could pass for polite. She sighed and put her napkin on her lap. “That was so necessary, Ronald,” she said sarcastically.

“Honestly Ron, keep it between us,” Ginny said, cutting into her fish.

“It was a bit out of place,” agreed Harry, taking a bite of his steak.

Ron merely shrugged, his mouth full of fish.

“How is work, Harry?” Hermione asked casually, keeping her gaze to her plate.

Harry made a little noise with his mouth full and reached for his glass of water. Ron answered quickly before his friend could. “We work together, why are you only interested in his day?”

“Different men, different days,” she answered.

“It's been alright,” Harry said, crunching into his celery.

“Harry's been so busy; he's practically reformed the Ministry and how it works!” Ginny said, beaming.

Harry nearly choked on a piece of meat in response but Hermione's eyes flickered towards him. “Has he?” she asked softly, “Well done, Harry.” She kept her gaze set to her plate but managed to glance up, only to see Harry returning her stare. The exchanging glance lasted only seconds, meaning actually nothing. The casual look away and change of subject was subtle and typical.

The conversation dwindled, got dull, restarted, and dwindled once more. As Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione, began speaking in soft voices about their own problems. Their own happenings. Their own lives. Occasionally, Harry would glance up and see Hermione laugh at a joke. Smirk at a comment. Roll her eyes at an accusation. He would smile, internally, to see such reactions. Many of them mirrored some of his actions to Ginny's constant ranting.

“You're incorrigible, Ronald,” Hermione had puffed as Harry and Ginny had ended a conversation with a, `We'll talk about this later.'

The four at the table drank from their waters, eyeing one another quite heatedly. Ginny was first to slam her glass down, and Ron signaled the waiter over. She hooked her right around behind her chair and took her purse in her hand. “I'm going to the ladies, if you'll excuse me,” she said, quickly exchanging a glance with Hermione.

As she got up, Hermione muttered a polite, “Excuse me,” before taking her purse as well, following Ginny to the backroom.

The two men watched as their wives crossed the restaurant and disappeared behind the corner.

“You alright, mate?” Ron asked warily, noticing Harry's almost depressed mood all night.

“I'm fine, I've just been overworked,” Harry grumbled, moving his fork around his plate.

“You should take a break. Relax. Leave for a couple of days; take a break with Gin, it'll do you good,” Ron said with a friendly smile.

“No,” was the curt reply.

Ron looked at his lifelong friend, almost confused at what to say. “You know, the Ministry would be in good hands,” he said quietly, his eyes moving quickly, “If that's what you're afraid of.”

The fork clattered on the plate and Harry violently rubbed at his eyes. “It's not that,” he said, straining, “I'm just…” He sighed, unable to continue.

“You can tell me,” Ron whispered, unsure if he should be making any physical contact or not.

“I'm not happy,” Harry confessed quietly. “Ron.”

Ron kept his gaze at the tablecloth, now unsure of what to say.

“I'm not happy,” he repeated.

“With what?” Ron asked back slowly.

Harry paused and licked his lips, wondering how much Ginny could talk to Hermione for in the loo. “I'm not happy with my life.”

Ron blinked once. Twice. Three times. “…Why not?” He asked incredulously.

Harry brought his hand away from his eyes and Ron held his breath as he saw his bloodshot, tearless eyes.

“Ron,” he whispered, “I've made a terrible mistake.”

It was Ron's turn to lick his lips. He pushed his hands into Harry's, uncaring of what it meant or the consequences or the assumptions. He just did. “Harry, what are you talking about?”

A chair was scraped across the floor and was heard by both. Hermione had returned, her eyes set on the table. “Sorry,” she said softly, for disrupting the conversation.

Ron pulled his hands away from Harry's and brought his arm around Hermione's. “Where's Gin?” he asked.

“She needs to talk to you,” Hermione said, keeping her eyesight set on Ron's shirt.

Ron licked his lips and glanced at Harry, who nodded in response. He kissed Hermione's cheek and got up. “Be right back, then,” he said.

Hermione watched as her husband turned the corner, the same corner she had turned before telling Ginny she no longer had to relieve herself and returning to the table on her own. She thought. It would take them fifteen seconds to realize it. No longer.

She raised her eyesight to meet Harry's. Without a word, he placed his hands on the table, straight into Hermione's. “They're cold,” he finally said, referring to her shivering fingers.

“I'm scared,” she replied.

“I know.”

The footsteps were quite loud, but they were both used to the Weasleys' rather loud footsteps. “Strange,” Ron said, sitting down, noting the exchange between Harry and Hermione, “Gin said she didn't want to talk.”

Ginny sat down, noting the contact between Harry and Hermione as well. “Everything alright?” she asked cautiously, completely forgetting to ask Hermione why she had sent Ron after her.

Harry huffed and pushed Hermione's hands away from his, got up and made his way to the bathroom. There was a silence at the table before Hermione got up slowly, wiping at her mouth for no reason. “Excuse me,” she whispered for the second time that night. Without another word and noting Ron's nod, she tucked in her chair and walked slowly towards the bathroom. As she edged closer and closer to the corner, she felt her breath quicken. She cracked some knuckles and shuffled her feet. By the time she rounded the corner, she completely expected everything that followed.

Not as that it was surprising. She knew he was around the corner. She knew he had been dying all night, as she had. When he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into the bathroom, she moved her feet perfectly to not trip. When he slammed the door shut, the first thing she did was push her lips against his and kiss him for all his worth. And when he leaned forward to lock the door, he drove the doorknob into her back and she moaned out loud, unsure if it was good or not.

“Missed you,” he whispered fiercely, biting her lower lip, “So much.”

“Make me forget,” she groaned as he traced her jawline, unsure of what she was asking. And at that point, who cared what she was asking him? His lips and teeth were biting and licking and sucking and his legs were pushing and pulling and his hands were touching and caressing and scratching. It didn't matter in the slightest because it felt so good. And so right. The kind of right that made her forget about the kind of wrong that was waiting outside for them, sipping water and talking about Quidditch.

No, this was the kind of right that felt so right. The kind of right that made her scream out the way she only screamed with him. The kind of right that made him rip her clothes off the way he only did with her. It was lust. It was loneliness. It was desperation. It was love, probably. But more than anything, it was right. And as she started unbuttoning his shirt and he pushed up her skirt, there was absolutely no place else either of them wanted to be.

~+!+~

It ended quickly, almost as quickly as it had begun. Almost. Her back was arched and she had been staring at the ceiling for some time, trying to catch her breath. His head was nuzzled into her neck, his hair damp. Her arms were lazily draped on his back and his hands were still holding onto her hips, squeezing lovingly every now and then.

“We have to tell them,” she whispered, although it seemed to echo.

“Not tonight,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes closed and inhaling, remembering her scent and storing it in some spare room in this mind.

“Not ever?” she asked with a chuckle, moving a hand to caress his hair.

“We'll tell them,” he responded with a kiss to her shoulder, “Just not tonight.”

“We're never going to tell them,” she said, moving her body against his for a more comfortable position.

“We will,” he repeated, pushing closer to her, “Just not tonight.”

There was another silence as they held one another. Just breathing in. And out.

Slowly, she brought her head down and tilted his up. They kissed ever so slowly, enjoying the feel of the other's lips. Then they broke apart and rested their foreheads on the other. “I love you,” he said, toying with her necklace.

“I know,” she whispered, kissing his nose and tightening her grip on his biceps. “I love you, too.” There was a break in her voice as she added that three letter word at the end of the sentence. This was, after all, an affair. And it wasn't supposed to be happening.

~+!+~

She returned to the table first, clasping Ron's hand as she sat down, confident he couldn't smell anything on her. Cleaning spells had turned out to be quite her forte. He returned soon after, patting Ginny's shoulder as he sat down. The night continued slowly and they ordered dessert, never speaking again of Harry's emotional breakdown.

Years later, Ron would ask Harry about his confession that night and Harry would spill all. Perhaps it would be because he would be smashed that night, having come out of a quarrel with Hermione. Perhaps it would be because he was finally fed up with Ginny's behavior at home. Perhaps it would be because Ron had said just the right things. Whatever the reason was, Harry would tell all and that particular confession would lead to divorces, tears and eventually, more happiness.

But that night, that night, when Harry and Hermione returned to their seats, nothing would change. They would return home with their respective Weasleys. They would sleep beside them and kiss them goodnight. Late in the night, they would dream of one another but awake beside their spouse.

I may simply be a narrator in this story, fanfiction, if you will, and I may not know every single livid detail in the minds of Hermione Weasley and Harry Potter. I do not know the exact moment they fell in love or the reason why they had that first heated kiss, two months after Hermione was married. I do not know why they were so scared to tell their spouses of what was going on, although I can assume as many can and will.

I do know that they loved one another, regardless of what anyone including themselves thought and said and did.

Why exactly did I decide to tell this specific rendezvous between these lovers? Why simply because of that one split second. That one moment prior to Simple Harry toying with Hermione's necklace (an accessory, I feel necessary to comment on, he bought for her). In which Hermione had brought forth Harry's lips to hers, kissing him for no reason. When it comes to love, you simply don't need a reason.

You don't need a reason to kiss someone. It isn't a need to feel reassured or warm or loved. It isn't a want of feeling their lips pressed against yours. You just want to. And because of the reciprocated love, it's more than alright. Their lips are your lips. You needn't ask. And you needn't a reason.

Perhaps it isn't at all important why they fell in love or why it took them so long. Perhaps it isn't important how long they had been together and apart. Perhaps it isn't important what happened to the other family members in the Weasley family. Perhaps this story has no point and perhaps I will end it here.

In the end, it doesn't matter.
Perhaps unexplained, unconditional, unbelievable love is all that does in this crazy, crazy world.
Every now and then, two lovesick fools will kiss for no reason
and set it straight once more.

Dedication: This fic is dedicated to *someone special* out there. I miss you, too.

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