Hexes and Love

MistressMalfoy

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 22/04/2008
Last Updated: 22/04/2008
Status: completed

Love would always find a way.

Chapters

1. Chapter One.

1. Chapter One.

Author's Chapter Notes:

Written for the 2008 hghpficexchange on Live Journal :D thanks to Mandy for her excellent work and to Nic my beta. This is probably one of the most PG stories I've ever written :D

“You should tell her.”

“What’s the point? She’s happier not knowing.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Yes.”

A hand squeezed his shoulder and he sighed. Physical contact with anyone but her still bothered him after all these years. He hated the closeness he was forced to endure, the happy smile that felt foreign after so many years of despair. All he wanted was a little peace and a slice of happiness, and her…Merlin how he wanted her.

“She’s in love with you. Did you know that?”

He turned with disbelief evident on his face at the wizard’s words. “Why would you lie about something like that, knowing how I feel about her?”

“Can you remember the last time she spent time with anyone other than you?”

His gaze flicked to the witch in question who was bouncing a very happy baby on her knee. “I don’t believe you,” he whispered.

“Then you’re blind. Or maybe you like not seeing what’s right in front of you. It’s easier that way, right, mate?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course I don’t,” He returned sarcastically. “I can read her better than you, Harry. She was my girlfriend, remember?”

Harry flushed. He did remember and it was part of reason he had never pursued her, never told her just how he felt and how his heart thumped that little bit faster whenever she was in the room. “Don’t you care?”

“About you being in love with her?”

“Well yeah…shouldn’t you be pissed or something?”

“I should but I’m not. I realised years ago that she wasn’t the one for me. We fought far too much than was normal and the only thing keeping us together…well was you.”

“I don’t understand.” His eyes followed her as she passed on baby William to his mother and smoothed out her wrinkled skirt. As if sensing his gaze she looked up slowly and smiled, her eyes lighting up with pure joy. It was a look he never tired of and one he knew was just for him.

“We might never have been friends had you not dragged me to that bathroom. In fact if she hadn’t been almost done in by a troll I doubt I would have ever looked twice at her.”

Harry felt offended on Hermione’s behalf and angry that his friend felt so little worth in their friendship that he could discard it so easily. “Before you go off at me, mate, just think about it. She stood by your side through everything, defended you even when it meant I didn’t talk to her for months and even when we both left her behind in sixth year, she still vowed to never leave you. If she could have taken an Avada for you I’m sure she would have. If that’s not love I don’t know what is.”

“You kissed her.”

Ron stepped out from the shade of a willow tree and snorted. “Did more than that, Harry, but you’re missing the point. In the Forest of Dean she would never have gone with me had I asked her to. At Malfoy Manor, you kept your cool and rescued her, it was your name she called out when the pain from the Cruciatus became too much to bear,” Harry flinched. The day haunted his dreams; her screams echoed in his mind and plagued his conscience. She should never have been in danger, she wouldn’t have been had she chosen not to be his friend. “Not going on a pity party are you?” Ron shook his head. “Look…you’ve been mooning about for over five years now. Gin isn’t going to be upset, in fact, I think she’ll probably applaud Hermione for being able to handle you. Merlin knows she couldn’t.”

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. Ron was right of course. It had always been Hermione, from that day in first year when she almost died from a Troll to his desperate fear that she would be killed when the snatchers came for them. She had been the mainstay in his life, the one that never judged him, and the one who was always there to wipe his brow after a nightmare or simply hold his hand when things became tough.

“I can’t do it,” Harry whispered and turned from her, running his hand through the mess of black hair that he never seemed able to tame.

“Merlin, what would Voldemort say if he could see you now. Sure Potter wasn’t afraid of dying or facing down an army of Death Eater’s but put him in front of a girl and he’s a bleeding Hufflepuff.”

“That isn’t fair,” Harry turned his gaze to the red head standing beside him, expecting to see humour or at least a bit of teasing in his blue eyes but only disappointment shone back at him.

“No it isn’t fair that she should suffer, and that you should hold something back from her that would make you both happy. If she thought for a minute you would respond to her then I have no doubt she would be here right now snogging the living daylights out of you.”

“I don’t want to ruin her.” Harry closed his eyes. He could feel her gaze on the top of his head, burning through his resolve, breaking down his defences. He wanted to lose himself to her, to feel her skin against his, hear her sweet words whispered in his ear. “I love her.” He buried his face into his hands and groaned. “When did I become such a pansy?”

Ron let out a soft laugh and slapped Harry on the back. “’Bout first year in the Auror’s I’d wager. Got that paper cut didn’t you? Cried for weeks if I remember.”

“Piss off,” Harry couldn’t help but smile even amidst his inner turmoil. Ron had a strange way of making him laugh and feel better about himself and that was a real testament to their friendship. Especially with the oddity of their conversation, he never expected the voice of reason to come from Ron, any Weasley really, but who else was there to knock some sense into him?

“I might just do that,” Ron squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “Really, mate, don’t waste time thinking about it. Because one day you’ll wake up and it’ll be too late.”

Harry nodded absently as Ron moved off towards the long wooden table laden with delicious treats. His gaze automatically returned to Hermione, his witch, the only witch to ever hold his heart.

Of course, he hadn’t always felt this way. Certainly they had had several rough patches and months where they hadn’t spoken but the war had changed them all. No longer did he think of her as his bushy haired little friend but a woman, a shapely, kind, generous woman who touch never failed to inflame his desires. He remembered the Forest of Dean and how he’d been almost fanatical about checking the Marauders Map for signs of Ginny, hoping and praying he wouldn’t see her little dot too close to another male. But she hadn’t been the one by his side, she hadn’t infiltrated the Ministry of Magic, or Gringotts or even almost died by Fiendfyre. In fact, she hadn’t even insisted to come along but stayed home waving her hankie like a war bride of old. It wasn’t that Ginny was a coward, far from it, she was a brave witch, powerful in her own right but there had always been something missing. The kissing had been sweet and gentle, she had certainly been eager and willing to try anything he wanted but he just couldn’t do it, something always held him back. And that something was Hermione.

Ginny hadn’t even seen his parent’s graves or the statue standing proudly in the centre of Godric’s Hollow and he was certain she wouldn’t have acted so quickly at Bathilda’s house or at the Lovegoods but he didn’t fault her for a second. It was his feelings that had changed, his love that had dwindled and his heart that had subsequently transferred to Hermione. Looking back now he saw the truth in the matter, the way he saw his dearest female friend and how he knew that he’d die to protect her.

“Knut for your thoughts?”

“Worth more than that, Granger.”

“Hmm… Granger, hey? Reverting back to school days, Potter?”

He laughed and held out his hand that she took without question. “Want me to play Malfoy?”

“Only if you want a slapped face or hexed bollocks.”

“Hexed bollocks?” Harry threw his head back and laughed. “That sounds odd coming from you.”

“Well thank you, Harry, I’m pleased I can make you laugh.” She smiled and it made his chest constrict.

“I’m pleased too,” His face grew serious as he stared down at her. “Hermione, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Hermione swallowed hard and nodded. “Not leaving me are you?”

“What?”

“I just heard a few Aurors talking about you being up for a promotion but it came with transfer papers.”

If he wasn’t mistaken there was fear to her voice and it made his confidence grow. “You would be upset if I left?”

She met his eyes and refused to look away, her gaze unblinking as her thumbs rubbed the back of his hands. “I think I might pack up my house and go with you.”

He stared at her in silence for what felt an age before he reacted and yanked her forward, covering her lips with his own. His tongue quickly silenced her muffled cry of ‘Harry!’ as it invaded her mouth and sought out her own. It was heaven, finally a feeling of perfection and joy in her arms. Harry never wanted anything more in his life than this moment, this pure unadulterated happiness. “I love you,” he murmured against her mouth when they finally broke for air.

Hermione’s eyes closed and a smile, serene and joyful fell upon her lips. “I’m in Saint Mungos aren’t I? Drugged to the hilt most likely and in a coma?”

Harry rubbed his nose against hers, his hands cradling her back so there wasn’t an inch of space between them. “You need to be drugged to feel like this?”

Her smile grew wider and then she pressed her lips to his. “No…but usually I’m dreaming when this happens. It ends badly; of course…I always wake up.”

“Tell me what you’re feeling.” He searched her face for any sign that she was going to run away in fright but when she slowly opened her eyes and smiled up at him he knew everything would be all right.

“I’m feeling like I should hex you for waiting this long.”

“How long, Hermione?” His head dropped to her shoulder and he breathed in her sweet scent. “How long have you wanted to be with me?”

“There were moments during the war where I thought that we’d both die. That scared me more than anything else. Losing you, Harry, would have killed me and when Voldemort came into the Great Hall and said you were dead…well I knew then that I was going to die too. I wasn’t afraid…I welcomed the thought of seeing you again. It was so confusing to fight for something your whole magical life only to have it ripped away and broken in front of you.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” He whispered in her ear and refrained from grinning like a loon when she shivered and her hands fisted in the back of his shirt.

“I said you were never more fanciable and I meant it. Only I hadn’t realised myself just how fanciable I thought you were.”

“Hermione…” He kissed her neck ever so gently then pulled back. “You know me, you won’t run from me. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she reached up and touched his cheek. “If I haven’t run now the likelihood of me doing so in the future is pretty small.”

He felt his heart explode and spun her around; drinking down her laughter and the way her hair glinted in the sunlight. “I love you.” Then he kissed her again, in the garden of the Burrow to a chorus of ‘woots!’ from the various Weasleys and love finally making his life complete.