In Her Touch by Searcy

Rating: G
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 14/07/2008
Last Updated: 24/07/2008
Status: Completed

Series of internal monologues that chronicles the relationship between Harry and Hermione.
Initially told from Ron's perspective as he comes to a realization after he observes a brief
exchange between Harry and Hermione.




1. In Her Touch
---------------



**In Her Touch**

**Hello all,**

**This is another one of those concepts that has taken root in my brain and will not release me
until it has had its say. This particular piece is told from Ron's perspective and chronicles a
realization he** **makes following a brief exchange between Harry and Hermione.** **This is
an extreme departure from my usual but as I said it just would not let me go. I am not sure if this
will remain a one-shot or if there will be other points of view forthcoming I suppose** **I**
**will see how the muse feels about this bit of** **drabble** **before** **I** **move
on to anything else. Reviews will be greatly appreciated. Happy Reading... Searcy.**

**In Her Touch**

It happened at one of our Sunday dinners. Since the end of the war we are all much more closely
knit than we had been before. It seems that it just makes sense to keep those you love closest, to
spend time with them and to recognize the importance of their presence in your life. Mum has taken
to having these grand Sunday dinners where each and every member of the family blood related and
extended are expected to be in attendance. We kick up a fuss about having to forego other things to
appease her motherly wants but it's all just a show. No one really minds her insistence that we
be there, we are all more than happy to oblige. The horrors of a war and the desolation it leaves
in its wake are all still fresh in each of our minds. We happily make the trek to the Burrow once a
week for a laugh and to enjoy each other's company.

This particular Sunday we weren't at the Burrow; mum and dad were on holiday in France with
Bill, Fleur and Victoire thus the festivities had been moved to Grimmald Place. Ginny was away at
school and Charlie was off in Romania. But that didn't mean that we were at a loss for people
to fill out the seats around the table. In addition to Harry, Hermione, Percy, George and me, our
old housemates Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan and Neville Longbottom had dropped in. As had Audrey
Thewlis, Percy's new girlfriend and Hannah Abbott, whose appearance on Neville's arm had
caused more than a few raised eyebrows.

Dinner had been an enjoyable affair. We reminisced over old times and updated each other on the
latest happenings in our lives. We were all sitting around the table nursing our butterbeers and
glasses of meade and fire whiskey, having a grand laugh over George's account of Lee's most
recent run-in with Verity down at the shop when Hermione rose from her seat and with a wave of her
hand began clearing the table. Audrey, Angelina and Hannah all made a move as if to get up and give
her a hand with the washing up. Hermione waved them off with a smile. Kreacher was quite particular
about his kitchen and as such Hermione was one of the few people allowed to putter around it. It
happened as she walked past Harry's chair. Hermione raised her hand and lightly combed her
fingers through Harry's hair. Harry's eyes drifted closed as he tilted his head back
slightly to prolong the contact, a serene smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Hermione caught
sight of Harry's smile and she smiled in return; a beautiful, soft, loving smile that lit her
eyes with a glow of happiness.

The whole exchange transpired in a matter of seconds. I doubt anyone other than me even saw it
happen, it truly was the most innocent of gestures. But something about it was so intimate I felt
as though I were intruding on a private moment. It's no secret that I've had my issues in
the past where Harry and Hermione are concerned. My fears about Hermione desiring more than just
friendship from Harry are well documented. I've discussed my fears with both of them and been
told in no uncertain terms that said fears are ungrounded. I do not doubt for one second the
honesty in their statements to me. And I am equally sure that anyone else seeing their brief
interaction would not have noticed or thought it odd in the least. But I'm not just anyone, not
just some bloke off the street, I'm the one person who knows them best, the one person who
knows all of their finely detailed nuances, the one person who understands them better than
anyone.

Harry and I have been best friends since the moment we stepped onto the Hogwarts Express at the
age of eleven. Of all the people who know him I'd have to say I know him better than most. And
it is that knowledge of him that gave me pause when I saw his reaction to Hermione's touch. In
all my years of knowing Harry I have never seen him at such peace, so tranquil, so unutterably
content as he appeared in the moment that Hermione's hand brushed his hair. And then there is
the matter of Hermione, my other best friend, the woman that I love. In the time since the war has
ended I have become intimately acquainted with her expressions, her gestures and in what the light
in her eyes is attempting to express. I've held her, kissed her, touched her in a million ways;
and never once have any of those actions elicited the warm and loving light that shone in her eyes
from seeing Harry's smile.

That single gesture, those few infinitesimal seconds reordered my whole world. I do not doubt
for one second the honesty in Harry's words when he told me that Hermione is like a sister to
him. Nor do I question the genuineness of Hermione's love for me. In all honesty, knowing them
as I do I doubt they are aware of the truer, deeper nature of the implications behind that single
gesture. I wonder if they will ever come to that realization, and if they do how will I manage to
carry on.

**A/N:** **Now that this is done I am considering this a work in progress. It is definitely
in need of something more. Any and all suggestions would be greatly appreciated.**

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2. Their Touches
----------------



**In Her Touch**

**Th****eir** **Touch****es**

I've been watching them. Pathetic as it is, I have been watching them. I've been looking
to see if that touch was real or not. Was it an invention of my own imagination helped along by a
bit too much fire whiskey? Or had it been real? It wasn't my imagination. That touch, and their
reactions to it, exists. As a matter of fact that touch exists in four distinct incarnations.

First, there is the **original** touch. The first one I ever noticed. The one where Hermione
lightly combs her fingers through Harry's hair and his eyes drift shut as he tilts his head
back and smiles and she smiles in return. Then there is the **light** touch. With this one
Hermione just barely grazes her hand across Harry's hair; her fingers don't comb through
his hair, his eyes don't always drift completely shut but he smiles and so does she.
There's the **playful** touch. That one always happens when we're having a laugh and
Harry'll do or say something cheeky and she'll take her fingers and ruffle them through his
hair as she tells him what a cheeky bastard he is. That always gets a booming laugh out of him and
he usually says something to the effect of that being the reason she loves him so. She'll smile
then. Last is the **private** touch. I've only seen it once but once was one time too many.
It'd been one of Harry's not so good days; it was Remus' birthday and Harry wasn't
handling it well. As soon as we walked in you could tell something was wrong, that he wasn't
quite himself. Hermione went straight to him and stood behind his chair; she threaded her fingers
through his hair and slowly massaged his scalp in a circular sort of motion. Harry let his eyes
close and leaned his head back against her and sighed. I went to the kitchen and got myself a drink
after that one…not the kind of thing I enjoyed seeing.

It wasn't my imagination. The touch was very real; actually I've come to realize that
they have an entire collection of touches between them. For example, whenever we're out just
the three of us Hermione walks in the middle and she holds both our hands, Harry's and mine.
Even if I let go he doesn't. What's more their fingers are always; always entwined. Then
there are the hugs. Hermione's always been rather demonstrative with Harry. All through
Hogwarts she was forever barreling into him and hugging him tight enough to constrict his air
passages. And she was constantly giving him little pecks on the cheek (it was that sort of behavior
that got me thinking she fancied him in the first place). Harry used to be a bit uneasy about all
her affectionate coddling but nowadays he seems to expect it; hell, half the bloody time he
initiates it! He hugs her hello and goodbye and he's not about dropping a kiss to her cheek or
forehead either.

No the touch was not a figment of my imagination. It was in all actuality a revelation. I've
tried to rationalize all of this information but my way of thinking always reverts to the fact that
there is more between them than just friendship; they just haven't figured it out yet. But how
could they feel anything other than a purely platonic affection for one another and not notice it;
not act on it. I mean bloody hell I tried using that line of logic on my feelings for Hermione and
spent nearly four years in misery over the mere thought of her with someone else. How could Harry
function any differently? If he loved her the way I do he wouldn't be able to stand it. But
then Harry doesn't love like the average person. He'd forego his own happiness in a second
if it meant making someone else he cared for happy. Ruddy damn perfect git! Even when he's not
trying to he makes us regular blokes look bad. (Sigh).

No matter how many times and how many ways I consider it, it all comes down the same in the end.
It's not just friendship with those two…it's more…it's so much more. So much deeper and
truer; more natural and effortless than anything they could ever or would ever have with anyone
else. And one day they'll sort that out for themselves. But only Merlin knows how long that
will take. And as they're both so bloody noble and loyal they'd never interfere in the
other's supposed happiness. A *real* friend would sit the pair of them down and make them
see what's as plain as the noses on their faces. Yeah, that's what a *true* mate would
do. A *true* mate…a *real* friend would help them see that they belong together…and I am
that to them…their *real* friend, their *honest* and *true* mate. But I'm not
just Harry and Hermione's real, *true* and *honest* mate…I'm Harry's
girlfriend's brother and Hermione's lover and I've never been anywhere near as noble as
they are.

**A/N: Still working? Next chapter we****'ll** **see Hermione's
perspective.**

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3. The Aftermath
----------------



**In Her** **Touch**

**The Aftermath**

Walking into the Great Hall at Hogwarts for the first time since Harry defeated Voldemort is
unsettling to say the least. My anxiety doesn't just stem from the knowledge that when last I
was here I lost a great many people whom I'd come to love and respect. Nor is it the memory of
seeing Hagrid carrying Harry's lifeless body up to the castle steps. Though reliving the
horrors of the war does cause my breath to hitch uncomfortably in my throat that is not the main
reason for my discomfort. That honor goes to the two sets of eyes trained on me following my every
move. One pair as blue and sparkling clear as the sky on a warm summer day, the other the deepest
most piercing emerald green ever seen; and both more dear to me than anything in the world. Ron and
Harry, my beautiful boys…both their gazes trained on me, albeit for very different reasons.

Ron is no doubt looking to see if I'm here alone or on the arm of Viktor Krum, whom the
Prophet is touting as my *“on again”* beau after they caught a glimpse of us having lunch
together in Diagon Alley three weeks ago. Whereas Harry is no doubt wondering how I'll react to
seeing Ron considering that it's been a full two months since we last spoke civilly to one
another following the disillusion of our romantic relationship. Nine months. Nine months…in the
space of time it takes a human being to bring a life into the world my great romance with Ron was
born, lived and died. To be fair, I suppose that I shouldn't say that it was born. Ron and I
had been dancing around a romantic entanglement since third year at the least. So it would be
wholly unfair to say that our romance came and went all in nine months…but… frankly that is exactly
what happened.

Everything before we officially became a couple one month after the final battle was the
infatuation of childhood. The proverbial first fancy complete with shy glances, sweaty palms, self
deprecating scrutiny over your own personal inadequacies and loads and loads of denial over
actually liking the other person in the first place. In the midst of our awkward attraction was an
oddly strong friendship that was deepened and solidified by our fierce loyalty and affection for
Harry. We're a set, Ron, Harry and I. Where there's one you're bound to see the others
excusing the last two months of course. (Smiles softly).

I'm still not sure where everything went wrong. Our relationship was supposed to work out
now that we were grown-ups; well past our petty childhood jealousies and insecurities. We were
meant to be happy together, possibly for the rest of our lives. It was not supposed to end, at
least not the way it actually ended. Ron began behaving oddly. He became overtly clingy and
possessive, needing near constant reassurance of his place in my life and my heart. It seemed that
no matter how much reassurance I gave him, no matter how much of my time, my heart and my body I
relinquished to him it was never enough. At first I felt as if I was failing him somehow. But as
things continued on in the same vein I felt trapped; smothered and it made me angry. Before long we
reverted to the worst of ourselves. It was sixth year all over again. We were each so hurt and
confused that the only sensible thing left to do was to call things off and go our separate ways.
Which we did; only our version included copious amounts of screamed accusations and a sound slap to
Ron's left cheek.

I ended up on Harry's doorstep at nearly midnight blubbering like an idiot. I felt like such
the stupid bint on account of everything that happened with Ron and for showing up on my best
friend's doorstep rousing him out of a sound sleep crying over some bloke like a love-struck
thirteen year old. Harry was wonderful though, he never asked what happened; just wrapped his arms
around me and held me, all the while telling me that everything would be alright. And everything
did turn out alright in the end thanks to Harry. He took up the role of being my shoulder to cry on
and I honestly don't know how I would've gotten through those first few weeks without
him.

I feel them coming towards me before I actually look up and see them standing there. Harry
standing there brow knitted together over concerned, hopeful green eyes, a tentative smile ghosting
his lips. Ron, standing awkwardly gaze fixed on the hem of his dress robes and his shoes. It is
painfully uncomfortable for the scant few seconds it takes me to close the distance between Ron and
myself and wrap him in a warm embrace. I tell him that it's good to see him and it is. I have
missed his easy smile and silly jokes. I've missed his voracious appetite and his utter
tactlessness. I've missed my best friend. Ron smiles sheepishly as he replies in kind. I
imagine that it will be uncomfortable for some time to come but for now I'm just so pleased to
have my friend back that nothing else matters. As Ron begins to update me on the latest happenings
in his life I feel Harry's fingers as they lace through my own; he gives my hand a firm and
reassuring squeeze just as Headmistress McGonagall's voice begins introducing the honorees for
tonight's victory ball, us. I smile and return the squeeze as I clasp Ron's hand in my free
hand and the three of us make our way to the dais.

**A/N: Hermione down…Ginny and Harry to go.**

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4. Absence
----------



**In Her Touch**

**Absence**

We had a few weeks before the Quidditch season was due to start and struck by some beneficent
spirit heretofore unknown to her Gwenog granted the team four days off to relax. As I hadn't
seen much of my family and Harry since finishing Hogwarts and getting taken on by the Harpies I was
keen to get home. I stopped in at the Burrow first of course. I reckoned I owed mum and dad at
least one uninterrupted day to fuss over their only daughter. I told them I had a team function to
attend in London and that I'd be sure to make Sunday dinner before heading back. Yes, it was an
awful lie to tell but I certainly couldn't tell my parents that I would be spending the next
two days holed up in Harry's bedroom. Although to be perfectly honest I suspect mum had some
idea of what I was up to but she was good enough not to let on. So it was with a slightly guilty
conscious I set off for Grimmauld Place.

I had it in mind to surprise Harry so I hadn't owled ahead. Since he'd just passed his
second round of qualifications for the aurors he was allowed to work in the field. As such he'd
been keeping longer hours and Kreacher was spending much of his time at Hogwarts. The old house elf
had grown rather fond of the castle and spent a good deal of time there with his fellow house elves
when he wasn't needed by Harry. I let myself inside and after putting my bag in the bedroom
decided to spoil my bloke a bit by cooking him dinner. I proceeded to the below stairs kitchen to
see what Kreacher'd left on hand for me to work with.

It was about an hour after my arrival; I was just about to put the chicken in the oven when I
heard the tell tale pop of Harry's arrival. Wiping my hands with the kitchen towel lying on the
draining board I strode across the room to the door. Just as I placed my hand on the door the
thought that this would one day be my life entered my mind. I envisioned myself in a bright sun
filled kitchen next to me stood a messy haired green eyed little boy helping me to make dinner
before his father arrived home. I smiled brightly as I pushed the door open and hurried up the
hall. At that moment the doorbell sounded.

The ringing of a doorbell at Grimmauld Place could only mean one person, Hermione. Being that
they were both raised as muggles up until they'd come to Hogwarts; Harry and Hermione had
retained the odd habit or two from their childhoods. Like watching those ruddy picture boxes, telly
something or others they call them and insisting on ringing doorbells when it's perfectly
acceptable to floo or apparate over. Harry'd been half way up the stairs when the doorbell
rang. Just as I reached the corner I was able to see Harry hurrying across the foyer. He threw his
recently stripped off robes across the back of the nearest chair and flung the door open.

Hermione stepped across the threshold and before she'd uttered a single word Harry was
reaching for her. He pulled her into a close embrace; his arms wrapping tightly about her waist.
Hermione went willingly into his arms; her left arm wound around his back while the right rose
slightly higher up. The fingers of her right hand settled in the wild messiness of Harry's
hair. They embraced for several long seconds before they drew apart. As they drew apart Harry
placed his lips to her forehead and kissed her fondly. Hermione laughed as she remarked that her
recent absence seemed to have caused her to have been missed. Harry replied that she had indeed
been missed and he'd much prefer her not going away for that long ever again. Hermione
playfully replied that she'd been in Heidelberg for less than a month and that they'd spent
far more time apart than that in all the years that they'd known each other. Harry retorted by
saying that during those times he had at least gotten weekly letters.

Though their tone was light and bantering there was a strong undercurrent of truth in
Harry's voice and manner; he'd *genuinely* missed Hermione. I felt a pang of hurt. In
all the months since we'd rekindled our romance we'd been apart more than we'd been
together and I couldn't remember him ever being so pleased to see me. I was brought back to the
present by Harry proposing to Hermione that she make amends for her prolonged absence by allowing
him to treat her to dinner. Hermione smiled and nodded her agreement. A minute or so later they
disappeared out the door.

I returned to the kitchen and with a wave of my wand cleared away my dinner preparations. I then
summoned my belongings from upstairs and made a hasty retreat from the confines of Grimmauld Place.
Instead of going back to the Burrow I returned to the flat I shared with my fellow Harpies chasers.
I owled mum saying I'd been called back to training unexpectedly and wouldn't make Sunday
dinner. As I sat in bed late that night I wrote to Harry. I told him that I thought we should call
things off. I said that with his being so wrapped up in his work and my being away at training so
much of the time that it'd be better if we just focused on ourselves for awhile. His reply came
two days after I sent the owl. It was only ten words.

*If that's what you think is best, I understand.* *Harry*

As I read those ten words I cried.

**A/N:** **Question…would you all like the story to remain completely dialogue free or would
you like a bit of conversation. Please let me know which you prefer. And now, o****n to Mr.
Potter.**

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5. Dating
---------



**In Her Touch**

**Dating**

It was barely nine-thirty when I bid goodnight to Charlotte Griffiths. I made my escape without
providing the perfunctory *“I'll owl you”*. I simply exited as quickly as possible. No
doubt she assumed my hasty departure had to do with Hermione's sudden illness. I suppose that I
should feel like a right shit for the lie but considering how badly the date had gone I felt the
action was justified. And as it isn't a complete lie; Hermione had contracted a mild case of
Hungarian Wizard Flu on her recent trip to Debrecen, I expect I'll be forgiven.

This is all Ron's fault. I have half a mind to hex him into the middle of next year when I
see him again. In the nearly eight months since Ginny and I had ended our relationship my social
life had been virtually nonexistent. Not that I was ever all that social to begin with, but when
I'd been with Ginny there was the occasional night out with friends or a nice dinner. Those
occasions had been rare given our busy work schedules and my inability to venture out in the
wizarding world without causing an uproar but they had happened. It was the absence of these
occurrences and the presence of Rhys Anderson that had promoted Ron to urge me into tonight's
debacle. Rhys Anderson was the star keeper for the Falmouth Falcons and Ginny's new boyfriend.
The pair had been seeing each other for about two and a half months and were fast becoming quite
the item in the Prophet's society section. Seeing that his sister had moved on Ron inquired as
to why I hadn't done the same. He seemed to think I was pining. I told Ron that nothing could
be further from the truth.

Though I did, and still do, care a great deal for Ginny I am not pining over the demise of our
relationship. Looking back on things now I think that Ginny and I were doomed from the start.
I'm not sure how you'd classify what we had other than to say it was an intense
infatuation. Ginny was the only girl I'd ever been involved with who didn't constantly
treat me like some sort of god. True there was the odd moment that she acted more like a fan girl
than a girlfriend but those were few and far between. And at least, thanks to Hermione's
advice, she could carry on a conversation with me without getting tongue tied. We were good
together for a bit Ginny and I; but in the end we just weren't meant to be forever. Ours was a
mutual infatuation; hers one of the knight in shining armor and mine the one thing I'd never
had a normal life.

Ron reckons that I need to get on with things and by that he means I need to get out there and
give dating a go. My protests that I was fine as I was or too busy with work fell on deaf ears. So
against my better judgment I agreed to think about it. Thus, when Charlotte, an administrative
assistant in the Magical Law Enforcement department, suggested that maybe we could get a bite
sometime I'd asked what she was doing Friday. She'd immediately accepted and we'd made
plans to have dinner in Diagon Alley. Ron had been rather shocked when I'd told him of my
plans. Perhaps he knew what I'd landed myself into.

Charlotte turned out to be one of those witches who wanted the whole bloody world to know she
was on the arm of Harry Potter. Her mindless giggling and her shrill shouts of *“Oh Harry”*
this and *“Oh Harry”* that had put me off the shapely doe eyed blond nearly immediately.
During drinks our conversation turned to the final battle. As Charlotte peppered me with questions
about what had gone on, I set my pre-established escape plan into motion. When we'd arrived at
the restaurant I'd slipped the maitre d' a few extra galleons to come by with an urgent
message about Hermione having suddenly taken ill. I hustled Charlotte out of the restaurant and
apparated her back home, keen to be away from her as quickly as possible. I'm not much in the
mood to head back to the emptiness of Grimmauld Place and as I skipped dinner I'm bloody
starving. I stop off and pick up Hermione's favorite Chinese take away.

Hermione answers the door with an astonished look on her face. I show her the bag of take away
as I step across the threshold and head into the lounge. Hermione summons a bottle of wine and two
glasses as we plop down on the couch. I recount my nightmare of a date over spring rolls and red
wine. Hermione agrees that Charlotte sounds quite awful but reprimands me for running out on
Charlotte like I did and tells me that the next time I use her as an alibi to weasel my way out of
a date she'll hex my bollocks off herself. I laugh at that. And wrapping my arm about her
shoulder I pull her close and say that I wouldn't have to make up stories if every witch was as
perfect as she was. This time she laughs and calls me a cheeky bastard as she snuggles closer to me
and switches on the telly. I laugh again and Hermione rests her head on my shoulder and we settle
in for the evening.

**A/N:** **Sorry for the delay but this one took a bit more time than usual. I've
decided to stay with the no dialogue format. I'm not sure how or if I'll be able to pull it
off but I figure what the hell, it'll be fun to give it a try.**

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6. Oblivious
------------



**In Her Touch**

**Oblivious**

I'm sitting here at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron nursing a pint, listening to my best mate
describe the dreadful hour and a half he'd spent on his so called date with Charlotte
Griffiths. At present he's going on about what a shallow chit she was; how she kept trying to
draw attention to the fact that she was out with him. Of course she wanted the whole sodding world
to know that she was out with *the Harry Potter*. I'm actually surprised that their
picture wasn't splashed across the front page of the **Daily Prophet** or worse yet **Witch
Weekly**. That seems the type of thing that Charlotte would do. I warn him that an exposé on the
date that never really happened may be in the next issue of the paper. That elicits a grimace. As
he sips his drink I tell him that since the moment that it had become public knowledge that he and
Ginny'd called things off every witch from fourteen to four hundred and fifty had been chomping
at the bit to have a go at him. The grimace turns into an out and out frown as he downs a mouthful
of his drink.

I can tell from the expression on his face that he's mulling over that bit of information. I
take the opportunity to ask why he had asked Charlotte out in the first place. I tell him that she
really doesn't seem like the type of girl that he would go for. He shrugs and replies that
after I'd suggested he give dating a try Charlotte had invited him out and being that she had
seemed nice enough he had gone ahead and asked her out for that Friday. I tell him that he should
have asked around about her to see what kind of bird she was. That comment gets another frown
directed towards me as he takes another swig of his drink. Gradually his expression loses its air
of irritation and settles into one of contemplation. We sit in silence for awhile before he
mutters, almost to himself, *“How's a bloke supposed to find someone he can build a life with
when every woman he meets is after a bloody persona”*. We lapse into silence yet again.

Normally Harry isn't all that chatty about things like this. It's never been the type of
thing we've discussed. This sort of thing is usually Hermione's domain. But she isn't
here and as this may be my only chance to say what needs saying I ask Harry if that's what
he's looking for. I ask him if he's looking for someone to build a life with. He answers
without hesitation with a question of his own. *“Isn't* *that what we all want; someone
who loves us and understand us, protects us if need be and who is there for us when we need them.
Someone who we can love, understand, protect and be there for in return”*.

I absorb that information. Never had I heard a more accurate description of what Hermione was to
Harry than that. I weighed my words carefully before telling Harry that women like what he'd
just described were few and far between. Harry nods his agreement. He then wondered aloud whether
such a woman even existed. He cast a glance around the room. I laughed a bit before saying that
while she wasn't sitting around the pub she did exist and she was much closer than he imagined.
Harry stared at me quizzically. He'd caught on to the fact that I was referring to someone
specific and was about to ask me who I was talking about when the door to the Leaky Cauldron opened
and Hermione walked in. A wry smile quirked my lips as I realized that even the gods thought those
two were meant to be. I refocused my gaze on Harry and nodding towards the door, I informed him
that I had been wrong about his dream girl hanging out in pubs. Harry turned around and upon seeing
Hermione heading towards us with my words still fresh in his head; he dropped his pint.

**A/N: Well****,** **how's that for redemption****?**

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7. Advice
---------



**In Her Touch**

**Advice**

Here I am sat at the bar with a pint of Tom's finest pooling around my feet staring at
Hermione as if I've never seen her thanks to Ron. Before she could get a clear look at my face
and ask what in the name of Merlin is wrong with me I swivel my head around so fast I crick my
neck. I'm staring at Ron and I register the look covering his face. Its equal parts amusement
and determination. The amusement is easy enough to account for. I'm pretty sure I make a damn
funny sight sitting here looking for all the world like I don't know my arse from my elbow. If
I were judging by the half a grin that was turning the corners of Ron's mouth I would be sure
that he'd just said what he said to take the piss. But that smile hasn't reached his eyes.
And I've known Ron Weasley long enough to know that if he were taking the piss it'd show in
his eyes. Instead of the humor I'd expected to see there was a look of determination; that
fixed intense look that he gets when he's mulling over something truly important.

Ron's fiercely hurried whisper rouses me from my self imposed stupor. He reminds me of my
words from earlier. He tells the exact thing I'd said earlier; that I wanted someone who I
could build a life with, someone loving and understanding who would be there when I needed them,
someone who wasn't after a bloody persona. He inclined his head ever so slightly over my
shoulder and told me that whether I realized it or not the woman I wanted…the woman I needed…had
been right there beside me all along and if I opened myself up to the possibility of Hermione and I
being more than just mates I'd see that he was right. He then added that I shouldn't think
it over too much and that I should ask her out.

I could hear the thud of her quickened footsteps as she neared the pair of stools we were
sitting on. She'd seen my strange behavior and was probably near frantic worrying over what was
wrong. Ron rose from his seat and with a wave of his wand cleared away the mess I'd made. He
then ordered a fresh round and tossing a handful of galleons on the bar for Tom, patted me on the
back reassuringly and reiterated his earlier declaration that I ask Hermione out. I looked up at
him asked what made him think such a thing. His reply was that he'd seen the way she touched
me. He pointed to the two foaming pints Tom had placed before me and said for me to drink up before
turning to leave.

As he moved off I heard Hermione calling my name asking me what was wrong. Ron answered in my
stead. He told her to give me a moment to collect myself; said I'd just had a bit of a shock
and needed to settle myself down a touch before I'd be up to talking. I turned my head and
stared at them. Hermione's brow was knitted in obvious disquiet. She looked as though she was
about to question Ron further when he leaned down and whispered something in her ear that caused
her to stare at Ron with a quizzical expression. Ron smiled faintly and tossed his head in the
direction of the vacant bar stool to my right.

I averted my gaze and grasping one of the pints before me drank it down in one go. How could
this be happening? It is true that Hermione is the most loving and understanding woman…person
I've ever met. She knows me better than anyone and I love her as unconditionally as she loves
me. But that love is only platonic isn't it? I shake my head to clear my confused thoughts.
I'm about to reach for the second pint when I feel a gentle stroking at my temple. My eyes
drift shut as Hermione soothingly rakes her fingers through my hair. I expel a breath that I
wasn't consciously aware I'd been holding. A sense of calm engulfs me. How long we sit that
way I'm not sure but I suddenly recall Ron's words when I'd asked him why he thought
Hermione and I should be together. He'd said he knew because of the way she touched me. I open
my eyes and turn to look at Hermione. Her brown eyes are edged with concern and perhaps for the
first time I notice how beautiful her eyes are; so warm, deep and expressive. As I sit there
staring at this woman who I've known nearly half my life I begin to realize what I haven't
seen.

Again I'm pulled from my thoughts by the sound of a voice. Hermione is softly calling my
name asking me if I want to talk about whatever it is that has me so turned around. I slowly shake
my head no and before I can talk myself out of what I'm about to do I ask her if she would
consider going out with me.

**A/N:** **Now everyone join in and sing…****I once was lost but now I'm found was
blind but now I see.**

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8. Perception After The Fact
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**In Her Touch**

**Perception After The Fact**

Six letters changed my life. Actually it was only four letters as two of them were repeated but
I suppose that is neither here nor there now. Six letters…the sum of two words in the English
language, irrevocably rocked my world to its core. What pray tell were the two words you
ask…*s**ay* *y**es*. Three months ago at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron after
explaining to me that Harry'd had a bit of a shock and that he needed a moment to settle his
nerves, Ron leaned down and whispered those two words in my ear… *say yes*. I had no idea what
Ron was on about, and before I had the chance to ask he was nodding at his recently vacated bar
stool and strolling out the door.

I guessed from his words and his quick exit that Harry had something to ask me. I must say that
Ron telling me to say yes to Harry irked me more than a little. I mean honestly when have I ever
*really* said no to Harry. We've had our disagreements and there has been the odd moment
when we've had a row but on most every occasion that Harry has ever asked for my help and
assistance (and even when he hasn't) I've given it freely. And though I have always been
vocal in my opinions I have never nor would I ever turn my back on Harry if he needed me, which
looked to be the case that night.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I sat down but I certainly wasn't expecting what
transpired. We sat there in silence for about ten minutes before Harry suddenly turned to me and
asked me out…on a date no less! To say I was thunderstruck would have been an understatement.
Before I had a chance to respond Harry started babbling. He started in on his date with Charlotte
Griffiths and how it was because of Ron saying he needed to get on with things that he'd even
asked her out in the first place. But he'd apparently gotten things all wrong as Ron hadn't
meant for him to ask Charlotte out at all. Ron had in fact meant for him to ask **me** out on
account of his (Harry) needing someone in his life who wasn't shallow and looking for a
persona; but someone who he (Harry) could build a life with, someone loving and caring and
understanding and that Ron could see even if he couldn't that that person was me because he
(Ron) had seen the way I touched him (Harry).

After that rather convoluted explanation of things I stood to my feet dragged Harry up from his
seat and marched him straight out the door. I apparated us both back to my flat and sitting Harry
down on my couch went to the kitchen and made a very strong pot of coffee. I then laced it with the
strongest reversal of drunkenness potion that I had to hand. Ron and Harry have been known to
overindulge on occasion so I make sure that I always keep an appropriate remedy on hand. I insisted
on his having two cups before I allowed him to speak again.

My shock was palpable when Harry reiterated his earlier request. I sat there on my couch staring
at him eyes wide, jaw dropped and barely breathing. He smiled at that. Seems he thought it was
cute. He took his finger and after reassociating my lower jaw with my upper jaw he explained his
conversation with Ron to me. He told me about the kind of woman he wanted and the fact that he
thought such a woman didn't exist. He then told me how Ron had pointed **me** out to him,
telling him that I was that woman. That explained Ron saying he'd just had a shock. And it also
explained why Ron had told me to say yes to Harry. I suppose he was anticipating that Harry would
make a move. But why would Harry make a move because of something Ron was guessing at?

When I posed that question Harry uttered the most beautiful words I'd ever heard. He told me
what Ron had said about seeing the way I touched him. Which he admittedly thought was bordering on
insane until I sat beside him at the bar and touched ran my fingers through his hair. He told me
that in that moment all the anxiety he was feeling over what Ron had implied vanished. He instantly
knew that everything would be alright now that I was there. And that was when he knew. Knew that
Ron had been right and that he had been an idiot. He said that in that one instant he understood
how very much he needed me…how very much he loved me. He was about to elaborate but he never got
the chance. I'm not sure whether it was my grabbing him or my kissing him that stunned him the
most. Needless to say when we finally composed ourselves I did indeed say yes.

Since then *Harry and I* have become *we*, I am very pleased to report. Looking back
it's hard to imagine that we didn't see how perfectly we suited each other, especially
considering how drawn we have always been to one another. But I suppose that is the way such things
are when you've been as close as we have for so long. We assigned the name friendship to our
feelings for one another and just assumed that that was all it was or ever would be. Funny that Ron
had the right end of things all along. Who would have ever guessed he was so very perceptive.

Harry's behind me. I know it without having to turn and look. For some inexplicable reason I
can sense when he's near. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close. He pulls my
hair away from my neck and drops a kiss in the hollow beneath my ear. I close my eyes as I reach up
and around burying my fingers in his hair. His contented sigh in my ear and the slight tightening
of his arms about my waist speaks volumes. I relax into his arms completely at peace with the
rightness of the world.

**A/N: I hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Until next time…Happy
Reading.**

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