Part Six
The memory of our embrace haunted me all night. I tossed and I turned, obsessing over one of the only physical gestures in which we indulged in what had to be months. It was bittersweet, as it usually is when I think of our encounters. Torturous and amazing, all at once.
I don't know when I fell asleep, or if I even did. I only know that at the sound of my alarm, I was crawling out of bed, delirious and still longing, to take a shower and prepare for another day at work.
And that is where I saw you, as I usually did. You came into my office, late in the morning looking harassed and nervous with an armful of scrolls and books and a quill in your untidy hair. Surprise at the sight of you made me hesitate unwittingly before standing quickly to help ease your burden.
"Are you all right?" I asked, concerned and delighted at once. I waved my wand at the chair in front of my desk, which cleaned itself of stray papers that had somehow accumulated there. "Why don't you sit for a moment?"
"Harry," you said, refusing to look me in the eye. "I have a deadline, I can't. I'm just here to drop this off."
I watched as you removed a scroll from your collection of them. Your hand shook as you held it out for me to take. I hesitated.
"Please, sit? Spare me the worry of you having a stroke before the end of the day?" I said with a small, tentative smile.
It was your turn to hesitate. "Fine," you said after a moment, taking a seat and arranging your many burdens as neatly as possible on the chair beside you. Your tone was bossy as you continued, and it made my smile widen as I realized how I had missed it. "But you have to give me some coffee. I need some fuel to get through such a hellish day."
"Right away, ma'am," I responded cheerfully, taking a spare coffee cup and filling it. I had to summon the sugar, but quite soon it was ready and in your hands. I sat down behind my desk again, the smile lingering on my face.
You smiled a small smile of thanks and took a long sip. I caught myself blatantly staring at you as you savored the drink. Before your eyes could open, I looked away, holding my breath, but not for long.
"So," you said, quietly, after a few moments. "What about you? Are you ok?"
Was it really so obvious when I had a sleepless night? "I'm great, yeah," I said, nodding. "Just couldn't… sleep. The excitement and all…"
You stiffened. You smiled. And you nodded, looking down at your coffee. "Oh, of course, it's only natural."
"Yeah, I'm beginning to think so," I said quietly, desperate for you to look up at me and maintain the eye contact I was so obsessed with.
You took another long sip, trying to make use of the awkward silence that followed our tiny, loaded exchange. Ending it with a sigh, you set the half-empty cup on my desk and stood to gather your things. I stood, too, abruptly, and moved closer to you. "You should take more time to calm down, you know," I said, desperate for you to stay. The awkwardness was painful, but the distance, the detachment was unbearable.
Still refusing to look at me, you reached for the scroll you were supposed to deliver to me. "Oh, I can't," you were saying, quietly as you picked it up and made to hand it to me. "There just aren't enough hours in the day, especially with a case like the one I'm on now."
We were standing just a foot or so apart, and I reached for the scroll. My hand grazed yours. I shivered, and it seemed as though you did as well. I kept staring at your face, waiting for you to look back as I removed it from your hand and tossed it aside. It met my desk with a thud and a clatter. And so you looked up at me, confused.
I don't know how long we stood there, but our silent conversation took over once more, as if it had never stopped. My heart was thrumming so loudly I was sure you could hear it. You didn't make another attempt to move or to leave. You looked at me. You stared back into my eyes, scared and hurt and longing, as ever.
I don't know how long it was before I reached for your hand and pulled you closer to me, never breaking the stare until I suddenly… had to. Your eyes were so full of emotion and tears. Merlin knows, mine were, too. I couldn't stop myself. I just… couldn't not take you fully into my arms, closing the space between us at long, long last, and kissing you deeply, fully on the mouth.
I don't know how long it was before one of us pulled away. Indeed, the only thing I know for sure is how you kissed me back just as passionately. And I felt your tears on my own cheeks as I held you and kissed you. And I felt at home, I felt right as you held me and kissed me. And the peculiar feeling wasn't so peculiar anymore. Nor did I see it anymore as singular. The peculiar feeling was, in fact, a menagerie of different emotions of which I had never before experienced, at least on this scale. And all of these emotions were almost nameless, but put together, I realized they could mean only one thing…
And then you pushed me away. You staggered backward just a bit, looking dazed and then, to my dismay, aghast. "Harry," you gasped. "We… we can't."
"How can we not?" I asked, reaching for you again. I needed more of your lips, your arms, your tears, your scent, your body. I needed more of you.
Taking a step backward, you raised your hands defensively, again not quite looking me in the eye. "Harry, you can't be serious," you whispered, your voice shaking. "We can't."
"Hermione," I said as you began to gather your things with such haste. "Hermione, let's just talk about this. For once, let's actually say things out loud!"
Though you were obscured by your bushy curls as you shook your head, I could tell you were crying and I tried to move nearer to you again. "Harry," you gasped, what sounded like a warning and a plea. "There's nothing to say!"
And so you left me there, staring after you, hurting more than ever.