All or Nothing by dragonrider

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 21/01/2009
Last Updated: 21/01/2009
Status: In Progress

Hermione grows tired of waiting and takes control. Just a one-shot bit of fluff written a long
time ago.




1. All or Nothing
-----------------

A/N: Just a little one-shot I found that I wrote several years ago. Hermione takes control. Oh
yeah. … I own nothing. It all belongs to JKR.

ALL OR NOTHING

“That’s it!” Hermione’s exasperated voice echoed through the silent common room like a gunshot.
Harry nearly jumped out of his seat. He wasn’t sure what had startled him more – the fact that she
had slammed her books on the table, or that particular ‘something’ he’d heard in her voice. It
wasn’t exactly anger, but a tone he knew well, all the same. It was an ‘I’ve had enough and I’m not
going to take anymore’ tone.

They were alone in the common room, just the two of them, finishing a Transfiguration essay for
McGonagall. The other Gryffindors had all gone to bed, each in turn. Even Ron had finally given up
and dragged himself up to his dorm room. Many nights ended this way, just the two of them.

In the beginning at least, for Hermione Granger, it was simply her way – pushing herself that
little extra, striving toward some sort of self-satisfying academic perfection. And Harry, well….
Sometimes she didn’t know why he stayed. She knew that he didn’t always legitimately have homework.
And there were those times when he seemed to be deliberately stalling, ‘struggling’ with a last
little bit as an excuse to stay. Then again, homework had sometimes become a convenient excuse for
her as well. Those were the times when she waited anxiously, feeling as though there was something
undisclosed, just under the surface – something waiting to reveal itself at just the right moment.
But that moment never seemed to come.

Oh, they had plenty of conversations, often about deep, personal subjects. They learned a lot
about one another, but there always seemed to be that boundary that couldn’t be crossed. The
evening always ended with Harry packing up his things, breathing a sigh that seemed to quietly
scream of something unsaid, then bidding her goodnight as he headed for the dorm, his emerald eyes
downcast in a look of sad defeat.

Well, she’d had enough waiting. Tonight, come what may, she was taking matters into her own
hands. She stood abruptly. Harry was clueless as to what was wrong, what had brought about her
sudden outburst. But one look into those blazing dark orbs and he was certain it had something to
do with him. He’d faced the “Wrath of Hermione” before, and he was more than a little wary.

“I’ve had enough, Harry James Potter!” She began circling toward him, a menacing look in her
eyes. Harry stood up, began to move away. He nearly tripped over the corner of the easy chair he’d
just been sitting in, grabbing the back to steady himself.

“For six years I’ve been here,” she continued, matching him step for step. She was in control,
maneuvering him where *she* wanted. Harry suddenly found himself backed against a wall, her
slender forefinger jabbing him in the chest.

“Always there, through EVERYTHING! Helping, supporting, following, *saving,* planning,
worrying, *fearing*, …waiting…needing. But nothing, not the slightest hint of … anything!” She
had thrown her arms up, gesturing wildly.

‘What is she going on about?’ Harry wondered silently. ‘She’s gone mad. Am I supposed to be
making sense of all this?’

“All the clues were there,” she continued. “How could you not see them? How could you be so
bloody *blind*?”

By now Harry’s head was reeling. “Hermione…” he tried.

“NO!” She stopped him abruptly. “It’s my turn. You’re going to hear me out.” She was once again
jabbing a finger into his chest. “All the things… all the risks….” Her thoughts were spilling out
in incomplete bits and pieces. “All the rules I broke. I could have been EXPELLED!”

She turned her back on him, took a step away, her hands on either side of her head. “All the
late nights, the talks, the walks around the lake.” She turned sharply, to face him again.

“I FLEW!” she cried, her face only inches from his. “More than once! I hate flying!”

Harry winced. Yep, this definitely had something to do with him. Now if he could only figure out
what it was.

“Hermione, would you…?” But she cut him off again.

“Trap doors and polyjuice potions and hippogriffs and werewolves and dementors and
deatheaters….” She was rambling now, allowing years of frustration to pour out of her. And Harry
was still clueless. With Hermione’s face pressed close to his, Harry found his eyes locked with
hers. He noted, though not for the first time, that they burned almost black when she was angry. He
noticed too how flushed her cheeks were, how deep the color was in her lips, burning with the heat
of her emotion. Harry found a stray thought racing through his head. ‘God, you’re so hot when
you’re raving like a lunatic.’ He couldn’t suppress a slight grin.

“Oh no you don’t, Mr. Harry Bloody Potter,” she chided. “Don’t think for a minute you’re going
to placate me with that damn disarming grin. Not this time!”

Harry raised his hands defensively as she shook a tightly wrapped fist at him. He knew better
than to take for granted that small, delicate looking hand. He had witnessed its power at least
once before, when one Draco Malfoy had foolishly tested the “Wrath of Hermione”. Malfoy had failed
that test, miserably.

By now, Hermione’s rantings had become increasingly louder, drawing the attention of those
fellow housemates unfortunate enough to have rooms nearest to the Gryffindor common room. Though
the pair was not aware of it, a small crowd had now gathered on the stairs to, as Seamus later put
it, “watch the fireworks”. If Harry had been able to see the knowing smiles on some of those faces,
he might have been surprised to find out that they seemed to have a much better idea of what
Hermione was on about than he did.

“So much time,” Hermione continued on, oblivious to her audience. “Trying to make you see how
much I cared.”

Harry felt his pulse quicken. ‘What did she just say? Did she mean…?’ A warm sensation took hold
of the pit of his stomach, began radiating outward.

“I’d walk through fire for you and you don’t even know it.”

Harry was now staring at her, dumbfounded, his mouth gaping. ‘I do. Hermione, I do know,’ he was
trying to shout at her, but no sound escaped his lips. ‘I’d do the same for you.’

“So here it is then, Mr. Harry Potter. I’m not waiting any longer. It’s all or nothing. At least
I’ll know.” With that, she stepped forward, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him fiercely,
still unaware of the dozen or so grinning onlookers. Harry didn’t move.

“So, that’s it then,” she said matter-of-factly. She turned on her heel, intending to walk away.
Before she could actually take a step, Harry snatched her hand, pulled her to him. Their eyes
locked for a moment, long enough for her to see what was in his heart, to hear him whisper, “All.”
As he held her to his chest, pressed his lips to hers, they both could have sworn they heard a
familiar husky voice say, “About bloody time.”

-End-