A/N: I'm not sure what to make of this chapter, really. Let me know what you thought, and I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Three
Harry sat down at his kitchen table, rubbing his forehead wearily. The night had crept up on him, after a fairly productive but extremely long day at work.
He grabbed his wand and lit a lamp on the table, watching the light flare up quickly and give off a pool of soft light around the kitchen.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly nine-Ron would be getting off work about now.
He stretched his arms, then stood up. He might as well get something to eat-it was the first time that week that he hadn't eaten over at the old house.
He opened the fridge and examined its contents with little interest. He really should get over to the store sometime soon… half a loaf of bread and the remainders of the turkey… but what was that?
He reached into the cool confines of the fridge, picking up a massive container that had been sitting on the second shelf. On the side, someone had taped a small note.
He smiled.
Harry-
I dropped this off for you while you were at work. Use a heating charm (fuegofaris, a nice sharp flick and twist of the wrist). There should be enough for Ron, too. Though if he's really hungry, I expect he'll have to supplement this with something else.
Have a good dinner!
Hermione
P.S. Jackie grew the green beans. Make sure to mention it when you visit next. She's terribly proud of it.
He peeled off the lid and sniffed the contents gratefully. Roast chicken with lemon pepper, mashed potatoes, and fresh green beans.
"Thanks, Hermione," he whispered, grinning and taking one of the remaining clean plates from the cupboard. He put the container on the table, picked up his wand, and whispered, "Fuegofaris!"
Suddenly, the food was steaming hot and giving off a delicious aroma. He grinned, filling his plate and grabbing a fork from the half-open silverware drawer.
Just as he was pouring himself a large glass of milk, the door opened, and a rather weary Ron wandered in. His hair was rumpled and rather muddy, and his Quidditch robes were soaked with water.
As soon as he caught a whiff of the food, he perked up slightly.
"Smells excellent," he said hoarsely, making his way over to the counter and grabbing the last plate. "Where'd you get it?"
"Hermione," Harry said, through a mouthful of chicken. He swallowed and watched Ron pile a plate high with food.
"Excellent." Ron said again, "Is the milk gone?"
"Nearly." Harry suddenly felt rather guilty. "Here, I can pour some of this into another glass-"
"Nah, it's okay." Ron reached into the fridge and pulled out a butterbeer. "I suppose Hermione made the cake, too?"
"Cake?" Harry said blankly. Ron pulled out a plate with two large slices of dense, messily frosted chocolate cake resting on it. He plucked a note off the plastic wrap.
"The girls frosted the cake." Ron read, and he grinned at the bright green, red, and purple frosting covering the surface of the cake. "Good of them. When did she bring it?"
"Sometime this afternoon."
"How'd she get in?" Ron pulled up a chair and began wolfing down his dinner. "Oh, wait… you gave her a key. I forgot."
He popped open the butterbeer and took a swing.
"Excellent," he said a third time, "Wish she'd learned to cook earlier-might have been useful last year."
Harry shrugged. He didn't point out how meager their food supplies had been during the hunt for the Horcruxes.
"We really should get more milk," Ron said, craning his neck, "Want me to run out to get some? Reckon it would taste better with the cake than butterbeer."
"If you want," Harry said unconcernedly. Ron shrugged.
"After I finish this, I'll Apparate to Kragen's Alley. Cheaper prices."
"Yeah," Harry said, "but make sure you get the right milk-if I ever end up drinking anything other than cow's milk again…"
"Ah, goat milk isn't bad…" Ron said fairly, finishing off his first piece of chicken. "It's the chimera that you don't-"
"Yeah, well, I ended up drinking that, didn't I?" Harry said, shuddering inwardly at the memory. "I was sick for a week."
"Well, at least Hermione was there to nurse you back to health," Ron said, smirking, "that couldn't have been so bad."
"Considering I was delirious for half of it and vomiting the other half, I really don't think it could have been worse." Harry said, and he surprised Ron (and himself) by merely grinning at Ron's pointed remark.
Ron examined him carefully, and he put down his fork for a moment.
"I reckon you've finally caught on then," he said casually, "the way you feel about her."
Harry stared at him. Ron was looking unusually serious.
He felt himself blush, but he said, in an equally casual voice, "What do you mean by that, mate?"
"Prat. You know what I mean." Ron picked up his fork again, but didn't start eating. "I mean, I may be dense, but even I noticed after a while."
Harry gave in.
"Yeah. I guess… yeah. I have."
"Do you then?" Ron was looking uncomfortable now, but oddly determined. Harry sipped his milk and swallowed, staring at the clock.
"Do I what?"
"You know," Ron cleared his throat awkwardly, "I mean, is it the real thing, do you reckon?"
Harry was so taken aback by this question that he found himself at a loss for words. Ron's blue eyes were looking straight at him now. Harry hadn't the faintest idea what had gotten Ron thinking about he and Hermione, but he was sure it had to be something fairly serious.
"Well," he cleared his throat too, feeling his heart suddenly start thumping a bit more vigorously in his chest. "I…"
He glanced down at the table, considering the question.
He thought of Hermione, of her smiles and her tears, of the simple little things she did that made him smile or really think, of how content he felt in her company…
Or the way she stood by him, stood up to him, stood up for him, and was so ready to hold him… the surprising things he had learned about her in this past year-
The way she laughed, with her head slightly tilted. The way she thought, with her teeth catching her lower lip…. Her eyes, warm and thoughtful and sometimes piercing…
Then he looked at Ron.
He suddenly remembered how much he had wished he had what Ron did. A large family to accept him, perhaps, a real sense of ordinary and a part in the world of wizards, a part that hadn't been decided for him by a prophecy or a scar.
He remembered sitting and watching families in the park, desperately wishing he were one of them, and how much more he wanted.
Somehow Harry had always taken what he got. And he realized with a stab of guilt how much he focused on how much less he had than others… how much had been taken from him, instead of what had been given to him.
And then his thoughts came full circle.
Hermione.
How many people had someone like her?
And Harry couldn't help but think that she was enough.
More than enough.
If that wasn't `the real thing', he thought firmly, what was?
"Yeah," he said at last, "it is."
Ron nodded, looking mystified and oddly thoughtful.
"So… have you told her yet?" he said, pushing his mashed potatoes around on his plate. Harry curled his fingers around his milk glass, looking away.
"No," he said quietly, suddenly feeling his stomach twist in fear at the prospect. Ron looked up.
"You haven't got to worry about it, mate," he said lightly, "she's obsessed with you."
But he looked strangely contemplative as he finished his dinner.
"How did you know?" Ron said abruptly, just as Harry stood up and scraped the remains of his dinner into the trashcan, "That you felt that way?"
"I…" Harry stared at him. He and Ron had never been a pair to discuss things like this; he was beginning to wonder if he were about to wake from a very strange dream. "Well… I just… I didn't. Until you asked." He paused, thinking. The words seemed to slip out with much more ease than he could have imagined. "But… she's-when I'm with her… it's more than I ever thought I could have. Do you know what I mean?"
When Ron looked at him blankly, Harry tried again.
"She's… everything. It's like… I spent my whole life wanting more. Someone to… someone to love, someone to love me back. I reckon that's why… Sirius meant so much to me. You know. But… when I'm with her, I feel like I couldn't have more. I don't want more," he was speaking himself now, staring out the door leading out the balcony. The stars were bright, twinkling sympathetically, silently, in their canvas of inky darkness. The moon was nearly full now, brighter than the lamp Harry had lit, and Harry suddenly wondered if Hermione could be watching the moon, too… perhaps listening to every word he said, like the stars…
"Oh."
Harry heard the chair scrape against the tile, and Ron was up.
"I'll go get the milk," Ron said quietly, "anything else you need?"
"No." Harry had quite forgotten his earlier thoughts on the empty state of the fridge.
"All right."
The door opened and closed, and Harry still stood at the trash bin, holding his dirty plate, and staring blankly at the stars.
He had expected to feel confused when this happened, dizzy and unsteady all at once. But instead he only felt a great peace settle over him, joy causing his heart to lift.
Hermione.
He remembered the way she had felt in his arms, that afternoon when he had dropped off the groceries. And how much he loved to simply be there with her. Regardless of whether she was upset, as least he was there to hold her, talk with her. Perhaps he'd even helped her.
He put the dish in the sink, leaning up against the counter edge.
Somehow, the idea of loving Hermione didn't seem as strange as he thought it might be. In fact, it felt rather familiar, as if he had come to terms with it long ago.
He smiled and ran a hand through his hair.
Perhaps he had, he reflected, otherwise it wouldn't have been so easy to tell Ron the truth.
He absently drained the last of the milk from his glass, staring the kitchen table.
It shouldn't have surprised him, really. There had been times-several times-where he had found himself on the verge of telling her that he loved her. Of course, he had caught himself in time-he had dismissed the idea quickly, at least consciously.
He put the glass in the sink and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
Was this what it felt like, then? To be in love?
He had expected some sort of epiphany-a revelation followed by sweaty palms, a racing heart, and a light head.
But, he realized, that was what he had gotten with all of his previous romantic relationships. And they hadn't lasted.
This was much more grounded, much more subtle… wonderful, yes, but no whirlwind.
Just warmth and contentment and joy. Peace.
Love. It had been so important to ending Voldemort, it was odd he hadn't recognized it.
He had supposed, after he ended his relationship with Ginny for the first time, that in order to have a successful relationship, he needed to keep her away from the dark parts of his life.
But Hermione knew. She knew what his life had been like during the Horcrux hunt-she had felt the same hunger, experienced the same frustration and weariness…
And because of that, she was so much more able to share in his joy. The peace he felt with her-he only hoped he could give her the same.
If she chose it, that is.
The door opened, and Ron strode in with a bag of groceries.
"Eggs and milk, and another loaf of bread."
He poured a large glass of milk for himself and sat down at the table, picking up a fork and digging in to the cake with relish. After a pause, he looked up.
"Are you going to eat yours, Harry?"
"Oh-yeah."
Ron waved his wand, and the carton tilted over Harry's empty glass. The glass then floated over to the table, where Harry sniffed the milk cautiously.
"I've taken a taste," Ron assured him, "It's real milk."
Harry gulped down a mouthful of the ice-cold milk, absently picking at the cake.
"Bit heavy on the icing, isn't it?" Ron remarked after a moment, gingerly scraping off the inch-thick layer of frosting. "Tastes all right, though."
"Mmm..." Harry said, staring out the window. "Reckon I'll get to bed."
He pushed the remains of his cake toward Ron's side of the plate. "Night."
He strode past the living room and into his room, shutting the door. He blinked.
The last he had been in his room, clothes had been strewn across the floor and the bed. He hadn't had much time to straighten the room the past week.
But now, his clothes were neatly folded and put away. All the drawers were shut, the closet mirror was clean, and the bed was made.
He wandered over to the dresser, where another note lay on the top.
Really, Harry-is a cleaning spell too much for you?
He grinned, putting the note back on the dresser and beginning to undress. As he pulled out the drawer and reached for his pajamas, another piece of parchment fluttered to the floor.
He bent down, picked it up, and scanned it, his grin growing.
Put your clothes away, Harry. It builds up.
He laughed out loud and obediently tossed his T-Shirt into the hamper. As he glanced at the mirror, a note caught his eye.
I need to talk to you. Tomorrow at the park, around five? The children are visiting Molly and Ginny at the Burrow all evening.
He stared at the note, and let out a breath.
Tomorrow. He'd tell her tomorrow.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, crumpling the note in his hand.
What could she possibly want to talk about?
~*~
"And Jack's feeling a bit under the weather, Molly-"
As if to prove Hermione's words, Jack sneezed loudly, sniffling and rubbing his hand at his red nose. Hermione handed him a tissue off of the kitchen counter, and hugged him quietly.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay at home? I can tell Harry to meet me later." She pressed a hand to his forehead. "Do you feel like the fever has come back?"
"I'b okay," Jack said, somewhat miserably. "But I dink I've got a fever again. I ache."
"Oh, dear," Hermione said, looking worried, "Maybe I had better take him home-"
"Nonsense, Hermione." Molly said briskly, "It's only a cold-here, take another tissue, dear, don't use your sleeve-and I'm sure I know how to deal with that. Come along, Jack-we can put you up in Ron's old room. You have a lovely time, dear."
Hermione kissed Jack's forehead softly.
"Get some rest, Jack. I'll come pick you and the others up later."
She straightened and looked at Molly.
"Let me know if you need me to come home-Arthur showed you how to use the phone?" She motioned toward the cell phone.
"Don't worry," Molly called back over her shoulder, walking toward the stairs with a very dejected Jack trailing behind her, "He'll be fine! Have a good time!"
Hermione took one last look at Jack, who had sneezed again, and then, turning on the spot, she Apparated to the woods behind the park.
~*~
"Harry?"
He jumped, then stood up. "Hermione!"
"Oh, Harry-you didn't do all this just for…" she trailed off, gazing at the picnic blanket. Next to it sat a large wicker picnic basket, clearly full of food. Two plates sat out on the blanket, along with silverware and napkins.
"I thought… well, you made dinner for us last night, and…" he fumbled, and found himself staring at her. The soft red cardigan she was wearing was the one she had worn those cold nights during the war, when she'd slept in the lower bunk. Her hair was pinned up into a messy sort of bun, and she looked flushed-prettily so.
A breeze gusted by them, and Hermione instinctively put a hand to her hair, though it swept a good amount of it across her face.
"We can eat whenever you like," Harry said finally, shaking himself. "I thought… well, it's windy, and I…"
Suddenly he felt rather stupid as his voice trailed off. Hermione looked at him curiously.
"What is it, Harry?"
He turned red, and looked down at the grass, casting a quick glance behind him. There wasn't any backing out of it now, he reasoned firmly.
"I thought… well, I've always wanted to try this." He bent and picked up the two kites he had bought, simple diamond kites, one blue and one green. "I would always see them at the park, and Dudley never had the patience for it-said it was stupid. But… I thought you might know…"
He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand, feeling rather embarrassed as his sentence faded off lamely.
"I've only tried once," Hermione moved closer to him, looking at the kites, "But I'd love to give it another try."
He looked up, and his breath hitched when he realized how close they were. She smiled and took the spool of the blue kite from his hand.
"If I remember how to do this…"
It took several experiments to get the kites flying. Hermione wasn't quite sure what she was doing, and Harry only knew what he had seen at the park when he was younger, and soon they were out of breath and laughing as they dashed about, coaxing the kites to ride the wind.
At long last, Harry and Hermione stood side-by-side, breathless and grinning, and watching their kites swirl about in the sky.
Hermione moved slightly closer to him, letting out some of the string for her kite. It nearly tangled with Harry's kite, and he laughed.
"Watch it!"
"I can't control it," Hermione protested, laughing as well, "the wind does!"
He looked over at her, and he grinned. Her smiling face was flushed, her hair windswept, and he was reminded of what he had meant to tell her this evening.
"You said you needed to tell me something," he said after a pause. She looked at him, toying with the spool of the kite and thinking.
"I'll… tell you later tonight. Not now."
This aroused his curiosity immediately, but he let it go.
He cast about for something to talk with her about.
"How are the kids?"
She looked at him and smiled. "Oh, well, Jack's got a bit of a cold, but that's more or less it. I hope you enjoyed your dinner last night; the girls had such a good time helping me make it."
"It was fantastic," he said, grinning, "you even made enough for Ron."
"I've had practice," she said dryly, making him chuckle.
"I really appreciate the notes you left me," he said, making her smile. "Very original."
"Not quite," Hermione said, laughing, "My mum used to leave me notes in my room. Not that it was ever messy-"
"Like mine?"
"Well, yes, like yours," she said, "It was usually things like, `Don't forget that you have piano practice at four' or something like that."
"You play piano?"
"Very badly," she admitted, blushing, "I had a terrible teacher-she was only fourteen and I was nine-and I hated every lesson. I didn't last very long… oh, stop it!"
"Hermione Granger, hating lessons? That's something I never thought I'd hear." Harry quipped, and grinned when she swatted him with her free hand.
"I only took about six lessons from her before I managed to convince Mum to let me stop. Of course, then she made me start girls' football instead…"
"You played football?" he blurted out in disbelief, and she looked slightly embarrassed.
"Two years of it."
She saw his face, and she snorted.
"Really, Harry, just because I happen to value education over sports doesn't mean I never played sports at all."
"Were you any good?" he said curiously. She shrugged modestly.
"I was a decent player, but I wasn't particularly talented. Just average, I expect."
She looked up at the sky, where their kites were bobbing gently up and down in the wind. Harry looked up too, inwardly marveling at how little he knew about Hermione's life before Hogwarts. He resolved to talk to her about it more often.
"Would you like to eat now?" Harry suggested after a moment. She agreed, and they reeled in their kites.
After she sat down across from him, Harry reached into the picnic basket and pulled out the food. He had taken special care to bring her favorite foods: deviled eggs, crisp gala apples, bacon and tomato sandwiches (wheat bread, sliced in triangles), strawberries, and two large chocolate chip cookies.
"So did your parents do that a lot… make you do things, I mean?" Harry said as they ate. Hermione took a bite out of her apple and considered the question.
"They meant well," Hermione said at last, using a napkin to wipe her mouth, "They liked to make sure
I was… well-rounded, I suppose. I don't think they expected me to-well, to want to stay at Hogwarts."
He stared at her.
"How couldn't they? You memorized our textbooks before we even arrived at Hogwarts!"
Hermione took another bite of her apple.
"Well," Hermione said after a thoughtful silence, "I'm not quite sure they really understood magic, really. They rather thought it was going to be… a bit of a joke. Mum thought I was going to want to come home before first term even ended-I don't think they thought magic could be difficult. It wasn't academics they were worried about, when it all boiled down. They thought I was going to be disappointed."
"So how much did they know about… me?" Harry asked cautiously, putting his sandwich down. She smiled.
"About you? Everything," she said, putting her apple down, "About Voldemort? Close to nothing."
"Your dad doesn't seem to be fond of me," he said, remembering the phone call, "I almost thought…"
"…that he thought you were putting me in danger?"
He nodded slowly. He didn't blame Mr. Granger in the least.
"Daddy is slightly… overprotective," Hermione said with an exasperated look, "If any man happened to look at me the wrong way, he'd immediately think that he was dangerous, too." She paused, then reached out and covered his hand with hers.
"Don't dwell on it, Harry. It doesn't matter-we're both safe." She squeezed his hand gently and picked up her apple again, unaware of the tingles her touch had sent down Harry's back.
"So when did you know?" Harry said after a moment. Hermione's life before Hogwarts fascinated him. He hadn't exactly had the most normal childhood as a Muggle, and Hermione had. It was a glimpse into a life he had always dreamt of when he was younger. "About magic?"
"When I did my first bit of accidental magic." Hermione said, "It was when I was two."
"What did you do?" Harry inquired as she nibbled at her apple again. She smiled.
"I was outside in the yard with my cousin when it started snowing. I kept insisting that the snowflakes were butterflies, and she wouldn't believe me, and I remember… I was so upset that she wouldn't believe me that I told her I would catch one and show her. Of course she just laughed and put me down, but the next moment-" Hermione put out a hand, "I had a butterfly perched on my hand. There were dozens of them fluttering about me… I'm not exactly sure how it happened. But I remember putting out my hands, and at first all I felt was the snow melting on them, and then…" she shrugged, and Harry gazed at her, feeling strangely touched by the story.
"Did you know then?"
"That I was a witch?" Hermione shook her head, still smiling, "I knew it was magic. Children never have trouble believing that magic is real. It's the adults that have trouble."
She looked down.
"I sometimes wonder…" she stopped, then looked at him. "Sometimes I feel like we take magic for granted. Accidental magic like that… it never happens to me anymore, but… it was beautiful."
"It would have to be, since it was you," he found himself saying quietly, and suddenly they were looking directly into each other's eyes, and he could see her eyes sparkle with a brightness he had never seen there before.
"Thank you," she whispered, and her smile caused his heart to swell.
Tell her now, part of him urged, and yet the other part of him cautioned, not yet. Not quite yet.
"You're welcome," he managed to whisper back. Then, realizing that he was still gazing at her in silence, he looked down and picked up his sandwich, taking a quick bite of it.
"Mine wasn't nearly as good as yours," he said after a pause, "I grew my hair back when my aunt gave me a bad haircut. Appeared on the roof when I was running away from Dudley."
"They treated you terribly," Hermione said hotly, "I really don't know how you stood it."
"Your letters always helped," he said truthfully.
She paused, and then her smile returned, softer than before.
"I'm glad," she said quietly, and she finished off her apple with a few more quick bites. "I liked hearing from you, too."
"I wasn't very good about writing, was I?" he said, as she carefully wrapped her apple core in a napkin.
"You were better than Ron," she said fairly. She paused.
"But not by much," she added with a grin. He ate the last bit of his sandwich, wiped his mouth, and reached for a deviled egg.
"Ron didn't write me all that much either, really-but it all added up. And then when Dudley went on a diet, you were brilliant… sending all that food. I think I would have starved."
She broke off a bit of her cookie and popped it into her mouth, looking thoughtful.
As they began to clean up the picnic, Harry noticed the sun beginning to set, sending soft streaks of pink across the sky.
"Want to go on a walk? There's a river not far from here," he offered as Hermione folded their blanket and placed it on top of the basket. She propped the kites up against the basket, straightened, and smiled.
"Just like we used to," she said, voicing his thoughts quietly, "around the lake."
"Yeah." Harry sensed the atmosphere shifting from the easy, comfortable mood that had settled over them at dinner to tentatively... something. Harry wasn't sure what it was. He only had the undeniable feeling of being on the edge-the brink of something new.
She smiled quietly, and he held a hand out to her. She took it, and he led her out of the park, through the woods, and to the banks of a slow-moving river.
The sky was a soft array of pinks, oranges, and bright reds. The softly rippled surface of the river reflected a watery imitation of the sunset..
"Hermione," Harry said, as they walked along the grassy bank of the river, "you said you wanted to tell me something?"
She looked at him, and once again Harry's breath caught at the sight of her face, and she blushed nearly the same color of the sky, a soft pink spreading across her cheeks. She tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear, uncertainly wetting her lips.
"I... I did want to tell you something. Something... very important," she said cautiously, and she let out a nervous half-laugh.
"I... I don't know how to say this."
Harry's heart was suddenly thundering against his chest as he stopped, turned to face her, and took both of her hands. He wasn't sure why he had done so, but it felt like the right thing to do. She shifted on her feet, then moved very slightly closer to him.
"Harry, I... I really..." she swallowed and tilted her chin back, her eyes flitting across his face, and she seemed to falter. She looked away.
"Hermione?" He hadn't meant to whisper, but that seemed... right. He leaned forward and quietly, cautiously, he tilted her chin up so that she was looking him in eye. Her lips parted.
"I... it's just..." she stammered softly, and as he studied her face, he suddenly realized what had happened.
He licked his lips, barely able to hear himself whisper, "You, too?"
Her eyes widened as she released a deep breath.
"Yes," she whispered faintly, "Do you mean...?"
"Yes," he said rather hoarsely. "I... last night, I... I was going to tell you today-"
They gazed at each other. Harry was feeling rather overwhelmed, his mind seeming to shudder with shock.
She felt the same way.
And not only did she feel the same way, she knew. He gazed at her mutely, his hand still on her chin, and he felt his hand move up to press against her cheek.
"Hermione?" he managed to whisper. "How... when...?"
"That night when you dropped the groceries off... I-"
Her voice broke, and a few tears trickled down her cheeks, sparkling brilliantly in the fading sunlight. She blinked quickly and let out a tearful laugh.
"Yasmine and I... she made me realize that... that all I wished for... all this time... I was wishing for you," she drew in a deep, shaky breath and smiled, "I... never thought that you might..."
"I never thought that you would ever..." he said hoarsely, his sentence trailing off as he felt himself move his face slightly nearer to hers. She laughed through her tears, and used a hand to brush them away.
"We're a right pair of idiots, aren't we? It's as if we both thought we were in unrequited love... at the same time."
"That's what we are, aren't we?" Harry whispered in wonder, leaning his forehead against hers almost instinctively, "We're in love."
He heard her let out a soft sob and another shaky laugh.
"Yes," she breathed, and when she spoke, Harry was suddenly aware of how close their faces were. "We are."
"I reckon I wouldn't want anyone else... to be in love... with me," and suddenly their lips met, and Harry's whole body went weak as her arms went around his neck, and she felt so warm, quivering as she pressed up against him-her eyes were closed, and his were closed, and all he knew was the feel of her against him... and the one word running through his rather unsteady mind was, Finally...
A soft breeze stirred up around them, and Hermione pulled back with a soft, breathless, "Harry..."
He opened his eyes, and saw her smiling at him, looking pink and breathless. Slowly, his heartbeat slowed to a more steady beat, and he managed a soft grin.
"Oh," was all he could say, rather weakly. She let out a breathy laugh, and he noticed how lovely her eyes looked in the moonlight.
"We should probably get home," she said after a moment, "Jack's ill and I don't want to leave Molly with him for too long."
She took his hand and squeezed it. "Come on. Let's go get our things."
Harry allowed her to lead him back to the park, and then, having sufficiently left the daze behind, he helped her collect the things.
They then returned to the woods, and Apparated to the Burrow.
The Burrow was surprisingly quiet when Harry knocked. The door opened moments later.
"Molly, might we use the Floo?" Hermione asked as Molly called up to the others. "And how's Jack?"
"The fever's gone, but I'm afraid his cough has gotten worse. I did give him some Pepper-Up Potion, so that should help. You know where the Floo Powder is, I'm sure-Harry, why don't you come in?"
Harry shook his head, looking at Hermione and smiling.
"I should probably get back home." He let go of Hermione's hand and grinned. "I'll see you soon?"
"Of course," Hermione turned rather pink, but she smiled all the same. She reached up and gave him a quick, tender kiss. "Good night, Harry."
"Night," he said softly, suddenly reluctant to leave. She smiled and shook her head.
"Go on, Harry. I'll see you soon."
He grinned, kissed her one more time, and Apparated on the spot.
As soon as he had gone, Hermione turned around and saw Ginny gaping at her.
"What?" she said defensively, though the effect was somewhat spoiled by her brilliant smile and flushed cheeks. "What's wrong with you?"
"Did he just kiss you?" Ginny demanded, looking as if she were about to fall over in disbelief.
Hermione blushed an even deeper shade of pink.
"What do you think?" she said, obviously attempting to sound nonchalant.
"What do I think?" Ginny repeated, her voice growing louder with each word, "I think you owe me an explanation!"
"I don't owe you anything, Ginny," Hermione said exasperatedly as Yasmine and Katy clustered around the fireplace.
Ginny spluttered.
"I've been all but shoving you two together for the past three months, and then you two show up and... kiss each other good night, for Merlin's sake! Right in front of me! As if it were perfectly normal!"
Hermione ignored her as she hurried Adrian and Ben and a still miserable Jack toward the fireplace, picking Jackie up and directing the others toward the pot of Floo Powder. However, her cheeks flushed again when Ginny mentioned the kisses.
"Don't think I can't see you blushing!" Ginny warned, "Oh, come on, Hermione, can't you tell me anything?"
Hermione considered this as she picked Oats up off the floor, still balancing Jackie in one arm. Katy and Yasmine disappeared into the fire as she did, with simultaneous cries of their address.
"No," Hermione said after a moment, "Have a good night, and thank you so much for watching the children for me, Molly!'
"Oh, don't mention it, dear." Molly said, smiling. "Do let us know whenever you need us to watch them-even if it's just for a date-"
"Thank you very much. Hold tight to me, Jackie!"
"For heaven's sake, Ginny," Molly said with a sigh, as soon as they had gone, "don't look so disappointed! It's not as if you orchestrated the whole thing!"
"I helped with the picnic dinner." Ginny said defensively, "Besides, I don't want all the details, just-"
"Ginny, someday you are going to have to learn to mind your own business," Molly said with another sigh. "They did look so happy together, didn't they?"
"Happy? Of course they were!" Ginny said, sounding torn between being smug and indignant, "I told her that she had fallen for him, but did she listen? No! For six straight months-"
"That's enough from you," Molly said sternly, "Up to bed."
"I'm seventeen!"
"Thank you for enlightening me, dear, now march!"
Ginny scowled.
"Harry and Hermione are a month away from getting engaged, and I've still got a bedtime," she muttered irritably, "Figures."
A/N: I'm guessing most of you are about to murder Ginny mentally right now. Again, please let me know what you thought!
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