I Love You, Too by the_real_mrs_potter

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 30/04/2009
Last Updated: 07/05/2009
Status: Completed

Hermione is pretty much head-over-heels in love with Harry. The typical cliche, no? Well when
you think your feelings arn't reciprocated is a margarita mixed with chocolate really the
answer? Or will a knock on her door while she wallows in her self pity awaken her to the joy that
is a happy ending?




1. I Love You, Too
------------------



**A/N: This** **is an oldie of mine, as you will soon be able to tell. It was really just
written as a sort of venting-thing, but I posted it on HPFF and figured that I should post it here,
too. It has two parts, so no, the ending is** **not** **the actual end! If it was, I
wouldn't be allowed to post it here. lol. Anywhayyy, I hope you enjoy it and I'll post the
second part soon, providing if I have a good amount of pushing via reviews. *wink wink***

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine! I'm not a genius, nor blind when it comes to
picking romantic couples, so JKR… yeah, definitely not me.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

I Love You, Too

I never really knew *when* it happened, and I certainly didn't know *why.* The need
for someone close? The want for someone close to me so I could have someone to hold? These
questions have always, and probably will remain, unanswered. I couldn't well elaborate on it
long enough without losing my train of thought. *I love his smile. I can't wait to see him
again. Does he think about me as much as I do him? Highly* *unlikely. But what if he did?*
*He* did.

Ah yes, these feelings had once been re-cooperated when we were younger. How do I know this? Well,
we'll start with the basics first: I was thirteen—lost, confused, and highly self-conscious. It
seems like only yesterday when I walked into that first class of the day, and there he was, just
sitting there. I didn't pay much mind to him. It wasn't as though I had never seen him
before, quite the opposite. I usually saw *too much* of him. I had four classes with him since
my schedule was jam-packed with the added `time-turner classes', as I liked to refer to them
as, and meals. My life was so simple until the day my thoughts began to run wild on me. Right after
I figured out he liked Cho, I let my mind wander. *What if he liked* me *in that way?
That'd be different. I wouldn't object to it, it woul**d be very weird, though.
He's my* *friend.* Little did I know that those thoughts would only get stronger. And
stronger… and stronger… and never leave.

I never told anyone while I was at school. All of the people I could have told we highly
unqualified to say the least. Ron? I knew he liked me; his antics at those first few Hogsmeade
trips were anything but subtle. I mean, asking if I wanted to go to the shrieking shack with him
*alone* to check out the paint job? Come on, I might have been numb to the feeling that was
puppy love, but I wasn't stupid! I couldn't tell him. Ginny? Ha, that was a laugh; tell the
girl who is madly in love with him and has been ever since she laid eyes on him when she was ten.
Oh, and plus the fact that she chose *me* as the person to confess her feelings. That little
detail didn't help matters. I couldn't tell her. I didn't have closer friends then
those two—pathetic, I know—so I knew that it had to be known by only one person; me, and me
alone.

It went on like that for years, our relationship growing more than I ever thought it would. Who
would have thought that *I,* Hermione Jane Granger, would be best friends with Harry James
Potter? Not me. I had only read about him, never thinking I would actually *meet* him. He was
a legend to me, the person who single-handedly saved the Wizarding World, if only for a few years.
And then the train ride and troll happened and we'd been inseparable. It all went by so fast
that I couldn't really grasp it, but I did. He was my best friend. I told him everything,
helped him when he got into trouble, which was often enough to keep me on my toes for seven years
and counting.

I survived through all of the girlfriends. I kept telling myself that he deserved to be happy, and
I certainly wasn't going to ruin that. Best friends come before love interests; everyone knows
that… even if they are the same person. But that didn't stop me from crying some days. When I
found out about a new girl on his arm, I felt my stomach clench and tears well up in my eyes—half
of it because it wasn't me, and the other half because he never told me. You'd think that
your best friend would tell you when they found another possible candidate to fulfill their
lifelong dream of starting a family with. Nope, not Harry. It was as though I wasn't a part of
that aspect of his life. I didn't expect to be, obviously, but it still hurt. I don't cry
as soon as I find out, it takes a few days. I could be at the office, in my room, watching a film,
reading my favorite book; then all of a sudden, the tears would fall and I automatically knew why.
*Him.* Thank Merlin it never happened when I was around that bastard. But I did have a plan
for that if it ever happened. I would just say my `Monthly Gift' was here and excuse myself to
the bathroom. Guys don't ask questions when you say that.

As if that weren't bad enough, he told me that he had fancied me. Now this is the part where
you find out about the worst day of my life.

But he told me this *years* after he had gotten over me, or so he said. It was for a few
months. I was thirteen. He had fancied me *before* I had fancied *him.* It was as though
he and his thoughts had some sort of connection with mine that made me think the way I did back
then. He had sent my life straight to hell with that statement. Now, my thoughts consist of `what
if's and `if I had's. The prick had basically torn my life apart with that little bomb! Oh,
and that was the other problem. I could never bring myself to hate him. Never, not even for a few
hours. I would let off some steam by screaming into one of my pillows, think him dying a horrible
and painful death inflicted by me hold a meat cleaver, and then I would stop. I would realize that
I could never live my life without him. And it was true. He was the one who kept me sane, made me
laugh when I didn't even want to smile. He was my rock, my solstice. And I hated him for it. I
hated that I couldn't hate him.

But even *that* wasn't the worst part. I had told him that I fancied him, too;
*f**ancied* being in the past-tense. We ended up laughing about it. We were so stupid. He
didn't know that the tears I was shedding weren't because I found the situation funny, and
he would never know. Sometimes I got the feeling that he *knew* what I was thinking about.
Scared the living shit out of me. Everyone knows we can read each other's thoughts, have silent
conversations using only our eyes. It all came off as an easy feat. It wasn't. I always hid my
true thoughts from him, doing a fairly good job at it until he gave me these… these… *looks.*
The looks always made my skin erupt into goose bumps and I would shift unconsciously in my place.
When he looked at me like that, I had to hold back the urge to pour out my heart to him, scream `I
love you!' right to his face. My self-control, thankfully, is one of my better qualities.

Every time someone asks me if I fancy him I say no, without a stutter to my voice. It comes out as
clear as a bell. It's very easy to say that to someone, even if I know I could never lie to the
person who was asking… because I wasn't lying. I *didn't* fancy Harry. I was *in
love* with him.

I had realized that my feelings had shifted almost a year after my original feelings for him became
present. It just *hit* me, like a stack of fifty books to my skull. I was in love with my best
friend. I was in some serious shit. But, at least I wasn't in denial… that would have been
worse. All of those thoughts running rapid through my head, denying that I had no intention of
ripping Harry's clothes off and kissing him as if my life depended on it. Those thoughts alone
would drive me insane. I mean, really, *who* would be so thick as to let all of those
discouraging things into your head without once thinking that there was a reason that you were
thinking of them. God, people could be so *stupid* sometimes.

Cecile had been one of the first people I told. She was a co-worker of mine in the `Department of
the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures', a Beauxbatons graduate with dirty blonde
hair, blue eyes, and one mean temper when it came to her friends. We met on the first day of my
recruitment and immediately hit it off. She was one of those people who had such a big heart; you
wouldn't be surprised if one day it would explode. I didn't even mean to tell her, really.
It just sort of… slipped out.

“So, you fancy anyone?” she had asked me one day, casually, as if mentioning the results of the
latest Quidditch match.

“No” I replied without looking up from my report that I was working on.

I had heard her chair scrape and her approaching steps. I still hadn't looked up, but felt her
sit upon my desk and I let out an irritated sigh. Did I mention she was incessantly stubborn, too?
“Are you positive?”

“Yes” I said mechanically as I continued to write. I knew she wanted me to look her in the eyes and
tell her without even a second thought. They all did. I picked up my head from my report and looked
at her with a serious face, “No, Cee, I don't fancy anyone. Now will you please let me work on
my report in peace? Wiley will have my head if I don't hand it in on time.”

She cocked her head to one side and smirked at me. I was immediately scared. “I don't believe
you.”

“Well, it's true, I'm not lying.” I said truthfully. Before I could even turn my head in
the direction of my report, she slammed a hand on it, smearing the ink and got up out of her spot
atop my desk. She moved to kneel beside me and looked up at me.

“That may be true, but I can't help but notice that look in your eyes whenever a certain
bespectacled man walks in here to pick you up for lunch.” I gulped silently as she continued to
look at me pointedly. “You know, the one with midnight black hair, piercing emerald eyes, and a
*very* recognizable scar atop his forehead, usually covered up by his bangs.”

I let out a breath as I cast a silent spell, clearing the smears she had left on my paper. “Harry
and I are just friends.”

“That also may be true… but you don't want to be, do you?” I felt tears well up in my eyes. I
forced them back as I took in deep breathes to calm myself. “You can tell me anything, you know
that?” *Of course I knew that.* Other then the boys and Ginny, she was one of the only people
I told anything of significance to. Besides, I had been holding it for that long… I was bound to
tell someone someday anyways, so why not get it over with?

I bent my head down low as I began to nod my head shakily. “I'm in love with him, Cee. And… and
I don't want to be… and-” She interrupted me by abruptly standing up and hugging me tightly. I
felt the tears begin to pour down as she rubbed my back in comfort. “P-promise me you won't
tell him.” I said in a tearful whisper. She nodded against me and we just stayed like that, my
report aside and forgotten,

I had gotten a serious scolding for that, but I didn't care at the time. I was so relived, yet
so scared that I had finally told someone after all this time. I thought for sure that I'd cave
to Ron first, or maybe even Ginny. Ron was happily engaged to Luna Lovegood and Ginny was dating
Draco Malfoy (who had switched sides during the war, surprisingly enough), so I didn't have an
excuse not to tell them, and there I was confessing it to a person I had only known a few months
but whom I had the best confidence in.

I had, indeed, caved to them within the next few weeks, my wall breaking down after that first
confession. Ginny had discovered me a heap on the floor of my flat, the full effect of one of
Harry's girlfriends finally setting in. I had been so vulnerable and confused at the time. No
one had ever seen me like that. Ever. I panicked and told her. With Ron, I had told him
straight-out because his teasing of Harry and I to get together was driving me to the brink of
insanity. Calling us thick, he was! I was *not* thick and I had cornered him and screamed that
right to his face. He looked scared out of his wits, but then I started crying again. I had
collapsed into his arms and sobbed. Ironic, every time I told someone of my dilemma, I ended up in
tears. Sad, but ironic.

I made them both swear, much like I did with Cecile, *never* to give *any* hints to him
that I loved him, and *never* under any circumstances, tell him straight out. They had agreed,
to my relief, and I trusted them all- all three of my venting-machines. The only downside was when
we were all together, Harry and his girlfriend included, or if he was there alone, it did matter-
they always give me this pitying look. Whenever I catch them giving it to me, I immediately bend my
head down and remain silent the rest of the time. Poor Harry, he didn't have a clue what was
going on. Why do they pity me? They should pity *him!* *
* The phone rang.

I was shaken out of my revere as the phone atop my coffee table began to ring. I rubbed my eyes and
leaned forward from my comfy position on my couch and picked up the phone from its dock, the book I
was supposed to be reading left unopened in my lap. I clicked the green `Send' button and
managed to say a groggy “Hello?” into the receiver. Lack of talking must have made my voice sound
odd.

“I love you.”

I knew that voice. “What do you want, Harry?”

“What makes you think I want anything…? *I love you*.” He added with urgency.

“Other than the fact that I know you too well for you to get anything past me, the use `I love
you' as your greeting to me might have given you away.” I said as I leaned back into my fluffy
pillows, smiling as I soaked in his voice.

“Damn, I knew not to use that trick on you.” His mock-disappointed voice said from the other
line.

“That you should. Now what do you want?” I asked again, trying to be stern, though I found his
voice to be so uncontrollably cute.

“Have ever mentioned that I love your wit?” He asked, trying to butter me up.

“Harry…” I warned.

“I love it! And your way with words, and your-”

“Harry, stop, tell me what you want or I'm hanging up.” He knew I was serious, as I had acted
out that threat many times before. Sometimes you had to take drastic measures in order to get your
point across. We both knew this. His weapon being flattery, mine being threats.

“Alright, alright… I just wanted to know if I could get a ride to Alana's place tonight.”

My stomach clenched. I knew that it would be something like this, but it still affected me. The
only reason he ever said `I love you' to me was to either butter me up as he was now, or as an
apology. Of course I knew he loved me and he knew I knew, so expressing it was just another thing
he chose not to do around me. Although I desperately wish it wouldn't… it always worked. It was
as though he knew exactly what to say, but didn't even know the effect it had on me. “Did you
wreck your car again?”

Harry had a habit of dating Muggle girls, so when they broke up, they couldn't hex him (or at
least threaten to), as when he *did* date members of his own sub-species did. So he would
usually drive his silver Volvo over to pick them up, meet them, or (Merlin forbid) drive over to
her house to do Merlin-Knows-What. But… he also had a habit of wrecking his car. Usually by either
letting Ron drive it or driving in the dark. He had never been good at that. And since he had too
much *class,* he would never ask the girl (or in this case *Alana*) to pick him up… and,
smartass that he is, he has too much common sense to ask Ron to drive him since Ron had never
properly learned how to operate a car. That and he was still sore about the incident in second year
where Ron had almost caused him to fall out of the Weasley's Ford Anglia and plunge to his
death. Never mind that they had almost been *expelled.* Honestly!

So that left me as his only lifeline. And since he knew *exactly* how to get me to do things
that I wouldn't if not for that teeny fact that I'm in love with him but he thought it was
because I was *such* a good friend, I was his carpool more often than not. Damn him.

“Yeah.” He answered, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Ron or The Dark?” Yes, it does need to be capitalized.

“Both.” He replied hastily.

I gasped loudly as I heard him chuckle from the other end, “How could you be so
*stupid?*”

“Sorry, I really wasn't in the condition to drive anyways.” He was drunk, of course. It was a
miracle he even remembered how the car got wrecked.

“Still, you could have walked to a motel or something!” I scorned.

“Sorry, really wasn't in the right of mind.” I sighed. “So can you give me a lift?”

I paused a bit, just squeezing the bit of fun I needed in this situation. “I'll see what I can
do.”

I could feel him smile at the other end. “Great! Pick me up at seven?”

“Yeah…” I said. I could feel my breath hitching. I had to end this conversation quick. “I'll be
there.”

“See you then, `Mione.” He said.

“Mhmm.” I mumbled, feeling my eyes getting heavy. Absently, I began to play with the hem of my
pillows to calm myself.

“I love you.”

I swallowed a lump of air, “I-I love you, too.”

I hung up the phone before he could even ponder the change of tone in my voice. I set the phone
back in its place with a trembling hand. It clicked as it made contact and I fell back into my
pillows. I let the tears pour out. I clung to a pillow as I sobbed into it. It wasn't like this
every time. It was a rare occasion when I would bust out crying after one of the infamous phone
calls. But when it did happen, I was immediately thankful I hadn't set up my fireplace to the
floo system yet. I would be done for if it weren't for my laziness.

I clung to my pillow as I poured my tears onto it, soaking it and holding it tightly to my stomach.
I didn't want to imagine what they would do when I dropped him off. Of course, I end up
thinking about it anyways. I think there is a sick part of me who wants me to feel pain, if only
for a little while. He would wait until I drove away in my blue Priest, around a corner, perhaps,
then greet his girlfriend with a sickenly romantic kiss and lead her into her house where they
would eat delicious food that he would cook for the two of them over a candlelit table. They would
eat it all while making disgusting googly-eyes at each other and then retreat to the… the bedroom
and…

Another sob wracked my body. I really needed to get a grip on myself.

I reluctantly picked my head up from my pillow, glancing at it for only a moment, seeing the large
stain of salty tears enveloping its suede fabric. It would be gone after I made a nice margarita
with a dash of chocolate on the side. The only two semi-cures I knew for what I was feeling. The
margarita, introduced to me by Cecile, the chocolate, a pure womanly instinct. Chocolate cured
everything.

I got up from my place on the couch and made my way to the kitchen a few yards away. My bare feet
were cold upon my linoleum tiling as I approached the refrigerator. I always kept margarita mix
hidden behind the orange juice. I moved the jug aside and grabbed the familiar container. I steered
clear of my alcoholic-induced bottle, knowing full well I was driving in a few hours.

I set the bottle on the smooth counter as I reached for my blender and summoned some ice from the
freezer. God, how I loved being witch! I charmed the ingredients to prepare themselves as I opened
the cookie jar, where I kept my secret stash of Hershey's. I munched on the heavenly natural
aphrodisiac as I watched the margarita finish itself up. As soon as I saw the blender cease in its
movements, I held out a hand as one of my margarita glasses flew into it, the lime and salt already
in place. I filled the glass as I took a seat on the counter. I dipped my chocolate into the drink
and sighed in content as I felt two of my favorite things mold together in my mouth.

I let my head wander to a picture frame on the wall across from me as I continued to eat my
therapy-food. It was a picture of me and Harry dancing at the celebratory ball after the Final
Battle. The picture version of me was smiling up at him through her massive bushy curls as he
pulled her closer to him. I used to think there was an undertone to that… a small flicker of hope.
I was so young and foolish back then. We both were.

I still am.

Even though I know it's a long shot, I still think out of the box. Think that one day,
he'll just drop his current girlfriend, realize he loves me, and rush to my flat through the
rain, not even bothering to apperate because his thoughts were so consumed with me. He would knock
on my door and I would answer, we'd both just look at each other and he'd glide over to me
and kiss me as I always imagined he would, soft and romantic, yet hard and passionate at the same
time, we'd make love and live happily ever after, just like the films and books. The-End.

I couldn't repress the urge to snort. I was pathetic, but it didn't stop me from hoping. I
slid off the counter and walked to the hallway where that picture, among many others, hung. Next to
it was a picture of Harry. It was a newspaper clipping from the day we defeated Voldermort. He
looked so tired, dirt and blood on his face. But he had a smile on despite his condition.
*The* smile, that'd I'd only seen him give one time. When he realized that Voldermort
was gone, he'd given the same smile and it'd never left his face for weeks. It was the
`I-Can't-Believe-It's-Really-Over' smile. Not a grin, but not a shadow of a smile,
either. It was a smile of triumph, of relief, of promise for the future. There was a knock at the
door and I smiled sadly up at the frame. “Yeah” I said out loud, lifting my glass to the frame in
toast, “I love you, too.” I took one last gulp of my drink and turned away gingerly from the
hallway and to the knock at my door. I knew these were the only times that I would say it and not
care about the tone of my voice. No one could hear me.

*I love you, too.*

-->



2. Felix Desino
---------------



**A/N: You guys wanted it, so here it is. The conclusion to my angst-ridden story! It's
longer than the last chapter, but don't get your hopes up too high. This part still has the
angst, just with a** **better conclusion. Oh, and to those who are curious,** **Felix
Desino** **is Latin for Happy Ending so if that doesn't draw you in, I don't know what
will.**

**Disclaimer: HJP=not mine, HJP+HJG=totally mine! …in this story that is =]**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Felix Desino**


The knocking only got louder as I continued to pad down the hall towards the front door. “I'm
coming, I'm coming!” I yelled at the knocker. They didn't seem to pay any mind to my call,
for the persistent noise remained constant. “My *God,* just hang on a second!” I yelled again
as I arrived at the door. There was one hell of a statement on my lips—you can be sure of
that—something along the lines of them getting a prescription of Ritalin and shoving it up their
impatient ass. But I had to literally bite my tongue as I took in the messy raven hair and shining
emerald eyes that awaited me as I opened the door.

It was *him.
* My tongue was becoming numb as I continued to press hard against it with my teeth, not
moving from my spot directly in front of him. I didn't care. The only thing I cared about was
why the *hell* he was in my flat, when not even five minutes ago, we were making plans for me
to drive him to—*oh, what was her name again?* *Aleria… Amanda…*
*Albuquerque**…* *Alana!*—Alana's house. Part of me knew I wasn't really
angry at him; it was just the faint buzz of the margarita I just drank. I think that part was my
heart, cliché as it seems, because my brain was definitely not in the right place at the
moment.

His head was tilted to the side curiously and we just stared at each other. I think he was trying
not to be rude, by just inviting himself in… although, he had apparated in on more than one
occasion. Wait, I think his lips are moving! But where's the sound? I blinked a few times and
placed a hand on my head to steady my blurring vision. His expression immediately turned to one of
concern and he stepped forward to put a steadying arm around me. Did I really almost faint? I took
his leading me over to the couch and laying me down across it as a yes. I really needed to learn
not to drink; I was never one to hold it well. Every time I drank something as innocent as a
margarita, I ended up completely buzzed.

His worried eyes came into focus dangerously close as he placed a cool hand atop my forehead,
checking for any sign of a temperature. He hadn't known I'd been drinking, for all he knew,
the empty glass in my hand could be pumpkin juice; an innocent lime green-colored pumpkin juice. I
tried to speak, but my mouth was dry, to tell him that I wasn't sick and that he had no reason
to be this close and touching me. He must've seen my attempt at producing words from my useless
mouth, for he waved his hand and conjured a glass of water out of thin air. I smiled at him as he
handed it to me, silently thanking him. I gulped the water greedily and felt immediate relief,
though not complete satisfaction. It was enough to produce a weak “Thank you”.

“You're welcome.” He said sincerely as he took the empty glass from my hand, brushing his
fingertips lightly against mine. My hand tingled slightly at the light touch and caused my whole
arm to fidget slightly. I covered it up by moving my hand to rub my neck tenderly. His eyes felt as
though they were burning holes in my skin, sending an unwelcome feeling of pleasure up my spine.
Damn him and his courteousness.

“Are you going to tell me what happened or am I going to assume you're pregnant and need money
for child support?” He asked jokingly.

I chuckled softly at his off-hand remark. I could tell he was worried about me, because he always
used his humor as a cover up when he didn't want someone to read him. Of course, I still could
as if he was an open book, but that was just because I knew him too well. But my smile faded as I
thought, *S**hould I tell him the truth?—**U**hh, no!—**W**hy
not?—**H**e would only get more sympathetic and touch me more!—**B**ut I like
it when he touches me…-**O**f course you do, but your body can't take much more of
that—**O**h, and why is that?—**S**imple, you'll jump him.* Her mind was
right… or wrong… I needed to tell him something, but it I didn't have to be too specific so he
would worry more. As long as he kept those strong hands to himself, I would be fine.

“I just had a drink a little too close to bedtime, that's all.” I explained smoothly.

He arched a brow.

Shit! That was never a good sign! He knew I was telling a clipped version of the truth. *Of
course he does, you twit! Now* what *are you going to do about it before he goes into
touchy-feely-mode?—I don't know!—Come on, Granger, you were top of your class, use that
brain!* “Uhh… it was an alcoholic drink?”

His lip twisted upward.

The second warning sign! Code red, *code red!* “I-I was watching *Titanic* and got a
little too emotional so I… got a drink to sooth me.” I cast a fleeting glance over to my movie
collection over underneath where my television was. I let out a silent breath of relief when I saw
the title in bold, silver letters. I had never been more thankful for my weakness for tear-jerkers
in my life. But the question still remained: Did he buy it? I flicked my eyes back over to where he
was watching me intently, looking at me with a mix of amusement and relief.

*Success!**
* I resisted the urge to shout in relief as I saw his posture immediately relax and slump
forward slightly. I really needed to practice my lying skills so I wouldn't have to stress
myself into an early death. As soon as my mind cleared, my eyes narrowed. I looked at him pointedly
and asked, “What are you doing here, Harry?”

He took in a small intake of breath and averted his gaze to the floor for a second. I looked at him
curiously and he gave me a look I had never seen before. In all of our years of friendship, I had
never seen that look. It scared me a little—okay, a *lot**.* If I could sum it up, it
looked like a mixture of disappointment and determination; two very unlike emotions rolled up into
one look that made me want to duck under my bed and hide. I was waiting for him to answer me, but
all he did was stare. I didn't like this new feeling he was giving off, so I spoke up again,
“Harry?”

He sighed and looked at me seriously, “Ron and I just got done having a couple of drinks down at
The Leaky Cauldron.”

My forehead creased in confusion and I looked away. That was definitely not all the story behind
that look. He didn't even make a motion to continue, it was like he *wanted* me to
continue to speak up and egg him on. What was so special about having drinks with Ron? They did
that sort of thing all the time. All they did was talk and—*No*… no, that couldn't be it.
I felt a heat rise up on my neck as I let my gaze shift back to him. “And…?” I pressed
reluctantly.

“We had a nice little chat before I got on the phone with you.” He supplied simply, picking up one
of the empty glasses from the coffee table behind him and rolling it in-between his hands, focusing
on it.

I gulped. “And… and what did you talk about exactly?”

“A lot of things, nothing at all, I don't really know.” He said, taking his attention from the
glass cup and looking at me, “That's why I came to see you.”

My hands began to tremble and I picked up a pillow from beside me to fiddle with. Surely Ron
wouldn't say anything… after all this time, why would he spill now? “Why exactly is
that?”

“Well he got pretty hammered…” he trailed off, pausing for a moment to begin twirling the cup with
only one finger. *Just get on with it!* I wanted to scream. “And he wanted his best friends
opinion on who he should pick for godparents.”

“What?! How could he—wait, godparents?” I said, feeling confusion washing over my flushed face.
Harry just smiled at me in response. “You mean he and Luna…?” Harry nodded and I let out a very
un-me squeal of excitement. Harry's face lit up with laughter as the two of us embraced and
exchanged looks of pure joy. I was the first to pull away, starting to feel the uneasiness I always
felt when he held me close. I played it off coolly with a small smile and leaned back on the
couch.

“Wow, Ron having a baby.” I mused.

“Well, technically, Ron's body doesn't really work that way.” Harry said with a
smirk.

I threw a pillow at him and he caught it with his still present Quidditch skills. “You are such a
little sass!”

“Oh, sassy am I?” he asked with mock surprise.

“Sassy, cocky, call it whatever you please.” I said nonchalantly as I reached for a book on the
table next to the arm of the couch.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hur—”

I cut him off by throwing the paperback at his head and giggling when he gave me an incredulous
look. I feigned innocence as I fought back the smile that was so close to breaking free. “What was
that about words never hurting you?”

He started to laugh and I couldn't help but join him; laughter, especially his, was highly
contagious. I stopped myself before that highly painful stitch started to form and looked down at
Harry, finally taking him in for the first time since I first saw him in my doorway. His hair was
all amiss, as usual, his green eyes shining with amusement. He was dressed in dark-washed jeans and
a green striped shirt with a dark brown overcoat draped carelessly over his shoulders. I have never
gone a day without taking in Harry's full appearance, even noticing his black and white
trainers. I pressed my lips together as he finally sobered and crossed his legs Indian-style to
look at me with a small smile.

It felt good to be in such a relaxed environment with him. But, of course, it never lasted.

“We also talked after I got off the phone with you.”

I tilted my head to the side curiously, “Is it twins or something?”

He chuckled, making my stomach flip—Damnit. “No, nothing like that… I don't think Ron would be
alive to tell that tale.” I smiled and breathed a laugh. “It was actually about you.”
*Shitshitshitshitshitshit!*

“O-oh?” I asked, re-adjusting myself on the couch to try and make a distraction.

“Mhmm.” He responded, beginning to fiddle with the pillow I had thrown at him and casting another
look at me. Another one of *those* looks. I bit my lip as I waited for him to continue,
casting nervous glances his way until his eyes met mine. “He told me the most interesting story
about a certain time after one of Mrs. Weasley's Sunday dinners. Apparently your face turns as
red as his when you get testy.”

That was the day I told Ron! This was not good; this was *not good at all!* I remained silent
as I felt his eyes on me. My face was beginning to get warm and I started to let myself sink into
the fluffy cushions. “Hermione” he said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder to turn me around to
face him. “There's no need to be embarrassed, I would have gotten angry too if he started to
play match-maker to someone I didn't want to be with.”

I looked up at him as tears began to well up in my eyes. He didn't know, but the words still
stung. My vulnerability almost made me shout out that it wasn't true. But I stopped myself
before I could get past a feeble “Harry I…”

That was probably worse than me actually telling him, because he immediately began questioning me.
“What?” I stayed silent. “Hermione, tell me.”

A lone tear fell down my cheek and I shook my head. He wiped the tear away and I flinched at his
touch. Another tear fell down, and then another, and soon I found my head buried in a pillow,
Harry's hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. Oddly enough, it didn't help. I just let
out a sob and continued to vent my frustrations out on the poor pillow. Why must I always
over-react? I *should* be relieved! My secret was still safe, he didn't have a clue; he
could have a normal life, without the guilt of having a friend who was in love with him and how he
couldn't love her back. I sniffed.

After what felt like hours, but in reality was only a few minutes, I lifted my head. I found
Harry's caring eyes leering over my weak body. There was that feeling of guilt again, spilling
over me.

“Hermione please… tell me what's wrong.” He pleaded.

Oh, you have no idea how badly I want too. “I can't.”

His jaw locked as his eyes began to shine with frustration, “And why not? We've been best
friends for so long, you can tell me anything. Merlin knows I've vented my share of problems
onto you.” I smiled at that. “Don't you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” I said offhandedly.

“Then why do I have the feeling you're keeping something from me; something big?” he
asked.

I licked my chapped lips and shrugged my shoulders. If I spoke, he would hear the lie. He always
did.

“I love you. I know I usually say it to get my way, but I really do. And with that, I want to
t—Hermione are you ok?” He stopped because I let out a sob. He had never seen my reaction to when
he said that me, mostly because it was true; he had never really said that without a motive behind
it. It hurt so much to hear those three words. My heart thumped hard in my chest, my eyes became
wet with tears, and my brain shut down all conscious thought.

“I love you, too… so… so much.” I said through the hiccups. “I l-love you, t-too.”

“Then tell me what's wrong with you! And don't say it's nothing again, or I might just
murder you!”

I didn't have the strength to laugh. But I did say one thing, “I already told you!”

The minute that came out of my lips, I panicked. It wasn't revealing or anything, but it was
enough to make him speechless. His mouth tried to respond to that, I could see it forming words,
but none of them making a sound. He must thing I'm insane.

“What… what do you mean?” he asked quietly. I remained silent. “Do you not want to give me a ride
tomorrow, because I could call Alana and—”

“No, I do not want you to call *Alana!*” I shouted at him a little too loudly. Oops.

He looked at me quaintly, “Is that what this is all about? Do you not like Alana or
something?”

“No it's…” I began. But I didn't have the courage to finish. I got up from the couch,
averting Harry's eyes and beginning the walk to my bedroom. “Just forget I said
anything.”

It didn't surprise me that he followed. I felt his hand take mine and spin me around to face
him, breathing hard. Neither of us said a word. Me, because I didn't want to risk anything more
than I already had. Him, because he was waiting for me to speak. I hope he enjoyed disappointment.
He tried to pull me closer, probably for a hug. That was one of his methods of calming me down, and
it usually worked, but right now, at this particular moment, it wasn't the best idea. I
remained stiff and resisted his tug at my arm, causing him to pull harder. I wasn't as strong
as he was so I felt my knees give way and let him pull me close. But what happened next was
something that I least expected… something in result of me being too stiff to move into the hugging
position.

Our lips met.

His lips were soft, tender, lightly grazing mine. It was nothing more than a light caress of the
most sensitive area that I was familiar with. But oh, did it feel wonderful. My eyes closed as I
soaked in this stolen moment in time, implanting it in my memory, for this would probably be the
sole time this would happen. My lips moved loosely atop his and I felt him respond slightly. I
didn't let my hopes get too high, though. Any guy would respond to a girl kissing you, it was
in their hormonal nature. My arms, glued at my sides, moved to loop around his neck, his
reflexively coming to rest at my hips. At least we were hugging… with our lips attached.

It was lasting longer than I thought it would. I was expecting ten seconds at the most, but my mind
lost count after the first forty, probably because of lack of air. And just like that, I ended it.
My breathing was erratic and I refused to open my eyes, because the instant replay of what just
happened was still on endless loop in my brain. If I opened them, I would be forced to face the
reality and the consequences of that one kiss. I reflexively tightened my arms around him and
sniffed. He smelled amazing.

I felt him shift uncomfortably and that's what made me open my eyes. He was looking at me
oddly, another look I had yet to be familiar with. But this wasn't as bad of a look as the
other one, it made me want to kiss him again. I bit my lip and spoke up, “Harry I…”

He silenced me with a finger on my lips. His eyes flickered with some sort of light. A reflection
of the lamp above us, perhaps? But before I could make a movement to make a sound, his lips were on
mine again. It was a little more firm than the first time, probably because this time he was in
control. It was as if something had been awakened in him, something wild that made him want to kiss
me like this. I felt something pry at my lips, breaking an entry into them and beginning to caress
the inside of my mouth tenderly. I moaned as his tongue met mine and expertly moved and delicately
traced the folds. Something in my head was screaming that this was wrong, but it felt so right. His
lips on mine was like two pieces of a puzzle finally being found and connecting. This was the best
moment of my life.

We broke apart for air many times, my brain again losing count of the seconds we went without need
for air. It was astonishing, really. But the screaming was still persistent in the back of my head…
it kept on shouting a name… Alex… Andrea… Alana! Oh shit, *Alana!* I pulled away from him and
he let out a moan of protest. His eyes opened dreamily and met my wide ones. His eyes narrowed when
I detangled myself from him and backed up the rest of the way into my bedroom shutting and locking
the door behind me. I collapsed behind it as I let the disgrace of what I had just done wash over
me like a bucket of cold water.

I could feel him trying to open the door several times, shouting my name over and over again. My
breathing became ragged and tears that I had been holding back broke free. I hadn't cried this
much in the spawn of one day since the war. My magic must have been stronger than his, for his
shouts and attempts at opening the door ceased and I heard the front door slam shut. I flinched as
the loud noise made its way into my ears and lifted the locking spell to peer out of it. He was
gone.

~*~

I awoke the next day with a headache that would give the Cruciatus Curse a run for its money. I
always regretted drinking the next morning, but this time the pain was way more than normal. Last
night had been a roller coaster of emotions, ranging from fear and pain to love and completeness.
But of course, I had to be miss-sensible and lock myself in my room because I was too good of a
person to make Harry cheat on his girlfriend. Last night had been a one-time thing and that's
the way it would remain. I would not turn into a scarlet woman, to be a sex-toy when the feelings
weren't returned. That's all last night for him was; lust.

I looked at the clock beside my bed, it was nearly noon. I got up reluctantly and padded to the
bathroom, my morning routine mechanically being done with my mind staying in the clouds. I
showered, imagining it was his arms touching me; I brushed my teeth, picturing his face beside me
shaving away his morning stubble; I fixed my hair and dressed, wondering if I seemed attractive to
his eyes, even in my sweats. Not to say that he would ever talk to me again.

I made myself a small breakfast of strawberries and nutella with some coffee. Not that what I had
could actually be considered coffee, it was more French vanilla creamer and sugar with a few drops
of coffee. I never could stand the thought of black coffee; I had tried it by accident once and had
never been the same again.

I made my way to my living room, full intent on spending the day snuggled up with my favorite book.
I froze when I saw the familiar paperback laying cover-down on the floor. I picked it up and turned
it over in my hand, the faint memory replaying in mind. How I could have been that cocky with him
I'll never know. He always brought out a side of me that I never thought I could possess. I
shook my head lightly and sat down, opening up the front cover and beginning to read.

The hours seemed to fly by and before I knew it, it was six-thirty. I hesitantly put my book down
and stretched. My stomach growled and I giggled softly to myself, I had been so wrapped up in
reading, I had forgotten to eat. I walked over to the kitchen and began to get the ingredients to
make myself a pot of spaghetti, but before I could open my cupboards, my phone rang. I picked it
up, balancing it between my ear and shoulder and answered with a curt, “Hello?” The other end was
silent and I repeated myself, “Hello?”

I could hear the sound of soft breathing on the other end and paused. “I can hear you breathing.” I
said matter-of-factly.

There was a faint whisper of “Uhh… I…” before the line went dead.

I took the phone into my hand and looked at it oddly. Who would have the nerve to hang up on me? I
decided not to dwell too much on it, sighed, and placed it back on its holster before returning to
searching for pasta sauce. I found it and the rest of the ingredients and began to boil the water,
turning the burner up to medium-high temperature. As I looked in my freezer for a side, I heard
thunder clap outside, causing me to jump slightly. I looked out the window and saw rain shower down
from above in large droplets. Thankfully, I didn't have anywhere to be today, it would be hell
to apperate, or even drive in this weather.

For some reason the word drive struck something in me. There was something having to do with
driving… something I had to do… pick up somebody. Oh shit, *Harry!* I slammed the freezer door
shut and looked at the clock on the stove. 6:55. I was supposed to pick Harry up at seven. It would
take forever to drive to his flat in this weather!

Just as I was about to pick up the phone, I heard a knock at the door.

I put the phone down slowly and made my way to the noise. The knocking was becoming more persistent
as I got nearer, much as it did last night. That wasn't good. My legs felt numb as I carried
myself to the door and looked out the small peephole. There, standing in the rain and looking more
than anxious was Harry. Part of me wanted to pretend I wasn't home, but the other, more
rational part, knew that he would catch pneumonia if I didn't let him in.

I warily turned the knob and pulled open the door, coming face-to-face with him. “Can I come in?”
he asked.

I nodded dazedly and moved aside to let him inside. He seemed relieved at the change of climate and
temperature, but his back still seemed stiff when I looked at where he was standing stiffly before
me. Not that I could blame him, I was pretty distressed as well. Not even twenty-four hours ago, we
were standing here, arms wrapped around each other, lips attached in passionate frenzy. I put away
those thoughts at once, for fear of him turning around at any minute and seeing me staring off into
space. It was a good thing, too, for he turned around and our eyes met. Daydreaming suddenly seemed
like a better idea.

“Why did you kiss me yesterday?” he asked.

I was affronted. “What, I… *I* kissed *you*?” He nodded bluntly. “Oh, I don't think
so!”

“Oh, and what exactly do you think, then?”

“*I* think you pulled me into a hug when *clearly* I didn't want to be, so we kissed
by cause of the angle. And *then*—” He looked to be getting angrier by the second. “You kissed
me!”

“I… I did no such thing!” he lied.

I was getting furious with this man. “Oh yes you did!”

He looked to be in deep thought for a moment, before speaking with new clarity in his voice. “So
what if I did?” I arched a brow at him, opening my mouth to rebuttal, only to be interrupted. “It
was *your* fault!”

“*WHAT?!*” I screeched at him. He covered his ears and I resisted the urge to apologize to
him. This was definitely *not* the time to apologize. “And how in the hell is it my
fault?!”

“Well you… uhm…” I smirked at him as he searched for the answer. There was no possible way that
this was my fault, I had done nothing wrong. “Your hair smelt nice!” he exclaimed.

“My hair… smelt nice?” I asked slowly.

“Yes, yes it did.” He stated, crossing his arms over his chest. “It smelt like pomegranates.”

*Well, t**hat was the scent of my shampoo…* “You are pinpointing the cause of our kiss
because of the way my hair smelt?” I asked in astonishment.

“Yes, yes I do believe I do.” He said flatly.

I scoffed. “Well I'm sorry that I chose a shampoo that causes the pheromones in your horny male
brain to get in a craze!”

“You should be.” He nodded.

My jaw dropped and I just stared at him. How dare he?! All resolve went out the window. This was
war. “You've got some nerve, coming in here, making me feel worse than I already do!” I yelled
at him. He just stared at me. “Go on, tell me. Tell me that you never want to see me again! Tell me
that… that you're running away to the States with Alana to have little raven-haired babies and
never write to me! Tell me that you could never—” I stopped myself before I could say another
word.

“Never what?” He asked carefully, taking a step towards me. “Hermione… never what?”

I just shook my head and pointed behind me to the door. “I'm doing us both a favor, Harry.
It's better this way. Just leave.”

He inclined his head to the side with a look of bewilderment on his face. “Better for who? I
don't understand. Just yesterday we were laughing and then… that happened and we're
screaming at each other? I love you—”

“Stop saying that!” I screamed.

“Saying what? `Hermione, I l—`”

“Yes, *that*!” I said with abatement.

“Why should I?” he asked. I pursed my lips and glanced behind him, at the end of the narrow hallway
that leads to my bedroom. If I sprinted fast enough, I could brush past him and get in there, safe
and sound. “Give me a reason, one that I would actually understand.”

*Your friendship is basically crumbling, close to extinction… there isn't any liable reason
you shouldn't tell him—But he would…-He would what? You're in the clear, just tell him and
it'll all be over—But I love our friendship too much to—Oh, you are both doing a hell of a job
trying to mend it, screaming your heads off and such.* Her internal mind battle raged on as
strongly as the one going in reality. But her mind was once again right. She had a feeling that
their friendship was foundering, so there really was no other reason to protect it. Goodbye.

“Every time you say that, I die a little inside.” She said bluntly. He looked on in bewilderment,
no words forming to stop her. “I don't know why I do; only that it hurts so much and I
can't do a thing to stop it. It's like I go into internal hysteria when I hear it. You mean
it platonically, and I can never bear lying to you when I say it back, because I don't mean
it.”

I could see that his eyes were starting to shine with tears to match my own. “What are you
saying?”

“I love you, Harry. And I mean that in the strictly non-idealist way possible. But I guess now,
that's all becoming illogical to hide it. You obviously don't feel the same and lying is no
longer an option when you use me to sedate your human urges. That kiss meant something to me, and I
know it was a once in a lifetime thing, so I'm just going to have to hold it close to me and
move on. I hope you and Alana or whomever you choose to spend the rest of your life enjoy your time
together.”

The tears were now dripping down the edge of my chin as I brushed past him swiftly. His astonished,
tear-stained face imprinted in my memory. All I wanted was for this to be over with, for him to
leave. He was never one to give me what I wanted.

His hand on my shoulder tensed up my entire body, the slight pressure of it turning me around to
face him was unbearable. I was looking at the ground, not willing to see the face that was sure to
haunt me for a lifetime. His voice was a murmur, a small whisper to my sensitive ears. “That kiss
meant something to me, too.”

Okay*, that* was enough to get me to look up at him. He was looking at me quaintly, his lips
pressed together in thought. “I hadn't felt that way about you in so long that I got scared. I
thought I had gotten over you a long time ago. I had no idea that you had been… I didn't know
how you really felt. I'm scared about losing you, I always have been. But I'm also scared
because you've been lying so easily to me and I've been buying it. You scare me, `Mione…
but in the best of ways.” I smiled feebly. “I really want to try this… thing that we have going for
us out. But I don't know if you'll have me after the way I've treated you.”

I surprised myself when I got up on my tip-toes and kissed his cheek. Our cheeks brushed slowly as
I pulled away and he leaned his forehead against mine, our noses touching. He and I leaned in
simultaneously and our lips met once more. His lips suckled on mine slowly as he brought his hand
up to caress my face softly. It was the most erotic moment of my life, up until then at least. We
both pulled away and smiled. Mine was short-lived, though, as I realized a tiny detail. “What about
Alana?”

“I broke up with her last night.” He said smartly. “Some girl kissed me and made me forget I had
one.”

“Well that must've been one hell of a kiss, then.” I teased.

“Yup, and the one after it was even more mind-blowing. Made me forget my own name.”

“Really now?” I giggled as he nodded cutely. “So I'm guessing you won't need that ride
now?”

He laughed deeply as he leaned down once more and captured my lips with his. It was in that moment
when my brain went blank, the last coherent though being that I really underestimated the potential
of happy endings.

~*~

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