She remembered where she was and the night before prior to opening her eyes. Early morning light was diffused by the drawn blinds in Harry's flat, and other than a slightly asleep right hand and the fact that she was overly warm, she was quite comfortable.
Harry's breathing remained even and she risked raising her head a bit to glance at him. She smiled at the sight. His head was tipped back, mouth slightly open, and his glasses askew. Quietly as she could she slipped out from underneath his arm, wincing when he muttered and moved, but he quickly settled back down. She plucked the glasses from his face and laid them on the side table before grabbing her shoes and heading towards the foyer.
With his coat still wrapped around her she paused, conflicted about what to do next. She hadn't thought much about what had occurred last night, breaking habit she had instead just gone along with the ride. But now, in the silence of his flat, alone with the very real reality of what was going on she was confused.
Her and Harry. She cared for him, obviously. Loved him, yes (but how? a voice in her head whispered) Would do anything for him, she had proven this. He was her best friend and they had seen and done things together that no one else could understand. She always had a suspicion that that was one of the reasons he and Ginny hadn't worked out, although she had never said a word to him about it.
But how he acted towards her last night...that was different, and she liked it. Only once had she ever allowed herself to consider Harry as something other than a friend. That night in the tent, not long after Ron had left them. He had shocked her completely by asking her to dance. It was the effort he put in that affected her the most. He was just as miserable as she was, but he shoved those feelings aside to cheer her up. It was a beautiful gesture. And when they parted, she'll never forget the look in his eyes. It was possibly the most honest and open exchange she had ever had with another human being and they hadn't said a word. In the end she stepped away. Chose the safe path. And she knew he understood. Knew he hadn't been disappointed in her decision.
But if she's honest with herself, sometimes she wonders `what if'.
She was so lost in thought she didn't hear him come up behind her. Didn't know he was there at all until the weight of his coat was being lifted off her shoulders. She started at the action and spun quickly, hand starting to head for her wand in it's holster until she saw it was just Harry.
Just Harry who looked downright gorgeous right then. He'd loosened his bow tie at some point and let the ends dangle around his neck and had undone the top two buttons of his formerly starched white dress shirt. His glasses were still off, and the overnight stubble combined with his sleepy eyes made for a very pleasing look.
"Going somewhere?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but she could detect the strain in his voice.
"Ah, No! I mean yes! I mean, no?" she stammered, feeling like she had just been caught trying to sneak out.
He tried hard to school his features to not betray the slight hurt she had just inflicted but he wasn't entirely successful. "You're welcome to stay." he said softly "But I don't want to keep you if you have plans."
She took a deep breath and shut her eyes for a moment to center herself and think. She couldn't run. She remembered him trying to talk to her last night and she had asked him to wait. She owed it to him to stay and figure this out. She owed it to herself as well.
"Of course I'll stay." she replied, glad to see his eyes light up.
"Brilliant! That's excellent. Really, excellent" he said, sounding so much like a much younger Harry that she took pity on him and removed the coat from his hands to hang it on the rack behind her.
"Go, make us some tea." she suggested, shooing him in the direction of the kitchen "I'm just going to go..." and she gestured down the hall towards his bathroom.
They did an awkward shuffling dance as for a moment they both tried to step into the same space, but eventually he grabbed her by the waist and halted her movement so he could step around her.
Her cheeks still flushed she leaned against the cool porcelain sink in the bathroom and studied herself in the mirror. The `morning after' look may work for Harry but it certainly didn't work for her. Her make up from the gala was long gone, and the carefully constructed up-do she had managed had half fallen down, not to mention her dress was rumpled beyond all hope and she was fairly certain she was going to have a permanent indentation in her thigh from her wand.
When she walked back into the kitchen she saw that he had reclaimed his glasses. Her hair was down now, and without her heels she was a good six inches shorter than him. She was well aware that she most likely looked like a little girl playing dress up.
He pressed a warm mug into her hands and she smiled gratefully, taking a moment to inhale the fragrant steam and gather her thoughts.
He was looking at her expectantly, except she had no idea how to start this conversation.
"So..." he began
"So..." she replied, not trying to be amusing but he began to laugh anyways and before she knew it she was was joining him.
"This shouldn't be weird, should it?" she asked, somewhat breathlessly
"No, but, it's not weird. I think that's what's making it weird for me." he said with a shake of his head "I know I'm not making sense, but"
She cut him off with a wave of her hand "Actually, you're making perfect sense. That's exactly how I feel."
Their eyes locked and suddenly the atmosphere in the room became charged. He advanced on her slowly, never breaking his gaze, and then the tea was being removed from her hand.
His hand came up to brush her cheek "Do you know how much you mean to me?" he asked
Her breath caught in her throat and she had to swallow twice before she could respond "Probably as much as you mean to me."
"So what is this then?" he questions as his hand becomes bolder, stroking down her jaw line and under her hair to cup the back of her neck, his thumb brushing over the shell of her ear.
She was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on what she wanted to say. "I think..." she began shakily "I think this is the natural progression of things."
"I was hoping you'd say that." he replied with a grin before dropping his gaze to her lips. That was the only warning she got before his mouth was on hers.
The hand that wasn't on her neck wrapped around her waist and she felt herself being pulled up into him. She was on her toes now and after only a moments hesitation began to participate in the kiss herself.
`You idiot' she thought `You shouldn't have walked away in that tent', mentally chiding herself.
When he sat her back down she hoped she'd never forget the slightly goofy, entirely adorable look on his face. He looked happy she realized, and it was because of her.
She gave a very uncharacteristic squeal combined with a very characteristic hug and launched herself upwards to wrap her arms around his neck. She burrowed her head in his open shirt collar, pressing her lips to his warm throat and enjoying the gasp he let out when she did so.
A loud thunk caused her to lift her head and she saw a Daily Prophet land in the open windowsill.
All the anxiety she had last night came back to her in a rush and and she pushed away from his shoulders and lowered herself back down quickly before stepping out of his embrace and heading for the paper.
She opened it after only a moments hesitation and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding when the large above the fold photo was one of the three of them walking. He was right behind her then, looking over her shoulder.
"That's quite nice." he said, studying the picture. She liked how the Hermione in the photo went from laying her head on his shoulder and looking up at him with a smile to looking straight ahead, determination plastered all over her face. She liked how they were all connected, their hands intertwined, her arm through Ron's. With one shot anyone who looked at that picture knew who they were to each other.
But she knew that couldn't be it. There was no way a paper like the Prophet would ignore one of the biggest stories of the year. And once she flipped the paper all the way flat she saw it.
It took up the bottom left corner, a bigger shot of the three of them at the top of the stairs waving and then an inset close up of her arm. `War Heroine Scarred in Battle?'
She felt slightly light headed and was grateful when once again his arm wrapped around her waist like it had the night before, giving her the support she needed.
She allowed herself to sink back into him until her legs didn't feel like jelly and then she gripped the counter in front of her and tried to read the article. She didn't get very far. It was pure speculation. Because no one knew the story, there wasn't a story to tell, and every paper has to tell a story. The writer must have gone to the same journalism school as Rita Skeeter because the way it was written, these `speculations' were being presented more like assumptions of truth. When she got to the one that suggested Harry had her carve the word herself to pass as someone who wanted to defect to the other side in order to gather intelligence the words began to swim and the next thing she knew she was sitting on the couch with Harry crouched in front of her pushing her hair out of her face.
"How...how could they write that." she stammered, half angry, half horrified. "How could they think you could ask me to do such a thing!" her eyes were shiny with unshed tears and she could see the simmering rage he was trying to keep under control for her benefit.
"Hey. It's not true. You know it and I know it. It does't matter what anyone else thinks." he said as calmly as possible, capturing her face in his hands and brushing away a stray tear with his thumb. He leaned in and was about to kiss her when there was suddenly a frantic pounding on his front door.
"Oi! Harry! Have you seen the Daily `Rag' this morning?" bellowed Ron's voice from the hallway "It's complete shite! You can't let Hermione see it, she'll go bananas. Rotten bastards, going on about things they couldn't even understand much less..." but his rant was cut off by Harry opening the door on him.
"Good, you're up." Ron said by way of greeting and stormed past him straight into the kitchen where he rummaged around in the fridge, his current rant being lost into it's cool interior.
He came out with a two day old chicken leg which he was now brandishing about as he continued. "You should hear Mum and Ginny, if you think I'm hot, the two of them shouldn't be let near Diagon Alley or Dad won't be able to handle the scandal. You've read this, right?" he asked Harry again, shaking the offending piece in his face before taking a large bite of chicken. "She can't see this, mate. I don't know what you need to do, but you got to keep it away from her." he said around the mouthful, but luckily they were well used to Ron talking with his mouth full and understood every word.
"She's already seen it." she replied, Ron's ranting actually helping to calm her down some.
His completely shocked look as he caught sight of her helped as well. And then he took in her appearance, both their appearances actually and his face changed from shock, to mocking incredulity.
"Well, well, well. Ms. Granger, do you have something to say for yourself."
"What?!?!" she exploded "We didn't...I mean...not THAT...not that it wouldn't, I mean, we are...no, we're not...we don't really know right now...and, I mean...I love him, but that's not the point...ARGH! Ronald Weasley!!" she sputtered and fumed, tripping over words and almost over her own feet as she stood abruptly in order to pummel his arm.
Harry looked like someone had slapped him in the face with a board, and frankly so did Ron as he wasn't even trying to stave off her attack.
"Whoa!" Ron exclaimed "I was just messing around a bit. I thought you just fell asleep on Harry's couch like you have loads of times." he turned to look at his friend, who was still in his coma like state. "So you mean...Sweet Merlin...you mean something actually happened between you two." he said, gesticulating wildly between the two of them, chicken all but forgotten.
She open and shut her mouth a few times, unable to reply. Harry finally shook himself out of whatever stupor he was in and walked right up to her. "Did you mean it?" he asked, so quietly she almost didn't hear him, and he sounded so hopeful, but so scared.
"M...m...mean what?" she finally got out, honestly unable to remember all that she had just said.
His hand came up again to cup her jaw "When you said you loved me."
"Oh." remembering now, that she had indeed said that, and then she too brought her hand up to brush across his cheek. "Of course I do, you silly man." and she realized she did. She knew already she loved him, but this was just another facet of how she loved him.
His eyes shone and he was looking at her as if she had given him the world. "No one has ever told me that before."
"Of course they have, Harry." she said incredulously "There are tons of people who love you and have loved you."
"I know that, but you're the first one who has ever said it." he admitted, and her heart swelled for him.
"Oh, Harry." she exclaimed unable to keep herself from once again flinging her arms around him.
She pulled back and let her forehead rest on his, and just as she was about to capture his lips with hers Ron once again interrupted.
"Oi! Knock it off!" he yelled, this time from the kitchen "A bloke's trying to eat in here."
She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation and kissed him quickly before grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her into the kitchen.
"You two through? There needs to be some ground rules or something. I mean, I'm thrilled and all that, and about time, and good on you, but we've got to figure out a system if this is going to be happening." He had procured another leg of chicken and once again wasn't paying attention to where it was going as he spoke.
"How about we just stick with you knocking before you come in and I think everything will work out fine." Harry said wryly
Ron agreed to these terms over another mouthful of food and then they all turned their attention back to the paper.
"How do you want to handle this?" Harry asked, his hands settling on her shoulders
She took a deep breath before replying "I'm not sure. Part of me says it's no one's business, and part of me says I shouldn't be quiet because it will look like I'm ashamed. I've spent the past year ignoring it." she admitted and he squeezed her reassuringly "But I can't ignore it anymore. Maybe a written statement would be best. I could control what information went out and then that would be the end of drivel like this."
"I'm sure Dad could help you set that up." Ron said, already finished with his `snack' and much more easily understood.
"That would be great." she agreed, nervousness creeping into her stomach as she was already worrying about what to say and how to say it.
"Hey. It'll work out." Harry reassured her and she smiled at his words
"I know. And thank you both for your support. And your mother and sister as well Ron." she grinned at this, the mental image of both Weasley women infuriated on her behalf was quite heartwarming.
"It's just..." and she trailed off, not wanting to bring the topic up, but knowing she had to
"What?" Harry asked, voice full of concern
"It would have to be soon. I don't...I don't want any of this to overshadow next week." she bit her lip nervously waiting for his reaction.
His hands fell from her shoulders and she felt him back up a step. She knew he was trying to avoid it all costs. They had only spoken of it once and it hadn't ended well.
The memorial that had been revealed at the gala was being dedicated, at Hogwarts, a week from tomorrow. Harry had been requested to give a speech and there was no possible way for him to say no considering the occasion.
The closest he had been to the site of the final battle were the visits to Hogsmeade over the past year to visit her. It had not escaped her notice that he had never once looked in the direction of the skyline where you could just make out the tallest spire.
The topic of Hogwarts was never broached. She had found she could talk about general things like her classes, or the goings on of the students, but the few times she had brought up the reconstruction work he had shut down emotionally and their visit was usually over.
Personally, she was ready for the dedication. The castle was almost back to how it was pre-war, the oldest students who had fought were now graduated, and they had all survived the first year. Something to mark the sacrifice of those they had lost and the impact that the war had had was important in the healing process, and something that she was just beginning to realize she needed to move forward with herself.
She had long known that Harry had not been moving forward, not really. He may have physically improved, and his general attitude was better, but she knew that he avoided discussing the war at every opportunity, and with her returning to school she had not had the chance to try and help him.
Ron, no doubt aware of the growing tension in the room, announced he was going to go speak to his father and would owl them later with the details and then with barely a good bye was out the door faster than you could say `self preservation'.
She took a deep breath and steeled herself before turning to face Harry. His arms were crossed and he was staring stonily at the cook top.
She tried not to be hurt when he flinched at her touch, just laying a hand on the bunched muscles of his back. "Harry." she started hesitantly "I know...I know this is difficult, but it's one speech and..."
The look he shoots her is heavy "It's not just `one speech'." he grinds out, and shakes off her hand before exiting the room.
Tears spring to her eyes and she bites back the sting of his words. She follows him and finds him sunk into the couch, head cradled in his hands.
"I can't Hermione. I just...can't. Not right now." he says, his voice rough and he doesn't look her direction.
"Ok." she responds "I understand." and then she was at a loss for what to do. She was expected at her parents house this afternoon, but right now it was the last place she wanted to be. Her trunk was probably on board the Hogwart's Express right now, completely inaccessible, and she was still wearing her gown from last night.
Harry must have had a similar thought because suddenly he was pulling the loose tie from around his neck and undoing his cufflinks. "I've got to get out of this." he said harshly, getting ready to storm past her down the hall to his bedroom.
Taking a chance she reached out a hand as he passed and clutched a handful of his shirt. Startled, he looked down at what had stopped him and then followed the arm up to her face.
"Oh Gods, Hermione." he exhaled before pulling her to him, hands grasping at the extra fabric around her hips as if he could somehow pull her inside him.
"It's ok." she soothed, stroking a hand through his hair, his head buried in her neck as he tried to calm himself down.
"I'm so sorry." he mumbled and she reassured him again that there was nothing to be sorry for.
After holding him for several more minutes she finally pulled back. "Go change. Take a shower if you want and then we're going to discuss this." his eyes flashed once and he opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off "You can't put it off anymore. You just can't." If he wanted to continue to argue with her he clearly had decided to try later and just gave her a stiff nod.
He was halfway down the hallway before he came back "What about you?" he asked, gesturing to her gown.
She explained her predicament "I'm afraid my trunk is somewhere in Scotland right now."
He flushed briefly before suggesting she borrow something of his. Not trusting her voice, she merely nodded that that would work fine.
She had never been in his bedroom before. It wasn't very large, and didn't have much in the way of decoration, but what there was was very reminiscent of the Gryffindor dormitories.
He grinned sheepishly at her, snatching up dirty clothes that seemed to cover almost every available surface and tossing them into a mostly empty closet before she could look to hard.
She wandered over to his bedside table and saw a collection of photographs, some wizard, some muggle. The one closest to the bed was a candid shot of the two of them, taken from afar. It took her a moment to figure out where it was and then she realized, it had been at Dumbledore's funeral. In the photo, she went streaking across the grass to throw herself into his arms.
He came up behind her and saw what she was looking at "That's the last photo of us Colin took." he said sadly and then pushed the bundle in his arms towards her. "It's all I had that was clean and had a chance of fitting you." he said apologetically.
She assured him it would be alright and headed to the bathroom in the hall to change.
Once inside, she leaned against the solid wood of the door and let out a long breath. The clothing in her hands finally registered and she looked down, only to discover he had given her a pair of boxer shorts and his quidditch jersey from the last year he had played.
Her cheeks flamed red. If you had asked her yesterday what she had thought she'd be doing twenty four hours in the future, this wouldn't have been in the realm of possibility. She probably would have said she'd be doing a crossword puzzle with her parents.
Before she could change her mind she took off the gown and hung it on a hook on the back of the door, and slipped on the shorts and jersey. When she bent over to unhook her wand holster her hair slid over her shoulder and she caught a glimpse in the mirror that gave her pause. `POTTER' in five inch high letters was displayed across her back.
No. She wasn't even going to think about going there right now.
Quick as possible she finished up and padded down the hallway into the kitchen. She could hear running water and assumed Harry was still in the shower. She kept herself busy making more tea and some toast and was about to sit at the table when a noise from the doorway caused her to look up.
It was just Harry. Hair still damp from the shower, jeans and a t-shirt and bare feet. But his eyes were dark and then suddenly he was right next to her, one hand fisted in the material at her side, the other wrapped around her neck to pull her in and before she can so much as utter a sound his mouth is on hers.
This kiss was different, it was demanding and possessive and it felt like her heart was about to flip out of her chest. All coherent thought left her, and all she could focus on was him. When he finally pulled away for much needed air she gave a breathy laugh "That was...wow...what brought that on?"
But he was still looking at her like that, hands skimming over her back. "Do you know what it does to a bloke to see a girl in his clothes? To see you in my jersey?" his voice is like nothing she has ever heard from him before, and cool heat is swirling in her belly, making her mouth dry. And then she shocks him by grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him to her.
Next thing she knows her back is being pressed into the counter that had been three feet behind her and his hand has found her knee, which is now, somehow halfway up his thigh. His thumb has found the groove left from her wand and he seems determined to explore that line as thoroughly as possible. As he moves from her lips to her neck there is an impatient `hoot' from the window and they slowly break apart to see a Ministry owl looking at them with disapproval.
The owl has such a look of disapproval that by the time she takes the letter from it she's red with embarrassment. "Oh go on." she says irritably to the creature, who merely turns tail and leaves.
"It's from Mr. Weasley." she says, tearing open the seal and scanning the short note. "He has an acquaintance at the Prophet, not the writer of the article." she added quickly at the flare of Harry's nostrils "Anyways, he says she can meet with me tomorrow morning and they'll have the statement in the afternoon addition."
The reality of the situation caused her to slump against the table as she realized what she was agreeing to do.
"You don't have to go through with this." he said
"I know. But if I don't...I'd rather people know the truth, if only because of principle." she explained, shakily, somewhat second guessing her decision to not hide her arm last night.
"Hopefully this will be the end of it and then we can move on. Like I said, I don't want this drawn out, next week is going to be difficult enough as it is..." she was just talking out loud now, and hadn't mean to bring up the dedication so soon, but as she witnessed Harry's reaction and immediate attempt to withdraw she knew it was something they couldn't put off any longer.
She approached him slowly, before reaching up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his scar and then grabbed his hand and towed him into the living room, pushing him down on the sofa and then curling up next to him, but giving him space. "Now. You need to talk about the war."