This story is unbeta'd. All mistakes are entirely my own
It happens so quickly. For the first time in seven years you aren't standing at the end of a long tunnel, a dim light in the distance mocking you silently as it waits for the three of you to walk towards it. For the first time in seven years you, Harry and Hermione are at the end of the tunnel in the bright light of freedom.
Now though, as you stand amidst the crowd of witches and wizards, who suddenly begin to break into joyous shouts and celebrations of victory, it's like time has stopped.
It's finally over and you don't think you've ever felt more lost, or unsure about anything in your life. Up until this point, you had purpose. You had this pre-planned map to follow; wherever he went, you did too and you never questioned it because you knew it was the right thing to do, what you had to do. Now you have to start thinking about the future; a career and a relationship with Hermione at the forefront of your mind, you thoughts whirling.
Had Voldemort really only fallen ten seconds ago? Was it really only a few minutes ago that you had been standing tall, your hands clutched tightly in Hermione and Ginny's as Hagrid had carried the limp and seemingly lifeless body of your best friend into the Great Hall and placed him gently onto the floor in front of you all? Was if really less than an hour since you had finally felt the soft touch of Hermione's lips against yours?
You feel pressure on your right hand and as you look down and see Hermione's hand resting in yours, your lips curve into a tired smile and you look at her. She had been at your side almost instantly, running her hands over the gash on your shoulder, chiding you softly for being so reckless; all the while, a soft look of admirations sparkling in her eyes. You'd fallen victim to a slashing hex while fighting Fenrir Greyback alongside Neville, but the adrenalin had been coursing through your body so intensely you hadn't even noticed. All you can feel are her small hands running gently over your skin, all you can hear were her softly whispered words of worry.
You wonder if she's always been this small and actually open your mouth to ask her, wanting to grasp out for normalcy so desperately. Before you can say anything though, you are distracted by the shouts of hundreds, all calling for the person you are so desperate to see. Hermione tugs on your hand.
"Let's go see him," she whispers, and, not even waiting for a response, she breaks away from you, her long brown hair flying behind her as she runs towards Harry. You want to run over to him as well, but as you start towards him, something makes you slow down.
You realize quite quickly that what you are feeling is the familiarity of the gnawing guilt and insecurity that had set in the moment you had apparated away in the forest that night. It had gnawed at you for months, only relenting when other stuff was more important, and now that everything is taken care of, it crops back up, planting those awful seeds of doubt in your head.
You look up at them again. Hermione has reached Harry and jumped up into his arms and both of them are clinging to each other tightly, Hermione's lips moving rapidly and Harry speaking into her hair. You've never really understood them and the relationship they share. You suppose it's because you were too busy bickering with Hermione or it was always the three of you, or maybe you just didn't want to see it.
You know it's time to look now, to really see them. You need to know for sure. Whether it's going to hurt you or not. As you watch the two of them together, it finally makes sense. The pang in your stomach, the one that had always been there, isn't anymore. You know, you're really sure for the first time, that even though what they have between the two of them is something you probably won't ever understand completely, it was always platonic. Harry Potter is not going to sweep in from the sidelines and steal her away, and they aren't going to ride off into the sunset on a broom. That's your honour, and yours alone.
You know now with certainty that even though you aren't a star Quidditch player, incredibly charismatic, the first girl born into the Weasley family in seven generations or the boy who grew up to save the wizarding world, that someone loves you because you aren't all those things. She loves the simplicity of who you are, the fact that she thinks you are wonderful, even though you don't think you've done anything that great to deserve it.
You also notice that the whole time you have been having this internal battle, they haven't taken their eyes off you. Harry looks tired. Happy to see you, but tired, and Hermione's eyes are filled with tears, but you see something unfamiliar there, something that has probably been there before, but you've been too much of a git to notice it. Or maybe you just weren't ready until now.
Sick of waiting for you, Harry begins to walk towards you, Hermione still hanging off him, her legs around his waist, unwilling to let him go just yet. Harry nods at you and you nod back and the two of you keep walking until you are almost on top of each other.
"Good show," you blurt out awkwardly. The two of you have never been big on showing your emotions, but you can't stop yourself, and neither it seems, can he. At the same time you fling your arms around each other, trapping Hermione in the middle. The three of you are silent for a moment in your embrace, before you and Hermione burst into excited anecdotes about battles with werewolves and Death Eaters, filling him in on everything he missed while he was gone. The thought of him gone sobers you and you pull away, the three of you looking at each other, Hermione still clinging to Harry as if he might disappear. Harry laughs and pushes Hermione out towards you.
"Here you go, she's all yours," he says, a tired smile on his face. Hermione squeaks and tries to wrestle out of your grasp but you hold her tight.
"I am not anyone's," she replies indignantly, exactly as you expected her to. If any of you haven't changed a bit, it's Hermione, and that's fine with you. Harry is suddenly barreled over by Neville and Ginny so you and Hermione have a moment to yourselves. You look at each other, and as you do, your smiles widen and you know you are both thinking about what had happened outside the Room of Requirement.
"So," she says and trails off, fidgeting with her hands.
"So," you mimic her, not really sure what to say. You stare at each other in silence. Hermione laughs.
"I never thought I'd see the two of us speechless," she says nervously, her face level with yours.
"Maybe we've said everything we need to say for now," you find yourself replying, surprised at how sure of yourself you sound. She nods and looks at you thoughtfully.
"We must look at bit silly," she says. You shrug, and it shifts her in your arms so she is even closer to you than she was she was before so without much effort, your lips are hovering over hers, your warm breaths mingling.
"Does it really matter?" you ask, moving just a bit closer so that your lips are touching her gently. As the kiss begins to move forward, to deepen, you realize that even though it took what seemed like forever to get there, whether you were ready or not isn't important. It's that you and Hermione are there that matters now.
As usual, you've completely missed the point.