Notes: This idea came to me upon a re-re-reading of Book 8. Particularly the scene where Albus has to block Hermione.

Summary: Three times when Harry kissed the corner of Hermione's mouth: on purpose, by accident, and finally purely out of instinct. And each time changed her view of him forever.

Truth and Kissequences

A Harry Potter Oneshot by

Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)

For Albus

who kissed his aunt with that mouth

instead of his mother

1

He found her in the snow: shivering but entirely unaware of the cold, screaming but unable to hear her own voice, sobbing as if she would never be whole again.

Because even in her upset, Hermione Granger was the deepest of thinkers.

And because he was her best friend, even if it was by default now, Harry Potter understood. When he had finally found the graves of his parents, there had been snow, and Hermione alone had been with him, holding his hand, her head on his shoulder. He had felt so small and alone then. But, at least with Hermione there, he hadn't been as small or alone as he could have been.

And so snow had become their venting method, a white blanket on which they could expose the rawest, most vulnerable part of themselves to each other. Hermione must have known he would come for her. Why else would she flee to Godric's Hollow?

Harry asked no questions as he knelt in front of her. He said nothing as he removed his thick, red scarf, and wrapped it around her. He didn't need to say anything, as he pulled her tear-streaked face against his shoulder and stroked her bushy hair.

Hermione knew. She always knew.

After several minutes, during which she clutched his arm so tightly that Harry suspected he must have fingerprint bruises beneath his coat, Hermione lifted her head and stared at him.

Harry smiled weakly, and with a tap of his finger, removed the silencing charm from her throat.

"Ron and I are off again," Hermione whispered at once.

Harry had figured that much from the furious conversation he'd had with Ron only an hour earlier. Although at the moment, he was still unable to decide which of them had been more furious: Ron at Hermione, or Harry at Ron.

It was always the same. As much as Ron and Hermione loved each other, and Harry was certain that they did, they could never seem to stop nitpicking at each other, and these little fights gradually became larger ones, which then erupted into huge blow-ups that resulted in them needing extended breaks from each other. On average, they both needed an entire month to calm down, at which point Hermione, like a true glutton for punishment, always assured Harry that yes, she knew what she was doing, and yes, of course she intended to spend the rest of her life with Ron, and well, if he had the energy to protest, then he had the energy to help her move back in, didn't he?

And always, Harry believed her. Because Hermione making a mistake was rare enough, but Hermione making the exact same mistake repeatedly was nearly unheard of. That is, unless she already knew it was a mistake, but was determined to make it all the same. But that was something Harry couldn't wrap his mind around.

Not yet.

"Maybe I'm just entirely unlovable," Hermione muttered. "Maybe-"

She couldn't finish, because Harry did something immediately, to completely erase that foolish lie from her mind.

He leaned forward, his eyes angry at Ron for reducing her brilliant mind to a point where it could think something so ridiculous. His mouth was set, poised to kiss Hermione's cheek or forehead, as it had so many times before.

But something changed, as the distance between them shortened.

Because the target for Harry's lips was not her cheek or forehead, as it had always been before. Instead, his lips pressed firmly against the corner of her mouth, which made Hermione freeze and her eyes widen.

"You are not, nor have you ever been, unlovable," Harry whispered against her mouth. "And if Ron actually told you that, or made you think that, then he is a giant git, and I swear that I will hex him the next time that I see him."

Harry drew back slowly, searching her shocked eyes. She didn't look upset anymore, at least.

Hermione finally swallowed noisily and gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, Harry."

For what, she never said, and Harry did not dare ask. But when he offered his hand, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Arms around each other, they slowly moved through the snow, uncertain thoughts swirling through both of their heads.

And perhaps if James and Lily Potter had returned as ghosts, they would have been happy to see that, clearly, their son had been lucky enough to find a woman that he would love for the rest of his life.

2

Hermione was surprised to admit to herself that she had never really forgotten that first kiss. Instead, she would find herself thinking of it from time to time, perhaps as an example of why there was simply no competition: Harry was her best friend, easily. No one else even came close. No one else knew her as well as he did.

The Weasleys tried to adopt her, as they did so many others. It was tricky, however, because Hermione's on-again, off-again relationship with Ron demanded that everyone they knew take sides. Oddly enough, everyone in Ron's family did not always take his side. They knew Ron well enough to know that he had a temper, spoke without thinking, and, well, was just wrong so often that automatically being on his side, even for the sake of shared blood, was tiring and frustrating and everyone liked to be on the right side, eventually.

Though Hermione may have been a bit biased.

Ginny increasingly took Ron's side, even when all three of them knew him to be wrong. Hermione at first mistook this for family loyalty, and didn't blame Ginny. Having no siblings herself, Hermione could not really understand the dynamic between a brother and sister. And she'd seen enough heated fights between Ron and Ginny where she hoped they were not a typical pair of siblings.

Later, however, Hermione saw Ginny's insistence on supporting Ron for what it actually was, and it worried her. She never told Harry, of course. By then, he and Ginny were married, and they certainly seemed happy.

Harry was really the only one allowed to not take sides when Ron and Hermione fought. Which didn't mean that he didn't, only that he was the sole person that could have insisted that he didn't have to choose between his two best friends. When they were younger, he'd made the mistake of trying to side with one or the other. And as much as he hated having to divide his time between two angry best friends, it was still better than not being friends with one of them at all.

Hermione never blamed him. Even when Ron was wrong, she knew that there were times when Harry had to support him. Who else was going to listen Ron complain about her, say things like "yeah" and "that's right" and make Ron feel better? It got old fast, and Ron's brothers had little patience for him constantly trying to drive away the only mature woman so far who could manage to put up with him for even a little bit.

Perhaps it was a testament to their friendship that Hermione could see Harry taking Ron's side as a favor to her. If left to his own devices, Ron would probably make things worse for both of them. At least with Harry, there was some degree of damage control happening via someone that Hermione trusted to take good care of Ron.

It only made sense that Hermione began to lease a small apartment. To date, Ron had never actually kicked her out of anywhere. She always did the kicking, but there were occasions where she stormed out before he could, and wanted to sleep somewhere that he didn't know about.

Harry knew, and also had the only spare key. Hermione did not consider this a betrayal of anyone. There was only one bed, she'd never shared it with anyone, and when Harry did visit, he always arrived during daylight hours and left before night fell. And not at Hermione's insistence, either. Again, he was married, so even if it had been at Ginny's insistence, Hermione would have understood. Although she might had been slightly irritated that a close friend of hers apparently could not trust Hermione around her husband.

Or maybe it was that Ginny didn't trust Harry around Hermione.

That was what made the second kiss so eye-opening to Hermione.

It was during one of her on periods with Ron, and things had been going well. Ron was trying and failing to be more sensitive, but he was indeed trying, which was a huge improvement, however awkward.

Hermione was alone in The Burrow's kitchen, trying to decide if the treacle tart she had just managed was edible enough for human consumption, or if she should just give it up as a bad job and toss the whole thing. For some reason, though she knew how to cook, after reading countless books and plenty of lessons from Molly Weasly, her food never came out quite the way she wanted it to. Ron complained, of course, but it rarely stopped him from eating anything Hermione put in front of him. So long as she didn't mind the constant "not as good as Mum's" under his breath. Which she really sort of did.

And then Harry came in, all smiles, since he knew how stressful she found cooking, arms extended for a hug.

And Hermione smiled, and tried to hug him while keeping one eye on the cookbook, determined to figure out where exactly she'd gone wrong. It was her fault, then, because Harry hadn't expected her head to keep moving back and forth in little jerks the way it was.

So the kiss he'd tried to plant on her cheek ended up squarely on the corner of her mouth.

This time, they both froze, not just Hermione.

Harry jerked his head back, as if stung. The apology was in his eyes, and rushing up his throat, and Hermione knew it was heartfelt, and maybe that was why she didn't need to hear it. She placed a finger to his lips, and shook her head.

"It's okay, Harry," she said, and meant it. "Accident, right?"

He nodded, so hard that she thought he might actually break his own neck. The guilt on his face made her feel a rush of fondness for him. He was actually worried that she'd be upset.

Which was silly. Because the last time he'd kissed her like that, it had chased away her upset. Although it occurred to her, not for the first time, that her best friend kissing her like that probably should have upset her. Or at least caused her to inform him that it was inappropriate. And yet twice now, it hadn't.

Curious, that.

Hermione smiled, wanting to reassure him. "It's okay, Harry," she repeated. "No harm done." Then her gaze slid back to the treacle tart. "Although, instead of an apology, I do need you to try a bit of this for me."

Harry was relieved and did so. The relief faded the moment he started chewing.

Hermione stared at him anxiously.

Harry stared back. Finally, he swallowed. It seemed like a very hard thing to accomplish.

"Well?" Hermione asked.

"You know that treacle tart is my favorite dessert," he said slowly.

"That's partially why I made it, yes."

"I have decided," Harry said, "that I like you more than your treacle tart. Because you, I would never consider using a banishing charm on. This, however... well."

Hermione took the hint and tossed the treacle tart. And they never spoke of the kiss. Coincidentally, they also never spoke of Hermione's treacle tart, which she never attempted to make again.

But Hermione realized something important about the almost-apology. Harry wasn't apologizing simply for kissing her in the wrong place. Quite honestly, if he had kissed her eyeball instead, she would have just winced and laughed, but not needed an apology at all, though she would have instantly accepted one if it were offered.

No, Harry was apologizing because he had never kissed her in that place while she was on with Ron. Which meant that he saw kissing her in that way as something to only be done while she was off with Ron. Which meant that when he kissed her there, he was not doing it as a best friend or a brother. As with the first time, he had done it as a man who saw her as a woman deserving of love.

He did it as a man who loved her as a woman. Only this time was an accident. Which clarified that the first one had not been, not that Hermione had ever thought it was.

But it made things very clear. To Hermione, at least. She just wondered if they were as clear to Harry.

She very much doubted it.

3

The cafe was a nice place to meet.

Hermione liked it. Ron hated it. Harry adored it.

Hermione liked the food and service.

Ron hated that, as a purely Muggle establishment, it lacked the magical comforts that he had grown up around and was accustomed to.

Harry adored that, as a purely Muggle establishment, it was extremely unlikely to run into anyone there that had ever even heard of Harry Potter. In fact, the only other wizard he'd ever seen there was Ron.

When Harry asked to meet up for lunch there, Hermione had no reason to refuse. She and Ron were currently off. For good, it seemed. For a year, anyway, which was the longest time to date. During which Ron had made no secret of his dating other women, and Hermione had become increasingly withdrawn around everyone except her co-workers and Harry. And perhaps the biggest shock? It no longer bothered her that Ron was dating. Because she knew perfectly well that none of those women had her patience, as evidenced by them never sticking around for more than a month or so. And she also knew that even if Ron met someone with her patience, he would drive her off eventually without any help from Hermione.

Unlike Ron, Hermione wasn't dating. In large part because she knew there was no point. Despite the flaws in it, her relationship with Ron had taught her one thing: she was not the dating type. Or at least, not the type to date someone she didn't already know well. Ron had no such restrictions, and suffered frequent disappointment accordingly. Hermione had had quite enough disappointment with Ron, and was not eager to have more so soon. So lunch with Harry was a welcome distraction.

Except that the second she saw Harry, Hermione knew this lunch would be more about distracting him than her. He looked distinctly unhappy. At least, until he saw her. She could almost hear the shift as he pasted a smile on his face and approached her. He was happy to see her, but not to the point where the thought of going to lunch with her had taken his mind entirely off of whatever was upsetting him.

And really, if lunch with Hermione was able to have that much of an impact on him... well, they'd probably be married by now.

Hermione forced that lingering thought from her mind as she stood up and greeted him with a hug. While she was not surprised that he leaned in to kiss her, she was very much surprised when his lips landed exactly on the corner of her mouth.

"That's three times now, Harry," she thought to herself, "and if it happens again, I just may have to do something about it. Maybe we'll see how you like it, when someone does it to you."

There was a pause, during which Harry blinked and seemed to realize what he'd done. Except...

He didn't look upset.

He didn't look guilty.

He didn't apologize.

And Hermione, though surprised, was not bothered in the least. In any case, Harry moved to help Hermione with her chair, which was normal enough, so she sat, and he soon did the same.

Before Hermione could open her mouth, Harry spoke. Not about the kiss, however.

"It's final."

"O-Oh. I see."

They stared at each other.

"Sorry," Hermione murmured. "It's just... really hard to gauge your reaction right now, Harry. I don't know if we should be miserable or celebrating."

He shrugged. "I was thinking... cautiously optimistic. Don't want to ruin lunch, after all."

"Right. Of course." She paused. "Though, I wouldn't mind terribly if that's what you needed. A ruined lunch. Or one full of venting." She reached across the table and put her hand over his. "I'm here for you, Harry."

He flipped his hand over and squeezed hers. "Of course I know that, Hermione. It's why I asked to see you. Well, that, and Ron isn't feeling all that sympathetic right now. Toward either of us, frankly. Wouldn't make the best lunch partner."

"Do you blame him?"

"Only in your case."

"I suppose you don't want to discuss your case."

"Actually? I think I do." Harry frowned thoughtfully. "For some reason, I really want to tell you why. With anyone else, it just felt too private. And I trust you to tell me if I was totally out of line."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Hermione said, "but go on."

"I expect I don't have to tell you that Weasleys are big on having kids."

She smiled. "The thought had crossed my mind. So what was the problem?"

Harry hesitated. "I've never actually told anyone other than Ginny before, but I'm not. Big on having kids, that is. I'm not completely against the idea, I just fear that I'd be rubbish at it."

"Because of the Dursleys," Hermione sighed.

"And my own parents being gone. Not blaming them, just saying I didn't really get to see them in action as parents much, so I can't say there was much fatherly wisdom passed down to me, even though my mother's love has seen me through some tight spots. And I firmly believe one of the worst things you could do to a kid is hand it to me to raise. I can't exactly draw on memories of a happy childhood to know what to do. I can pretty much figure out that you're not supposed to lock them in a cupboard or starve them, based on how that made me feel. But other than that? Total guesswork. And any kid... any kid of Ginny's... deserves better. She deserves better."

"And you told her all of that?" Hermione asked softly.

"Yeah. Only all she heard was that I never wanted to have kids with her. Which wasn't entirely true. It's more accurate to say I don't want to have kids, at all, with anyone. But she insisted on taking it personally, as if she was the problem. Mind you, she does want kids. Quite a few of them. Since neither of us was going to budge, and the fights were only getting louder and longer, I offered to leave her. She was insulted, at first. But then she got tired of fighting, too. After that, it was easy. Well, easier."

"I don't suppose," Hermione said slowly, "that it would make any difference if I said I think you'd make a wonderful parent?"

He smiled bitterly. "It's nothing Ginny hasn't already said, and I do appreciate it. But no, I've made up my mind. I mean, if I said the same to you, your response would probably be-"

"-that I dread the thought of constantly having to explain to my child why Mummy and Daddy need regular breaks from each other." Hermione shook her head slowly. "We're awful people, aren't we?"

"I think we'd be even worse, if we knowingly brought kids into our messes, and then still claimed to love them. The one good thing I can say about the Dursleys is at least they didn't turn me into a second Dudley. Which isn't totally fair, since the original eventually came around. But before that? I wouldn't have wanted any younger kid anywhere near him. Myself included, obviously. So at least we're not as bad as that."

"Harry, if even half of the things you've told me about the Dursleys are true, you actually would raise a halfway decent child just by not doing what they did," Hermione said. "You at least have that much common sense and love in you. And if-" But then she stopped, looking mildly alarmed.

"If what?" Harry asked.

Hermione actually blushed. "I was going to say if you combined what you definitely know not to do, with my almost entirely happy childhood, I don't imagine the mixture could be so bad." Noticing him staring at her, she quickly added, "But I suppose I'm just being, erm, uncautiously optimistic, so forget I said anything, okay?"

"Sure," he said slowly.

But it was clear that neither of them ever really forgot what she said at all.

It was clear now, at least to Harry and Hermione, that leaving their former partners had been a good thing for all involved.

Ron continued to date an endless string of women, but one that increasingly included, incredibly, Luna Lovegood. And she seemed to be wearing him down, slowly but surely.

Ginny had quickly married Dennis Creevey, who always looked shocked that she had chosen him. But even Harry thought they made an excellent pair: Dennis was able to match and even exceed Ginny's high energy in all things, almost as if he were constantly channeling the spirit of his older brother Colin. All too soon, Ginny gave birth to triplets, three boys who couldn't sit still even if they were paid to. Dennis, being Muggle-born and something of a history buff, wanted to name their boys after U.S. Presidents, which Ginny only agreed with if they were also named after her brothers. So they had settled on William Jefferson, Ronald Roosevelt, and Charles Carter Creevey. Or as they were more commonly known, Little Bill, Little Ron, and Little Charlie.

Hermione continued not dating. Harry continued having regular lunches with her. This went on for some time, until Harry hesitantly pointed out that the lunches could technically be called dates, or at least the ones where he paid for them both could be.

Hermione responded by insisting on paying for her own half of lunch from then on.

Harry fought back by occasionally treating her to dinner instead.

Then they wondered why they were so determined to refuse to date each other, when they technically already were dating, just with far less kissing and hand-holding.

Hermione agreed to bring the kisses if Harry brought the hand-holding. All of her kisses were perfectly on target, and Harry certainly didn't mind holding her hand.

So that worked out.

Until it didn't.

There was no fight, or anything like that. But one day, Harry noticed that Hermione was being asked to babysit Ginny's boys more and more often. And it suddenly hit him, why that was. It wasn't that Ginny and Dennis were desperate to spend a night out, though they were. It wasn't part of a secret plan by Ginny to rub her good fortune in Harry's face, or he hoped it wasn't.

It was that Hermione had been volunteering. She actually wanted to babysit.

It was entirely unfair. Before they got married, Hermione had agreed that she didn't want kids, either. After all, Harry did not want to repeat the same fight he had with Ginny all over again with Hermione.

But then, one night, Little Charlie painted a bushy, brown blob on some paper, proudly presented it to Hermione, and planted a very wet kiss on her cheek. After he went home, Hermione announced that she was still against having kids... but that maybe just one kid wouldn't be so bad.

Harry felt trapped. He tried to sell her on how good their current lives were. He reminded her of the possible damage they could do to a child. He even dared to point out the flaws in Ginny's children: Little Bill's fingers were eternally sticky, Little Ron tended to break every other thing he got his hands on, and Little Charlie was the true menace for inspiring this baby madness in the first place. He even tried to pass the poor boy's painting off as an owl.

Hermione listened patiently to all of his excuses. And then she reminded him exactly why the kissing had been left up to her.

Harry's relationship with Ginny, which had been awkward and somewhat stiff, improved considerably once Hermione's pregnancy began to show. Harry had thought it would be the other way around, and even said so. Out loud. To Ginny, of all people.

Harry was stupid that way, sometimes.

Ginny laughed at him, thought not unkindly. "Honestly, I thought so, too," she admitted. "But I'm happy with Dennis. And the biggest regret I have about being your ex-wife is that I wasn't able to convince you that you'll make a great dad, Harry. But it doesn't shock me that Hermione was able to change your mind."

"Why's that?" Harry asked.

"Because in our group, we each have a role. Ron is the muscle. You're the leader. Hermione is the brains of the operation. So of course you'd listen to her, and not the plucky sidekick."

"That's hardly fair to you," Harry pointed out.

She shrugged. "I don't mind being the plucky sidekick."

"I would have said lovely assistant."

Ginny laughed again. "Plucky sidekick sounds less formal wear, and more action-packed, thanks."

"I think you two are done for the night, Harry," Hermione said.

He paused in his reading to look down, smiling at the little face pressed into his chest. "I lost her, huh?"

"You did."

"Now, is that proof that I'm an excellent bedtime story reader, or a horrible lecturer?"

"That," Hermione decided with a frown, "is a loaded question if I ever heard one."

Harry almost laughed, then remembered the small person sleeping on top of him and thought better of it. "We might actually be able to get her into bed without-"

"Not sleepy," the small person protested at once, with her eyes still closed. And at a much lower volume and slower pace than was standard for her. Which suggested that she was, among other things, also a small liar.

Harry chuckled. "Can't even lift your head to argue. You are definitely sleepy, my dear."

"M'not." This was followed by a loud yawn. "Wanna story."

"You didn't even hear all of the last one because you were asleep."

"Wanna story," was the insistent reply.

"Fine. Then Mummy will tell you a story this time. In her teacher voice. Which you have never managed to stay awake through for more than two minutes."

There was a long pause, and then the little person finally replied, "Cheater."

This time, Harry did laugh.

Hermione did not.

The End.

Endnotes:

While I can certainly understand how Ron and Hermione eventually fell for each other, I have always been a fan of Harry and Hermione as couple. But I respect that it doesn't really fit canon too well. Which is exactly why I have a huge appreciation for fanfics dedicated to the couple.

I still don't know how I feel about Ron and Luna as a couple. I mean, she could and does do better. I don't think there's any denying at this point that either she was written with the eventual purpose of being related to Newt Scamander, or vice versa. And there's nothing wrong with that. Nor am I putting down Ron (this time). I'm just saying, if Ron met a family that consisted largely of green-haired sisters that love to argue and get into fights all the time, and he didn't end up at least dating one of them, that would be a real head scratcher for me.

I don't know where I pulled Dennis Creevey as a love interest for Ginny from. Except the high energy part, that's my only defense.

Weasleys do indeed like to have kids. So I imagine a spouse who felt differently wouldn't last too long. Even if it was Harry. Yes, Harry turned out remarkably well for having been "raised" in a Dursley habitat. But they kept him in a cupboard under the stairs like a horror movie extra, so I'm not ruling out that he may have some deeper issues to work on. You can't just invite a ghoul down from the attic, stuff him in pajamas, and then welcome him into the family, Ron. The smell will bother someone eventually, and he may eat the silverware. Best to deal with it before you put a ring on it. Erm, him, I mean.