A/N: This is a short, little something I wrote while listening to two songs (you'll know what they are in a moment). The image is just too precious. All I can say is that I LOVE HARRY & HERMIONE SO MUCH THAT IT HURTS.

Summary: What do you do after running away from your own wedding with the man you just realized you love?

Somewhere Only We Know

I found out that love is too precious to waste, but I'll waste it all on you.

— Casey Abrams, Ghosts

It was weird to be sitting together, alone in the Quidditch pitch.

She was in her white gown and he was in his black tux, and the rain fell around and above them, as if it was heaven's way of telling them they need not cry. Her head was on his shoulder and he held both of her hands in his as if his life depended on it, as if she would vanish into thin air if he'd let go.

She didn't even know where to start.

"I want to be with you."

It was the most blunt she's ever been to him in the twelve years they've known each other. Maybe it's the realization that she really does want to be with him, the silent derision she felt for herself for being so bloody daft and thick and how could she not have figured it out all these years, or that fact that even though she had come to terms with the truth, she never could, never would be with him.

He lifted a finger to her chin to make her look at him in the eye before giving his most reassuring smile. He was reassuring her, and in the depths of his being, he was reassuring himself too. "You're with me now."

She gazed at the wide expanse of land beyond the stands, looking for something she can't quite fathom. "Right," she said, laughing at the situation they brought themselves into. "I can't believe I just did that."

"I couldn't believe it too," he said as he laughed in chime with her. It wasn't funny, really. What they did changed things, and they laughed at the fact that despite their fondness of constancy, they chose change.

Maybe he just loved her so much. Yeah, maybe that's it, he thought. He loved her enough to choose change.

They laughed together a little more, and a little bit more, and he couldn't help but think that she looked beautiful... laughing... in her wedding dress... under the rain... in his arms... his. "I wonder how your fiance's acting right now," he said in teasing curiosity. "He spent so much on your wedding cake."

"And I wasted so much of me on him," she pouted slightly, turning the mood back into its initial seriousness. She looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, I learned something important today."

"That you're more expensive than your wedding cake?"

"Love is much too precious to waste," she recited like it was a fact she's encountered in a book she had read the day before.

"Hmmm, maybe it is," he grinned at her teasingly. "In which book did you find that out? Hogwarts, A History?"

"Hey!" she slapped his arm. "I ran away with you. On my wedding day, no less. Give me some credit!"

He smiled solemnly and turned silent. "It was very brave of you, Hermione," he said. "Although I know that if you had pushed through with it, I wouldn't love you any less."

The declaration was so heartfelt, so genuine, so sincere that it broke her heart. "I love you, Harry," she whispered, saying those rare and dangerous words she'd never said to anybody before. That must be it, that four-letter word — no, feeling—that she never felt when she was with Ron. That four-letter word that she felt so much at that precise moment, for Harry.

"I love you, too," he said. He was wearing his heart on his sleeve. "Always have, always will."

She smiled. "I love you," she said again, confidence bursting through her being. The feeling was overwhelming, until she decided she might as well stand and shout it to the whole Quidditch pitch, to the whole world. "I love you, Harry Potter!" She turned to him, who was, like her, grinning madly and crying at the same time. "Did you hear that? I love you, Harry. I lo—"

She was silenced by his lips on hers and she knew that sometime before she closed her eyes, thunder roared after lightning lit the sky. He was kissing her and she was kissing him, and any regrets about running away dissolved into nothingness as he tangled his hands into her hair and kissed each drop of rain that fell on her cheeks. Then he picked her up and spun her around and around, and when put her down again they laughed, and sometimes they cried, and his lips met hers again, and the world was nothing but a strange blur, something that they promised they'll conquer together.

His forehead was on hers when he asked, "So, what do you think of Australia?"

She smiled. "Australia, it is."

And I don't know why, but with you I'd dance in a storm in my best dress, fearless.

— Taylor Swift, Fearless

A/N: What do you think?