Come,

He held out his hand, waiting for me to take it.

It was that simple gesture that made my heart stop and my breath catch in my throat. He smiled deeply, a smile that melted what little left there was of my heart. It was the simplicity of the act that made me go crazy. He was just offering his hand so we could walk. But he was doing so much more than that.

He was opening doors.

I guess to understand that, you would have to hear the beginning. I hated him. I don't mean the hate that you get when you're made at someone. I mean the hate that you get when you want someone to die. The hate you feel when someone insults your intelligence, your status, your beauty, and most of all, your pride.

Well, somewhere down the road, we kind of began to snog each other senseless.

It's kind of misty for me. One minute I hated him, the next I was pulling him into forsaken corridors, giving suggestive glances, and treating him exactly the same outside of that. I felt horrible, but secretly, it was thrilling. Me, Hermione Granger, bookworm, teacher's pet, suck-up, had a lover. But it was better that that.

It was a secret.

Which probably was the single best, most thrilling thing of it all. I had something that I could keep all to myself. I didn't have to tell anyone. I didn't want to tell anyone. He had never been so sincere. True, he was gentle and fun, but that's what it was mostly about. The fun. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but eventually a girl wants something more.

Let us roam the night together

We never walked. We made out, we fooled around, but we never just walked. It was too simple, too…carefree. We didn't have time just to enjoy each other's company. The more I looked around at the couples before me, the more I realized that that was what I wanted. I wanted someone who I could hold hands with down the hallway. I wanted someone who would send me chocolate on Valentine's Day that I could open in front of everyone.

I wanted someone to share the world with.

But the only thing I ended up sharing with him was my bed. Not that I minded much at the time. But things became clear. He understood. We talked, shared stories, discussed politics. We got to know each other. I knew what he would want to be if he wasn't a wizard. I knew that he doesn't want to join the dark side. I knew that he loves double chocolate chip muffins for breakfast.

I knew that the only person he had ever loved was his mother.

Singing.

She would sing to him.

That was his fondest memory of her. She would sing him to sleep, sing to him in the bath, and sing to him at breakfast. She loved singing, and so soon did he. He could sing very well. He didn't like to admit it. He would get bashful and try to shrug it off, but I would catch him. I once told him that he should sing more often, but he told me the most heartbreaking thing.

Singing wasn't allowed.

Imagine, not being able to do the thing you loved to do most in the world, not even in your own house. His father was very strict, no singing, laughing, crying, no emotion at all. I cried in front of him, really cried, for the first time. He just kissed away my tears and told me not to cry for him.

He said he wasn't worth it.

I love you.

I looked into his eyes as he held his hand out to me. I looked straight into his soul and saw his love. I saw the feeling he has for me. Saw it, and returned it. I think I'd always loved him, but just been too stubborn to realize it.

That's why I took his hand.

It was warm. Warm enough to heat my hand, which had grown cold in the autumn air. He smiled once more, for his smile had begun to waver, as I placed my hand lightly in his. He tightened his grip and pulled me along the cobble streets of Diagon Alley. I struggled for a breath through my laughter, not that it would have mattered.

Holding his hand made me feel unstoppable.

Even by death. It wouldn't have mattered if I didn't breathe again, nothing would wear me down. That was the kind of power he gave me. The thrill of letting someone I loved pull me down a dark street, without my knowledge of where we were going, was exhilarating.

I trusted him with my life.

After all, that's what a relationship is built on. You can't love without trust, you can't trust without love. Two things that come intertwined. You can't have one without the other. I loved that. I loved the fact that I could trust him, the fact that I loved him enough to trust him. No one had ever made me feel so safe and so reckless at the same time.

And I loved it almost as much as I loved him.

Across
The Hogwarts roof-tops

I looked back to the world we were leaving behind, or so it seemed. I could see the roof of Hogwarts standing out against the night sky, as clear as it would be if it was day. There was something magical about Hogwarts, besides the obvious. It had a sort of charm, a certain allurement, to it.

To put it simply, it was enchanting.

Romantic as well. My looking back had caused him to stop and gaze at me curiously. I shook my head, shrugging my slight hesitation off, and we were flying down the streets once more. Through alleyways, dark corners, the shadows of trees made by the moonlight. It reminded me of our first couple of months. Sneaking in and out of classrooms, coming out looking slightly disheveled, hoping no one would notice.

They never did.

So our affair went on, for we could never have enough. Soon, it became painful to be apart. But still, our words, our actions, spoke differently then the feelings we held inside. He'd comment about my blood, I spew back with an equally hurtful comment about his bouncing ferret abilities or his father. Then as soon as we met that night, we'd apologize to each other, forgiving the other immediately, before the words were even out, and kiss each other, showing it.

Kissing him made me feel everything but forgiven.

Moon is shining

As we plunged deeper and deeper into the darkness, I looked up to the sky, acknowledging the moonlight. It shimmered down to us, rays of silver illuminating his features. I looked with admiration, and then suddenly noticed he had stopped. I was startled and a little embarrassed, wondering how long he had stood there, watching me watch him.

I used to watch him all the time.

He was so, beautiful. I would sit at the dinner table, eating slowly, head resting on my hand, and watch him converse with his fellow classmates. He'd occasionally smile, bringing my already unsteady heartbeat up irregularly. He'd go back to his food, nodding in agreement with whatever the person was saying.

Then he would look at me.

I'd smile inside, knowing that while I was thinking of him, he thought of me as well. He'd wink, I'd blush. He would lick his lips, pretending to be licking food off, if anyone should notice. No one ever did. Nearly every meal we had our own little episode, and never did Ron or Harry mention anything about my sudden redness.

Boys.

Night sky is blue

Only occasionally he wouldn't look over.

I think those were the best times. Not only did I not blush, but it was because he was arguing with someone. He was a very passionate person. Passionate about what he believed in, even about what he didn't. Everything had to be his way, and no one had changed his view on anything.

Except me.

We were arguing, as usual, about something trivial, and suddenly, he gave up. I looked into his eyes, surprised and a little disappointed. He never gave up. Now, thinking back on it, I don't remember what we were arguing about. I just remember what his eyes were like. Soft, gentle, yearning. I didn't understand it then. I don't fully understand it now. But his eyes were the most amazing shade of blue.

Exactly like the sky that shone above our heads.

Down the street

A band is playing.

I could faintly hear the sound of a band down the street. It played softly, but just loudly enough for me to hear the beat. I hummed softly along with the melody as we glided down the street. We darted in and out of alleyways, him tugging my hand, I occasionally stopping for a breath. He looked like a little kid on Christmas. So happy just be alive, anticipating every second, every move. I loved this part of him.

He was always so optimistic.

If you had met him once or twice, you wouldn't think so. But whenever I was down, whenever I thought I had taken my final blow, he would be right beside me, telling me everything was going to be alright, encouraging me to go, to live.

He got me through life. And I don't know what I would do without him.

I love you.

He came to a stop at a little place, secluded from the other streets. One light was on, but I couldn't see through the window. He closed his hand around mine before lifting our hands up to my face. He let go, and I got the message. With my hand over my eyes, he guided me into the store. The coolness hit me the second we were in the door and I shivered involuntarily.

The light went on and I squinted to keep the light out of my already closed eyes. He pulled my hand away and I looked up into his smiling face, not even bothering to take in my surroundings. He pulled me over to a counter and I looked through the glass and gasped.

Rings.

All sorts of them. Big ones, small ones, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, silver, or gold. I marveled at the sight of them, looking in awe to the many cases of rings there were. I stared with fascination at the rows of rings that were in the store. It took me a second to figure out what was really going on.

That's when he got down on one knee.

My hands flew up to my mouth in shock and he looked nervous. I could see the excitement in his eyes, but there was something else there as well. Fear. Fear of rejection.

Then he proposed.

There were no fancy words. No recollection of our life together. Just simplicity. He just asked me to make him the happiest man alive and be his wife. I looked into his eyes and I could tell he noticed the hesitation. Then he said the words that I've waited for.

I love you.

And I looked at him and gave my answer.

Come,

I grasped his hand and kissed him. I could faintly hear the applause coming from the back of us, but I didn't tear away. We pulled away for a breath and I could see the rows of people in white chairs in their Sunday best. Their faces shone with happiness and I smiled brightly. I felt him grasp my hand and we slowly made our way down the aisle.

Rice was being thrown; hoots and hollers were coming from the front row. I smiled some more, beginning to feel the pain in my cheeks, but I couldn't stop. I looked over at him, smiling just as widely as I was and I mouthed I love you which he shouted in return. The applause grew louder as we climbed into the car.

I compressed my dress, trying to fit my huge train in the car. He got in the car and sat on part of my dress. I frowned and he leaned over and kissed me lightly, before I deepened the kiss. As we broke apart, I could see lipstick smeared on his face. I licked my finger to wipe it off but he grabbed it. He slowly kissed each of my fingers, never breaking eye contact with me. He kissed my palm and up my arm. He nipped at my neck and whispered in my ear.

"I love you so much Hermione."

"I love you too Draco."

Let us roam the night together

Our reception was under a tent. I rested my head on his shoulder as we swayed softly to the music, lost in each other's arms. The music came to a closing and we slipped out onto the grass and looked up at the stars, me leaning against him, him slowly tracing up and down my arm. I shivered slightly and I could feel him smile.

Then he started to sing.

Singing

I closed my eyes as the tone of his voice slipped softly around me. I smiled at his singing filled me, and I felt the soft cords all around me. It was beautiful. More beautiful then I could have ever imagined. I turned around slowly and put a finger to his lips. He was silenced and I stood on my toes and kissed him lightly. Resting my head on his chest, his arms enveloped me.

I smiled into his chest as he began the melody again. And we stood there, in each others arms, completely at peace.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harlem Nights by Langston Hughes or Harry Potter.