This was my story "Be Held". This fic was written in 2005 and updated 11/13/2014. Written before HBP and DH but still on pace with cannon

Like He Needed to Be Held

The common room was silent with the exception of the warm crackling fire, a necessity in the cold January months in Scotland. The castle was terribly drafty at this time of year, despite them having a rather mild winter. Nights in the castle grew unbearable cold, making the fire crucial for the common rooms only occupant, Hermione Granger.

She sat on the floor in front of the fire with her back reclined against the sofa, consumed by her reading. She leaned over, back hunched, face to page as she devoured the words of Hogwarts: A History. Although she'd read it many times before, each time brought new life from the pages of her favorite book, revealing some fresh perspective and intricate detail about the castle whose many secrets were still yet to be unveiled.

So absorbed was she in her reading that when the portrait gave a loud groan to offer admittance to whoever gave the correct password, Hermione found herself startled into dropping the muggle pen that she used to make notes in the margin. 'Excellent, that I wasn't using a quill and pot', Hermione thought to herself as she scrubbed the excess ink from the fountain pen from her thumb before the stain had a chance to set in like the others.

She looked up from her thumb to see a very weary Harry Potter crossing the common room. Of course it was Harry. Who else could it be at this time of night? At two in the morning the only person allowed out of bed and roaming the halls was Harry. He was just coming back to the common rooms from his "remedial potions" lessons with Professor Snape. These lessons were supposed to teach him to protect his mind from the shared connection he had with Voldemort. How they were supposed to help when he was so incredibly exhausted, she would never understand.

Harry looked terrible, for a lack of a better word. He looked exhausted, his face gaunt and defeated. Each time, he went to his lessons he returned deep into the hours of night with the same look on his face. She knew that the Occlumency lessons with Snape were killing him. It was already a difficult subject to learn for someone as emotionally charged as Harry, but when paired with a man who caused Harry to be emotionally charged, it was a positively explosive combination. She couldn't see how they accomplished anything in those lessons. As far as Hermione was concerned, Dumbledore would have been better off relegating Snape to teach Hermione and having Hermione teach it to Harry. After all, it couldn't possibly take her much longer than a few afternoons to learn it all.

Hermione took a break from her musings to continue to examine Harry before he noticed her. It wasn't often that she had time to really look at his continence without him growing shy, as any excess attention made him nervous. Harry's usual happy and full lips were drawn in a line in such a way that made them look almost miserable adding to the rather grim air about the young man. His walk was heavy as though having so much on his mind, heart and body weighed him down physically. All in all Harry, looked very un-Harry-like. He looked like a man with too much on his plate.

But Harry wasn't a man, she had to remind herself. He was just a boy. Not the boy who lived. Just a boy. And her boy at that. She'd come to the realization at the start of the term. Harry was hers. All he wanted was to just be a regular boy. With her, he was. And around her, he could be.

Harry still hadn't noticed her as her walked across the common room with heavy strides. His head hung, with his hair covering most of his face, blocking his view of her. During the winter hols, Harry's hair experienced a growth spurt. It was uncontrollable before but now it was long and uncontrollable. It framed his face in loose messy waves that refused to be governed.

Harry paused before going up the staircase to the dormitory, holding the rail for support. And without warning, he collapsed. He fell to the floor and dissolved into tears. It took nothing for Hermione to abandon her silent inquiry and race into action. Hermione went to him in an instant. She kneeled on the floor beside him and with no plan except to calm the person she loved most in the world, Hermione pulled Harry's head to her chest.

She held him tightly against her and whispered quiet comforting words to the boy who seemed broken beyond repair. She whispered words of encouragement and love into his hair, words he'd probably never in his life encountered, as she placed soft almost nonexistent kisses on his crown. Hermione whispered a wandless silencing charm as, he sobbed loudly, sobs that wracked his entire body, as he released a torrent of emotion that had been years in the making. He shook as pent emotions rolled off of him like waves.

If Hermione didn't know better, she'd swear Harry was an empath. She felt every single molecule of his heartache. His desperation. His anxiety. His fear. His eternal sadness. Hermione was overwhelmed and could only imagine how he himself felt. How could he be carrying all of these feelings around with him? They were too heavy for just a child.

She ran her fingers through his hair attempting to sooth his distress, and to a lesser extent, her own. She placed gently kisses wherever her fingers went while, rubbing soft circles with her other hand onto his back as he sobbed relentlessly into his hands. After a time, it was as though he finally noticed that someone was holding him. He shifted positions and clung to Hermione. He clung to her in the way of a small child who needed his mother. He clutched a fistful of her shirt in one hand and her hair in the other. He buried his wet face into her neck, as his hot tears sizzled into the collar of her shirt. She continued to simply hold him in the way that he needed to be held.

Sometime later, whether it was minutes or hours, neither of them seemed to know, Harry's sobs subdued. His clenched fists loosened a bit, allowing Hermione to move and pass him a tissue she'd summoned. Harry untangled himself completely from Hermione's embrace and settled his head in her lap, clutching her legs to his face. She was surprised. Harry never initiated physical contact. How deep his hurt must run for him to need her touch. Hermione recovered from her shock and set with her back to the wall of the stairs, trying to relax some of the tension in her stiff muscles from sitting in their embrace for so long.

Her hands absent mindedly brushed Harry's hair from his forehead as she pondered his actions this evening. She had so many questions about what had caused the avalanche of emotions from her boyishly attractive and ever high-spirited best friend. It was unlike him to have a meltdown, especially not with a witness. She looked down at Harry, with his closed eyes and finally even breath, who looked quite comfortable with his position. And if he was finally at peace, far be it from Hermione to disturb it. Her questions could wait.

She allowed a silence to envelope them in spite of her persistent curiosity. It was comfortable silence, made warm by the cackling of the still alive, yet dying fire. The room was bathed in a warm glow as the friends lay huddled in their corner. Finally Harry broke the silence.

"Uhh," he stuttered not really knowing what to say to her after his display.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Hermione said, saving him from the embarrassment that was most assuredly stinging him in the after moments of his falling to pieces.

"Are you sure, Hermione? Usually you want to talk about things, ask questions and the like." Hermione chuckled at his very accurate assessment of her. A few moments ago, she might have agreed.

"Yes, Harry. I'm sure. I'll save you the invasive prodding. I'm sure you've been through enough of that tonight." The mood sobered a bit as Harry remembered the Occlumency lessons and what brought him to his knees in the first place.

"Thanks for this, Hermione," Harry said with his face still on her legs facing away from her as he played with a loose piece of string from the knees of her corduroy pants.

"You're welcome," she replied softy, still running her fingers lightly through his hair.

"Are you sure you don't have questions?" he asked turning to her directions to look up into her bright eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sure, Harry." He looked at her suspiciously as though he didn't know who this Hermione was. The Hermione he knew always had questions. She was relentless in her pursuit of answers. She always needed more answers. She saw his pondering eyes and rolled hers.

"Look, Harry. I know you just needed to be held. You're my friend and I love you so I won't badger you tonight. I figured you could use a break." She looked down to see his eyes wide with surprise. She thought over her previous statement, wondering what from it could have tripped him up and produced this response.

"You-you love me?" Harry asked sitting up. Now it was Hermione's turn to be confused.

"Of course, I love you, Harry, You're my best friend." She watched as disappointment clouded his face. She once more had to revisit her words to see if it was something she said. "What's the matter?"

"It's just… No one's ever said they loved me before. And I just thought…Nothing. Never mind, Hermione. Thanks." She laughed softly to herself. Of course, this was the first time Harry had ever heard the words 'I love you' from anyone. It was clear that people loved him, after all his mom died for her love for him. But never had he heard it from someone, especially so casually. She'd always thought he'd known that she loved him. Well, not that he knew she loved him in that way. But she'd hoped he at least knew she loved him as a friend.

"You don't respond thanks to I love you, by the way," Hermione said teasingly yet testing the waters for what she was about to say. He was quiet for a moment as he thought. She could tell he was rolling the idea of responding in kind around in his mind. She was quiet while he thought knowing this was a crucial moment for him. For the boy who'd never heard 'I love you', he'd certainly never said it.

"I love you, too," he said softly, uncertainly. Hermione smiled a warm all-consuming smile. There was no time like the present.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. But you don't understand. I love you." He screwed his face up in slight confusion. She rolled her eyes and decided to spare him the anguish of interpreting her response.

She placed her hand at the nape of his neck and quickly pulled him toward her. His lips froze as hers met his. After a moment of no reaction, Hermione began to panic, thinking she'd ruining her relationship with Harry. Just as she was about to pull away, he thawed, sliding his arm around her waist as his lips began to move against hers. He deepened the kiss, pressing his lips to hers as though she was the answer to a riddle he'd been dying to solve. He touched the tip of his tongue to her bottom lip, seeking entrance. She exhaled deeply, parting her lips and granting him access. She pushed her mouth even harder against his as she threw both arms around his neck and fully melted into the kiss.

Finally, they drew apart to catch their breaths. Why did oxygen have to be a necessity?

"In that case, Hermione," he said a little winded but none the worse for wear, "I think I love you too,"

"But-" she said pressing the matter.

"Hermione?" He asked cutting her off. "No questions this time, okay?" He said softly knowing she was going to berate him with questions that stemmed from her self-doubt. She nodded softly as Harry rested his back to the stairs and pulled her towards him.