Something Undefined by Luvscharlie

A/N: Takes place in the tent during Ron's absence in Deathy Hallows.

Hermione sat in the old, tattered chair flipping through the photo album she had found in Harry's rucksack. She hadn't meant to snoop. Not really. But, there it was with pictures of his parents inside and she just couldn't stop herself from opening it up, and opening it up had led to the turning of pages, and…

"What are you looking at there?"

She'd been so intent in looking at the pictures that she hadn't heard him come up behind her. She jumped in spite of herself, which she was certain only made her look all the more guilty. "Harry! Don't sneak up on me like that." When on the spot, change the subject.

"I asked what you were looking at."

Or not.

She handed over the photo album and attempted to avoid eye contact. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snoop."

Harry sat down on his bunk and patted the place beside him. "It's okay. I haven't looked at this since we were last at Grimmauld Place. Would you like to look at it with me?"

Hermione nodded and took her place beside him on the bunk. Their contact was close as Harry explained to her what he knew of the photos in the book. His knowledge was scant. Hagrid had given him some of the photos, others were from Remus, and some had come to him from random Order members who had known and served beside his parents during the first war.

Hermione noted that Harry's hand shook when they got to the photo of his parents' wedding. Sirius was laughing, so vibrant in youth, handsome and alive. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Hermione took the book from his hand, closed it and set it to the side. "You okay?"

Harry turned to face her and smiled a smile that never quite reached his eyes. "I'm fine."

She touched his arm and felt the muscle flex beneath her fingers. The many nights they had spent alone over the last few weeks had her looking at Harry in a different way and she felt the jolt of something that she couldn't quite describe beneath her fingertips. It-this something-made her gasp. If Harry's wide eyes were any indication, she wasn't the only one who felt something.

They both exchanged hasty words of good night and Hermione retreated to her own bunk. Still, she watched him by firelight for a long time afterwards. She wasn't sure what it was that had passed between them; it was, however, undeniable that things between them had changed, and there would be no turning them back.

A/N: The prompt for this drabble was Memories.