Deathly Hallows, after Ron has left. When I pictured this scene, I pictured it taking after the dancing scene (sorry, if you haven't seen the Deathly Hallows movie!).
"Do you ever feel like you're alone?" Harry asked her. He had this saddened look on his face. He had been thinking of his life over the last few days. He'd been dreaming of what it would be, if it weren't for the cursed scar on his head. What would it be like if he wasn't 'The Chosen One'?
"No, because I have you." Hermione, responded. She looked at him with a radiance of love in her brown doleful eyes. Harry, took in her sweet rose bud lips, and he wanted so badly to kiss them. He was so close, but... it would ruin everything for both of them.
Instead, Harry grasped her tightly to him. He could never fully deny, that there was something more there. Something, he couldn't quite describe, but he felt it. He knew it was there. He could feel it when Hermione would glance at him; he always felt that way with her. But, destiny had sealed their fate.
She returned the embrace. She thought of this embrace, as a sign of their bittersweet love. The love that had never gotten a chance to bloom. The exact love, she had given up on after that unforgettable hippogriff ride.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?" He responded, as he smelled her hair, one last time. Not that Harry would never smell her hair, because he always would. He would never tell his wife or her husband, but the nights he slept the most peacefully, were the night spent dreaming of that sweet vanilla and lilac smell.
"I love you." She looked up at him, with a pleading look. Do something. They still had a chance, they could still be... she closed her eyes, in a moment of daydreaming.
"I love you too." He kissed her cheek, and she thought that he was giving her hope for tomorrow. Hope that they would be something more after the war. But, before any other words could be spoken, a familiar set of footsteps began to approach.
Hermione and Harry both jumped from one another.
"I'm back." Ron said, with a look of shame on his face. If only Harry and Hermione knew that each spent the night dreaming of what could have been, and despite what fate said, what should have been.