"We shouldn't be doing this." He can see the tears glistening on her cheeks from the silver streaks of moonlight that are the only visible light in the night sky. His hand tightens on hers.
"I know," he says, but that doesn't stop him from leaning in and kissing her. It doesn't stop her from returning the kiss, her hand squeezing his tighter.
She pulls back before it can become anything more than kissing.
"We really shouldn't be doing this," she says again, more firmly this time. "We can't do this. It's not right. We're with other people. We're married to other people. Who love us. And want families with us. And whose hearts I don't want to break."
"I know," he repeats. "I don't either. I just …"
He stops. She knows what he's going to say.
"It shouldn't have happened," she whispers. "That night. It shouldn't have happened."
"Yes, it should have," he retorts. "It's what happened next that shouldn't have happened."
They love us!" she whispers, her voice taking on more of a dangerous tone. He loves me."
"I love you."
"Harry, don't say that."
He moves in, presses his lips to hers, kisses her firmly.
"You've always been the one, Hermione," he says as he pulls back. "You know that."
He sees a tear break loose and drip down her cheek.
It wasn't like he had planned for it to happen. But then none of it was how he had planned. He had been so naïve when they set out to find the Horcruxes, just assuming everything would fall into place, that they'd find them, that they'd return home in a few months, that he'd get back together with Ginny, that they'd live happily ever after. That everything would be as simple as he wanted it to be, because he had already been through so much and it just wasn't fair any other way.
And then everything had gone wrong. They couldn't find the Horcruxes. They couldn't even find a clue to where they were. Everything Dumbledore had told him was turning out to be a lie. Everything he thought he knew was turning out to be an illusion. They were hungry, they were tired, they were grumpy and scared and lonely. People out there were dying and there was nothing he could do to save them.
And then Ron had left, and it had just been the two of them. He'd hated hearing her cry and not being able to help. He'd hated Ron for leaving. He'd hated himself for putting her into this situation in the first place.
But even still, he had never planned for any of it to happen, had never even thought about it happening. Until it did happen. Until they were dancing. And he was holding her in his arms. And she was smiling and she was laughing and he couldn't remember ever seeing someone look so beautiful.
He would never know what took over his body at the moment, but it was like something did. He couldn't control himself. He wasn't thinking, just doing.
His hands had tightened around her waist, his eyes had bored into hers, his head had moved and his lips had met hers.
Meeting, melting, becoming one.
It had been magical, it had been perfect.
And then they had been lying on the floor of the tent and clothes were being discarded and it had felt so right.
He'd held her in his arms when they were finished, her head on his chest as she slept, his fingers stroking along her spine, playing with her hair.
He had known two things at that moment — she was the only girl he ever really wanted and she was the only girl he wasn't sure he could ever really have.
"This will kill them if they ever find out," she whispers now. He wipes the tears from her cheeks.
"We aren't doing anything wrong," he says softly.
Her eyes narrow and he can see the glare she's shooting him even through the darkness.
"Of course we are!" she hisses. "Sneaking around to spend time together, to talk to each other. Kissing when no one's looking. Of course we're doing something wrong!"
"We haven't …"
"Not having sex doesn't makes us heroes, Harry," she whispers furiously. "Don't even."
He sighs.
"So what do you want?"
This stops her. The fury from her eyes dies out in a second and the look that replaces it is one of sadness, of longing.
He knows what he wants the answer to be, but he doesn't know if that answer will even make a difference at this point.
"What do you want me to say?" she whispers. "That I want you? You know I want you. But we can't just do that. It will hurt them. It will destroy them. We will lose them. I don't even know if we can be us without them."
"How can you even — "
"How can I even say that?" she asks. "They're our family! Our only real family. Ron is like your brother, Ginny is like my sister. We would lose them! And not just Ron and Ginny. All of them. All the Weasleys. And our friends. Neville and Luna. We would lose them all!"
"You don't know that."
"Don't be stupid, Harry. Even you can see how this would end."
He feels his temper flare up. "And what does that mean?"
She glares at him. "You know what it means. Things always work out for you. But this?" She waves her hand around. "This is not going to work out. We are going to hurt people. And destroy lives. They are not going to forgive us. Ever."
Harry shrugs. He's feeling a little petulant.
"So, what? You're just going to walk away? From me? From us? Just like that? We're just going to pretend to be friends and no one's ever going to know? It's just going to be easy and simple and perfect. Just like that?"
"No!" Her voice cuts across him. She isn't bothering to whisper anymore. "You know that's not true!"
"It's what you said!" His voice rises along with hers.
"It is not what I said! Not at all!"
"You said you don't want to destroy them!" he yells.
"I don't!" she yells out.
"But what about me?"
"What about you?"
"Do you want to destroy me?"
"What?" She glares at him. "Of course not, you idiot! I love you!"
And then she's in his arms and she's kissing him, deeply, furiously, like she's trying to prove something. And he lets her.
Her nails are digging into his back, he pushes her roughly against the couch, falling on top of her.
She rips his shirt off, not caring anymore. He tugs on her blouse, not bothering to stop for every button.
And then there is nothing separating them once again.
The morning after it happened that very first time, he woke up alone. The tent was empty and a peek outside revealed nothing. He tugged on some clothes and went to stand guard.
He never did find out where she had gone off to, but she returned a few hours later, smiled at him and offered to make dinner.
They had never talked about it, never even mentioned it.
He'd wanted to, so many times. It was always constantly on the tip of his tongue, to just blurt something out, to ask her how she felt.
But he'd been scared, terrified even, at what she would say. Right then, they were still friends, and he had known even then he couldn't lose that. Ever.
So he'd kept quiet. And when Ron had returned, he had really kept quiet. He'd gone back to looking at the dot that was Ginny on the Marauder's Map, gone back to picturing his future with her, picturing little babies with red hair like their mother.
He had invested himself so much in imagining a future with Ginny that he had even managed to convince himself that it was all he had ever wanted.
And he had wanted it. For the most part. The day they got married, Ginny was the only one he had been thinking about. He had wanted that life that he and Ginny had sat and talked about for hours.
He had loved Ginny. He had. He had loved her truly and deeply and fully. He still did. It was one thing he had always been sure of, would always be sure of.
But then something had changed. Ginny and Ron had been working a lot. Harry was spending more time with Hermione.
It had just been just lunch. Or a butterbeer after work. Or a nighttime walk. Or a trip to Diagon Alley just because.
And then it hadn't been just those things. It had suddenly become so much more. It had turned into talks that lasted into the early hours of the morning, innocent touching that turned to hand holding that turned to kisses, feelings that had turned from friends to something so much more than friends.
And then they were here. And it was all a mess.
"Harry? Hermione? Oh my!"
He scrambles up from where they are lying on the couch, hurriedly casting an "Accio" at a pile of blankets he spots on the floor.
Luna is staring at them, open-mouthed, aghast. Neville is behind her, pale, shocked.
It's all the four of them can do to just stare at each other. He feels Hermione tremble next to him.
"Oh my, God," Neville finally whispers. "How … how could you do this? I don't even …" He trails off and goes back to just staring wordlessly at them.
Harry hangs his head.
"It wasn't supposed to happen," he mumbles.
"I doubt that's going to be much of a consolation to Ron and Ginny," Neville retorts.
Hermione's hand flies to her mouth and she lets out a soft cry. She gathers up her clothes from the floor, and there's nothing Harry can do but watch as she flees, Luna trailing after her.
He's alone with Neville now, who's looking like he either wants to punch Harry in the face or throw up. Harry isn't sure which. Harry isn't sure what he feels either.
He stares at the blankets and not at Neville.
The silence is unnerving.
"How long?"
Harry looks up. "We haven't … we aren't … that was a mistake. We never …."
He doesn't even know how to answer. Neville purses his lips and stares at Harry intently.
"You're in love with her. Aren't you?"
Harry nods. Neville's eyes soften, slightly, for a second, and then they harden once again.
"Harry, what are you doing?"
He shakes his head. "I don't even know."
"You know you have to tell Ginny. Tell Ron. And then what? What then?"
Harry looks up and meets his eyes.
"You want to be with her?" Neville asks.
"Yes."
"Is she worth it? Is she worth all this? All the damage, all the destruction?"
Harry can't answer. Right now, he really doesn't know.
Neville and Luna follow them down the hall, their hands clasped together, their faces stony, their eyes watching their every move. There is no way they are going to let them get out of this.
Harry has never been this nervous in his life, never felt this guilty, never felt so horrible.
He shifts his eyes to take in the woman standing beside him. He knows he loves her, he knows he wants to be with her. But losing Ron, losing Ginny …. it was never in the plans, never in the cards.
He knows now there never were any plans. Just a stupid hope that he could have both lives. He should have known better. God, he should have known better.
The devastation they're about to cause is going to be horrific. He knows that. And it's killing him.
But he has never once backed down from a fight, walked away from a battle. What he told Hermione earlier that day was the truth. She has always been the one. Now it's time to step up and face the consequences.
He takes a deep breath and glances one more time at her. She nods, almost imperceptibly, and he knows she's ready too.
They take a step forward, toward Ron and Ginny, and toward their fate.