A/N: I've had the idea for this story swimming in my head for years now so we'll see how it fares actually written out. This is a H/Hr fic, kids, all about Harmony. The other H/Hr story I wrote was good for what it was at the time, a time before the series had even completed, but I was young and apparently full of angst. Consequently, I wanted to dive back into my favorite ship as an older, [hopefully] better writer.

It's going to be a short fic and it is epilogue compliant in nature. Probably the most important thing I can say about this story is that it's not a plot with smut- it's smut with a plot. Just a heads up for those whose cup of tea that may not be. Also, if the characters do anything that seems OOC, well, you probably have a point but that's why I'm not JKR and this is just a small musing of my brain meant to pass time.

Moments of Closeness

Chapter 1

It was late in the Ministry of Magic, so late that the only occupants who roamed the empty hallways were those employed for custodial duties and maintenance. They went about cleaning duly yet diligently, even with the aid of magic, counting the minutes until the time they would be allowed to return to their homes. They were very unaware that on the level that housed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, particularly where the Auror Department was designated, a spacious office toward the back, that belonged to Harry Potter in fact, was currently occupied. The cleaning crews did not enter offices unless requested by their respective wizards but no request had been placed for this particular room on this night. One of the people inside the office was Harry Potter himself, in the middle of shrugging off his Auror robes with urgency, while the other person was a witch, connected to him by the lips and holding the sides of his face firmly, breathing erratically.

The couple had been in his office together for only minutes but during that time he had immediately pounced on her and commenced their kissing while she had managed to rid herself of her own robes. Harry had been in an extremely late running meeting earlier that night that had only adjourned 15 minutes beforehand, while his companion had been holed up in her own office dealing with her significant workload past hours as she sometimes did. Conversely, she dropped her Muggle pen the moment a stag Patronus had come cantering silently yet powerfully into the room, and pushed away from the desk in order to hurry to leave her office for his. The customary pull of anticipation, lust, and grief started to manifest the moment she saw the stag.

As it were now, the two were engrossed wholly in one another. Harry's robes finally pooled at his feet, giving his arms much more freedom, and he exhaled deeply, ready to have his way with her. Continuing to kiss fervently, he pushed against her a bit roughly after molding their bodies and then his hands flew to her backside. Using the curves of her bottom as a base, he used his Auror trained muscles to lift her from the floor and reposition her around his waist. She inhaled sharply and instantly wrapped her legs around his middle for better support, hands shooting to his head in order to get lost in his messy black hair. They stayed in this position for a short period while they explored each other's mouths and their tongues lapped against the other's greedily. Whatever they did, it was never enough.

One of Harry's hands held her steady but the other crept underneath her shirt, touching and gripping every inch of bare skin it could. She arched her back in response and finally detached her mouth from his, only to move it right near his left ear where her tongue darted out and began licking the shell of it. At this, he grunted; it was time for more.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and walked them forward rapidly toward his large desk. Once there, Harry set her down and began to immediately unbutton her shirt, finding her lips again with tenacity. The woman responded eagerly, reaching for his waist and pulling him to her as close as space would allow. She had opened her legs wider to accommodate him and when he was in between them she let out a small moan from the feeling of his obvious erection.

Harry answered the noise she had emitted by taking her hand and placing it on his hard cock, thrusting forward twice.

"This is what you do to me," he growled in her ear before sucking on her neck. She let out a much louder moan from the feel of his dick and his mouth working her neck. No matter how many times they did this, how many times they explored each other's bodies it was continually the most stimulating and arousing moments they experienced. Her shirt was fully open and Harry hastily removed it from her torso, reveling in the sight of her breasts supported by a lacy black bra. He only stared at them for a handful of seconds before his hands were underneath the material, squeezing and massaging her breasts while they kissed once more, fueled by their increasing lust. She was whimpering now as he fondled her chest and she realized she was pulsating intensely at her center. Her hands shot to his pants and she undid his button and zipper with frenzy.

Harry groaned when he felt her at his fly. His dick was throbbing painfully and he could only think of being inside of her as quickly as possible. With this in mind he rapidly unhooked her bra; she let it fall off her and he threw the garment off to the side. His mouth immediately enveloped her right breast now that she was fully exposed.

"Harry! Oh…" she breathed with a gasp, hands now grasping his neck. The witch lost herself in the sensation for a while, her eyes fluttering shut as his tongue lapped. It only lasted for a short period, however, because both of them were practically fit to burst.

"Now," she asserted, breathing heavily and moving his head away from her chest. She gazed at him, "Now!"

She slipped her hand inside his boxers and seized his member, stroking it expertly and eagerly. Harry's head fell back some and he gripped the edge of the desk.

"God," he groaned out, hips starting to move of their own accord as they followed her pull.

She did not pump him for too long because watching his reaction and hearing those noises issue from him was practically torture to her; they were a reminder of what he could be doing to her body. When she could not stand it any longer and felt ready to pounce, she released her hold and used both hands to move his pants and boxers down his hips until his erect penis was out in the open.

The woman stared at it momentarily, a wild look in her brown eyes. Consequently, Harry's own gaze was now wholly hungry and dominant, nearly animalistic. Their trysts were not always so roughly passionate but, when they were, the two were utterly consumed. He moved forward hurriedly and pushed her back on the surface while one hand zoomed to the back of her black skirt and pulled down the zipper as far as it would allow. She bristled with anticipation and made to remove her black heels.

"Leave them." Harry ordered. She stared at him. What did he have in mind?

Conversely, in the following instance, everything left her thoughts because he had joined her on the desk and shoved her skirt up until it bunched around her waist. Harry then pushed into her swiftly and possessively while he released a low, satisfied moan. As he started to thrust between her legs without delay, the subconscious part of her brain reflected on when this- this dangerous and intoxicating part of their lives- had begun.

…

Halloween. It was always on Halloween. Harry's troubles involving the holiday had been present since he had discovered it was the day his parents had been murdered, but they had become more pronounced after the Second War had ended. Simply put, Halloween was not a good time for him. His subtle withdrawal usually started on October 30th and, while he remained present at work, home, and with friends in a physical sense, he was not present mentally. Following the first three Halloweens with a sullen, nearly silent Harry, and after many attempts to get him to talk about what was upsetting him, his kin learned to begrudgingly let him be. Knowing it was less cumbersome and disheartening to temporarily remove her children from their home than let them see their father in such a glum state, Ginny Potter did just that. She took the children to spend the night at her parents' house on Halloween and they enjoyed it because there was always at least one Weasley cousin also staying over. This left Ginny to merely support her husband without interruptions by staying by his side physically since she could not do so verbally. They hardly ever went out on these nights with their friends to parties or balls because Harry would only brood by himself in a corner, so more often than not they remained at home or went on quiet walks. Ron and Hermione, the ones the couple spent the most time with, normally would go out to commemorate the holiday after taking their own children trick or treating, but not always.

On this particular Halloween, Hermione's parents were delighted to babysit in order to give their daughter and son-in-law a free night for themselves. The pair then decided to spend their time with Harry and Ginny, the latter of whom was grateful and happy they had shown up to give the former additional support. Harry had never truly informed them of what he suffered through every October but the three suspected it had something to do with his parents' death: an exceptionally grim anniversary of their passings. The quartet ordered take out and then watched a horror film in the Potters' living room while they ate brownies Ginny had made. Harry participated in these activities and even cracked a smile or two from Ron's jokes, but it all changed when they were seated at the table talking and drinking their first glasses of wine. Without really thinking, Ron made a derisive joke about Halloween, Voldemort masks, and children running around incessantly shouting out the Killing Curse with toy wands.

Harry's eyes shot to his best friend's face, giving him a very hard, intense stare, and then he sprang up from his chair and abruptly left the dining room. The others gawked at his departure, clearly shocked by this action, but they scrambled to follow him moments later.

"Harry! Harry, wait!" Ginny called as they rushed after him. He started up the staircase without replying or looking back and they congregated at the bottom, watching his progress.

"What you said upset him." Hermione reported when Harry was out of sight, peering at her husband.

"I-I didn't think, I didn't mean to!-" Ron stammered fretfully.

"We know, Ron," Ginny assured as the brunette squeezed his hand, "I just don't know if he'll come back down. Damn Halloween!"

"I'll… I'll go talk to him!"

"That's great, love, but you were the one to say something." Hermione reminded, frowning regretfully.

"Then you go, Ginny! You're his wife." Ron directed.

"Yes, the wife he pulls away from on this day every year. Nothing I've tried has been very successful up to this point," she sighed, "Hermione, perhaps you should go." The Muggleborn looked surprised.

"Yeah. You're good with words; Harry's always listened to you."

"Always is an overstatement," Hermione remarked, looking at the second landing nervously, "I don't know… but if you want."

"It's worth a try." Ginny said. Ron kissed his spouse's cheek and she took it as a sign. A feeling of doubt flickered in Hermione's stomach as she ascended the staircase in search for Harry.

The witch found him in the third room she tried: the upstairs guest bedroom. (The other rooms upstairs were Lily's bedroom and Ginny's office). She had checked the master first and James' and Albus' room second, and she saw him sitting in a chair facing the window, body slumped over with his forehead resting against his left fist. Hermione frowned somewhat and silently exhaled as she studied him for a moment. It had always been a difficult game of chance when dealing with Harry's infamous moods. She did not say anything as she slipped inside and deftly shut the door behind her. She took the ottoman at the foot of the queen sized bed and dragged it to where he was, placing it right in front of him. Harry did not look at her through any of this or even when she was seated and staring at him quietly; it was not until Hermione put a hand on his knee that his penetrating gaze focused on her face.

"Harry," she commenced in a gentle tone, "I'm not going to beg or plead with you to tell me what's upsetting you, what upsets you every Halloween. But you have to know that we love you and it's hard for us to watch you go through this."

He took a bit before replying.

"Love?," Harry croaked, still peering at her, "What has love ever gotten me?"

She appeared dumbfounded, not having expected a response such as this.

"W-What… what do you mean?"

"What has it gotten me, Hermione? Where has it gotten me?"

"It's… it's gotten you everything, Harry! It's priceless!," she proclaimed, looking puzzled, "You have an amazing wife because of it, beautiful children, a-and devoted friends! Not to mention the love of countless others whom have passed on now, the ones you meant the absolute world to. Your mother's love saved your very life!"

"Yeah, well it didn't do much for hers, did it?" he remarked bluntly. The brunette's mouth fell open and her brow furrowed. What was he saying?

"Do you know what I'm reminded of every Halloween, Hermione? Every person who died because of me," Harry revealed, not breaking eye contact, "It starts with my parents, the two who brought me into the world but then had to leave it one year later because some insane bastard wanted me dead! Then it progresses to Cedric, who was with me in the graveyard and had no idea what was happening, then Sirius, who was fighting for me, then Dumbledore, who fucking planned to die if need be! Then Remus, and Tonks! Fred! Snape! Mad Eye!-"

"Harry, it wasn't your fault! We've been over that!" Hermione interjected before he could continue naming the dead.

"Everyone says that but it's really hard to convince yourself otherwise when you know their deaths all had one thing in common: you!," Harry ruefully countered, "Do you know what it's like carrying that guilt around? Knowing numerous people lost their lives because of you?"

"It wasn't solely you, Harry! It was a cause, a war! War always claims lives, no matter what the nature! They all died because they believed in the same thing as you and knew it would be worth it if the time came- we all felt that way!"

"Well it doesn't seem like it was worth it to me half the time. It seems miserable," he noted, his voice breaking, "I go on living without them and it's like I'm being taunted. I think how my kids will never know their grandparents, Teddy will never know his mum and dad, the Weasleys will never be truly complete without F-Fred…" She tenderly placed a hand on his left cheek, unshed tears in her eyes.

"Oh Harry…" Hermione murmured.

"I've seriously considered how life would've turned out if I didn't exist, if all those I cared about were still living. One life for many. That seems more worth it to me."

She suddenly had his face firmly in both of her hands while she glared at him angrily, the tears now spilling over.

"Don't you ever think like that again!," she commanded, not releasing her grip, "This world would have been much worse off without you, Harry Potter! And I guarantee you Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus would've said the exact same thing! Don't let their deaths go in vain!" He gazed at her defiantly and she did not look away, unabashed, but in the next instant he had give in.

"I didn't ask for any of this, Hermione." Harry said in a defeated voice, slumping over again and burying his face in his hands. She rapidly threw her arms around him in a protective embrace, the tears continuing to flow as she spoke in his ear.

"I know you didn't, love! And I know it's hard! It's unfair. But… but none of them would want this turmoil for you. They loved you, like we all do. Like Ron loves you, like Teddy loves you, like Neville loves you, like your children love you. Like I love you. Love is difficult but it gives life its meaning."

Hermione continued to hold him and they did not speak for well over a minute, both of their hearts heavy with emotion. He clung to her like a lifeline.

"Don't let go of them, Harry, but don't punish yourself either. You've suffered enough as it is," she advised quietly, stroking the hair at the back of his neck. Harry nodded dejectedly before they descended into silence again.

The quiet lasted another couple of minutes. When she pulled away she did not do so completely, but rather that their faces were only separated by mere inches.

"I don't know if you realize how loved you are," the witch whispered.

Hermione then moved forward and, with the lightest of touches, brushed her lips against Harry's, the action as faint and precious as a baby's breath while sleeping. The kiss was imperceptible but also lovely and true. Hermione had never kissed Harry before, not really. Apart from a rushed peck or two in the past, similar to the kisses mothers give children in a hasty state, the two friends had never crossed this plateau. She put all of her feelings for him into the kiss, as delicate as it was. Hermione strove to convey to him that she meant every single word that had come from her mouth, to make her best friend understand just how important he was to everyone- to her. She needed Harry to be assured of his worth and freed from his burdened sorrow. Hermione put 20 years of unadulterated love into that gentle kiss.

Faint yet powerful… and Harry felt it. Something within him jolted, surprisingly, forcefully. His breath caught in his throat as he felt her lips move deftly against his. He did not know. He did not know what exactly he was feeling or what he should feel, but he was undoubtedly feeling. And it was dousing.

The kiss did not linger. It was brief but sure and served its purpose. Hermione made to move away from him and something strange buried deep inside of Harry stirred. Reeling, he grabbed her wrist without being fully aware of it. This unexpected move surprised her but Harry was already staring into her eyes with a hard expression, searching them for something he could not consciously articulate. Transfixed, Hermione peered back, held by the intensity of his gaze and beauty of his eyes. (She thought it was literally impossible for anyone to get used to allure of Harry Potter's eyes).

Harry opened his mouth as though he was about to begin speaking, gaze still locked on her face. However, he had closed in in the next moment.
"Harry," she started in a low voice, noticing his indecision, "What…" This time it was Hermione's turn for breath to get stuck in her throat: he had moved forward, back to her lips. Her heart suddenly began pounding in her chest; she was frozen. Their mouths were now a hair away from each other. Harry hesitated. He did not know what he was going, why he had followed her… merely that he had felt compelled. And he needed for Hermione to have a chance to respond, to act, to say something, to stop him. To explain what the hell was happening. But she did not. She remained where she was, breathing heavily and heart still hammering.

Harry's rational mind seemed to shut down totally as he closed the tiny gap that separated their lips, driven by this unknown force.

Harry's kiss was just as tender as Hermione's, but where hers was sure, his was shy. Hermione had had a specific reason for her kiss whereas Harry had not, simply following this foreign urge. She stayed in place, eyes now closed as she experienced the sensation of him tentatively exploring her mouth. He put emotion into his kiss just as she had: humility, fondness, gratitude, and a touch of innocence. It was so sweet, so very Harry, that Hermione melted. She felt such a rush of affection for him that she sighed contently and began actively returning his, fingertips gently touching his cheeks.

Harry's heart mimicked the sudden, frantic pace of Hermione's when he felt her active participation. The unidentified force flared within him and he made a noise in the back of his throat. He took both of her wrists in his hands, securely, not forcefully, and pulled her closer.

The timidness of his kissing did not last beyond a minute. The pressure of Harry's mouth became persistent and steady. Consequently, the innocence of his kissing gradually disappeared as well, and while it occurred more slowly, it definitely occurred. Harry felt hungrier after every kiss, more determined to maintain this novel experience with Hermione because it felt like a necessity, like it was being demanded of him. And, well… damn it, it felt good. It was alarming but he felt like he could do not do anything but give in.

Hermione, for her part, did nothing to break this odd yet strong pull. Like Harry, she felt stunned and confused but she did not break away, even as his kisses became more frenzied and persistent. She was lost to this force just as he, even as the platonic nature of the initial kiss dissipated. Hermione did not fully notice the change between them until Harry opened his mouth while it was attached to hers and his tongue traced both of her lips.

Hermione gasped audibly and finally pulled away, disrupting whatever was happening between them and peering at her friend with wide eyes.

He peered back. He was giving her a resolute yet pained look but this one was not questioning or uncertain like the first. It was clear what was in his eyes this time and it had not been present before: desire. Hermione knew because she had seen this look before, knew because she had seen it directed at her from Ron, of course, but by a couple other men as well. She had also caught Harry giving this look to his own wife on more than one occasion while in his company. To her knowledge, though, he had never looked at Hermione in this manner in their 20 years of knowing one another. And now that he was, the witch's mind seemed to jump into action at last, processing what exactly they were doing.

They had been kissing extensively. And if it had begun innocently with pure intentions it certainly had not stayed that way. When Hermione had removed herself from Harry's space moments ago, what the two friends had been doing was nothing short of inappropriate. But it had seemed so involuntary as well! It had seemed so instinctual.

The pair continued to stare at each other. Hermione's wrists were still in Harry's hands and the lustful look was still present in his eyes. She desperately wanted to say something but found she could not; it was though she had lost the ability. In the next instance, he moved. Harry rose from his chair and she peered at him in awe as she rose with him, for he had not released her. When he finally did let her go, his gaze did not stray. Hermione was free now and could move, could move away, look away… say something to initiate a much needed dialogue between them. But the witch did not move. She felt rooted to the spot, mesmerized.

The taut, visceral energy between them broke when Harry moved again. He reached out and grabbed her waist with his left hand while his right hand held the base of her head, and Harry greedily smashed his lips into Hermione's. She let out a choked whimper at the feeling of his tongue sliding itself into her mouth. The chair and ottoman on which they had been seated moved away from them roughly yet quickly. Hermione gave in and wrapped her arms around his neck, vastly encouraged by the silent, strong bout of magic Harry had just displayed. Her own tongue found his and one of her hands clutched the hair at the nape of his neck. He made another noise from within his throat, happy for her eager response, and gripped her waist tighter as he pulled her as close as they could be.

They were kissing feverishly, the force in total control. Harry felt restless and giddy, like there was not enough time to do this with her and he needed to experience everything right in this moment. Nothing was on his mind apart from how intoxicating it felt exploring Hermione in this way, how disturbingly consumed he felt. They were kissing so fervently now that their teeth would sporadically gnash. Harry's heart was beating like he was sprinting. She was fighting for breath and had unsteady hands. Dear God- what was this?

Both of Harry's hands had fallen to Hermione's hips. He pulled her flush against his own as his lips moved to her neck where he started sucking and biting without hesitation. Her hands completely buried themselves in his hair and she moved her head back to make it easier for him, savoring the sensation of his mouth there. Hermione was breathing shallowly through her mouth with half closed eyes.

"Hermione…" Harry murmured in a husky voice she had never heard before as he continued to defile her neck. It had sounded so overwhelmingly sensual to her that she bit her lip and emitted a soft moan without realizing it.

Hermione's moan, consequently, went right through Harry. He let out a small gasp and ceased his devotion to her neck. Instead, his fingers squeezed her hips to ensure they stayed in place before his purposefully rocked against her. Once. Twice, thrice. A fourth time, as slowly and forcefully as possible.

Hermione uttered a faint cry when she felt that Harry was hard. Her eyes opened only to find that he was gazing at her intensely, his eyes clouded. Harry stopped grinding against her. She then recognized with immense surprise that she was throbbing in between her legs. Hermione bit her lip again at this revelation as she peered at him but this appeared to be the wrong (or right?) thing to do: he grabbed her hand and walked unhurriedly backward to the bed, eyes never leaving her face. She followed dazedly, caught in the trance yet again. Harry walked them to the left side of the bed and made to have her sit first, and she followed without question. Hermione gazed at him dutifully before her eyes fell lower to his pants, where the outline of his erection was undeniable. Her breath hitched and, when she looked back up, Harry was unbuttoning his shirt.

Hermione's ever brilliant mind seemed to have stopped working but her emotions and instincts appeared to be in overdrive. If, for some reason, the presence of Harry's hard dick was not enough of an indicator of the inexplicable road they were hurtling toward, the unbuttoned shirt was. He was still once more when finished, continuing in the extreme staring phenomenon that had trapped them. This was it: Harry was giving Hermione one last opportunity to stop it all- to object, to deny him, to be the one who broke free of the agency that moved them. And once again, for the third time between them, she failed. There seemed to be simply no control.

Maintaining her gaze on him, Hermione grabbed the bed's comforter with both hands and unknowingly opened her legs wider by hardly a noticeable fraction.

It was enough. Harry noticed. Everything broke.

It was a blur. A carnal, desperate blur. Harry was somehow on top of Hermione, lips attacking everything they could reach and emitting aching cries between their work. Her hands flew everywhere as she attuned to the movement of his mouth and hastened to respond, her ragged breathing punctuated by groans. A hand gripped and kneaded Hermione's breast as she involuntarily arched her back. A hand grazed Harry's crotch and he panted heavily. The sound of a zipper being pulled down was almost lost in the noises they were making. Harry grinded against her with clenched teeth, arms on either side of her head holding him up. Hermione did not recall her pants being removed but felt a hand press against her wet core urgently.

There was no foreplay. The exigency of their situation did not afford this intimate luxury nor did they want it. They were half dressed, only disrobed from the waist down. Harry gave Hermione a piercing, final look before his hand hastily pushed his cock into her.

She gasped loudly as a gratified groan escaped his throat. His arms were back on either side of her head, his fists balled. Harry was inside of Hermione, his best friend. His married best friend. She felt so different, so new… so captivating. Ginny felt genially familiar to Harry: comforting; at this moment, Hermione felt exhilarating. He marveled at the stark pleasure he was receiving from pumping in and out of her, marveled at how damn wet she was and the corresponding noise that was being made from his driving into her slickness.

Hermione was letting out a continuous moan, eyes wrenched shut while occasionally moving her head from one side to the other. Her cheeks were flushed. Harry watched her, bewitched. His right hand moved down to her chest where it slipped underneath her blouse and palmed and squeezed her right breast; when he pinched her nipple, beginning to pant and move faster, Hermione responded. Her eyes shot open as a whine escaped her, and her back arched again as her pelvis pushed against his.

The friction felt immeasurably good to Harry and he so his thrusts increased in speed and exertion. His panting persisted as Hermione squirmed from the extra power in his thrusts and her legs locked themselves together over his back by crossing her ankles. When Harry saw that her eyes were starting to flutter shut again, his hand shot to her face and he held her jaw firmly, taking away her ability to freely move her head. Hermione peered at him questioningly. He stared back, his gaze halfway feral from the pleasure he was experiencing; Harry wanted her to look at him. She complied, captive once again to the spark between them and the obvious desire that was coming from him in waves.

The staring, the raw physical gratification, the sounds- it soon got to be too much for him. Harry's mouth and tongue collided with Hermione's again as both hands clutched at her hair. His panting had given way to groaning and he was moving in between her legs frenetically. Hermione's legs had locked tighter around him and her toes curled, feeling deliciously helpless as his mouth attacked hers and she reciprocated. This felt too fucking good. This could not end. Her cunt was heaven and he would not leave. He needed, he needed… Harry wrenched his lips from Hermione's and shouted out as he came, nestled deep inside of her while his hips jerked forward without conscious control. Her chest heaved and she let out a long, shaky sigh as he hit his peak.

When Harry's orgasm had completed his shoulders slumped down, head lolling while he attempted to even out his breathing. Hermione put her hands over her eyes. It was incredibly quiet as clarity reemerged into the minds of the two friends, their breathing normal once more. Harry hovered over her for another 15 seconds before pushing himself up and to the left of her, leaving a bit of coldness in his place. Hermione had not seen the glance he had given her before moving for her hands continued to cover her face, but she could hear him.

There was more silence and then Hermione felt weight lift from the bed. She heard shuffling as she swallowed a tiny lump that had formed in her throat. The shuffling became more pronounced and she surmised that Harry was fully re-dressing, adorning his pants and rebuttoning his outer shirt. Consequently, the sound of a zipper being pulled up made Hermione's heart stop and breath catch, her fingers pressing down rather hard on her face as she unconsciously cringed. That sound- that zipper- was damning. It was incriminating and it re-established her thought process in a rough way.

They had essentially not spoken to one another since Harry returned Hermione's initial kiss. They had acted on silence and communicated through body language, but the force that had held them was now gone and they had to face what they had done. Jesus, what hadthey done? The witch prepared herself to say something before her lips quivered and she realized she had no clue what to verbalize. How did you start a conversation when your brain was reeling and you felt increasingly queasy?

"I'm… going downstairs." Harry mumbled. The sound of his voice sent a sharp, cold chill through Hermione. She took a bit before nodding in acknowledgement, hands still obscuring her face.

Harry muttered under his breath and the furniture he had silently moved returned to its place. The air around them, that had been stuffy and marked with a scent distinctly related to sex, seemed to clear up as well, and Hermione felt a light pressure pulse at her center briefly. Her legs closed somewhat, surprised at the sensation but also feeling suddenly clean down there.

Harry hesitated to simply leave with that being the only sentence to tumble from his mouth. But he did not know what to say either, for Godric's sake; they had just had sex! Finding himself to be at a proper loss for words, he instead chose to pick up Hermione's pants off the floor and place them next to her on the bed. Harry looked at her uncertainly for a moment before reaching out and gently stroking her left cheek with his fingers. He then moved quickly out of the room as Hermione removed her hands from her eyes, but all she saw was the door clicking shut behind him.

Once outside on the landing, Harry marched mechanically to his master bedroom with plans to use the bathroom. It was a bit drafty inside the room (Ginny had left the window open and forgotten to close it, a known habit of hers) but he did not notice as he stalked into the en-suite and hurled the door closed behind him. The wizard's mind stayed relatively blank as he relieved himself while staring at the wall, a remote buzz echoing in the back of his brain, but it came screeching to a rapid halt when he had finished and moved to wash his hands at the sink. Harry caught his reflection in the mirror as he ran his hands under the warm water and noticed his befuddled countenance before his focus rested on his hair. While unruliness was its natural trait, his hair was down right haphazard at the moment, as though it had been thoroughly and wildly roused. And it had been, by Hermione's hands... in more than a few moments of frenzied desire.

His mind exploded with thought and emotion and he literally swayed on the spot, hands gripping the sink rigidly to keep himself upright. Harry's eyes widened and he began breathing in a jagged manner as everything sunk in. Talking to Hermione had led to a simple kiss from Hermione, had led to a reciprocal kiss from Harry, had led to snogging, had led to touching, had led to… had led to the most heated of acts. Everything he had just done with Hermione in that room… the things he had done, with Hermione. The woman who was his best friend and not his wife. Had he not thought of that? He had not thought at all!

Harry began hyperventilating. His knuckles began turning white from how tightly he was grabbing the sink and his eyes closed. What had he done? What had he done! What was he doing to do? The old feeling of panic had settled comfortably into his brain. It ran rampant for a brief stint as he imagined his entire life crumbling before him as he would be forced to watch helplessly. However, a different part of his brain associated with survival asserted itself not long afterward. It acknowledged the shit he was in but directed him to breathe deeply in order to combat the panic. Harry seized on this rationality, breathing in and out shakily yet steadily, and dimly recognized his learned Auror instincts had taken over. Panic did no good when in a harrowing situation on a mission and it would do no good now. He could not fall to pieces in his bathroom.

With that thought, Harry took a final deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. He let go of the sink and, instead, turned the taps back on to gather water in his cupped hands. He splashed it on his face and then repeated the motion before washing his hands for a second time. Harry turned off the water and yanked a towel from one of the nearby racks, drying his face and hands. He let the cloth obscure his face a little longer than necessary before letting it fall into the sink's basin. He could do this. He could carry on with the rest of the night. He had to, really, for there was little other choice.

The Weasley siblings were not in the dining room, which was Harry's first destination once back on the main floor of the house. Seeing the abandoned wine glasses on the table, however, made him recognize that alcohol sound very appealing at the moment. He made a promise to return to this thought before traveling to the living room in search of the two red heads. Ron and Ginny sat watching one of the horror movies but neither looked terribly invested in it. They attuned to the sound of someone walking in and jumped up when they saw who it was.

"Harry!" Ginny uttered, rushing to meet him. She pulled him into an embrace and he allowed it, arms going to circle her shoulders.

If she noticed that he tensed a little at their contact she gave no indication. Harry commanded himself to relax, thankful he had had the foresight to magically take care of any evidence that he had just been intimate with someone. Still… could Ginny sense something? Could she feel how warm he was? Was he warm?

"Are you… feeling better, mate?" Ron asked tentatively. Harry looked to him.

"Yeah. I… think I am," he replied carefully.

"Oh, good! Hermione worked, then!"

The dark haired wizard looked away hurriedly, guilt erupting in his chest.

"Er, yeah. She's... always great." Harry claimed, feeling antsy.

"I'm sorry, Harry. For what I said. I was being daft and not thinking, surprise surprise." Ron offered, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. The other man nodded, suddenly unable to really look at his best friend.

"Thanks, Ron. It's forgotten." Harry attested.

"Where is Hermione?" Ginny questioned. Her husband's gaze shot to her before falling away.

"She, she had to use the loo."

"Well when she comes back down, I say we need to revisit our original plan to drink!" Ron notified.

"I second that. I'll get everything." Harry quickly remarked. He gave Ginny what he hoped was a real smile, which she returned, before leaving for the kitchen.

Harry was aware that the bottle of wine they had already opened was on the table in the dining room but he knew that another would be needed. He also knew that he needed something harder than wine to curb the activity of his mind and the edge he was on. Harry opened the pantry that contained all of the household's alcohol and pulled out a bottle of gin and another bottle of red wine. He grabbed a glass for the gin and made to pour the liquor but he dropped it before he could set it down on the counter. It merely bounced and thankfully did not break, but Harry cursed regardless as his hand shot out to still it. He stared at it. His thoughts were moving so fast it was difficult to process any one. Conversely, when the sound of Hermione moaning was one cognition to float into his headspace, he moved once more. Harry clenched his teeth and undid the top off the gin bottle, pouring a healthy amount of the liquid into the glass. He wasted no time in lifting it to his lips and consuming it all in two, large swigs a grimace on his face.

When Harry returned to the living room, the bottles of wine and wine glasses floated in front of him and a glass of scotch was perched in his left hand. Hermione was also present and his hold on the glass tightened drastically upon seeing her.

"Cheers!" Ron declared, standing up and grabbing the wine bottles as his sister took the glasses. Hermione looked at Harry with a blank expression and he could only peer at her stoically.

"No wine for you, love?" Ginny prompted, handing a glass to the other woman whom was seated cross legged on the couch.

"Um, no. I needed something stronger." Harry attested rather quietly. He had had another half glass of the gin before switching to the darker liquid and his head had already begun to hum mildly.

"Well, should we continue watching films or switch to something else? Chess, perhaps?" Ron pondered, smiling a bit.

"Films," both women cited. He looked slightly disgruntled as he took his first sip of wine.

"We'll restart the one Ron and I began when you two were upstairs." Ginny suggested. She handed Harry her glass as she went to work the Muggle contraptions. He flushed at the mention of upstairs and made sure he did not glance at Hermione.

"You don't mind?" the brunette wondered. (Harry felt his body constrict at the sound of her voice).

"No," her husband answered, putting an arm around her, "We weren't exactly engaged, if we're being truthful."

"A little too worried about Harry, if he was all right," Ginny stated apologetically, glancing at him, "But it all worked out!" She squeezed Hermione's hand gratefully before sitting on Ron's right and Harry's left, reclaiming her wine. Harry said nothing and stared straight ahead at the television.

Ron's commentary during the movie made Harry feel less nervous and less pressure. He snickered or gave short responses to Ron's dialogue while Hermione squabbled with her spouse to talk less. The scotch also helped to calm Harry's nerves; by the 20 minute mark of the film, his glass was empty. However, funny best friend and buzz aside, he continued to feel awkward. He could look neither of his friends in the face for any amount of time and thanked the stars his gaze was expected to be on the movie. Harry found it a bit easier to look at Ginny but still difficult, as he was hit with guilt every single time. He could not fully concentrate. His mind was dominated by what he and Hermione had done in that room. It was for this reason that Harry attested he was retiring for the night an hour after the movie had begun.

"You sure?" Ron inquired. It was clear that he wanted his friend to stay.

"Yes," Harry noted, kissing Ginny's cheek in hopes of blocking out the memory of having Hermione underneath him, "I'm knackered, mate."

"Of course," nodded Ginny. Hermione was the only one not looking at him and he surely noticed.

"Thank you, though, for coming. Thank you for... sticking with me." Harry uttered in a low voice.

"We always will, Harry." Ron replied.

"Truly. Thank you."

There was very brief silence and Hermione glanced at Harry from the corner of her eye. He met her gaze for that rapid moment and that force, that damned unnamed force, flickered between them again.

"I'll see you up there later." Ginny remarked. Her partner nodded and started to leave the room.

"Good night, Harry." Hermione bid in a placid tone. It was the first thing she had said to him directly since being downstairs and it stopped his exit, although his back was to the couch.

"Good night, Ron… Hermione," he bid, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He then continued his trek out of the room, not fully aware that his fists had balled inside of his pockets.

Harry could not wait to fall asleep and hopefully escape the gravity of what had occurred.