MEET ME ON THE ASTRONOMY TOWER AT MIDNIGHT. BE ALONE. I NEED TO SEE YOU.
No one had signed the message, and she couldn't determine who it was from because he or she had written in block letters. Common sense told her not to go, nothing good could come of this. Curiosity, however, won out in the end. Reasoning that with her wand she would be quite safe, she crept out of bed.
Pulling on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, she covered herself in a dark cloak and snuck quietly out of the room. Her two roommates slept on, blissfully unaware of their boring friend's late night escapade. Wincing when the door squeaked, she paused. They didn't stir, so she pulled it closed and tiptoed down the stairs. The common room was empty, but the dancing shadows the flames cast made her nervous. Hurrying her steps, she crawled through the portrait hole.
"Bit late isn't it?" The Fat Lady asked, not waiting for an answer before dozing again.
Glancing furtively around, she began the trek to the Astronomy tower. Being Friday, she knew no one would be there, except for, of course, the mysterious writer of this note.
It had simply appeared in her bag in between Potions and Charms that day. She had not noticed who had put it there, so it really could be anyone. She had been fuming over her latest encounter with Draco Malfoy, in which he had shoved her and she had given him a piece of her mind. It was unsuccessful of course, the idiot was unreachable. She had been innocently walking along when WHAM! He had just slammed into her, making her drop her books on her toes and bang her elbow quite painfully against the wall.
"Ow! Wha- Malfoy! You insufferable git, what was that for?" Then she had wasted a perfectly good lecture on him. The entire time she had been talking he had just stood with a glazed over look in his eyes staring at her. She was surprised he actually stuck around to endure it in any state, but that really was too much.
"Are you hearing I word I'm saying Malfoy?" Nothing. Unbelieveable. Then he seemed to realize she'd said something because he had finally answered, albeit with the wrong answer. Shaking his head, he said it in a sort of breathless, 'I have no idea what's going on but I'd best just say something' voice.
"No." She had lost her temper of course and ended up railing at him again for his ridiculous stupidity. His best mate, she could see behind him, was being absolutely no help at all. Grinning broadly as if he knew something she did not. In the end she had simply stormed away.
The end of Charms was when she'd found it. She was talking to Harry about Teddy's latest accomplishment while rearranging her things in her bag, which had gotten messed up in their tumble, when the note fell from the pages of one of her books. Seeing as she was trying to hold about three at that point, she wasn't really sure which one it was.
"Mrs. Weasley says he is just toddling all over now, taking lots of steps in a row. Going to be just like me he is! Brilliant, handsome... Hermione?" She tucked the note into her pocket.
"Sorry Harry, got a bit distracted. But yes, go on. Oh, no, I'm sure he'll be like his parents dear. Wonderful, clumsy, and intelligent."
Ron guffawed and Harry looked affronted. "Are you saying I'm not intelligent?" If anyone," he gave Ron a significant look, "has the right to it's you, but honestly 'mione."
A noise nearby made her heart pound and her feet freeze. Something told her she should have thrown herself into a corner shadow, but she had never done anything like this before, at least not alone, so she simply stood still in the center of the corridor. After a moment of silence, she decided it was nothing and moved on, carefully moving to the wall to stay out of sight much better. Patrols were over by one, but it was only ten minutes to twelve, so she kept a ready eye out for them.
Running lightly up a flight of stairs, she stood before the door that hid the stairs leading to her intended destination. Second thoughts stole over her. How smart was this really? After everything she had gone through, everything she had survived, was she stupid enough to go up there? No one knew where she was, no one knew she was gone. Blowing out a hard breath, she deemed it too late to matter anymore and pushed open the old wooden door.
No sound reached her now and the silence was crushing her. The stairs were oddly blocked from sound, no crickets and no footsteps: nothing. Moonlight illuminated the tower as she stepped out into the night air. No one was there, but she was, as usual, five minutes early. Breathing in a steady manner, she calmed her racing nerves.
"Early of course. I should have known." She whirled around, but he was cloaked just as she was and she could not see his face. He stood probably six two and was lean, but that was all she could decipher. There was a familiar sound to his voice, but she could not place it. Someone she knew but was not close to then.
"Why did you ask me to come here?"
"Curiosity." He left the doorway and stood a good ten feet from her. "I wanted to see if you would actually come if I asked you to. How smart, Miss Granger, do you think it was to actually come?"
"People know where I am. They know to send help if I do not return by one." She lied blatantly.
"No, I think not. You told no one, afraid they would tell you just how stupid it was and diminish your intellect. You were afraid they would try and stop you."
"So? Should I be afraid of you?"
"I don't know, should you?" He laughed in a manner that made her shiver. Turning from her, he leaned against the wall, looking out over the Black Lake, a light from Hagrid's house gleaming below. The light was warm and inviting, exactly what she thought this boy's arms might be. Warm, comforting, and perfect.
"I'm not going to kill you, if that's what you're asking. Nor will I attack you in any manner. No, harm is not what you must fear."
"Then what should I fear?" She stood stiff and straight in a superior manner, daring him to confront her. Pushing away from the wall, he walked forward with catlike grace. His face was shadowed, but as he stood directly in front of her, she could smell him and feel him. He smelled of some rich scent, not over the top, but expensive. It was an attractive scent, and matched the strong, lean body she could sense nearly touching hers.
"Fear me. Fear what may happen."
"And..." She swallowed nervously, his nearness gave her a heady feeling. "And what may happen?"
A slender, strong hand came up to rest on her cheek. Then moved to lift her chin up so he could see her. "Anything." Without warning, he lowered his head and kissed her. Fire coursed through her veins, heating her to her very core. Her arms lifted to wrap around his neck, his arms encirlced her waist, pulling her close. She melted into the kiss, her body molding with his.
When they broke apart, her eyes remained closed. Long enough for him to make sure his face was still hidden. "Are you afraid?"
She shook her head. "Why?"
"You don't know me. I may not be who you think I am."
"I have no idea who you are."
"No guess?"
She eyed him with suspicion. "You aren't a teacher are you?" He laughed then, low and warm. She had never heard that laugh before.
"Hardly. Though I am sure I could teach you a thing or two." She blushed furiously. "You are beautiful Hermione."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because you are. Your hair, your eyes, your gracefulness. I love watching you move."
"You like me because of how I move?"
"Hardly. I noticed that long before attraction ever even occurred to me. No, it was more than that. You're intelligent, you're caring and understanding, you are noble and you are saucy."
She had to know who he was, it was torturing her. There was something so familiar... Moving toward him, she placed her hand on his chest, peering into the shadows that were his face.
"Who are you?"
"I'm the one who you have tortured for nearly a year."
"I tortured you? But I was gone." She had been horcrux hunting with Harry and Ron, there was no way he had fallen for her while she was gone. No one had seen her, and she was not memorable.
His hands rose to trace the scars left by Bellatrix Lestrange. Marks left by the cruciatis curse. She shivered when he replaced his fingers with his lips, softly kissing the reminders of terrible pain. "I'm sorry." He breathed against her skin.
"Why are you sorry?" She stared at him in bewilderment.
"I could have helped, could have..."
"Who are you?"
He stepped back. 'You don't want to know."
"Yes, I do."
"No, it's better you don't. It would only hurt you."
"How could knowing-?"
"Just trust me. I hardly deserve your trust but... please."
"Why ask me here, if you aren't planning on telling me who you are?"
"I just wanted to see you alone. I swear, one night is all I need. Needed. I'll leave you alone, you'll never know me and you'll never be bothered by the knowledge."
"'But..."
"Hermione, no." His steely tone stopped her, then he gentled. "Just let this be enough?" His hand came up to her cheek again. Want and need filled her breast. Wanting this mysterious man, trusting him, needing his comfort. The war was over and she, along with most of her class, was back at Hogwarts to finish. Horrors were over, nightmares were past... except for the ones that still haunted her dreams.
His kiss was all that mattered at that moment. His touch all that she felt. She let herself melt into him, let his hands rove over her in hunger. Then she lay in his arms, content to watch the stars pass by overhead. Dawn was approaching when he pushed her away.
"Good night sweet Hermione. For one night, if only that, I could say you were mine to hold and mine to have."
"Please..." But she stopped. He would not tell her, she knew that with certainty. His lips tenderly caressed hers once more, then he was gone as suddenly as he had come, disappearing onto the soundless stairs.
She stayed, watching the sun until it bathed the castle with its warm morning rays. Sighing, she turned to leave. Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention: it was a handkerchief. Fine white silk but common and unrecognizable. Picking it up, she knew it was his. His scent remained upon it, a testament to the owner. Kissing the fabric, she stowed it in her pocket.
Her roomates were still sleeping when she entered their room. Undressing, she crawled back into bed, the handkerchief held firmly in hand. When Lavendar and Parvati woke it was to see a peacefully sleeping Hermione clutching something close to her heart. That was the latest she had ever slept and ever would.
Twenty Years Later
Hermione stood on the platform waiting for her children. Hugo had just finished his first year, Rose her third. She waited with anticipation and the patience of an anxious mother. Other parents milled about and chatted easily. She smiled, overhearing one mother talk about the boy her daughter was seeing and who she did not approve of. Her mind wandered back twenty years. Would her parents have approved of that boy?
She had built a hero image of him. Someone who knew they were not destined to be together but could not deny himself one taste of what might have been. If only he had revealed himself, they could have tried. She had searched for him. The smell of him had haunted her, teasing her nostrils, but she could never pinpoint the owner.
Waiting there, she wondered if her daughter would ever find her prince charming. Hermione smiled as she thought of her Ronald. He was a bit bumbling and awkward, but she loved all the more because of it. They were meant for each other, she knew that without a doubt, but might have been would always remain.
Weaving through the crowd she saw Draco Malfoy and his wife Astoria. They were an image perfect couple. Astoria, even nearing forty, was slim and beautiful. Hermione couldn't help but be a little jealous, her own figure was wanting. After two children and twenty years she just couldn't seem to get it back. Draco had always been handsome in a cold, flawless way. Age had only heightened his appeal.
"Excuse me ma'am." She knew, as soon as he said it, he hadn't recognized her.
"Quite alright."
He turned when she spoke, really looking at her. "Oh, Mrs. Weasley. How are you?"
She stared at him for a moment. This was Draco Malfoy, right? "Uh, fine, thank you. And you?"
"Very well. Excited to see my son. Hard to see them grow up." Hermione blinked.
"Yes... uh-yes. Very hard." What was that? It tickled her nose. Without thinking, she leaned forward.
"Um?"
She blushed furiously. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just... that smell..."
"My cologne, I've worn it for twenty five years."
"You must like it."
"It's unique. No one else has ever worn it."
"No one else?'
"No."
"Why are you being so polite?"
He paused, confused by the change in topic. "What?"
"You're being so damned polite and I'm afraid I don't understand. You've hated me for nearly thirty years."
"No." He ruefully shook his head, then looked away as he continued. "No, I only hated you for about five. Then..."
"It was you." Her eyes grew round. "But that's impossible."
"Me?"
"On top of the tower."
"Oh, that. Yes, well, long time ago."
"Stop!" He stopped the retreat he was trying to make. "Why? Why me?"
"You truly are amazing. But it was just one night."
"It could have been more!"
"Really Hermione? Do you really believe that?" She did not answer, simply stared at him. "We were enemies, if not really in the truest sense. If I had revealed myself to you, you would never have let me have you, hold you, if only for that one night. Things were better that way."
She looked down. "I don't regret marrying Ron, I love him."
"Good. He loves you, he's good for you. He protects you."
"You made me burn." She whispered. "I always did like fire."
His finger reached out and traced the scars on her wrists, the scars he had kissed so long ago. "You were not meant for fire."
"Why...?"
"Some things not even the know-it-all can know." He grinned wryly. "Goodbye Hermione."
She sighed and watched him leave. Ron was waving at her when she turned back around and she smiled as he made his way over. He was the healing balm on her heart, even if he never seared her with his touch, she would love him.
"It was, after all, only one night."