Crack.I heard the sound of my own apparition resonating. I was inside Harry's house. I could hear a fire crackling nearby. I walked inwards where the corridor opened up to his living room.

"Harry." I knew immediately that I was doing the wrong thing even when the idea first emerged in my head. He did not seem to have heard me, for he was, for once, not that it was to my dissatisfaction, immersed in a fat book lying on his lap.

The fire burned merrily in its grate, and cast shadows against the angles of his face. His raven hair, disheveled as always, looked warm and touchable. His round glasses reflected the crackling fire. I stood watching him from the beside the coat hangers.

I felt a sudden surge of emotion in my chest.No, I thought. He is too happy. And why shouldn't he be? After all he had done for me, for everyone, why shouldn't he be? At least now, I have him as a loving friend, a brother figure and confidant. If I say it, I'll lose that too.

Grateful that he had not noticed my presence, and even more relieved that he had not registered my call, I turned around and quietly prepared to apparate back. No sooner had I started my way that he softly called my name. Going away would make him suspicious and obviously, it would look odd.

"Do sit down, won't you Hermione?"

It was always like that with Harry. We walked in on each other at all times, knowing that the permission, although unspoken, was always granted. There were scarce any occasions in which we were startled by the other's sudden appearance.

He smiled and dropped the book with a soft thud on a cushion lying near his feet. He stretched out his hands and legs like a giant cat and yawned. Unable to suppress a laugh, I sat down on the sofa in front of him.

"Crookshanks always does that."

He laughed."Oh well. I can see why. I assure you, it is immensely satisfying."

I laughed, feeling that I did so after months. He smiled again, he was used to my sudden bursts of gaiety. Our Hogwarts years seemed to have taught him that.

"You're laughing quite a lot today. Is it my face or Ron?"

The mention of my boyfriend's name caught me off guard. I immediately fixed a smile to my face, but he knew me all too well.

"I'm sorry," he immediately apologized. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. I noted with a sinking feeling that my voice was too loud and cheerful as opposed to my normal cadences.

"Shall I fix up something? You look undernourished." I gave a commanding wave of my wand, and a tray bearing a plate of steaming bread rolls and two large mugs of hot coffee appeared on a small table that materialized in our middle. I beamed at my handiwork fondly.

As he raised his eyebrows and smiled at me in appreciation of the charm I just conjured, and said,"I thought I was supposed to feed you since you're the guest."

"Oh I've been wanting to try that charm for days. I always mess it up, but it seems I finally got it right this time."

"Let's try it then, shall we? I'm parched."

He passed a mug to me, once again my heart swelled unexplainably, and settled down comfortably into his sofa with the other mug in his hand. He put the mug to his lips. I watched his face apprehensively. When he continued to gulp down the beverage like it was water, I shook my head at the antics of men and proceeded to take a sip.

When I looked up, he had the same contorted expression on his face as me. As the bitter taste emerged in our mouths, we both mouthed sugar to each other, and started laughing. He coughed and spluttered.

"Remind me never again to drink that much coffee without checking for sugar.."

"And not to gulp down steaming coffee like water." He tapped his mug with his wand and sipped.

"Much better."

As I followed suit with my own coffee, we both drank,each immersed in our own thoughts, the warm room quiet save for the occasional crack in the fire.

I was grateful he did not bring up the subject about Ron again. I felt guilty enough without thinking about him. Why did I feel guilty though? I was just visiting a friend, wasn't I? I asked myself the question although I knew the answer.

"How far is your Auror training?" I asked.

"It won't take much long now, hopefully. It really is hard. They expect nothing but the best." He said. "You should have joined. You would have done good. Better than any of us at least."

"You know I won't join. I've had enough of Dark wizards. And besides, my weakest subject is Defense Against Dark Arts. Not exactly the best quality to possess for Auror training."

"Surely you are not idle now, Hermione," Harry said, quirking his eyebrow. "You rarely are."

I smiled. "I have applied for a job in the Ministry. And no, you shall see which job only if I can qualify. It'd be too embarrassing if I don't."

"Fat chance I wouldn't then."

I took a deep breath. "Ron...he's having trouble coping. I was wondering if you could tell me...how to help."

Harry surveyed me with those astonishing green eyes and cleared his throat.

"With his Auror training? Depends. You could help him practice, bring him books...wait Hermione,of course you know how to help him. W-why are you even asking?"

"He gets angry if I ask. And he's getting more and more irritable. I don't even bother anymore. If I inquire about his training, he gets sulky and just shuffles away." I stared despondently at my hands.

"It does get a little frustrating. He'll come around."

He reached over and patted my leg good-naturedly.

I looked at the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker. The coffee had become cold.

"Are you like that with Ginny?"

He was quiet for a while, thinking.

"Well, I haven't had become that frustrated that I'd snap at her."

"Yet." He added as an attempt to cheer me up.

I tried to smile.

"And I get beat up enough during dueling in Auror training to actually risk being at the wrong end of her hexes."

That made me chuckle.

I got up from the sofa, and brushed off the few bread crumbs that had settled on my sweater.

"Are you leaving already?"

"I have a little bit of work to finish up." I said with a smile. What was I even thinking about telling him about my feelings? When I was so confused about them myself?

"Can I use your Floo network, Harry?"

"Yeah, no problem. Just wait a minute, I'll bring the powder."

As he went out of the room, I looked at some photo frames I hadn't noticed before on the mantelpiece. Two figures, obviously his parents, were dancing in circles merrily in the first photo frame. The second, an infant Harry in Lily and James Potter's arms. The third, Sirius Black beaming down with Harry. The fourth,us. Him, me and Ron, possibly from our third year. And the sixth, in an elaborate frame which looked very new, a smiling Harry, holding an equally happy Ginny, occasionally beaming at each other before smiling at the camera.

Did I have a picture with Ron like that? Yes, I did. Maybe we could take another one..if he isn't so irritable after he finishes his training...I thought harshly but involuntarily.

"'Mione, got the Floo powder." Harry threw a little bag at me.

I was never good at catching things.

"Arresto Momentum!"

The little bag that was zooming straight towards my face froze in its motion. "Harry!" I exclaimed exasperatedly.

"Sorry.." He said sheepishly, but his mouth twitched.

I couldn't stop from smiling either.I snatched the bag of Floo powder from its frozen position and flung a pinch of it into the fire. As it burst into emerald flames, I screeched, "Laugh all you want! I have more important things to do than sit here all day long!"

I shot, or rather attempted one last angry look at him and declared my destination as I firmly stepped into the flames. As the fire started to obscure my vision, Harry's eyes, as green as the flames, twinkled with amusement. "You enjoyed it..."

As I stepped back into my house, it seemed oddly empty and dark. My parents had gone out. Although the air wasn't stale, I hurriedly threw open the windows, although the wind made my bones freeze. After I had aired the house, I added more logs to the fire, and settled as comfortably as possible in front of my fireplace. And as usual, my mind started to work.

After fighting for your life alongside a person, he doesn't just remain your friend. HE becomes something more. A brother. Someone to whom your existence becomes attached. Because, every time you look at your hand, your reflection, or just during the simple act of walking, you remember how that person saved your life countless times, and you his.

It is like that with Harry, the logical me reasoned.

Although I knew, as everyone does in these silent and pointless discussions with themselves, that this was not so. I was in fact, very much in love with Harry Potter.