I don't own anything but a copy of the Harry Potter series. Thank you to HarmonyLover for the beta, and for being a friend and always listening when I've had something to say. I can truly say I'm a "Harmony" shipper because of you.

Confessions

May 2, 2000

It had been two years since the Final Battle; two years since the end of the Second War; two years since the Boy-Who-Lived – otherwise known as Harry Potter – had defeated Lord Voldemort in a spectacular showdown that would continue to be talked about even when all those who had been present were long gone.

A lot had changed in two years. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had been previously named temporary Minister of Magic the morning of Voldemort's downfall, had been officially sworn in to office. Numerous Death Eaters had been tried and convicted, many receiving the Dementor's Kiss. The Malfoy family, with the exception of Lucius – who was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban – had been cleared of all charges due to the benevolence of Harry Potter, who had informed the Wizengamot of both Draco and Narcissa's deceptions regarding his identity and state of health, respectively, thus enabling him to return and end Voldemort's reign of terror once and for all.

Another memorable trial was that of Dolores Umbridge, who was apprehended, in part, due to the ceaseless efforts of Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. The duo felt that the least they could do for Harry, after all he'd done for them and for the world, was to ensure that the toad who had forced him to use a Blood Quill – the scars of which he would bear forever – was permanently put out of commission. That day in court was the first time that Harry had laughed since Voldemort's demise. And, Hermione thought, who could blame him? The sight of Umbridge being dragged away – still spouting lies, the irony of which was not lost on anyone present – certainly posed an entertaining picture.

As for the three unlikely heroes, whose merits were still being praised, they had scattered throughout London – Harry, accompanied by Kreacher and Winky, had retired to Grimmauld Place and was shortly joined by Ron and Hermione. Ginny, Neville, and Luna, meanwhile, moved in to an apartment nearby so as to be close to their friends.

Ron Weasley was living out his childhood dream by playing for the Chudley Cannons as Keeper. Though he had briefly dated Hermione after the Final Battle's conclusion, their romantic relationship had fizzled, and they were now just good friends. He was soon seeing Luna Lovegood, and had been with her for almost a year. Those close to the couple often remarked how Luna's sweetness and ability to perceive what others around her missed had seemingly rubbed off on Ron, who was now more sensitive and caring than he had previously been.

Hermione Granger was working for the Ministry in the Law department, securing more rights for magical creatures – particularly house elves – that had been previously denied, both by the Ministry before the current reformation, and by Voldemort. After her romance with Ron had ended, she happily remained single, eager for the chance to discover who she was without the threat of a war hanging over her head.

Harry Potter, like Hermione, was working for the Ministry, but as an Auror. Though Voldemort had been defeated, there would always be Dark witches and wizards seeking power over others. Harry's task was to find these individuals and eliminate them. His partner on these missions, surprisingly, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

After being released, Draco had immediately set about to becoming an Auror – an act of good faith that he hoped would erase the previous misdeeds of his father, as well as clear his name in the eyes of society. Although many people were at first suspicious of his intentions, Draco proved himself again and again, even risking his life for Harry on several occasions, and the two formed a tentative friendship, their light and dark looks a sharp contrast to their actual personalities. Eventually, Harry asked Draco to move in to Grimmauld Place with him. Although a certain amount of animosity between Draco and the Golden Trio – especially Ron – remained, left over from their school days, Harry, frustrated by his supposed-friends' lack of acceptance, insisted that bygones be bygones, and Draco was "initiated" into their group.

As for Harry's love life, he'd reconciled with Ginny Weasley immediately following the Final Battle, and the two dated for a time before mutually agreeing to separate as friends – the year apart while Harry had been Horcrux Hunting and Ginny had been at Hogwarts were too much for their already fragile relationship to handle. They remained close, though, as did all those in the Weasley family where Harry Potter was concerned, and Harry was still a frequent visitor to the Burrow, as was Hermione.

On May 2, the two-year anniversary of Voldemort's death was hailed with as much pomp as the previous year's had been – if not more. The Ministry's ballroom – which had previously been suffering from lack of use due to the war, but had since been restored to its former glory – was decorated as befit the occasion, and filled to capacity.

However, those whose presence had been requested most emphatically – the ones who had done more for the war effort and the subsequent recovery than anyone else – were sitting around the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and Draco Malfoy.

None wished to socialize that night, for they'd been through enough. Why would they go to a public event where deeds they would prefer to forget were lauded? Rather, they drew comfort from knowing that they weren't alone in their isolation, for isolated they were. Being looked up to and set apart from others for circumstances beyond their control – or for merely doing what they'd seen as their duty – was not how they wished to be known. All they wanted – all any of them, really, had ever desired – was to be normal.

"Can you believe that he's been gone for two years now?" whispered Ginny into the silence that was permeating the group.

"Yeah, it's hard to imagine," Neville muttered, pulling Ginny closer and wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. Shortly after her and Harry's break-up, Ginny was asked out by Neville – and accepted. Their time as the resurrected DA's leaders had been instrumental in sealing their bond, and they'd become inseparable ever since.

"If someone had told me two years ago that I would have – what's the phrase? – "seen the light," I would have told them they were crazy and had them committed to St. Mungo's," said Draco with a laugh.

"Guess you're proof that blood isn't everything, eh, Malfoy?" asked Ron, giving him a playful shove that was met with tolerant smiles. Though Ron and Draco had mended the rift that had been a direct result of their school years, they still took pleasure in taunting the other, if only for old times' sake.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Weasley?" countered Draco.

"Now, boys – be nice," Hermione admonished gently.

"Yes, Mum," they chorused.

Hermione merely rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Draco's turn-around had been surprising to most, but not to her. She'd always felt that given the proper encouragement, Draco Malfoy had the potential to rise above his circumstances and become a better man than his father. Following his and Harry's reconciliation, Draco had come to her on bended knee (quite literally, effectively rendering Hermione speechless), begging her forgiveness for all the cruel things he had said and done during their time together at school. Of course, there was no question as to Hermione forgiving him whole-heartedly, and they had since embarked on a wonderful friendship.

"So, Hermione, when do you leave for Switzerland?" asked Draco, referring to the trip her parents had been planning to mend their broken relationship with their daughter.

"Tomorrow morning. I'll be gone for two weeks," said Hermione, shuddering dramatically. She was not looking forward to what her parents had planned – skiing, for which she had absolutely no coordination, and therefore, no skill. However, she would suffer in silence if it meant regaining her parents' trust.

After the war ended, Hermione had traveled to Australia with Ron and Harry to reverse the memory charm on her parents, and to explain what she'd been doing and why. To say that her parents were not happy would have been an understatement. Though they didn't rant and rave, as Hermione had expected them to, they'd begun to treat her differently, almost as if they were afraid of her. She wouldn't blame them, now that they knew the full extent of her magic and what she could do with it. If she could alter their lives so completely, and leave them unsuspecting that anything was wrong, then it stood to reason that she could use her powers for evil as easily as for good.

Shaking her head to clear it of any errant thoughts regarding those first few tumultuous months, Hermione rose to join the others in the refurbished sitting room. Following the war, Harry had been reluctant to return to Grimmauld Place – the house held nothing but painful memories for him. However, with nowhere else to go – he wouldn't hear of imposing on the Weasleys in their time of grief – he found that he had no choice but to return to the home of his godfather's family. Harry spent his days in Sirius' old bedroom, berating himself for having waited to face Voldemort when he did, the result of which had been the loss of many innocent lives that had not needed to be sacrificed. It was Hermione who had found Harry lying in bed, staring morosely at the ceiling, and finally managed to convince him to eat something and to start taking care of himself again.

That was when Harry had joined the Auror program, sailing unimpeded through training. While his first mission had shaped up to be a disaster – Harry had almost thrown a tantrum at learning that Draco Malfoy, of all people, was to be his partner – it had gone surprisingly well, and Harry had offered his hand in friendship to Malfoy, who became Draco to everyone from that day on. Soon after, Draco had moved in with Harry. Upon his arrival at Grimmauld Place, Draco had immediately set about redecorating a house that, in his own words, gave ghosts a bad name. He further insisted that Harry assist him. Having something constructive to do did wonders for Harry's health, and did a lot to improve Hermione and Ron's opinion of Mal-Draco, who had gotten through to Harry when Hermione herself had barely managed to.

A lot had changed since their school days, Hermione mused, as she observed the couples inhabiting the cozy room. Ron and Luna were sitting incredibly close together on the loveseat, talking quietly. Ron was hanging on to Luna's every word, as opposed to when he and Hermione had been together. Then, he had only pretended to be interested in what she had to say. Luna really had brought a remarkable change about in Ron, and for the better, too. Ginny was seated on the sofa, Neville's head resting in her lap as she read to him. Hermione smiled to herself as she watched Neville look adoringly up at Ginny, reaching a tentative hand up to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Ginny paused to bend over and kiss him, smiling sweetly at him before returning to her book. As for Harry and Draco, they were playing chess in front of the fire. Harry was losing – badly, too, from the look of things – but Draco was a gracious winner. Whereas before he would have held any sort of a victory over Harry's head, he now accepted his congratulations with modesty, and offered Harry another chance to beat him. One thing hadn't changed – both boys were still extremely competitive, and would play well into the night unless Hermione put a stop to it.

Chuckling wryly at the thought of what her boys would do and say if she tried to come between them and their games, Hermione picked up a book of her own, a copy of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" that she had bought in a quaint little bookstore that afternoon. She hadn't read "The Chronicles of Narnia" since she was a little girl, but she recalled immensely enjoying the tale of ordinary schoolchildren being thrust into a land of magic. She could relate to their adventures now as she couldn't have before going to Hogwarts and befriending Harry. Opening the first page, she was soon transported to an England of old, accompanying Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy through the wardrobe as they discovered a place of enchantment they had never dared to dream existed.

As she read, Hermione could feel her eyelids growing heavy, despite her best efforts. Ever since the Final Battle, she hadn't been sleeping well. Most nights found her gasping for air, the sweaty sheets twisted around her body as she sought to escape the clutches of one nightmare or another. She had eventually reached the point where she began to cast a Silencing Charm on her room to avoid disturbing her housemates. She didn't want them to know about her dreams, especially Harry. He would only blame himself, as he did in all matters where his friends were concerned.

Succumbing to her body's need for rest, Hermione felt the book slip from her hands as she fell back against the head of her chair. She was asleep in moments.

"I'll go with you."

Hogwarts was in ruins. Piles of rubble littered the vast hallways and cluttered the magnificent staircases. Dust and smoke filled the air, as did the lingering traces of death. No longer were students bustling around as they hurried to get to class on time, or clustered in groups as they discussed the latest Quidditch match or something else that was equally as frivolous. No more did friendly ghosts float above the ground as they roamed the halls, conversing with students and teachers alike. There wasn't any sign of movement. Everything was deadly silent. So much had changed, Hermione mused, to the point where she hardly recognized the castle that had been her home for six glorious years.

"You're sentencing yourself to death, 'Mione," said Harry in answer to her bold declaration that she would accompany him to the Forest.

"I don't care. I'd rather die with you than live without you."

With that, she flung herself at him, never doubting that Harry would catch her. He always did, after all. "I love you," she whispered softly, her voice muffled from being buried in the crook of his neck.

"I know," he said. "I love you too, Hermione."

They pulled away slightly, resting their foreheads together, only to lean forward again and meet in the middle. That first kiss was brief – nothing more than their lips brushing gently together. But to both Harry and Hermione, who each felt a warm glow begin to spread throughout their bodies, it was perfect. Sweet and simple, just like them – two parts of one whole, reunited at last. And now, they would face death together rather than be separated.

Reluctantly, they drew apart, both sensing that the time to act was upon them. Hands clasped, fingers intertwined, they set off for the Forest. The walk was silent – as the grave, Hermione mentally added, noting the irony of such a thought – filled with covert glances and meaningful touches. No words were needed when the two friends, companions, and lovers had always understood one another completely and been able to read each other like a book.

As they neared the clearing where Voldemort and his minions were gathered, Harry gave Hermione's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Everything's going to be fine," he told her.

"Of course," she replied, smiling serenely at him. "I love you, Harry," she said, abruptly surging forward to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

"I love you too, Hermione," he whispered back, returning her kiss with equal passion.

Hands clasped, they continued steadily on. In what seemed to be no time at all – and an eternity, too – Harry and Hermione had reached their final destination. They walked confidently forward, immediately attracting the attention of everyone present. Voldemort stood considering them in silence, a twisted grin playing across his face. Hermione, though terrified, felt herself relax at the sensation of Harry's calloused fingers gripping hers. Harry, for his part, met Voldemort's gaze impassively.

"Well," he said, a lot braver than he felt, "We're here."

"Indeed," Voldemort murmured. "And I see you've brought your Mudblood to die with you. How touching."

"Don't call her that," Harry exclaimed, prepared to defend Hermione, even in the face of certain death. "Her blood is purer than yours will ever be."

Voldemort merely sneered at them, obviously secure in the knowledge that they would soon be dead and he would be triumphant. Harry found that he didn't care anymore. All he wanted was for everything to be over so that he could finally find peace. His hold on Hermione's hand tightened while he waited for Voldemort to speak the words that would end their lives. As though separated from his body, he watched from a distance as Voldemort raised his wand. There was a flash of green light, and then no more.

"HARRY!"

"HARRY!"

Hermione woke with a start, limbs flailing and gasping for air, still screaming Harry's name. She looked around wildly, almost expecting to find herself in the Forest clearing again, but all she saw were the worried expressions of her friends staring back at her. Harry crouched in front of her, hands firmly gripping her shoulders as he sought to bring her back from the brink of hyperventilating.

"It's okay, Hermione," he whispered. "Just breathe. Everything's fine. You're safe now."

"Oh, Harry," she sobbed, collapsing in his arms. He held her close, rubbing her back and stroking her hair as he whispered soothing reassurances in her ear. Eventually, her breathing slowed and her muscles relaxed as she melted into Harry's embrace.

"I've got you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she would sometimes do to him. His touch seemed to calm her, for when Hermione pulled away, she was once more composed, and the mask she wore firmly in place.

"I'm sorry about that," she said gravely, speaking directly to Harry as though they were the only two in the room. "I don't know what came over me."

"No need to apologize," said Harry, reaching out a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. "All you did was fall asleep. You must have had a nightmare, though. Want to talk about it?"

A look of abject terror crept into Hermione's countenance. She couldn't possibly tell Harry about her dream. It would change everything. Harry would never be able to look at her the same, ever again, and their easy friendship that had been years in the making would be ruined. She couldn't allow that to happen, no matter the cost.

"I'm fine, Harry," she said instead. "You worry too much."

Harry gave her a calculating glance, but let her blatant lie go. Hermione was under no illusions that he would forget this incident, though. They would be talking, but hopefully in the far distant future after she had had more time to build up her defenses and better protect her heart.

As if time had been slowed down before, everything returned to its normal order and pace. Sounds that had been muted suddenly roared back to life. The fire glowed and crackled, emitting sparks; Draco reset the chess board, all while sending Hermione furtive glances; Ron and Luna returned to talking with Neville and Ginny, who had abandoned her book in favor of conversation. Harry, meanwhile, seemed hesitant to leave Hermione's side. He remained perched on the edge of her seat, an arm wrapped securely around her shoulder as though he were attempting to shield her from the outside world. Hermione appreciated the gesture, however unnecessary it was.

"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Harry again, bending low to whisper in her ear.

"Positive," she replied surely. "I'm fine, really. It was just a dream."

"Just a dream..." Harry murmured contemplatively. Shooting her one last worried glance, he rejoined Draco on the floor for another game of chess.

It was late in the evening when everyone finally decided to retire for the night. Throughout the rest of their time together, Hermione had sensed her friends' gaze on her, but she ignored their pointed stares, preferring to read. Though Hermione did not deny the excitement that had often accompanied the dangerous adventures she had been on, she still enjoyed escaping reality through words that seemed to leap off the page. She could practically see Aslan, in all his magnificence, and the Pevensie monarchs take shape before her very eyes. She wanted that world – she wanted that life, if only because it was not her own.

"Hermione," called Harry, his voice pulling her from her reverie. When she looked up, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Ron were standing by the fireplace looking expectantly at her.

"We'll be going now," said Ginny. "Bye, 'Mione."

"Goodbye, Ginny," said Hermione, smiling gently at her friend. She looked to Ron next, who, correctly interpreting her unspoken question, said, "I'm spending the night with Luna. There never seems enough time to be together."

Hermione beamed as she watched them share a sweet and simple kiss. Her face fell suddenly as she was struck by how that could be her and Harry. The tender care with which Ron treated Luna reminded her of how Harry treated her just as friends. He'd always looked out for her best interests, only interfering when he thought she could come to harm. What could they be if they were joined by more than friendship, but by love as well? However much Hermione had tried to hide her feelings deep inside, she could no longer deny the intensity with which she felt for Harry, these feelings having manifested themselves in her dream.

These thoughts ran through her head as she watched the others disappear in the bright green flames. She shuddered slightly, having been reminded of the burst of green light that had accompanied Harry's death in her dream. She shook her melancholy off, though, before either Harry or Draco could notice that anything was still amiss with her. After all, it wouldn't do to have them start asking questions that she'd already managed to successfully evade before.

"I think it's time I go to bed myself," said Hermione, "Goodnight, you two." She embraced them both, briefly pecking their cheeks, before disappearing upstairs to the sanctuary of her room, where she locked the door and cast the usual spells that ensured her privacy.

Harry watched her ascent intently, while Draco watched him watch Hermione. He had seen the way Harry would look at her, and had prepared himself for the inevitability that he would be left alone in the end. He couldn't regret saving Harry's life for Hermione's sake if it meant that his friends were happy. All he had ever desired was their trust, and he had that in spades. He would let Harry go – he couldn't be selfish, however much he might be tempted.

Wordlessly, the young men retired to their own chambers, Draco clapping Harry once on the shoulder in reassurance that everything would be fine – if not right away, then eventually. Harry smiled tiredly at him, yet Draco knew instinctively that he was grateful for the show of support. He nodded in understanding, before entering his room and leaning heavily against the doorframe. Spending time with Harry – and keeping up the pretence of simple friendship – was becoming more and more trying. Nonetheless, he would continue to follow the path he had set for himself, no matter the personal cost. That was love, he realized – no longer caring for yourself, but only for the person you had feelings for. He readied himself for bed and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

In the room next door, Harry laid tossing and turning restlessly. He was worried about Hermione – there was no point in denying this fact. He cared a great deal for her – he always had – and he hated sitting idly by and watching her suffer. He just wished that she would confide in him. Harry knew that he could help, if only she would let him in. Punching his pillow, he tried to make himself comfortable. When that proved futile, he resorted to lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered. "Sleep well."

Across the hall, Hermione was having a similar difficulty in getting to sleep. "Goodnight, Harry," she said. "Sleep well. I love you."

The house fell silent as sleep finally claimed its occupants.

Life without Hermione passed painfully slowly. Harry had never realized before how much he relied on her presence and being able to see her each and every day. Her smile did more to brighten his day than anything else.

Considering that only a week had gone by, then, an additional week would seem like an eternity, Harry thought ruefully.

Therefore, he was understandably startled when, with a sharp crack, Hermione suddenly appeared in the living room of Grimmauld Place, upsetting the chess board that he and Draco had been concentrating intently on mere moments before.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Draco in alarm. "What's wrong? Why are you back so soon?"

Harry responded without words, immediately moving to take Hermione in his arms when it seemed as though her knees would buckle under her weight. She was shaking like a leaf as Harry gently set her on the sofa, and he motioned for Draco to fetch a thick woolen blanket to warm her. Draco returned and tenderly tucked Hermione in. The two men, in looking down at her, thought that she had never looked younger, and they realized what the cruelties of war had taken from them all: their childhood. Harry sat down by Hermione's side, taking her hand in his and rubbing vigorously in an effort to restore the flow of blood. Draco perched on the edge of the sofa's armrest, waiting for some sign as to what he should be doing. He couldn't help but feel as though he were intruding on a private moment between two lovers, despite Harry and Hermione's purported belief that they were nothing more than friends.

Hermione had yet to say a word; she just continued to tremble, clinging to Harry as though he were her lifeline. And in a way, Draco mused, Harry was. Harry, who had been there for Hermione from the beginning; who had remembered that she was alone in a bathroom and taken on a mountain troll in order to protect her; who had continued to stand by her throughout the years. They completed each other, Draco realized with startling clarity. They had always been destined for each other; they were the half that made the other whole. Draco watched as the pair of them seemed to communicate through their eyes alone, and it was as if he could see the future play out before him: Harry and Hermione would confess their love, get married, and go on to have a family. Where was his place in such a happy scene? The truth was that there wasn't room for him; there never had been, and Draco had just been delaying the inevitable.

"I should go," he whispered, "I'll leave you two to talk things out."

He left without another word, neither Harry nor Hermione acknowledging his departure. Draco wasn't hurt, however. He understood what it was like to be so caught up in another person that you didn't notice the rest of the world passing you by. As such, he knew that not even an earthquake would part Harry and Hermione, not now when they were so close to admitting what others around them already knew.

Meanwhile, as Draco walked the streets in an effort to clear his head before making his way to the home of Astoria Greengrass, Harry and Hermione were embroiled in a battle of wills: Hermione refused to speak about what was troubling her, while Harry was just as determined that she would tell him what had happened, the better for him to be able to help her recover.

"Please, 'Mione?" begged Harry, desperate enough to kneel beseechingly before her. It tore him up inside to see the woman he loved so distraught.

With a shuddering breath, Hermione moved to sit upright, gesturing for Harry to join her on the sofa. He quickly acquiesced, and shifted Hermione's pliant body so that she was curled against his side, her feet tucked up underneath her like a cat. Chuckling at the memory of Hermione with a tail and whiskers, he subconsciously pulled her closer, dropping a kiss on her hair.

"Will you tell me now?" he whispered pleadingly.

"My parents and I had a fight," Hermione responded without preamble. "Things have been building between us for a while now, so there was bound to be an explosion sooner or later."

"What was the fight about? I thought the point behind this trip to Switzerland was for you and your parents to fix your relationship rather than tear it further apart." Harry was bewildered by this turn of events.

"Yes, that was the plan," Hermione agreed with a wry chuckle. "But since when has anything that you or Ron or I have done ever gone according to plan?"

"True," Harry conceded, joining Hermione in laughter. "So... what happened?"

"I don't even remember how it started," Hermione began hesitantly. "But somehow we got into a heated discussion about the war and what I'd done to them – never mind the fact that it was to keep them safe. Things escalated to the point where they said they never wanted to see me again, and I left."

Harry stifled a gasp at Hermione's startling revelation. Her parents didn't want to see her anymore? How could that be possible? Hermione's parents had always been devoted to her, and she to them. When had things gone so horribly wrong? It had to be the war and Voldemort... and him. If Hermione hadn't been his friend, she wouldn't have felt obligated to join him in hunting Horcruxes, and she and her parents wouldn't now be divided.

"Harry James Potter, stop thinking this instant," Hermione abruptly ordered.

Drawn out of his morbid reverie, Harry turned to find that Hermione had moved so she could face him sitting cross-legged. She looked serene – at peace, almost – except for her eyes, which were blazing with barely concealed fury.

"Don't you dare try to blame yourself for this," Hermione continued, now that she was sure of his attention. "I made my choice, and my parents have made theirs. What's done is done."

"How can you be so calm about this?" asked Harry. "All I've ever wanted is to know my parents. Yet you give yours up willingly. Why?"

"Forced to choose between you and them, I will always pick you, Harry," said Hermione, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek when he glanced down at his lap in embarrassment, hesitant to meet her eyes.

Looking up at her through his lashes, Harry dared to ask a question that had been bothering him for some time, "Does this have anything to do with your nightmare?"

"Yes," Hermione replied simply. "How did you know?"

"You always call for me," Harry began. "Then, there's the fact that I'm the only one allowed close enough to touch you, as though I'm the only one who can bring you back to the real world."

"Sometimes I wonder if this is the real world," Hermione mused.

"What do you dream about, 'Mione?" asked Harry.

Hermione considered him for a long time, as though measuring his sincerity with what she had to share. They were rapidly approaching a fork in the road of their relationship – with one path, they would stay as they were; with the other, they would change beyond recognition. It was as if Hermione no longer knew what was up and what was down. She was scared of opening herself up to rejection, but she knew that was the only way to find out the truth, which was what she had always desired. It was why she spent as much time as she did in the library, both at Hogwarts and at Grimmauld Place. Sighing, Hermione resigned herself with what was to come.

"I dream of the battle," she revealed at long last. "I dream about going with you to the forest. In my dream, after I've said that I'll go with you, I tell you that I love you and we kiss. We walk to meet Voldemort, and right as he casts the Killing Curse, I wake up screaming your name."

Now Hermione was the one to look at her lap, fiddling with her fingers as she waited for Harry to react to what she'd just told him.

"And does your dream reflect your true feelings, or are they only imaginary?" Harry asked gravely.

"I love you, Harry," said Hermione quickly, "Asleep or awake; dead or alive. I'll always love you; I don't think I could ever stop."

"Thank the Merlin," Harry whispered breathlessly. "I love you too, Hermione."

"Really?" she asked in a hope-filled voice.

Harry nodded wordlessly. "How long have you loved me?" he asked her softly.

"Since third year," Hermione replied shyly, almost as though she were ashamed of her feelings, sure as she still was that Harry only saw her as a friend, despite his having already said that he loved her.

"I think for me," Harry said contemplatively, "that I've always loved you – ever since you fixed my glasses on the train. Forgive the cliché – but it was as though I were seeing clearly for the first time. However, I didn't acknowledge my feelings until Slughorn's Christmas party. Remember, I asked you to go as friends? It wasn't until later when I realized why that felt so wrong – it was because I loved you, not as a sister, but as the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with."

"Harry—" gasped Hermione in awe, for no one had ever said such wonderful things to her before.

"I love you, Hermione," he declared passionately, tears beginning to pool in his eyes and stream down his cheeks. "Never doubt that."

"Never," she vowed, equally as tearful.

They leaned forward as one, their lips meeting in the middle. Harry's first kiss with Hermione was as wet and salty as his first kiss with Cho had been. However, a kiss with Hermione would ultimately mean so much more because they were destined to last, unlike him and Cho, or even him and Ginny. As they kissed, Hermione gasped with pleasure at the sensation of Harry's soft and supple lips moving with hers, something previously reserved for only in her dreams.

Reality, Hermione decided, had become so much better than fantasy.