Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Please don't sue.

A/N: This has been sitting on my hard drive for months and I'm finally unloading it. PWP. Kinda OOC. It's not much but it is Harry and Hermione. And that's probably the only thing that can be said in it's favor – but I'm not going to lie, sometimes that's all I need. Un-beta'd and I humbly apologize for any and all mistakes.

To Trick or to Treat

"Thanks for walking me home, Harry." Hermione smiles gratefully up at Harry as she links her arm through his. It is Halloween and they have spent the night bouncing from pub to pub, celebrating the holiday with a large group of friends. Hermione, who promised her conscience she would only stay out until midnight, was getting ready to head home by herself when Harry offered to escort her. Despite her gratitude at his offer, she'd turned him down, unwilling to make him leave when he was obviously having a good time. But Harry insisted and Hermione can't help but feel a little pleased – more than a little, actually – that she gets him all to herself for a few minutes at the end of the night.

"I had to, didn't I? Since you weren't going to Apparate like a normal person."

"Excuse me?" Hermione huffs and does her best to look offended. "A normal person?"

"A normal witch, I mean."

"Is that supposed to lessen the insult?"

"It's not an insult, Hermione." Harry grins for the first time since leaving the pub and tweaks her nose with his finger. "It's an observation."

"Oh, I see. Since it's an observation and not a judgment I suppose I can't take offense." Hermione's tone is extremely sarcastic but Harry appears to ignore that little fact happily.

"That's the spirit. Though," Harry casts her a sidelong look from the corner of his eye, "if you want to prove my observation incorrect I won't argue."

Hermione punches Harry lightly on the arm and then tilts her head back to look up at the star-dotted sky. "It's Halloween, Harry. And a perfectly spooky night, too, complete with howling wind and a bite in the air. And look at all those suitably creepy clouds blotting out the moon every now and then." Hermione points one gloved hand at a trail of wispy gray clouds drifting low across the sky. "How can we not walk home on a night like this?"

"Because it's bloody freezing!" Harry makes a noise like his teeth are chattering, hunching his shoulders and shuddering for maximum effect.

Hermione starts to smile but manages to cover it by sniffing disdainfully. "Don't be so dramatic. My place isn't that far and, besides, it's not my fault you didn't have the sense to dress for the weather."

"A snowsuit would have covered the costume."

"You should have put a heating charm on your clothes, then. Besides, you're dressed as a Muggle policeman." Hermione lifts a hand to play with the sleeve of Harry's white button-up shirt. "Don't they occasionally wear coats?"

Harry makes a noise that is somewhere between a grunt and a groan and Hermione nods as if he'd just agreed with her. As she does her eyes drop to his bare arms and a little voice in her head says she should probably be a little more sympathetic. But, really, Harry should have known better and she doesn't think he's as cold as he claims anyway. Sometimes he's almost as bad as Ron in that way.

Still.

"Do you really want to Apparate? We can, you know. I don't want you suffering on my account."

A half smile curls one side of Harry's mouth as his eyes flick back down in her direction. For a split second Hermione thinks she sees a gentle tenderness in his expression that has nothing to do with friendship and it's enough to make her breathing hitch.

"No," he says firmly. "I'm not suffering and the walk is nice. Besides, we're almost there anyway."

Hermione, her heart suddenly beating a little faster, beams at Harry and drops his arm to move closer to his side. Before she can debate the ways in which her gesture might be perceived, she presses her cheek against his shoulder and wraps a friendly arm around his back. For a moment she tries to tell herself the move is purely platonic, that she is only trying to lend Harry some of her own meager warmth. But it's an obvious lie and Hermione hates lying to herself even more than she does using ulterior motives to touch Harry. And, she has to face it, she has been using a lot of dubious reasons to get her hands on Harry over the last few months. At first she wasn't consciously aware of what she was doing, but it didn't take long for her to figure herself out. The revelation was less of a shock – because, deep down, she supposed she'd always known she felt different about Harry than anyone else – than an embarrassment at what she was sure was her own transparency. But, after some thorough observation, Hermione decided Harry had no idea what she was about so the gratuitous touching continued.

It is not something Hermione is proud of and she vows that she will tell Harry how she feels about him one day. The only problem is she's been telling herself that for six months and she can very easily envision still telling herself that another six months from now. And another six months after that ad infinitum.

"What made you decide on this getup?" Harry asks, interrupting her thoughts as he touches a finger to one of the cat ears perched atop her head. Casually he drops an arm across her shoulders.

"What? You don't like it?"

"Of course I do, I think it's brilliant." Hermione doesn't look at Harry but she can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm just surprised the memory isn't too traumatizing for you."

"Harry."

"I'm being serious." Harry sounds wounded but Hermione doesn't believe it for a moment. "Second year was a rough time for you. I mean, it was rough for everyone but..." Harry's voice trails off.

"It's definitely not a year I'd like to relive," Hermione admits. "But after extensive therapy I've learned to see the humor in my turning into Millicent Bulstrode's cat."

Harry chuckles and Hermione feels his cheek rest briefly against the top of her head. He's been doing that a lot lately and a small thrill runs through her, making her stomach jump.

"I'm glad," he says. "But you should have told me so I could have dressed up as Crabbe."

Harry laughs again, lost in the memory, but then stops suddenly, halting Hermione as well. Surprised, Hermione glances at him and sees his face screwed up in thought.

"Or was I Goyle?" he asks, looking down at Hermione expectantly.

"Wow." Hermione frowns at the sidewalk and tries to remember that horrid day almost fifteen years ago. It shouldn't be so hard, most of the events having been burned into her brain on the strength their humiliation factor alone. But for the life of her she has no recollection of who turned into whom. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism. "I don't recall."

"What? You don't remember?" Harry shakes his head and starts walking again, tugging Hermione along beside him. "Hermione Granger clueless? Who'd ever have believed?"

"Sorry to disappoint you Harry, but apparently I didn't take the time to notice. I was a little preoccupied, as you've just mentioned."

"I suppose," Harry allows, sounding reluctant.

Hermione slaps a reproving hand lightly against Harry's stomach and he pretends to stagger, clutching at himself.

"Ouch, Her- Goyle!" Harry bursts out suddenly, making Hermione jump. "I was Goyle. Merlin, how did I forget something like that?"

Hermione shrugs and huddles closer to Harry.

"I must have repressed it, don't you think?"

"I certainly would have."

The two continue on mostly in silence and arrive at Hermione's building in short order. Hermione, feeling a bit wicked, manages to keep an arm around Harry until she has to slip the key to the front door from her jacket pocket. Harry drops his own arm from her shoulders but Hermione notices that he keeps their arms touching and another flare of hope brightens inside her. Immediately she wonders how many shades of pathetic she must be to feel a hopeful thrill at such simple contact. Just as quickly she decides she doesn't care.

Then Harry, ever the gallant escort, walks Hermione up to her flat on the second floor.

"Are you going to come in?" Hermione asks, trying not to appear too hopeful. "You can Floo home if you think you've drunk too much to Apparate."

Harry shakes his head. "No, I'm fine. And you're right, it is a beautiful night. I'll walk home."

"Okay." Hermione clears her throat and wishes she could just baldly ask him to stay. "Thanks again, Harry. And be careful."

"I will."

Hermione shuts the door reluctantly, still at war with the urge to call Harry back. The moment of nervous indecision is interrupted almost immediately by a firm knock on her door that is so unexpected that Hermione shrieks and stumbles a step backward. She gathers herself quickly, irritated at her own jumpiness, and throws open the door to find Harry standing there, holding out the pillowcase he has carried around all night as his makeshift candy sack.

"Trick or treat."

A burst of laughter escapes from Hermione. "Really?"

Harry nods, his face split by a wide grin. "I went through a lot of trouble walking you home. I think I deserve some compensation."

Hermione laughs again and Harry gives her a playful look that is part hopeful and part pathetic longing. And his bag of goodies is rather sad, she thinks. A quick glance reveals nothing more than a single chocolate frog, a box of Bertie's Every Flavor Beans, and something that looks previously chewed. Harry obviously hadn't given the trick or treating part of the night very much effort.

"You expect a reward for acting like a gentleman?" Hermione crosses her arms and leans one shoulder against the door jam, leveling Harry with a challenging stare.

"As a matter of fact I do." Harry wiggles the pillowcase.

"I never knew you had such a sense of entitlement."

"It's a brand new trait." The pillowcase wiggles more aggressively.

"Well, I don't think I like it."

"Give me a trick or a treat and I promise it will go away."

Harry gifts her with a used car salesman's smile and Hermione makes a show of rolling her eyes before looking over her shoulder and staring doubtfully into the darkened kitchen.

"I don't think I have anything you'll like." Hermione turns back to Harry with an apologetic smile. "I'm not one for treats, you know. My parents being dentists and all that."

Harry shrugs. "So give me a trick then. I'm not leaving empty handed, Hermione."

"Now you're threatening me?"

Harry makes sure she is looking at him and then rolls his own eyes dramatically. "Trick or treat, Hermione."

Hermione hates how adorable he looks. No, that's not true. She loves that a man who has fought and defeated one of the most evil wizards of all time can look so...innocently cute. Harry would probably have a fit if she admitted that to him – because it would offend his manly pride and all that. But it is the truth. And, Merlin help her, it is all Hermione can do to keep from flinging herself into his arms and demanding that he kiss her.

That's when the idea hits her. It's not original, and it might blow up in her face, but she's been looking for this kind of opening for months and she's not going to waste it.

"All right." Hermione takes a deep breath and tries to give herself a mental pep talk without Harry noticing. "I do have something but you have to close your eyes."

"What?"

Hermione knows the request sounds odd but if she has to see his reaction to what she is doing in his green, green eyes she will never be able to go through with it.

"Close your eyes. It's going to be a surprise."

Harry makes a face. "You aren't giving me Crookshanks are you?"

"No, of course not," Hermione says, cursing her breathy laugh. "Close your eyes or you won't get anything. I mean it."

Harry regards her for a second more in puzzled silence before lifting his bag once again and shutting his eyes.

Hermione takes a moment to gather whatever shreds of courage she can and takes another deep, steadying breath. Slowly, a little hesitantly, she takes a step toward Harry. Reaching out she places a hand on both of his and pushes his arms down until the bag is at his waist and no longer a barrier between them. She takes another step toward him, until they are less than a foot apart. Then, before Hermione can talk herself out of it, she leans forward and presses her lips against Harry's.

The contact is light, soft, but Hermione lets it linger long enough for her to feel Harry's body stiffen in shock and then slowly relax. As soon as she feels him begin to tentatively, cautiously, kiss her back she pulls away and searches his face, bracing herself for his reaction.

Harry's eyes are open, owlishly wide, and he is staring at her with a bemused, slack-jawed expression. Hermione doesn't know whether his slightly dazed look is a compliment or not. In fact, she distinctly recalls seeing Harry make the same face during one of Gilderoy Lockhart's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons once upon a time. She doesn't think the similarity is a good sign and her heart, which is already beating fast, begins to pound. To make matters worse her legs have begun to shake and she is a little afraid she is going to have to throw up.

"Wa -" Harry's voice catches and cracks. He closes his mouth, clears his throat, and tries again. "Was that a trick or a treat?"

Hermione panics. "That depends," she says evasively.

"On what?"

"On what you want it to be." It sounds like a question to Hermione's ears and she curses her obvious uncertainty.

Harry shakes his head. "That's no good, Hermione. You can't kiss a person like that and leave it open to interpretation."

Hermione crosses her arms over her chest. "Maybe it wasn't supposed to be open to interpretation."

Harry doesn't seem to know how to take that and Hermione berates herself again for being a coward. For half a second she debates saying goodnight and slamming the door in Harry's face. But that would be too cruel and she doesn't relish the thought of leaving them both in an odd emotional limbo to try to save herself some embarrassment. She got them into this mess and she will get them out of it even if the whole thing is making her wish she'd spontaneously combust on the spot.

"It was supposed to be a treat," she manages to force out. She licks her lips and adds hastily, "though probably more for me than for you."

Harry goes still as her words sink in. His eyes search her face intently but Hermione can't tell what he is thinking and she feels her cheeks grow warm. She barely manages to resist the urge to hop from foot to foot and settles instead on clenching her hands so tightly that her fingernails dig into her palms.

"So...you wanted to kiss me." It isn't a question.

"I've wanted to kiss you for a while," Hermione admits, because honesty is the best policy.

"Really?" The dazed expression is back on Harry's face.

The spark of hope is back and brighter than before. "Really," she says earnestly.

Harry laughs, it sounds tinged with disbelief, and shakes his head. His eyes never leave yours.

"In all fairness, I should probably admit that I've wanted to kiss you, too." Harry smiles and the shy happiness of it melts Hermione's heart. "For a while."

"A while?" Hermione echoes quietly.

"A long while."

It's Hermione's turn to laugh as she is filled with a sudden, overwhelming giddiness. She looks at Harry – a Harry who has apparently wanted to kiss her for some time – and can't quite believe the last minute actually happened. Harry really likes her, too? It shouldn't be this easy. She's pined after him for months, agonized over her feelings and debated whether and how she should say something. Surely all that time wondering and worrying can't be over with a few seconds worth of fuss.

But apparently it is and Hermione doesn't think she's ever felt happier in her life.

Inadvertently, Hermione's eyes drop down to Harry's lips. "Then I don't suppose you'd mind doing it some more?"

"Now?"

The words are like a bucket of ice water thrown across her good mood and Hermione's eyes snap to Harry's, worried that their sudden, mutual revelations may have him momentarily freaking out. But he looks horrified by what he's just said, his mouth is opening and closing like a fish stuck on dry land. Hermione feels a rush of relief and knows a more merciful woman would let that question slide but she can't quite resist teasing Harry a little.

Deliberately she fashions a thoughtful look on her face and starts to slowly close the door in Harry's face. "It is late," she says carefully. "I suppose we could wait until Christmas when there's some mistletoe and do this thing prop-"

Harry lurches forward and places a hand flat against the door, pushing it firmly back open. Hermione breaks into a smile at such a flattering display of eagerness and Harry smiles right back, his eyes dancing behind his glasses. "I think now sounds like the perfect time."

Hermione doesn't hesitate.

"Me, too," she says, grabbing Harry's arm and dragging him into her flat. For a split second she worries that she is being too bold, too overeager. Is she really ready for Harry to know just how much she's wanted this to happen? Is she ready to show him?

But then the split second is over and in the next Harry's lips touch hers for the second time in as many minutes, for the second time in her life, and Hermione knows, as far as Harry is concerned, she will never have to worry about anything ever again.