A/N: I have jumped ship to write Mykesprit a little Harmony oneshot because she's amazing, and such a gift to this fandom. She's also been asking me to write a Harmony since chapter two of "Memorised". I hope you like this, my friend!
Please note, I know the dancing scene didn't happen in the book, but I'm including it here. Alpha reads credit to LadyKenz347 and Frumpologist. Beta LOVE LOVE LOVE to CourtingInsanity. I'm so thankful for such a team of talented ladies who assist me with my nonsense. All remaining errors are my own.
I own no part of the Harry Potter Franchise
Well, here we are, just about the same,
Gawky little fellow, dizzy little dame,
Two sleepy people, by dawn's early light,
Much to much in love to say good-night.
"Too Much In Love To Say Goodnight"
Her dress was too much, meaning the slit was too high up her leg, and she'd worried that her breasts would spontaneously shrivel and the dress would slide down her non-curves, revealing bare tits and a polka dot thong in black heels, all night long.
Her curls now fought against the pins that Daphne had twisted and coaxed them into for this elaborate bun several hours ago, and her head was throbbing from the weight and stabbing of this nonsense.
But Harry hadn't left yet.
And neither would she.
Ministry-employed elves were snapping their fingers and waving their arms about; the garland, confetti, steamers, balloons all collecting and vanishing around her. Dishes, silverware, white table clothes, chairs and tables all disappeared with 'pops' and 'cracks'. The American band comprised of wizards and goblins had resumed packing their instruments.
Hermione drummed her fingers over dress, touching the top of the slit at her thigh. She would give him two more minutes before—
"Sorry about that."
She turned and Harry was suddenly there. Piercing emerald eyes red rimmed behind familiar glasses. Thick raven hair that had been combed earlier this evening now back to its naturally askew style.
"S'alright." She smiled at him, lifting a hand to… well, she had thought she would straighten that black tie, but the impulse dissipated as her fingers met cool silk.
She was caught somewhere between the desire to trace fond lines over such smoothness and the urge to curl her fingers and tug him closer. There was something soothing yet hypnotic in the familiarity of trying to fix Harry's clothing...
The man of the evening's breath hitched and he cleared his throat, bringing a hand to lay over hers, stilling her light touches. "You all right?"
She shrugged. Neither of them were really all right, she knew that. But they'd agreed to survive this celebration ball nonsense together, and that's what they'd done.
"It's almost all cleaned up now," she deflected, giving him a crooked smile. "Molly wanted to wait for you, too, but I told her you just needed some time to your own thoughts."
"Like the wonderful witch you are..." He winked in that way that should have just been taken as familial tease, and not as releasing a thousand butterflies in her chest… Harry's eyes lifted to scan the room. "I caught Ron's eye before slipping out; he'd already talked about leaving early to spend the night at George's."
"Mhm," Hermione hummed. "He told me he was taking Hannah home first and that he'd see you on Monday."
He nodded, expression open and vulnerable as their eyes met again. His hand tightened over hers.
She was still lingering in this proximity; but then again, was she supposed to have withdrawn by now? Harry didn't seem to mind.
"Where to from here?" he asked. "I hadn't planned anything after..." He looked every bit the lost boy from their childhood, but with something more. Something new. Unreadable and undefined.
So she acted on instinct, smiling and twisting her palm to meet his, teasing her fingers through the gaps between his. "How about not home yet, then? Maybe someplace calm to think or not think… Somewhere we can go see the stars."
She'd been there for Harry even since the battle with the troll their first year, and she'd been there for every battle after. She'd be damned if she stopped now—even two years after the fighting had ceased.
Even if it meant skirting around undefined lines and limits…
"I…" Harry's face pulled into that thinking frown, the one it always scrunched into when he was puzzling something out, until sunbeams burst from sudden smile lines and his eyes sparkled. "I know just the place. Let's collect our cloaks."
Their hands dropped as they moved towards the front of the room, but before Hermione could mourn the loss of his touch, he'd taken her hand again, lacing their fingers together as they walked.
Hermione's heart thundered as warm tingles shot up her arm. Maybe Harry wanted to explore the uncharted. Maybe she wanted to, too.
Maybe they'd been building to this night for months now.
Maybe it was as second nature for his warm touch to rest just a second or two too long after he'd helped her with her cloak. Maybe it was as involuntary as breathing for her to straighten his glasses before he took her hand again and pulled her close and asked if she was ready.
She smelled the sea.
Her heels sank into what she presumed was soft dirt, wherein she, by default, sank into Harry's already tightening embrace.
As if he'd anticipated this.
Maybe even hoped for it…
"Where are we?" she asked into his chest, forcing her head to lift from such comfort and warmth.
"One of Andromeda's cottages." Harry's voice was low and the rumble in his chest was so inviting… But he made a motion with his arm, looking beyond her now. "She and Mrs. Malfoy share another family home closer to Hogwarts, but Ted built this one when Tonks was just a kid."
With such an introduction to preface whatever moment they were having, whatever this night turned into being, it would be a disservice to the scenery and house if Hermione didn't pull herself away and take it all in.
She loosed a surprised breath when she did. It was gorgeous.
Not gorgeous like the effortless way her partner Daphne always was—especially when considering the hands-on, messy nature of their job in investigative services for the Auror department.
Not gorgeous like the pastel shades of pinks, blues and yellows as the sun rose over the city in her morning runs.
No. The moon was full and the sky was alive with thousands of twinkling stars. Silvery white light bathed lush green grass and gave an ethereal glow to the otherwise humble looking cottage.
Such beauty representing such loss… Hermione's heart ached. "Is it all right that we're here?"
"I don't see why not." Harry's words may have sounded calm, but she eyed him raking a hand through his hair and rub the back of his neck. "We're not going inside. She brings us here when she's wanting a quiet place for thinking and remembering, which seems appropriate for tonight."
"They're not inside?"
Harry shook his head. "She and Teddy left from the cemetery with Mrs. Malfoy and Draco after the memorial this morning. They're spending the weekend away somewhere in France."
"It's still funny hearing you call him 'Draco'," Hermione said, pulling the ridiculous pins from her hair one-by-one, shaking her curls as she did. "Though it really shouldn't. Seamus seems to enjoy having him as a partner and his reports are always quite meticulous and thorough." She shot her companion a pointed look. "And you could learn a thing or two from his penmanship, Harry Potter."
"Mine's nowhere near as bad a Ron's," he retorted, moonlight reflecting off his glasses. "But… Draco's... He's a prig a lot of the time, and can still be an irritating twat, but he's a good Auror. I was worried for Seamus after his partner requested a department transfer last year, worried he'd take it too much to heart, but Draco's been a good thing for him. They make a proper team."
"Do you sometimes wish I'd taken the job right after the war?" She met Harry's startled gaze unblinkingly. She'd always wondered, yet had never managed to find the words to ask. "I mean, I changed things for the three of us. I dated and broke up with Ron all in the span of a few months. I went to Australia and then went straight from there to Hogwarts after everything…"
His face was a peculiar combination of soft puzzlement. "You didn't chan—"
"I did, Harry." She broke eye contact to focus on the hair pins and withdrew her wand from her cloak. "We know I did," she said, searching through a catalogue of spells in her mind, aiming her wand to her hand as she found just the one. "I received a Molly-knitted scarf that year, not a sweater, which Ron had to chide his mother about even though he was secretly pleased at the display of solidarity."
With a flick and swoosh, the hairpins floated over Hermione's hands and transformed into a dozen tiny lanterns. Hermione ushered them in to a dancing circle overhead as she and Harry didn't speak.
Not for anger or which sides they'd taken in the past… But for just the way it had been. How things worked out. The first year after the Battle at Hogwarts had taken its toll on everyone. The first anniversary had been marked with a grand memorial ceremony, a day of weeping and grief. Kingsley wanted a ball for celebration this year.
At the beginning of the evening, when she'd inspected her reflection in the mirror of her flat, noting every last flaw in her appearance, Hermione hadn't been certain which was worse.
Waves crashed over rocks in the ensuing silence until Harry's sigh spilled into the night. "It was a bad year. I know you could make an argument that every year since we've turned eleven was horrible in its own rights, but that first year was awful for everyone. I know you and I talked about it before, but it still feels relevant to not hold actions done or words said in grief against the ones we love. The ones we still have with us, when they easily could not have survived."
"I know." Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, tears she'd managed not to shed since earlier this morning at the cemetery. "It's different still though, even with Ron happily dating Hannah."
"Suppose there's some part of her that wanted Ginny and me to work out so badly."
Hermione's hand floated of its own accord, cupping his cheek, forcing his eyes to meet hers in soft of the lanterns, moon and stars. "None of that was completely your fault. She went back to school and then went on the road with the Harpies. You two never had the time to be yourselves. To get to know each other as Harry and Ginny as you are now."
"Or we just finally learned it wouldn't be a good fit." He slid his hands in his pockets. "We moved on without each other, and the pieces never quite fit right afterwards, no matter how we tried."
"That's not entirely accurate." Hermione snorted, throwing Harry a smirk. "I still remember a few times one or both of you forgot about silencing charms."
The wizard groaned, lowering his head to Hermione's loose and fluttering curls. "Ron didn't talk to me for days after that one."
"She was your first?"
"Didn't have a lot of free time for it before then…" His lips kissed her forehead as he mumbled into her skin. "What about you? Ron?"
"Actually, no." She hesitated, but then again, Harry already knew nearly everything else about her—why hide this? "So, before I came back to Hogwarts from Australia… Ron and I had already broken up and everything had finally become calm with my parents. We were all finally on speaking terms again, and on the road to healing. Their dental partner has a son who was visiting for summer, and…"
Harry barked a laugh, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and resting his hands at a most delicious spot on the small of her back. "Blimey." He nuzzled his cheek against her hair. "Who'd have ever thought that of the three in the nefarious 'Golden Trio', it would have been Hermione Granger to have the one-night stand"
"Oh honestly!" She huffed. "I was lonely and it was sex. Between television and mum's annual reminder of being safe and asking what precautions we learned at school—"
"Merlin!"
"I know." Hermione titled her face up, not realising until now just how close Harry's lips were… how very kissable they looked… "I suppose it should have been embarrassing, but I could hardly talk about Ron with Ginny. And it honestly meant a great deal to me that she cared enough to talk about that—especially considering all the things she didn't ask about my classes or career goals in the Magic's world."
He continued to stare at her. Silent. Expression unreadable.
Her heart lurched. There could be any number of things in her explanation to trigger some painful memory for Harry, and she had been the one to—
"Has there been anyone since then?" he asked, measured and calculated.
"Oh my Merlin, Harry. All I just said and that's what you choose to focus on?"
"I mean…" He trailed off, his mouth closing, full lips folding inward into a thin line. It was one of his classic 'I'm-trying-not-to-care-but-I very-much-care' looks she'd seen him give Ron many times over the course of sixth year when asking about Ginny.
Only this time, she was the object of that seemingly casual nonchalance.
"No." She was beaming at him. Unashamed and unapologetic. "I threw myself into school once I returned. Mum and Dad took two weeks off of work when I visited them last summer and we travelled all over Southeast Asia. And you've seen how I am at work… Forgotten lunches, early mornings, and late nights."
Harry snorted in a way that seemed more affectionate than anything, especially when considering he carded a hand through her curls, tucking several behind her ear.
She gave a thick swallow. "I see more of you than anyone else." That came out far breathier than she'd meant. And she'd meant to say 'you lot'—implying a collective group. "That came out wrong!" she exclaimed, resisting the urge to bury her face in his chest for shame. "I wasn't implying discontentment or complaint," she added. "We have fun at pubs when we go."
Again, not what she meant, but Harry's grin had now turned positively feral...
"And the bookshops you drag me to." He winked and dipped his head, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret: "And the ice cream parlours. And the new coffee shop. And the pet store every other Wednesday as you ponder about getting another cat—"
"Or an owl!"
"Or an owl." He chuckled, skimming a hand up her spine as he loosened his hold around her. "Any regrets over the last year?"
Had his voice always been so husky? So inviting for her to bare her heart and soul?
She swallowed, considering the question. "None whatsoever," she decided to answer. "Everything has led me to exactly where I'm supposed to be."
"And where is that, Hermione?"
"Here." She refused to swallow or even blink... "Now."
His throat bobbed and he adjusted their stance; his right hand clasping her left, and his left hand making itself home again at the small of her back over her cloak. He started to sway, and she answered his movements, letting him lead her to a moonlight dance. A dance to the tune of crashing waves and wind rustling leaves.
He nuzzled her curls for what may have been the hundredth or the thousandth time tonight, she'd lost count by now. "Remember the last time we danced?" he asked.
"Less than an hour ago?" She'd meant it as a tease, but her mind had begun to panic and spin.
"Not that," he protested. It was almost a whine and she felt guilty for deflecting. "The time before?"
"The tent," she answered, letting her mind wander back. "We were in the tent. It was so quiet—too quiet. I was wearing the locket and sitting on those little steps. We hadn't talked in hours and I couldn't bear to have the radio on. And then you were suddenly standing in front of me, holding out your hand."
He dropped his left hand to twirl her under his arm, bringing her back in only to spin her out and draw her in before replacing it… lower this time. Just above her bum.
She answered by shifting her feet, making sure she was now that much closer to him. That less far from his chin… His lips… "I remember I really didn't want to dance with you that night."
"Fuck, you didn't want to get up." Harry chuckled. "And even after I'd taken the locket off you, it took you forever to smile back at me. Or laugh. It'd been so long since I'd heard you laugh."
"It was too much," she said, willing him to understand. "Everything was too much then. I immediately felt lighter once you placed the locket beside the lamp, but I didn't want to feel anything other than miserable. Then you were there, trying so hard to make me happy. Your smile has always been infectious, I couldn't hold out for long."
Even through the beam of his current smile, she could trace lines of sorrow in those emerald depths. "You pulled away though," he murmured, his unspoken question hanging delicately over them amidst the lanterns and stars.
"I remembered why I was sad." She sniffed, offering him half smile. "I remembered Ron and thought of my parents. I couldn't… stay. I couldn't linger in that happy moment any longer."
"What would you have done if you had?" Shite, his voice was low, and they were no longer moving beyond a gentle sway, like blades of grass caught in the breeze.
Her smile still felt sad. "I didn't, though. And I didn't even think of staying longer." She stopped their swaying to touch her lips to his jaw, knowing that wasn't what he wanted to hear, and needing to comfort him. "What would you have done?"
"Snogged you senseless." He dropped his face, breathing deep of her curls, skimming his fingers up her spine as his hair breath tickled her forehead. "I would have kissed you, Hermione, but it wouldn't have been right and it wouldn't have been you. I was constantly looking for Ginny's name on the Map back then. And thinking of times kissing her before the end of sixth year, so I wouldn't have been kissing you, if that makes sense."
It did. Merlin help her, but it did. She probably would have been thinking of Ron and very easily could have answered his snog with her own—Victor had been a thorough teacher after all.
He lifted his head, speaking again. "It's probably better you walked away, then…"
Was his voice so thick and pensive over what could have happened or what he may or may not be thinking of right now? Was he considering everything over the course of this night? Or the last several months, for that matter?
She could ask.
Or just simply act. It would be so very easy to stretch the distance between and brush her lips over his… She licked her lips, making no effort to hide the fact her eyes were locked to his mouth…
"My eyes are up here, Hermione."
Her cheeks flamed as she blinked, lifting her gaze and leading them to sway again.
"That's all right, love," he said, soft and low. "We're nearly there."
She quirked a brow at his smug smirk, but he answered her with a firm kiss to her cheek, only serving to throw her thoughts into further chaos. What was worse—or better, maybe so much better—was that he didn't pull away. That his nose found this lovely spot near her ear to nuzzle and had her ready to puddle on the spot.
"D'you remember when you gave me advice about Cho?" Why was he bringing up another witch? A weepy, emotional witch from fifth year…? "You were telling me how I ought to have done things so completely and utterly differently. And you ended by saying I should have told her I thought you were ugly?"
She hummed as he kissed her cheek again, much softer this time. And then kissed the top of her jaw. "That was a lifetime ago," she managed to answer.
"Yeah. But some things haven't changed." She damn near whimpered as he withdrew, mourning the loss of his touch as his green gaze bored into hers. "You've never once been ugly a day in our lives, Hermione. In fact, I think you're probably the loveliest witch I've ever known."
It was sweet. It was perfect… "I think photographs from first year would argue otherwise, Harry Potter." And she just had to ruin it with her insufferable quips.
Harry chuckled, as one well familiar with her retorts. "Not even then," he said, dotting a kiss to the corner of her tingling and yearning mouth. "You were a terrifying and overwhelming force of nature, but I hadn't learned how to properly handle you yet." Another kiss the to the other corner, his breath and nose igniting sparks over her skin. "I didn't know how to let you into my life and let you make yourself at home."
"Harry…"
He answered her plea, finally, finally, closing his lips of hers. And it was everything. Absolutely everything. Her hand traced up his side and curled around his neck so that she could arch into him as she drew him down.
He dropped her hand and wasted no time in sinking his fingers into her curls, moaning when their mouths opened and tongues met. Or maybe she was the one moaning.
Or maybe it was the universe itself breathing a triumphant 'at last' as the kiss deepened and grew more desperate and frantic. Aching to taste and learn every last angle and way to pleasure each other.
They were panting when their movements stilled, foreheads pressed together. Hermione decided she liked the look of a freshly snogged Harry Potter when she was the one making him look so.
"You weren't a last resort tonight, Hermione."
He remembered. She was reeling and falling, and she couldn't breathe under the weight of those words. And that he remembered all the way back to that first ball… So many years ago...
Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment, but Harry was prepared. He knew her well enough cup her cheek with a calloused palm cupped, his thumb tracing under her eye.
"I waited a day after this bloody thing was announced because I wasn't sure I would come," he admitted. "It's fucked up. It feels wrong to be celebrating with a ball the very day we lost so many that we loved. I don't… I still can't properly celebrate this victory, but I knew I'd be completely buggered if I didn't have you with me. And if you weren't here at my side."
She summoned every last ounce of Gryffindor courage shifted her face to whisper right in his ear. "Take me home, Harry. I think I'd like to see what it's like for sex to mean something."
"Fuck, Hermione…"
Giggling, she kissed him again, nipping and sucking at his lower lip. "Only if you want—"
"Very much," he growled, grinding against her stomach. "Tonight, and all my other nights. For the rest of my life, witch." His lips sucked against a glorious spot on her neck. "Just don't make me say 'goodnight' to you anytime soon, love. Not when it's taken us so long to get here."
She wound her fingers in his unruly hair, wondering if their hypothetical children would hate them for passing on such hair genes… "I'm not going anywhere, Harry," she said, meaning it with every fibre of her being.