WRITER: Warning! This story contains spoilers of the newest Harry Potter movie The Deathly Hallows... Part 1!

As you may see, this is a story featuring Harry and Hermione, who I greatly respect. I am a convinced HP/HG shipper just because I think their friendship is as close as two persons can wish.

I warn you, dear readers. If you haven't read the book or the movie, I suggest you don't read this.

Also, I've read the last book over a hundred times, maybe more, but I must say that the last time that was, was three months ago or so, so don't blame me if I miss any details.

NOTE: I personally think this was a better movie then the last two movies. The intense feeling of friendship, the scary moments, the emotions, and the atmosphere that was so...different. I enjoyed every second of this movie and especially the tension between Harry and Hermione.

( I sometimes believe the director and the scriptwriters are supporter of the pairing too.)

I was so happy when I saw those two kiss and dance...it was so beautiful and sweet. That's why I decided to make a story because of that dance.

Chapter 1:

Escaping from Disaster

We knew that danger was lurking at us.

That we could be killed the very first second we made eyecontact with a Deatheater. But we still enjoyed the small moments of pleasure and entertainment...while we still had those moments. Should I resine? Should I crawl back to safety? Should I stop my mission?

No, I am not hesistating. I know what I should do. I am destined to help my beloved friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. I've seen all the danger we've been through. I've tried to help them with the Chamber of Secrets, tried to protect them from Peter Pettigrew, helped Harry as much with the Triwizard Tournament, seen the Horror in the Department of Mysteries and the attack at Hogwarts, the murder of our respected Headmaster Dumbledore.

And here we are, standing at the Burrow, celebrating the wedding of Bill and Fleur. Me in a red dress.

I prepared.

I had a bad feeling that this evening was not going to end well, so I got everything of Harry, Ron and myself in this tiny little bag.

The tension has never been so high between me, Harry and Ron. But this is different. The confrontations, the arguments... It's different. As if my two best friends hear and smell something in the air, that makes our relation different.

Especially Ron. I notice him staring at me, sometimes stroking my cheek or something like that. I'm not dumb.

I know...I know that I begin to feel different towards Ron. But also towards Harry. In ways I shouldn't be. Not now. Not ever. They are my friends. Not less or more than that.

Why? I cannot stand Ron. Most of the times. He irritates me, he makes me feel stupid, thinking bad of myself. And yet, we laugh, we make jokes together. I help him study, I help him when he is in trouble.

I wish there was more than this friendship. I wanted to share more with these two boys then just my intelligence, my conversations and everything I can offer them.

What about Harry? How I was so happy when I met him in the Hogwart's Express, on our way to our first year. He was famous, and yet, he didn't even care about his famousness. He just had normal friends. He was friends with Ron Weasley.

I respect him, and I still do. Very much. I sometimes consider him a better friend and closer friend than Ron. He is, although he can be so stupid and ignorant, always there for me. When I have trouble with Ron, I always go search for Harry's understanding, his company. I do feel safe, when he puts a warm comforting arm around me. He does not try to cheer me up. I know he's not good with words. In that wat he's just the same as Ron. But his quiet behaviour always helps me.

The evening was warm, and the sky was as clear as could be. Ironic enough, this clearness predicted the upcoming evil. However, we were so satisfied with this evening of joy. Fleur and Bill seem to be happy. I noticed Harry, sitting at a table, clearly having a deep conversation with two old people. I smiled by seeing his messy hair. I always think he looks funny, even if he doesn't want to be funny.

He intrigues me. Have I touched his scar? No. Not once. But I always had the wish to touch it, feel the burden he bares. So I could empathize with him, a little more. I want to understand his mind better.

Maybe I had this habbit since I became friends with Ron. Boys minds are so simple, and yet so unlogical.

Harry understands me better than I could have imagined from any boy I've met, including Viktor.

I also want to touch his messy hair. I think his hair needs a new cut.

I stared at him for a moment when I also saw Ron, his ginger hair slightly flowing in the soft breeze that went through the tent. Our eyes meet and his eyes seemed to soften and he smiled. I answered him with a smile, too. Even in these dark times, I feel so incredibly happy with those two idiots around me. The evening was great and I never had this much fun in ages. I talked much to Ginny, had a dance with Mister Weasley and George and drank butterbeer. His ear was healing, and George missed a part of his body, but he's still the same goofy, happy and funny kid I knew for so many years. I wish I had twin brothers like Fred and George, but after hearing the stories of Ginny, I hesistate with that thought. When we were in our fifth year at Hogwarts, when those two still were at school, the Weasley twins were highly popular amonst the female students. I can't blame them. Fred and George are handsome, are ginger kids and they have humor everyone accepts, excluding Umbridge or Snape. They treat me better than Ron, you know. I sometimes wish Ron was a little bit more considerable.

I think the whole world would be unhappy if it sees the two brothers separated.

When I danced, the feeling of evil crawling up my back was still there, so I tightened the grip around my little bag.

Harry didn't seem to notice, but when the Patronus floated into the tent, I saw Ron and Harry's expression. They knew what would come.

'They will come...they will come...they will come.'

The Death Eaters came shortly after this dark message. We fought, but not for long. The Death Eaters were after Harry, and I had to take him away from the crowd. I had to bring Harry and Ron into safety. I first saw Ron, took his hand, which was shivering. I stroke his skin, while running. My eyes had contact with the green eyes of Harry's. He saw me, runned towards us and I grabbed his hand too.

In that short moment, just before when we were about to Disaparate, I felt the warmth from his hand, but also the grip around my hand. It tightened so hard, that I could feel he was scared. But not about himself.

In his stupidity, Harry always tries to safe the rest over his own life.

We Desaparated, and we, three friends trying to flee from Voldemort and all his evil, went into oblivion of colours, while we were nearly choked in the tunnle Harry told me so much about.

While we opened our eyes, the air of London filled our noses. We gasped for air and our lungs regained their strength. We looked around. This was the place where me and my parents always went to the theater. Harry and Ron looked at me.

'We must find a safe place to change,' I quietly said. They nodded and followed me into a narrow alley. It was dark and I pulled them around the corner.

'We don't have any stuff with us! I left everything at the...' Ron said, but I tapped on my bag. 'Dont tell me..' he said. 'Blimey..'

'Good job, Hermione,' Harry said.

I remembered the time while we had to shapeshift into Harry with Polyjuice potion. I remember the taste of that potion so well. Mad-Eye told me his plan way before Harry knew it. I had to get some of his hair. Easy enough, I got some hair very reluctantly. Fred, George, me, Ron, Fleur and Fletcher would be the 'other' Harry's so that the real Harry could reach the Burrow safely. Strange, but we all changed in front of everyone. I could understand the embarassment of Harry to see his friends being intrigued by his own body.

I admit, I was intrigued by the fact that I was in Harry's body. I stroke through his...I mean my dark, messy hair, but strangely enough, I didn't touch his scar. I had to change all my clothes, and that was a real uncomfortable thing to do. I remember Fleur saying:

'Bill, look away..I'm hideous!' I could tell that from myself too. I am not used to see a male's body exposed, but Harry's body looked rather...pleasant. (I've seen Ron half-naked too, but he isn't as skinny or muscular like Harry's.)He had some hairs on his chest, but I didn't seem to mind that at all. I felt the muscles on his stomach, and I just had to giggle. Harry Potter has a six-pack.

He has a bad sight, I have proof for that now. Thanks to those glasses of his, he's still alive! I'm not going to tell the rest of his body, because I had my eyes closed when I changed jeans. Thank god, because I think it would ruin Harry's personal space. Indirectly, but still.

We changed in our casual clothes and waited a few minutes before we would continue our journey. We had no idea what we should do.

We were alone, in the center of London.

What should we do?

Note: And? Did you like it? If so, I'll continue. ( I have no desire writing stories if no one reads them) Harry/Hermione fans united!

p.s leave a comment if you want.