The Thirst,

We walk through the dungeon beneath the school. Harry next to me, with blood making its way across his chin and forehead. We walk in silence, close to each other. Years I sat next to him in class, shared in his friendship and treated him like a brother, but instead I should've told him the truth.

The dungeon, if I can call it that, smells like fresh moss at a morning stream. The fountains coming out of the walls make it feel like an ancient tomb grasping us into its wonder and unknown. The water on either side of the floor, in the middle of the room, leading to the front of the rock wall, is dark and still. Reminding me of the current danger we face here at Hogwarts. They're out there. I can hear the explosions, the screams of pain and the sound of agony that echo through the tunnels straight toward us.

"What exactly is your plan?" I ask, looking at Harry.

"I'm not sure myself. I just know that we have to come here," he answers in a frightened tone.

I look around, I look at the water and then back to the hallway. It's so dark, if it weren't for the few small openings in the hallway and this room we wouldn't have been able to see anything. The dark lighting almost drowns me with fear for what awaits us outside, but it's nothing in comparison with the fear of losing him. The concrete with its grey, covering every inch of the halls and floors, worsens my fear even more.

I'm not supposed to think of him right now, I'm supposed to think about saving everyone and protecting the school, but how can I? It's him. The boy I saw turn into man next to my side for years. The one who I'm scared of losing most.

I look at the floor, patches of the darkest green moss I've ever seen spreading over the grey concrete. My eyes trail to the side of the water.

"Harry," I say, "The water. We can raise the water through the tunnels, once it's reached the top of the sewers it will flood the bridge to prevent anyone from entering."

It might not be the best idea, but it's the only plan I can think of. All the students are inside the school. All my friends.

Harry lifts his wand, and while the water rises, I can only focus on him. His clothes torn and the blood on his face, making a line over his lips.

The water rushes through the tunnels and we stand there watching its magnificence disappear. We're both soaked due to the water that travelled over us. I look to my side again and I see him, the blood that travelled across his face now a lighter red. His hair drenched and falling over his glasses, making me look for his eyes with greater wonder. He turns his head and our eyes meet.

"Hermione, your head." he says as he sticks out his hand and places it on my forehead. I stutter as I feel his hand on me. His hand is cold but that's not why I stutter, it's his touch. It's him, everything about him. He takes away his hand and I see blood on it.

"It must've happened on our way down." I say lifting my hand, with my sleeve covering it, and place it on the wound. It aches as the sleeve, cold of the water that soaked us, touches it. I'm dirty, just like him, due to the journey to the dungeon when a pillar fell in front of us, coating us with concrete dust.

He takes my hand away and looks at my head more closely. Our faces only inches apart now.

"I'm fine," I say, but I'm not. His face, inches away, making me feel his warm breath.

And that's when I feel something in my other hand. I feel his fingers lacing with mine until he reaches a full grip. I look down and see our hands, dirty of dust and blood, intertwining. My heart jumps to my throat as I feel it beating. His face comes closer than before, and for the first time, our breaths are synchronised.

"Harry-" I start but he stops me from finishing as he places his other hand around my neck. I feel his cold fingers moving over it. I can feel my heart beating in my ears, deafening me as I place my forehead against his. Every muscle in my body is tensing and relaxing at the same time, heat travelling through my body. It might be the adrenaline, but all I can think of right now is him. Us.

"I've always wanted this," I whisper. I'm unsure of what else to say, every second in this moment is one I might never have a chance to relive.

"Me too," he whispers as he moves his head towards my ear. I'm silent, I don't know if I'm too shocked because of his reply or if it's because his hand is holding my head against his.

The breath of his words falling on my ear and neck sends a wave through my body. Just the thought of him holding me is enough to make my heart beat in my throat, but this, this is not something that only I've always wanted. It's something he's always wanted as well. The hand, intertwined with mine, loses its grip, and his hand trails up towards my face over my arm. Every move of him, the way his hand moves and the way he holds me, feels orchestrated, as if he had envisioned us doing this a countless amount of times.

His hand reaches the top, both hands holding my face now, and then he tilts my head upward until we share the same gaze. His eyes are filled with angst, as if he's too scared to do anything else. Probably because of the fact that we've never told each other how we feel, or the fact that we might die soon as well. My eyes must be a reflection of his. I've been confused for years about my love for him. I've always known that I loved him more than a friend, but tonight I'm certain that I love him beyond that blunt thought of only something more.

He presses his lips against mine and my eyes close instantly. Heat bursts through our lips as they move against each other again. I taste the salt water that covered his face, but instead of it forcing me away, it drives me to crave more. I kiss him back, harder than he did the first time, and put my hands around his face. He moves his head to the side and places his hand on my neck. For a moment our lips separate and I hear only our exhales in that slight moment.

He makes his way back to my lips, this time harder than before, almost pressing my face back with his force. I move my head and feel him pulling me closer. The cold of his clothes against mine make me stutter of the cold, but not in a way that repels me. In a way that makes me want to feel more of the cold, more of him. I kiss back with the same force and I can feel his mouth opening slightly. I do the same and then feel a light pinch as he bites my upper lip. I place my hand on his cheek, feeling the hard stubbles, and then press myself against him even more. He wraps his arms around me, gripping me by my waist and I place my arms beneath his over his back. My right hand centred between his blades, and my left hand moving over his lower back. His wet clothes, sitting tight now around his upper body, makes feeling his back more prominent.

I move my hands up and down his back, and he seems to follow my pattern, but keeping one hand around my waist. Every touch heightens with every kiss, every kiss becoming more and more persistent. I place one hand on his chest, curling it into his shirt so that I can pull him closer. Something which seems impossible now considering that there's no more space between us. He moves his one hand up, gripping the back of my head and using the other to move it sideways on my lower back.

He kisses me harder, pulling my face into his. I feel something against my lips, and I know it's his tongue. His mouth opens again slightly and I do the same. For the first time I feel his tongue on my lips and coming into my mouth. I grab the back of his head, gripping his hair with my other hand. I feel his tongue against mine and then he closes his mouth again, kissing me from my lips to my chin and from my chin towards my neck. Every kiss is like a sea wave, I taste the salt of the water that drenched us, and it feels just as powerful and strong as the water that moved through the tunnels.

He reaches my neck and I give a slight gasp as I feel his lips pressing itself against me. He kisses harder after each kiss and I tighten my grip on his shirt and hair. I feel his lips move up, back to my chin and then back to my lips, moving over my cheek until he reaches my forehead. He gives one last kiss, and then pulls me against him once more with his arms around my lower back. I place my head on his shoulder, which is just the right height for my chin to rest on, and then place my arms around him.

I don't know for how long we stood like that, but the silence is broken when he moves his head to put his forehead against mine, both of our eyes closed.

It was never a feeling I had since the day I met him. Of course we were only children then, but since the moment our friendship proved its endurance, its perseverance and loyalty, I realised that my heart might one day have a safe haven with him. For now I know that even if I die tonight for the sake of what's good in this school, I'll die knowing that I've reached it. I've reached my safe haven. I've reached him.

If we survive tonight, I'll be there tomorrow to fill his morning cup. I'll be there to guard him against the darkness that prowls the living. I'll be there to pull him close when the monsters laugh. I'll be there to help him clench through the hardness, and I'll be there to help him destroy the fence that's keeping us hostage. But most importantly, I know that he'll also do the same for me, if not more.

We let go of each other and take our wands in hand as we hear the voices of our dark enemy's soldiers, and then we stand, side by side, holding each other's free hands.

I look at him as I see his head tilting towards mine.

"I love you," we whisper simultaneously.

And then the soldiers arrive.