My first venture into the Harry Potter fanfiction world. Very mushy and Astronomy-Tower-like. But please tell me how it was, since I'm not very confident about this at all!

Spoilers: None.
Setting: In their seventh year.
Assumptions: That Hermione's parents got killed the year before [in their sixth year] by Voldemort during the Christmas holidays.
Shipping: Harry - Hermione
Thank-You's: To fellow HP fans on FB who are the best kind of HP-discussing-people that I ever think were in existance - if that made any sense. And generally to anyone who reviews. =P

The common room was bathed in a warm, golden yellow. It was even more obvious because it was practically empty.

"Hey," Hermione whispered.

Harry nodded, staring into the fire. He was frowning, as if deep in concentration, as if something was going to pop out of the flames any second.

"It's getting late."

"I don't really care," he said with a half-smile. "I stay here, I won't get much of sleep. I'll go up to bed and I still won't be able to sleep." He shrugged. "Not much of a difference."

She giggled and slid into the chair next to him. They stayed quiet for some time.

"What're you thinking about?" she finally asked, her voice no louder than a whisper.

"You," he answered immediately.

"You're thinking about me," she repeated, a slight frown on her face.

"Yeah." He seemed to have realised what it might've sounded like, and hastened to correct his sentence, his face burning red. "Not like - like that, I mean - "

She smiled. "Yes, I know."

Another silence elapsed, this time more uncomfortable. Hermione was shifting slightly on the squishy couch when Harry spoke.

"I'm sorry."

She spun around and stared at him. "Sor - "

"Yeah. Sorry." He paused, only shortly. "I'm sorry you're my friend."

Before she got the chance to interrupt again he held up his hand. "Don't say anything."

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry you were turned into a cat in second year. Because of me. I'm sorry you were attacked by the basilisk in our second year. Because of me. I'm sorry you got mixed-up in the whole mess in third year. Because of me. I'm sorry for getting taunted and teased so much in fourth year. Because of me. I'm sorry for the danger I put you through last year. Because of me." His voice was cracking by now.

"I'm sorry your - your parents got killed by Voldemort. Because of - "

"You think it's all your fault?" she asked, her voice cracking and deadly quiet.

"Yeah, I mean - "

"It's not your fault." She shook her head. "It's not."

"The Polyjuice Potion mixup was my fault, I grabbed the wrong hairs off her. I really should've conducted a spell to see if it was animals' or humans' hair. I mean, I was a second-year, I knew that spell, we went through it back in first year, didn't we? And - " she chided herself with a sudden frown.

Harry cleared his throat, indicating that he was waiting for her to finish.

"Oh," she flushed, and continued. "Third year - my fault. I chose to take so many subjects, and I chose to get mixed-up in that whole mess. And the rest of that...Harry," she said, turning to face him again, "I chose to be your friend. I could've just told you that I didn't want to be your friend, that I thought you were dangerous, that I never wanted to even be near you. But I chose to be your friend, I chose to stay your friend, and I choose to always be your friend. And nothing's going to change that. Okay?"

Harry stared at her. Then he nodded. Just once, to show that he had heard her. And they smiled at each other.

"Well, if that's all - " Hermione started, getting up.

" - it isn't."

"Hmmm?"

He stood up as well and plunged his hand into one of his pockets. "Thanks. For choosing to be my friend," he said simply, thrust a small velvet box into her hand, and closed her fingers around it. His hand fell away, he took a few steps backwards, and went back to his seat.

"What's this?" she questioned. Harry answered with a shrug. She sat down again - something which seemed to become a new way of exercise. She opened it and gasped at what was inside.

"A necklace - Merlins, Harry..." She fingered it. "It's gorgeous."

"I know," he said with a little smile. "I found it in my parents' vault. I looked at it and immediately thought of you."

"Oh," she said, "That - that's interesting." She looked at him with a queer sort of expression. Seemingly dismissing whatever was on her mind, she looked at it again.

"'Thought you might think so," he remarked. He flushed. "I mean, I - I don't really know why, but, I saw it, and - "

"Thank you." She interrupted his ramble, looking amused. She looked back at it. "It really is beautiful."

"Yeah, well..." he trailed off, feeling suddenly embarassed.

"No, really," she said, then repeated it again, "Thank you."

He listened closely to her voice. "Are you crying?" he asked, bewildered.

"No, no," she waved him away, her voice getting even more choked up. "Aaah."

"Oh come on, Hermione," he said, blushing harder, "It's just a necklace."

"It's jus - just no one's ever done that f-for me before," she hiccuped twice and then leaned into his arms. At a loss for things to do, he patted her back awkwardly. The hug tightened, Hermione crying openly.

She finally pulled away from their embrace, dried her tears, sniffed, and got up, the necklace still tightly enclosed in her right palm. "Th - thank you," she repeated.

"I could - I could put it on. For you. If you'd like, that is," Harry stammered.

A small smile made its way onto her face. "I'd like that."

She kneeled down in front of the couch with her back to him and handed the necklace over. He put it around her neck and fumbled with the clasp.

"You're not very good at this, are you?" she joked, when it had been five minutes since he'd started to try putting it on.

"Well, I've never really put on a necklace before, have I?" he rebuked with a laugh.

"I would be worried if you had." He could tell she was stifling her laughter.

"Haha," he said sarcastically, which was followed by a loud 'click!'. Hermione pulled back. "Thank you, again..."

"Stop saying that," he said crossly, frowning.

"Well, fine," she huffed playfully. "But can I thank you in another way?" she asked as a sudden afterthought. Her voice was more of a whisper, and he had to listen carefully to hear her over the crackles from the fire.

He blinked at her, emerald eyes showing utmost confusion. "What?"

She was grinning mischieviously now, her eyes shining. "Can I?"

"Uhh - "

She leaned towards him, and her lips met his, cutting him off. He responded immediately after he realised what was happening; his left hand finding its way to her cheek, and his other hand wrapping around her waist. She ran her fingers through his messy hair, getting them entangled in it.

They broke apart when it became harder to breathe.

"Did I just make a total fool out of myself?" she questioned, flushing.

He shook his head. "No, I - I liked that."

She nodded. "I did too."

There was some sort of an awkward silence surrounding them. Harry reached out and took her hand. Playing with her fingers, he smiled up at her, somewhat goofily. The tension was eased, and she beamed back at him.

"I could use another 'thank you'," Harry commented, suddenly.

"It's your turn now. Thank me for thanking you."

"With pleasure."

She pulled off his glasses. Grinning, he kissed her again, and they leaned back into the couch, in the fading but flickering lights of orange and yellow.

Harry never did get much sleep that night.
Gimme thoughts and stuff. Anything I could improve on? Didn't the last line suck? I need thoughts and stuff!! -begs- I really do make awesome cookies!!!