Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. No copyright infringement intended.
AN: This is an odd little one-shot about which I'm not entirely sure. Just fair warning. I think the characters are a little OOC but, hey, everyone likes a happy ending.
Waiting For You
"It's simple," Ginny Weasley told her fellow witches, slurring slightly from her obvious intoxication. "If a man wants you; nothing can keep him away."
All but one head nodded in agreement.
They were all sitting in a booth at a local pub, sharing drinks and laughter as they tended to do at least once a month. It'd been Lavender Brown's idea to start up this monthly get together, claiming that they needed to have a "girls' night out," just to bitch about their boyfriends, complain about their jobs and comment on the latest fashion.
"If a man wants you," Ginny continued; "you'll know it. Believe me, he won't make you wait."
Once again, there was only one head that refused to nod. She just couldn't. It wasn't that the specific witch didn't agree with what Ginny was saying; it was just that the words she was saying were hitting a little too close to home. If a man wanted her... She would know.
And the thing was that the witch, Hermione Granger, did know. Oh, she definitely knew. The man had even gone so far as to tell her. Well, he had been drunk at the time, but Hermione knew that he remembered. It was going to take an Obliviation for either of them to forget that conversation.
She remembered the entire ordeal like it was yesterday - even though it'd been almost six weeks; almost six weeks since she'd stupidly gone and told a man with a girlfriend that she was hopelessly and desperately in love with him.
Naturally, he'd been surprised. No, he'd been shocked, practically stunned to complete and utter silence.
.
"What?"
"I'm sorry," Hermione automatically said, shocked herself by her sudden proclamation. Where had that come from? "I just," she added, her heart thumping in her chest; "I had to tell you."
He blinked, looking rather weary. "Hermione."
She swallowed. "You're my best friend, so I didn't realise what was happening until I was in too deep, and now I know. I love you, and I couldn't not tell you, okay? I've just been holding it in and I can't - just - not anymore."
He just continued to blink, his brain trying and failing to process what she was trying to tell him.
"Say something."
"What am I supposed to say, Hermione?"
"Something. Anything."
.
In the end, he'd said nothing.
After a quick, I have to go, he'd left, and Hermione hadn't heard from him for a full week. It was the longest seven days of her entire life. She'd been completely miserable, crying herself to sleep every night and thinking that she'd ruined the most important relationship in her entire life.
And then he showed up one night at her flat, completely plastered and looking about as forlorn as she felt.
.
"How long?" he asked as soon as she pulled open the door. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, his eyes intense yet unfocused.
Hermione's heart rate picked up at the sight of him. As dishevelled as he looked; he was still terribly handsome. She was definitely attracted to him - had been for quite some time. "How long what?" she asked, trying to buy herself some time.
"How long have you known how you feel about me?"
Hermione didn't invite him into her flat. Who was to say what would happen if they were left alone with each other? "A while," she confessed.
"Why?" he asked.
"Why what?"
"Why do you feel that? Why are you even telling me? Why now?"
Hermione dropped her gaze for a moment as she tried to formulate suitable responses to his seemingly endless questions. They weren't unfounded. She probably would have asked the same ones, if the roles were reversed.
But they weren't. She loved him, and he -
When she looked up at him again, there were tears in her eyes. "I just do," she replied unsteadily. "It was bound to come out at some point, so it was better that it came out in a controlled way." Even though, technically, it hadn't.
He shook his head. "But why now?"
"I don't know what you're asking of me."
He let out a sound that closely resembled a growl. "Now, Hermione! Why not sooner? Why not before - "
"Before what?"
"You should have told me," he said, sounding utterly defeated. "Everything could be - " he shook his head. "You just should have told me."
"Everything could be what?"
"Different," he breathed.
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Did you ever think that I might have felt the same way too?"
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"Before, Hermione," he said tiredly, lifting and then dropping his arms. "Before."
"Before what?"
.
He didn't answer her again. He'd just apologised, said that he had to go again, and that was supposedly that.
Only that it wasn't.
He'd returned the next night, drunk as well, and asked her a question to which she had no answer.
"What happens now, Hermione?"
That night was the last time she'd spoken to him. It'd been just over a month since, and Hermione Granger was miserable. Beyond miserable, in fact. If she could have; she wouldn't have come out tonight. The last thing she wanted was to be around all these other happy people, living their happy, stupid lives.
It was Luna who drew Hermione's attention, as she asked a general question of the group of witches.
"Did anyone read today's Quibbler?"
It started up another discussion but Hermione wasn't listening. She was thinking about the man. The man she missed desperately. She just wanted to talk to him; to hear his strong voice; to see his handsome face.
Hermione wanted so much to hug him; to hold him, but she knew she couldn't. They'd decided. That same night; they'd made the decision to stay away from each other.
Well, no.
They'd decided to limit their interaction but, in the end, they just ceased all contact.
And Hermione hated it.
It was Lavender who suggested another round of drinks, but Hermione wasn't really feeling up to it. In fact, she was halfway to deciding it was time for her to leave. She had quite a lot of paperwork to get through before Monday morning anyway.
"What are you having, Hermione?" Lavender asked, forced to get the brunette witch's attention.
Hermione blinked. "Oh, umm, I think I'm good for now, thank you," she said, offering the other witch a kind smile. "I'm going to have to take it slow tonight."
Lavender giggled at that but, thankfully, made no comment as she hurried away, accompanied by a few other witches.
Hermione barely let out a breath before Ginny's face was suddenly in her line of vision, the redhead invading her personal space. Hermione automatically leaned back. "Hey, Gin," she said, smiling slightly. "You having fun?"
"So much," she said happily, sipping at her seemingly neverending drink. "I definitely needed this."
Hermione had to ask the question. "Is something wrong, Ginny?" she asked.
"With?"
Hermione swallowed. "I don't know; you just seemed rather profound earlier."
"That stuff about men?"
She nodded.
"Oh, you know," she said offhandedly, looking away. For a moment, Hermione was sure that she wouldn't say anything more, but then she opened her mouth and said words that surprised them both. "Harry and I broke up."
Hermione's eyes bulged and her mouth dropped open. Really, she felt like she'd been slapped. They'd broken up? Why didn't she tell her sooner? Why didn't he?
Oh.
Hermione knew why.
Wait. "What?"
Ginny hurriedly covered her mouth with her right hand, shocked by her own confession. Did she just say that out loud? From the look of horror on Hermione's face; yes, yes she did.
"You did what?" Hermione squeaked.
Ginny knew she couldn't take it back now. It was out there. "I know he's your best friend, Hermione; but things have been rather off between us for a while now."
Hermione frowned, a pang of guilt hitting her chest. "How long?"
"A few months."
Hermione's relief was quickly overwhelmed by her sudden concern for Harry and her confusion at Ginny. And guilt. So much damn guilt. "But why? I don't understand. When did this even happen?"
Ginny suddenly looked guilty.
Hermione paled. "Ginny?"
"It's been almost a month," she said quietly. "It wasn't exactly a surprise, really, but what was, was the fact that he was the one who decided it was time to end it. He was so assertive; so sure. It was actually quite sexy." Drunk, Ginny was definitely drunk.
Hermione didn't know how to process what Ginny was trying to tell her. Harry broke up with her. But...? "Ginny," she said seriously; "what really happened?"
"There's someone else."
For a moment, Hermione was certain that she actually might die. Right there, right then. Why was Ginny telling her any of this if she knew? How could she even be talking to her? Unless she didn't think the 'someone else' could possibly be her best friend?
"I don't think he knows though," Ginny added, merely confusing Hermione. "We've been discreet these past few weeks."
Hermione frowned heavily. "I don't understand."
Ginny shook her head. "I just don't think that I make Harry happy," she said, sounding more sober than she had all night. "This is for the best."
Hermione was still a little confused. "What are you talking about, your being discreet?"
"Oh," Ginny sounded, giggling slightly. Yes, she was back to being drunk. "I'm already seeing someone."
Hermione blinked. "You are?"
Ginny nodded happily. "Between you and me, I actually started to like him while I was still with Harry." She covered her mouth dramatically, as if she'd revealed her deepest, darkest secret.
"Ginny!" Hermione admonished, seemingly automatically.
The thing was that Hermione, admittedly, felt a little hypocritical. She had fallen for another girl's boyfriend, but she was able to say that they didn't cheat. They'd come close, of course, that last night. It was one of the reasons they agreed to stop spending time alone together. As difficult as it was.
Hermione didn't want to be that person who cheated, and she definitely didn't want to turn him into that person either. Of course, Hermione didn't know what she'd hoped would happen when she told him, but now things were... different.
More complicated and less at the same time.
"Why haven't you told anyone yet?" Hermione found herself asking, filing away her feelings about Ginny's possible infidelity. She doubted Ginny would ever have been unfaithful. But then, she had to remember that even she and the man had come close. Millimetres close. And Hermione prided herself on her own morals.
"We're waiting to tell Mum on Sunday," Ginny said. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"
Hermione just managed to shake her head. She definitely wouldn't. Who would she tell anyway? The man?
"Thanks," Ginny said casually, sipping at her drink again.
"Who is it?" Hermione suddenly asked.
"Who's what?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "This other guy."
Ginny said nothing.
"Do you love him?"
Ginny looked a little startled by the question. Clearly, she hadn't expected it. "Does it matter?"
Hermione sighed. Did it matter?
Of course it did.
Love changed everything. Love wasn't something from which you came back.
Before Ginny could respond, Lavender and the other witches were back, sporting two trays of drinks. Hermione knew she was at a crossroads here. She could allow herself to immerse herself in the night in the hopes of forgetting Ginny's confession, or she could go home.
Based on what she just learned from Ginny, the latter seemed to be the better option. Who was to say what alcohol would do to her, or even make her end up saying with Ginny around?
Hermione was called a multitude of things - an old lady, a prude and a hag, to name a few - when she mentioned that she was heading home. She didn't care though. Her mind was still focused on other, more important things.
Like the fact that Harry and Ginny broke up a month ago and the wizard hadn't even bothered to tell her.
Hermione said her farewells, and then she was leaving, heading back into Muggle London where she lived alone in an upper class apartment building. She lived on the seventh floor and, on this night, she decided to forego the elevator and use the stairs. It offered her time to think, and to work off the alcohol and fried chips and onion rings she'd consumed earlier.
It turned into a monumentally bad idea by the time she reached the fourth floor. Her left side was even starting to burn from the effort. Merlin, she was unfit. Hermione made a mental note to start up running or something equally drastic as she finally reached her floor, stepped out into the corridor and started for her apartment, her body struggling for breath.
And then there he was, casually leaning against her door and smiling knowingly at her.
Despite all the positive, overwhelming feelings threatening to erupt within her; Hermione was angry. With him, and with herself.
Because of it, she didn't say a word to him, as she fished for her keys in her bag and moved towards her front door as if he wasn't even standing there, looking positively delicious in dark jeans and a tight, black t-shirt.
He didn't say a word as he watched her fiddle with her lock, her hands trembling. Damn her traitorous hands.
Hermione was suddenly very aware of the heat of him.
"Where have you been?" she asked, unable to resist the urge to interrogate him. She wanted to kick herself for engaging but it couldn't be helped. Her hand remained resting on the door handle, ready to offer her a quick escape if it was needed.
"I had things to take care of," he said simply, seriously.
Hermione refused to look at him. "What does that even mean?"
"It means what it means, Hermione," he said, his left hand moving to rest on the small of her back and sending an electric shock straight through her. "What do you want it to mean?"
"What are you even doing here?"
"There's something that I need to tell you," he began; "and I can do it only in person."
Hermione still wouldn't look at him, despite her burning desire to see his eyes. "And what's that?"
He didn't even hesitate. "I love you too."
At the sound of that, her head snapped up and her eyes met his, hazel brown claiming emerald green. "What?"
"I realised that I never actually said it back when you told me how you felt, because I couldn't, but now I can."
She was still a little thrown by his words. What was happening right now?
"I've done a lot of thinking, Hermione," he continued. "I was mad at you because I thought that you'd waited too long; that it was too late, but I was wrong. I was so wrong, Hermione."
"You kept talking about before," she said, mentioning the main thing that had been bothering her the past month. "What did you mean by that?"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters."
He moved closer to her, practically towering over her. Hermione could smell him, so familiar; so damn inviting.
"Did you mean before her?" Hermione asked quietly. "Because I didn't know how I felt before. I didn't figure it out until it was too late."
"But that's what I'm saying, Hermione," he said breathily. "It isn't too late."
Hermione looked at him through her lashes. "But it is," she countered. "You know we can't do this. We'll never be able to do this. There's already too much there. We can't."
For a moment, he looked stricken. Then he smirked. "Are you sure?" he asked slyly.
Hermione hesitated, but held on to her resolve. She'd known even when she told him then, that nothing could ever happen between them. Even now. Their lives were too complicated for that. Their lives were too entwined with the people that would get hurt by this, and she wouldn't do that. "I'm sure," she said, her voice surprisingly steady.
He moved closer to her, absently nuzzling her temple with the tip of his nose. "Hermione," he whispered.
"We can't," she said resolutely.
He huffed in annoyance. "Then why the hell did you bother telling me in the first place?" he asked harshly. "What did you expect, huh? What do you want from me?"
It was her turn to bring out her own anger and frustration. "I didn't ask you for anything," she snapped.
"You didn't have to," he snapped back. "Dammit, Hermione! What did you expect to happen? Do you think this is what I want? To be here like this, knowing how difficult it might be for us?"
"There is no us," she said pointedly.
"But there can be," he countered. "Now."
"I heard about that," she said curtly. "Thanks for telling me."
He sighed heavily. "What would you have thought if I'd just shown up here straight after?"
"You still should have told me."
"I'm telling you now," he said hotly. "I want to be with you, Hermione. I want you. Now. Forever."
And then he closed what little distance there was between them, slipping one hand into her hair, the other claiming her hip and pulled her flush against him.
There was a moment where Hermione gasped in surprise, but then his lips were crashing down on hers and, well, that was that. Her immediate response was to kiss him back with urgency enough to match his, her lips fierce and demanding. She leaned into him, winding her fingers into his hair and grasping tight handfuls.
He trailed the hand at her hip up her side, and then back down, eventually sneaking it under the hem of her top. The second his fingers touched her soft skin, she moaned into his mouth, ready to lose herself in him.
But, a moment later, Hermione came to her senses and immediately detached her lips from his, hurriedly pushing him away.
He looked almost as dazed as she felt.
Hermione shook her head, forcing him further away from her and severing all contact. She needed to think clearly, and his proximity wasn't helping. "We can't do this," she said breathlessly.
"Why?" he asked.
"You know why."
"I don't," he argued, his heart thumping in his chest. "Tell me."
Hermione shook her head and turned back to open her door. "Go home," she said softly.
"Hermione?"
"Go home," she said again. "I will see you on Sunday." And then she disappeared into her apartment and shut the door, locking it automatically.
Her heart was positively racing as she leaned her back against the door, desperately trying to calm down. She suddenly felt hot and bothered, like she was wearing too much clothing. She felt like she'd been burned.
He'd burned her.
God, she hated him for doing this to her.
But she loved him.
Hermione heard a slight thump behind her, what she assumed was his dropping his head onto the door.
"Hermione," he whispered. "Please open the door. Please let me in."
She closed her eyes, her heart stilling from the sound of the pleading in his voice. It hit her in parts of her body that she didn't even know she had. She wasn't even surprised that it was him who was able to do this to her.
"Please, Hermione."
She squeezed her eyes tight. "Go home," she said one last time, and then moved away from the door and further into her flat, not wanting to hear any more. She couldn't handle any more.
Hermione closed herself in her bedroom, and didn't emerge until the next morning, feeling terribly weary and deeply emotional.
She spent all of her Saturday ignoring everything to do with the conversations she'd had with Ginny or the man. It was unhealthy, sure, but she wasn't ready to face whatever it was that was or wasn't happening.
So it was a rather anxious Hermione Granger who arrived at the Burrow for the Weasley family's monthly Sunday brunch. She had a plan. She would try to steer clear of him as much as possible. She would make sure not to be anywhere alone with him. It was simple - all she had to do was execute it. At least until she could figure out what was wrong with her.
Also, because, well, now that she knew how it felt to be kissed by him; she was almost desperate to do it again.
And again.
"Hermione, dear, it's so good to see you," Molly Weasley said as soon as Hermione entered the kitchen. "I was worried you wouldn't make it after Ginny mentioned that you weren't looking too well on Friday night."
Hermione offered the Weasley matriarch a reassuring smile. "Oh, I was just feeling a bit tired," she explained. "It was a long week at work."
It was enough of an explanation for Molly, because she ushered the brunette witch further inside and then sent her through the house to greet everyone else with a warning about not overworking herself. As much as Hermione tried to offer up her help - in the hopes of remaining in the kitchen for as long as possible - Molly wasn't hearing any of it.
"Go on," she said. "I've got this all handled. You go on and enjoy."
Hermione had no choice but to follow the firm order. She was a little hesitant as she left the kitchen in search of people her own age. She encountered Luna first, and then several other people, including George Weasley and his wife, Angelina.
But then there he was. He was standing in a group, and they were all talking animatedly about something or the other.
Well, he wasn't. He was rather already looking at her. Seeing her.
Hermione turned and hurried away, intent on finding a quiet place to calm her racing heart and school her thoughts. The last thing anyone needed was Hermione turning into a blubbering mess from imagining his mouth on parts of her body that weren't limited to only her mouth.
What Hermione didn't anticipate was the wizard following her.
She'd just opened the door to the downstairs bathroom, when she felt his presence. He followed her through the door, and practically slammed it shut behind him, surprising them both.
He smiled innocently. "Sorry about that."
Hermione couldn't help but glare at him. "What are you doing?"
He made quick work of locking the door and casting a Silencing Charm. "We need to talk," he finally said.
"No we don't," she countered, huffing. "The last thing you and I need to do is talk."
He frowned. "Why are you being so difficult?"
"Why can't you take a hint?" she suddenly snapped, heat taking over her body. Her mouth just started to run, dangerously. All she wanted was a moment of peace to compose herself, and now this. "We can't just dive into something like this and you know it as well as I do! I don't want to do this. Can't you just accept that? I don't want this!"
He blinked in surprise, absently taking a step back from her.
"Oh," he sounded breathily. It was as if the wind had been knocked right out of him. "You didn't even mean it," he said tiredly. "Stupid, stupid." Then he halted, his eyes turning darker. "I guess responding the way I have doesn't make sense when someone tells you that they love you, does it?" His tone was so sarcastic, Hermione even flinched.
She swallowed thickly. "Harry - " she began.
"Forget it," he snapped back. "I don't know what you were hoping to achieve telling me something like that anyway, but I guess I should say thank you, right? I'm not with Ginny anymore, and she's free to go and be with whoever she's been rushing off to see lately, right? So thank you."
Hermione just stared at him. His eyes were glowing. No, they were burning. With rage, and something that was unmistakably desire.
"I thought - " he stopped suddenly. "It doesn't matter what I thought. Clearly." With that said - or not said - he turned sharply, dropped his spells and then rushed out of the bathroom.
Hermione could only watch him go, her mind reeling. What just happened? What had she said? Better yet, why had she said what she said? What was she so afraid of? There he was, this amazing and frustrating man, ready to give her everything she ever wanted, and she just couldn't allow herself to take it.
It was too much. Was it guilt? When she'd told him; she didn't expect any of this. Really, she'd anticipated living out the rest of her life watching from afar, sitting helplessly with her unrequited feelings.
Not this. Definitely not this.
Did she even deserve to get what she wanted? She'd essentially broken up a relationship. How was she supposed to get over that? How were they? And, really, what was he thinking, cornering her in a bathroom like that? In the Burrow, no less?
Hermione leaned against the sink, trying to calm herself down. As much as she wanted to be mad at him; she was more mad with herself. Here was this perfect, sometimes infuriating man, telling her that he wanted her, and she was worried about, what, the logistics of it all?
But she was right, wasn't she? There was no way that they could just jump into a relationship, whether it was a public one or not. Ginny was her best friend, and his ex-girlfriend. There were just lines that you didn't cross, weren't there? But then why did she tell him in the first place? He was at least right about that. Why did she tell him, if she wasn't going to accept the fact that he might feel the same way?
Did he? Truly. Did he know what he was saying; what he was feeling? How was she expected to believe everything he was saying when no more than a few weeks ago; he was happily with someone else?
But they weren't actually that happy, were they?
Hermione sighed heavily. This was too much for one day. Her head was literally spinning. She even felt a little drunk, if she was being perfectly honest. She had half a mind to go out there and tell Molly that she actually wasn't feeling well so she could go home and forget that this entire day was happening.
She stood up straight and took a deep breath, before she moved towards the door. She paused with her hand on the handle, a thought coming to her in the worst way possible. Would he, one day, blame her for this? Would he look at her and see her as the reason why his relationship with Ginny ended the way it did? He was thankful now, but what about months from now when the reality of it all hit him square in the chest, and he realised that he would be stuck with her, Hermione Granger?
Was that what was stopping her?
Was it all a little too good to be true, and she just couldn't bring herself to accept the fact that her wildest dreams could actually happen? He wanted her. That much was obvious. But would it be for right now, because Hermione was already dealing in forevers? He'd mentioned the forever word, but could he mean it?
Her hand dropped from the handle, and she moved back to sit on the edge of the bathtub, her face dropping into her hands. She suddenly felt sick. Why was everything so complicated?
She realised that she had the power to make it simple.
Merlin, what would the Weasleys all think if she and Harry suddenly started up a relationship? At the rate she was going, Hermione wasn't going to be leaving that bathroom any time soon.
And she didn't.
It took someone knocking on the door to check and see if she was all right to get her moving. Thankfully, it wasn't Ginny or Harry. It was rather Neville Longbottom, who gave her a rather curious look when she emerged from behind the bathroom door.
"You don't look so good, Hermione," he said, his sentence almost a question, as if he were afraid he was insulting her.
"I don't actually feel all that well, Neville," she replied, as she closed the door behind her. "Is the food already on the table?"
"Molly's dishing out right now."
She sighed. "She'll be terribly disappointed if I duck out now, won't she?"
"Probably." At least he was being truthful. "Do you know what's wrong with you?"
"Too many things," she grumbled. "I've just been told a lot of things in the last twenty-four hours, and it seems as though my body is refusing to process it all."
He looked thoughtful, his eyebrows rising. "Anything you want to talk about?"
For a terrifying second, Hermione thought that he knew. Which was ridiculous. There was no way that he knew that she, Hermione Granger, was dangerously in love with Harry Potter, her best friend; who, until a few weeks ago, was happily dating her other best friend.
Merlin, no wonder she couldn't do this. Even though Ginny was convinced that their breakup was coming; Hermione was still responsible for it. She was a terrible person; an awful, horrible person... how could Harry possibly love her? Was he delusional?
"Hermione," Neville said, catching her attention and stopping her from winding down her whirlwind of thoughts.
"I'm fine, Neville," she said softly. "We should get going, shouldn't we?"
He put out his arm, which she happily took, and he led the way into the kitchen. There were people hanging about, waiting to be called to sit down. Hermione's eyes automatically sought out Harry, practically out of habit. He was standing near the sink, sipping at a bottle of Butterbeer as he engaged in conversation with Ron and Angelina.
His eyes flicked her way for a moment, and it was all it took for her to feel all the hurt she'd caused him.
"Come, come, all of you, sit, sit," Molly said, her voice filling the room.
There was a lot of shuffling and quite a bit of grumbling as everyone found a place to sit. Hermione noted that Harry made sure to sit as far away from her as possible, and the man barely looked at her.
Hermione wasn't all that hungry, but she did pretend really well. Molly would just ask questions, and nobody was ready for her answers.
It was in the middle of their meal that Ginny stood up. Clearly, she had an announcement to make, of which four people already knew: Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Ginny's new person. She took a deep breath, visibly steeled herself and then opened her mouth.
"Harry and I are not together anymore," she declared, and the table fell to complete silence.
Ron recovered first. "What? Since when?"
"It's been about a month," she said simply, which was closely followed by a wail from Molly. Ginny did her best to ignore her mother as she continued. "We decided that it was what was best for us both, and I'd thank you not to ask us questions or make unnecessary comments." She spared a glare for her brothers before she sat down and resumed her meal as if she'd just announced that it was raining outside.
Harry looked slightly amused, though his face fell when he noticed that Hermione was looking at him. He looked away from her immediately. He wouldn't admit it but he was actually grateful that her confession pushed him to end things with Ginny. She'd saved him from a relationship in which he didn't belong, but he was still angry.
Didn't she want him?
Despite Ginny's request, Molly asked her questions. She was a little hurt that the two of them waited so long to tell her, but Harry was able to smooth that over in a way that only he could. Molly absolutely adored him. Truly, in her eyes; he could do no wrong.
Or could he?
What would Molly think if he and Hermione were to get together? What would they all think?
Just when things settled down after the announcement, Hermione spoke. If anyone asked her why she said what she said, she probably wouldn't be able to tell them. Everything until her mouth opened was a blur that she just couldn't recall. Something might have possessed her, for all she knew, because the words came out and they came out in a bad way.
"I'm in love with Harry."
That shut everyone up all over again. All eyes turned towards the person who spoke, and Hermione Granger sat perfectly still, stunned by her own admission. Oh Merlin, she'd done it again. She said that out loud. In front of everyone.
In front of Harry, no less.
The wizard in question was just staring at her with wide, shining green eyes.
George was the one to recover first. "Wait. What?" he asked the witch. "What did you just say?"
Hermione was not going to repeat it. Really, she would have welcomed the world ending at that precise moment. A Death Eater attack. Rita Skeeter's arrival. A black hole. Really, anything.
"Hermione?"
Shit, that was Ginny.
Hermione stood up suddenly, just managing not to fall over. "Will you excuse me?"
And then she was gone. She raced out of the kitchen, and out of the Burrow without looking back for a second. She had to get away as quickly as she could, before she burst into flames. Her skin felt like it was on fire and, really, she didn't think that she could ever show her face in the Burrow ever again.
This was it. She was in love with Harry, and now she was no longer welcome at the Burrow. What had her life come to?
She hated how dramatic she was being. How old was she supposed to be?
Hermione went straight home and locked herself away in her bedroom, burying her entire body under two heavy blankets. Maybe she would suffocate to death. That would save everyone a lot of trouble.
Merlin. She was driving herself crazy.
She tried her best to calm her mind. Overthinking everything was just making all that was happening feel like the end of the world.
She didn't know how long she lay there, decidedly not thinking about the man or the feel of his hands on her skin or the taste of his mouth or the world of hurt she'd caused him with her careless words. What was wrong with her? Here was a man who was everything she wanted, and she was too terrified to say yes to it all.
The thing that got her up and moving was the sound of a clattering coming from somewhere in her apartment. Based on her experiences in the War, foreign sounds were never a good thing, which was why Hermione emerged from her bedroom with her wand held securely in her hand. She walked through her passage slowly, following the noise. It was clearly coming from the kitchen and, when she finally rounded the corner, she came face-to-face with her intruder.
Harry Potter was digging in her freezer, clearly looking for something that he was so sure was there.
"Harry?"
He startled, standing up suddenly and looking at her. "I could have sworn that you had ice cream," he said.
"What are you doing here?"
"Ice cream," he answered simply. "Where is it?"
"I ate it yesterday," she replied.
"Damn."
"What are you doing here?" she repeated.
He closed the freezer door. "Well, after you left me to deal with your confession, I decided that I needed some ice cream, but it seems as if you're out."
"What happened?"
"What do you think happened?"
"Do they hate me?"
His brow furrowed. "Why on earth would they hate you?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "It's just an irrational fear that I have."
He raised his eyebrows. "Is that why you're fighting me?"
"They didn't take it well, Harry - what other choice do I have?"
"Who said they didn't take it well?"
"What?"
He heaved a sigh as he stepped towards her. "We're all adults here, Hermione, though I'd wager that you're acting a bit like a child right now, running away like you did."
She dropped her gaze, feeling heat rise up her neck. He was right about that, at least. She was handling this all really terribly. In fact, she wasn't handling this at all. "What happened?" she pressed.
"Well, I was the one who had to explain things," he said; "and I told the truth."
"The truth?"
"The simple, honest truth, of which you seem to be so terrified."
She blinked.
"You love me, Hermione," he said, so simply that her heart stuttered. "And I love you. It's as simple as that, really."
"But it isn't," she argued.
"It can be, if you just let it," he said in response.
She shook her head. "It can't possibly be that easy."
"Why not?"
"Life doesn't just work that way."
"Who says it can't?"
"They do."
"Who's they?"
She waved her hands, exasperated. "They. I don't know. People. Isn't it going to be awkward?"
"Maybe it will," he agreed. "For a while, I'm sure. But, can you honestly tell me that that's the real reason you're acting like everyone who loves you suddenly won't, just because you told me how you feel?" Harry stepped towards her. "Seriously, Hermione, what is this really about?"
She blinked.
"Tell me," he said gently. "Just talk to me."
So Hermione did.
Somehow, she managed to explain to him just what was going on in her head, as jumbled as it was. She told him her fears and her worries, fully expecting him to run for the hills at his first access to the whirlwind that was Hermione Granger's true mind when it came to this particular subject matter.
But he didn't run. He also didn't laugh, which was one of the reactions that she'd expected.
"Do you really find it so unthinkable that I could feel the same way about you?" he asked after they'd descended into silence.
Hermione bit at her bottom lip, trying and failing to meet his gaze. "Is it so unthinkable that I wouldn't?"
"I don't know what you want me to tell you, Hermione," he said gently. "I can only ease your fears if you tell them to me."
She took a deep breath. "I've thought about this for so long, Harry. I've imagined every single scenario; come up with every way that my telling you would end in catastrophe. But this - Merlin, I never expected this."
"Well, I'm just full of surprises, aren't I?"
"Nothing about this is funny, Harry," she muttered.
"I know it's not," he said, agreeing. "This is the furthest thing from funny. I know this is serious. I'm being serious here. I know what I want. Do you?"
She was silent.
"You can have me, Hermione," he continued, his tone grave and oddly understanding. "You can have me. So, I'm asking you now, after the shit you've put us both through these past few weeks; do you want me?"
There was more silence.
Harry said all he needed to say and that was all he would say until she spoke.
Well, there was one more thing. "I can't believe you ate all the ice cream," he said, huffing in annoyance, before turning away to search through the freezer once more. He rummaged through its contents, looking for any sort of comfort.
"Okay," Hermione suddenly said, drawing his attention. "Okay," she repeated, her heart slowing and her body relaxing. It was as if everything about her was just coming to accept what was.
Harry stood up straight, absently closing the freezer door again. "Okay what?"
"I want you," she said, nodding her head. "I want all of it, Harry. I want you and all that comes with you."
"And what exactly comes with me?" he asked.
"Love," she said. "Happiness, safety, comfort, peace."
He raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot."
"Yes it is."
"I love you," he said.
She closed her eyes for a moment, basking in the light of such a confession. A dream of a confession. "I love you too."
He stepped towards her, boldened by her own confession. "Now," he said; "if we're going to do this, Hermione, then you're not allowed to run away, okay? You stay and we face it together, okay? You don't get to tell me you love me and then not accept that I love you back. You don't get to close the door on me and hide. You don't get to set me on fire with that mouth of yours and then take it away. Do we understand each other?"
She nodded.
"Out loud," he said.
"I won't run," she said. "I'm done with the running and the hiding. I want you, and I love you."
"I love you too," he echoed automatically. "But I also hate you a little bit for eating all the ice cream."
She let out an unexpected laugh. "Jeez, okay," she said. "Just calm down about the ice cream. We can go get some; let me just get my coat." She turned to go, but Harry took hold of her arm, stopping her. "What?"
"What?" he repeated.
She watched his eyes flick down to her lips and she smiled through her blush.
He smiled at her smile before leaning in and pressing his lips against hers. It was a quick peck, that felt as if they'd already had years of practice. "Okay," he said, releasing her arm. "Go get your coat. Maybe we can get dinner before dessert?"
"As in a date?"
He shook his head. "No," he told her. "When we go on our first date, you'll definitely know it."
She sucked in a breath, before she spun around and went to fetch her coat from her bedroom. She didn't even feel as if she needed it, given how hot she felt. She spent quite a while in the bathroom, trying to make herself look presentable and then went out to find him spread out on her couch. His knee was bouncing. Was he nervous?
He stood up quite suddenly when she entered the room, smiling sheepishly. "Ready?"
She nodded.
He stepped towards her, putting his hand out for her coat. Silently, she handed it to him and he automatically held it out for her to slip on. Smiling contently, Hermione turned and slid her arms through the holes. Harry shifted the coat to settle on her shoulders before he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her from behind.
"Harry?" she whispered after a long while.
"Hmm?"
"You think we could get a takeaway and just come back here and - "
"And what?" he asked quietly.
"Do this."
He let out a breath. "Snuggle, you mean," he teased. "Do you want to cuddle, Hermione?"
Hermione wriggled a bit, turning in his grasp so she could look at him. "What do you want to do?"
He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "I'm a healthy young man who knows what you taste like. What do you think I want to do?"
Again with the blush.
"But ice cream first," he said, releasing her. Then, he added: "And our first date, probably."
She nodded in silent agreement. Slow and steady.
He took a step back and gestured with a hand for her to lead the way. She threw him a small smile before she started for the door. Carefully, she unlocked it and pulled it open, before she realised that Harry hadn't actually moved from his position.
"Harry?" she questioned, turning her head to look at him.
He seemed to snap to attention, shaking his head and smiling nervously at her. "Sorry," he said, walking towards her. "I just needed a moment."
"You okay?"
"I'm better than okay," he confessed. "That's why I needed a moment."
Cue the blush.
Really, Harry didn't think he would get enough of her blush, particularly when he was on the receiving end of it; the reason for it.
"Hey," he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
"What?"
"You'll never guess who Ginny's been seeing?"
Hermione had an idea, but he looked so chuffed with himself - smug even - that she didn't want to say so. "Who?" she asked anyway.
"Neviile," he said with a laugh. "Can you believe it?"
She could, though she still didn't say. "How do you feel about that?"
He shrugged noncommittally, placing his hand on the small of her back and guiding her through the door. He closed it behind them, his hands stilling when he recalled the kiss they'd shared in this very spot not too long ago. He smiled at the memory.
This was now his life.
"Everything okay?" Hermione asked, touching his arm and forcing him to turn to face her.
"Everything's perfect," he answered, smiling knowingly. "Shall we?"
She nodded once before she started to walk, leading the way down the corridor as she was known to do.
He rushed to catch up and reached for her hand, entwining their fingers and allowing the warmth of her to spread right through him. He was struck by how perfectly their hands actually fit together, like they were built to hold each other. Had it always felt that way?
"What are you smiling at?" Hermione asked him as they walked.
"Nothing," he said. "I'm just happy."
"You look it," she pointed out.
"So do you."
"I told you that I've thought about this for so long," she told him. "I just didn't think it would feel like this."
"Like what?"
"Like more," she explained. "It's everything I wished for and more."
He squeezed her hand. "You wished for this?"
"I did," she said. "I wished for it, and waited."
He pulled her closer and kissed her temple. "What exactly were you waiting for?"
She turned her head to kiss his lips, disrupting the rhythm of their walk. "I thought that was a given," she said.
"Tell me anyway."
She couldn't resist kissing him again. "You, Harry," she whispered. "I was waiting for you."
Fin