A/N: So, here it is. This chapter has been re-uploaded as I've decided it's no longer a one-shot. It's going to be a chaptered fic and hopefully you will all enjoy it. Please don't hate me for how the fic turns out whatever characters you ship :) Anyway, this is set just at the part where Harry and Hermione dance and shall continue through the rest of the Deathly Hallows, with some reference to previous years. I do not own anything. Enjoy! xxx

HARRY

If Harry had thought the argument between himself and Ron was bad, it was nothing compared to the silence that now seemed to be pressing down on him, suffocating him. As he sat, staring across the tent at Hermione who sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees as she stared sadly into the lamp, he thought desperately of something that he could do to cheer her up – to cheer them both up. Slowly he stood up, not quite sure of what he was planning to do, and walked over to stand in front of Hermione. He held out his hand when she looked up at him he beckoned for her to take it. When she did, Harry couldn't help but squeeze her hand, the warmth of her touch gave Harry a sense of security. He and Hermione had been through nearly everything together and although Ron had left them and that hurt Harry more than he thought was possible, he couldn't help but find comfort in the fact that Hermione was still here. Harry didn't know what surprised and shocked him most, that Ron had actually left or that Hermione had refused to go with Ron and stayed behind with him instead.

Helping Hermione to her feet, Harry noticed the chain of the locker around her neck and reached out, unclipping it and half dropping, and half throwing it, onto the camp bed. He led her slowly into the middle of the tent and began swaying, rather awkwardly, in time to the music in his feeble and rather embarrassing attempt to dance, pulling Hermione along with his as he went. At first he felt stupid, grinning nervously and focusing most of his attention on trying not to fall over his own two feet. However, when Hermione's lips started to pull up at the corners, Harry felt the entire atmosphere around them changed from feeling as though he was surrounded by death eaters to the feeling he usually felt upon arriving at Hogwarts.

It wasn't long before they were both dancing in a somewhat geeky-ish style, not that Harry was complaining. It had been so long since he had felt happy and… normal? The dance they were doing just now was not anything like the dancing at the Yule Ball back in their fourth year; nor was it like the dancing at Bill and Fleur's wedding. This felt relaxed; natural. A voice in the back of Harry's head couldn't help but voicing his regret that he had not danced with Hermione at either of those, more cheerful, events. The music began to pick up speed and now they were spinning around, almost randomly, their moves becoming more and more impulsive and yet no matter what they did, it was still in tune with the music and each other. The sound of laughter now filled the tent and Harry couldn't help but notice that the sound sounded almost alien to him, having not heard it for quite some time.

The dance didn't last for long and when the music began to slow down, so did he and Hermione. They were no longer spinning and laughing, instead they were turning slowly on the spot – everything was slowly becoming more sombre and Harry suddenly became aware of how nice the moment felt. One of his hands held Hermione's, the other on the small of her back and Hermione's head was resting on his shoulder. He couldn't help but wish that this moment would last forever, that they would never have to leave the tent or face the horrors ahead of them.

"I saw you two the other night."
"Ron, that's… that's nothing…"

The words seemed to echo in his head and Harry couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed at Hermione for how she had responded. How had she been able to dismiss their friendship/relationship/whatever it was that was going on between them as easily as she had? Because there was definitely something going on between them, there was. There was something underneath the surface of their friendship. The reason Harry was so bothered about Hermione's words, however, was because he knew she was right. It was nothing, because it could never be something. Hermione loved Ron and Harry loved Ginny; that was the way everyone had expected it to be and that was, funnily enough, how it had turned out. However, there was just one problem. Despite Harry's feelings for Ginny, and Hermione's for Ron, both of them loved each other.

The music stopped and Harry and Hermione pulled away from each other. Harry let go of her hand and let his arms fall down to his sides, trying to ignore the feeling of a cold emptiness spreading across his palm and down his fingertips. Both friends stared at each other and Harry could feel the sadness begin to creep back into the tent.

"I love you…" Harry muttered, his voice cracking slightly and his eyes fighting to hold hers. He could tell that the feeling was mutual and he knew that she understood the ambiguity of his words. He loved her like a friend, like a sister and… more. Instead of returning his words, Hermione simply gave a small sigh and turned away from him, slowly making her way over to the camp-bed at the other side of the tent, leaving him standing alone.

He loved Ginny and he always would.
And Hermione would forever remain true to her feelings for Ron and Harry wondered, ignoring the small bout of jealousy that arose in his stomach at the thought, if they would ever meet and get back together again once this was all over.

For Harry and Hermione, however, their love was not enough and as far as Harry could see, it was likely that it would forever remain that way…