This was written for the 10whores livejournal community, the prompt being House at Night. And this happens to be my favourite HP ship :-)

"It's been a long time," Harry said quietly, almost wistfully. Hermione looked at him.

"What's been a long time?" she asked, when he didn't reply.

"You know. Us. When Ron left. Remember?" Harry said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. They'd had an unspoken agreement not to speak of that night again; at first it had been simple awkwardness, but then they'd both ended up with Weasleys and it had become buried in their past.

"Yes, I remember," Hermione said, and looked at him straight on. It had become a bump in their relationship, one which needed to be dealt with. The awkwardness had disappeared, but it had still happened and Hermione knew that when they hugged or kissed each other's cheeks – as friends do – they both thought of it. It wasn't a bad issue, but it was an issue nonetheless.

"Do you ever think about it?" Harry asked, and Hermione thought he was fighting the urge to blush. She nodded.

"Often," she admitted. Harry wasn't shocked. He wasn't a hypocrite, and he thought about it every time he saw Hermione. Memories and feelings from a stolen night always crept into his thoughts and there was no banishing them. Besides, he wasn't sure that he wanted to.

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"I can't believe he just left," Hermione said angrily. Harry nodded, hoping that it would calm her. "Ronald Weasley is an arrogant, self-centred, bastard PRAT!"

"Hey, hey, calm down," Harry said, holding his hands up. When Hermione started swearing, good things were not on the horizon.

"Calm down? When he just left?" Hermione asked in fury, and began to redirect her rant at Harry.

Harry's gaze focused on the lips that were moving so quickly, berating him and all males in general. And he didn't know why he did it, but for some reason he silenced her by pressing his lips to hers.

It felt surprisingly good; Harry had never really thought much about kissing Hermione, but it definitely wasn't like kissing someone he loved like a sister. And when that thought ran through his head, he jerked back.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that –" he said in a panic. Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide. She hadn't expected that.

"Did you mean it?" she demanded. Harry looked at her in confusion. What was that supposed to mean?

"Er – I…" he stuttered, trying to figure out what she wanted to hear. Then a devilish little thought crept into his mind. What if he kissed her again? He wouldn't have to answer her then.

Hermione took pity on him. Males, after all, weren't, aren't and never will be known for their sentimental responses to feminine questioning. So she kissed him.

Neither of them really knew what they were doing, but it felt so right when Harry picked Hermione up and carried her inside, and it carried on feeling right when they made love. But however right it had felt, the next morning was awkward because they both knew that the other loved a Weasley and neither wanted to interfere with that.

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"What do you think, when you think about it?" Harry asked. Hermione sighed.

"It. Does the memory creep you out so much that you can't even say that we had sex?" she asked.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, then decided that the vehemence of his denial was a little overboard. "You make it sound so romantic," he said sarcastically.

"Well, what else do you want to call it?" Hermione asked.

"What's wrong with saying we made love?" Harry retorted. Hermione blinked.

"We weren't in love," she said. Harry looked at her. The silence stretched out between them.

"Weren't we?" Harry said finally.

"Well, you were in love with Ginny –" Hermione started to say, flustered by the remark. Harry shook his head, then his eyes widened. He hadn't meant to let Hermione know that. "Weren't you?"

"No," Harry replied finally, heavily. Hermione stared at him, her mouth moving slightly as she tried to find the words.

"You didn't?" she asked finally, finding it hard to comprehend the fact that Harry hadn't been head over heels in love with the redhead that later became his wife.

"It was you I loved," Harry admitted slowly. Hermione's world spun, flipped upside down and shook her by the shoulders before she could get her head around that.

"Why didn't you say?" she demanded. "If I'd known, I would have-"

"Because you were in love with Ron!" Harry said, his voice raised. "What was I supposed to say?" Hermione's world turned upside down again, and this time her stomach disobeyed gravity and fell right up into her feet.

"I wasn't, I didn't," she whispered, ashamed to admit the secret that she'd carried for years. "I didn't love him, I always wished that I could tell you but I couldn't…"

"Hermione. You're rambling," Harry said, placing a finger over her lips. Hermione's breath caught and without thinking she kissed Harry's finger. Green and brown eyes met and nothing else existed but the two of them and the breeze on their faces and the warmth of the sun. It was inevitable that they would kiss, and kiss they did. They didn't hear the approaching footsteps nor the shocked gasp nor the strangled curse of their spouses when the two redheads came around the corner, because all that existed was Harry and Hermione. Nothing else was real but the softness of Hermione's lips and the scratchiness of Harry's stubble and the feel of Hermione's fingers on the back of his neck and his hands splayed on her back…

Then there was a sharp smack and a yelp and Hermione drew back, clutching her cheek and glaring at Ginny who slapped her a second time as Ron broke Harry's nose with one furious punch. Then the red-haired siblings turned around and walked away. It was the end of the big happy Weasley family and all four of them knew it; Ron and Ginny both secretly wished that Harry and Hermione would run to them but kept on walking away, and when they looked back and saw the two gazing into each other's eyes Ron and Ginny knew they were walking out of their lives forever.

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Hermione sat in her empty house, hugging her knees and looking at all the photos on the mantelpiece. They were pictures of time wasted, time spent with one man when her heart belonged to another, but she couldn't bear to put them away because for all she loved Harry, she'd still enjoyed the last ten years of her life.

She was shaken from her reverie by a knock at the door; when she opened it, Harry's pale skin – he tanned precisely as much as a Weasley, in other words not at all – was silhouetted against the darkness of night.

"Can I come in?" he asked. Hermione nodded and stepped aside, letting into the warmth of the hall.

They looked at each other, the candles – in a fit of nostalgia for Hogwarts, Hermione had refused to let Ron install either lighting charms or electric lights – flickering and casting soft shadows across each others faces.

"Why –" Hermione began, and then stopped.

"I was lonely," Harry admitted sheepishly. "I missed you, so I thought I'd come and see if you had any of those homemade biscuits lying around."

Hermione bit her lip. He didn't want her. He just wanted food. Apparently the way to a man's heart was through his stomach when you wanted him to love you as a friend, but it obviously didn't work that way for romance.

"Sorry… did I come at a bad time?" Harry asked, seeing the sad expression on her face. Hermione shook her head.

"No, no, it's fine… I'll go make you a chocolate coffee," she said. Harry grinned.

"You know me too well," he said and headed for the sitting room, not knowing how deep his words cut into Hermione's heart. She wanted to know everything about him – she already did. He'd been her first, and although she'd never asked she assumed she was his, because Ginny had always complained when they first dated that he was too gentlemanly and not like a normal horny teenage boy. Maybe he regretted giving himself to her. Hermione didn't regret what they'd done, far from it, but she wondered if that feeling wasn't mutual.

"One chocolate coffee with dunkable biscuits," she announced in a cheery voice that hid her inner turmoil. Harry grinned.

"You're a star," he told her. Hermione sat down on the sofa next to him, and watched him carefully dunk a biscuit in the drink. She was resigned to the fact that they would only ever be friends. She had to make herself believe that. If she tried hard enough she might manage.

"Hermione… about earlier…" Harry said. Hermione closed her eyes briefly. Here it came. The ultimate rejection. "I…" Hermione watched him struggle to find the words.

Harry had no idea how to say what he meant. So he kissed her.