Dreamy Promises
A long walk in the grounds seemed indicated, during which-if they had time-they might discuss the match.i
They found their way to the Quidditch bleachers, the motivator of it all.
They did not know how long they were there, but he loved every moment: the feel of her hands at his back, the aroma of her hair. Her sweat, proving all she had given for Gryffindor, for him. Her forehead, touching his, a welcome touch. He knew he should let go, lest he taint the delicate, fragile flower in his arms. But instead, he held her tighter, protecting her from all the evil he knew of.
After what felt like several months of bliss, they gently broke apart.
"Thank you," he said.
She laughed, the beautiful, clear, tinkling laugh that made him feel alive. "For the Cup?"
"For everything," he whispered.
A few months later (after Dumbledore's funeral)
"I have to," he said. "I cannot, will not, risk you."
She looked at him, lightly touched his shoulder. "Then I'll be waiting."
He nodded mechanically, not knowing if he could bear telling her that he might not, probably would not be coming back.
But she knew.
Just like she always did.
"I'll wait for you," she whispered, sliding her arms around him. "Dead or alive."
As she pulled him into an embrace, he let the tears fall.
After the war
He found her in the Great Hall. She followed him outside.
Their first respite, the bleachers, was destroyed. Except for one block, just enough for two.
Perfect.
"I kept my promise, didn't I?" she said softly.
"So did I," he replied.
She gasped.
"What?"
"Harry, I had a dream…"
"Of?"
"You. Promising me that there was and never would be anyone else."
He remembered it. One of his lighter dreams, which he had never thought of too much, afraid of what it could have caused. But now…
"We can make a promise together, today, now," she said, looking up, almost as shyly as she used to be at eleven.
"Together. Forever."
They both spoke together, their emotions aligning. "I promise."
i Half-Blood Prince, page 499