Chapter Seven

It took Hermione a further eight stubborn nights of restless sleep to make a decision: she just couldn't do it anymore. So, slipping out of bed and casting a Silencing Charm on herself, she made her way to the Gryffindor boys' seventh year dorm. She squeezed through the door to find only two of the five beds occupied. It was still strange to think that Dean, Seamus and Ron weren't around.

Hermione made her way towards Harry's four-poster bed, silently relieved that his curtains were down. Carefully, Hermione pulled them back to reveal Harry's sleeping form, tangled unceremoniously in his sheets. The fact that he was even asleep spoke volumes and she hesitated. How selfish was she? Could she really wake him up? Maybe she could just slip in beside him.

Hermione shook her head. This was stupid. She'd seen him. He was there. It should have been enough, but she just couldn't bring herself to leave. She desperately wanted to crawl into his bed and have him hold her and whisper that everything was going to be okay. It was what she needed and she was convinced he needed it too.

In her thoughts, Hermione's grip on the deep red fabric slipped and the curtains fell back into place, tickling Harry's exposed knee. If it weren't for her Silencing Charm, she was sure her gasp would have woken up the entire Gryffindor Tower. Though, that was probably the least of her worries as she regathered the curtains and pulled back once more. In lightning quick motion, Harry Potter was awake, alert, his wand pointed straight at her face and a hex hanging on his lips.

Her eyes widened. She dropped her Silencing Charm, needing to speak before he fired first, asked questions later. She could tell he didn't recognise her in the dark, and without his glasses.

"Harry?" she whispered.

Slowly, hesitantly, he dropped his wand, his heartbeat returning to normal. "Hermione... what are you doing here?"

"I can't do it anymore," she said softly, hating that she had to admit defeat. "I can't sleep. And, even if I do, it's riddled with horrific dreams where you never wake up from Hagrid's arms." Her voice caught. "I just, I... can't. Anymore. Okay, you win, Harry. You win. I can't do it. Please don't make me."

Without another word, Harry shifted to one side of his bed and opened the covers for her. Hermione crawled right into his arms, her hands seeking the fabric of his t-shirt, her fingers needing to feel the beating of his heart and her legs tangling with his. She wasn't even ashamed to breathe him in, every part of him was so disarmingly calming to her.

Harry held her tightly in his arms, determined not to ease his grip until he was asleep. He whispered words into her hair to soothe her and she didn't even care what he was saying; just that he was. She'd been afraid that the way she'd been acting would make him turn her away but he hadn't even asked a question.

Eventually, she caught on to what he was saying to her. It was the same three words over and over. Even in semi-consciousness, the boy knew what she needed to hear.

You are loved.

She suspected he would be repeating the words until sleep claimed him. It didn't take very long. Hermione could tell from the slight change in his breathing that he drifted into full unconsciousness. What amazed her, though, was that his arms remained locked around her, the fingers of his one hand entwined with the fingers of the other in a death grip at a point near her left shoulder blade.

It took Hermione a bit longer to fall asleep, her body taking its time relaxing in this new place. She might have been in a new bed, in a new bedroom, but Harry's arms were so safe and familiar. And, for the first time in what felt like a very long time, Hermione Granger had a dreamless sleep.

Harry woke up first, his eyes snapping open in alarm. He felt cool air on his back and wondered why that was. He quickly pushed that thought aside as he felt the familiar soft curls of hair tickling his nose, surrounding him in Hermione's distracting scent. Harry surveyed that he was, indeed, still holding onto her rather tightly, one hand on the small of her back and the other clutching her waist.

Her bare waist.

Somehow, her pyjama top had ridden up and his fingers were touching flesh.

This was, of course, not the first time that Harry had touched Hermione. Living together had them face one too many awkward situations but they normally laughed about them. This was different. He couldn't be sure why that was, but it definitely felt different. He was holding her and the entire world suddenly didn't matter anymore. He was totally miserable without this. It was so much better being miserable with her.

At least, that way he knew he wasn't alone. He tried to think of a reason why he felt different but nothing came to mind. He thought back to the previous night and had to catch his breath. For days, they'd spent nights apart, limiting their contact to that of normal friends in the daytime as she had told them they needed to do. And then...

She'd come to him.

Harry usually didn't wake up holding Hermione. Early on in their arrangement, he'd allowed himself to think that she only needed him until she fell asleep. He wanted to give her space, though that proved to be a lot more difficult in this - much smaller - bed. Harry couldn't see Hermione's face but he imagined she looked as calm as he felt. He didn't want to move but he didn't want her to wake up to find him touching her. What would she think then? Really, what was he thinking?

He had to stop thinking entirely as his fingers twitched over her skin. His entire body was waking up and the way she was pressed against him definitely wasn't helping. Harry couldn't tell for sure what time it was but it was definitely early.

As if sensing his rising panic, Hermione shifted, her eyes opening in a flutter. She felt rested and... loved. So. Very. Loved.

Hermione was made immediately aware of the hand on her waist. It was not her own and she was oddly okay with that. She could feel his breath seeping through her strands of hair. Everything about her position was so comforting, so perfect, that it would take a mountain troll to get her to move. But Harry's somewhat pained groan and sudden movement was close enough. Hermione sat up to find Harry standing with his back to her, the curtains parted where he stood.

"Harry?" she whispered, her voice heavy with sleep.

Harry shook his head violently. Then, without saying a word, he disappeared from view.

Hermione didn't move. So many things were running through her mind. Was he ill? Did he regret allowing her into his bed? Was he mad at her? She was tempted to get up and return to her room but she needed to know what was wrong with him. She would make him tell her.

Harry returned some seven minutes later, looking particularly flustered. His cheeks were red and his hair looked messier than she had ever seen it. And she'd seen her fair share of Harry's bed hair. He seemed shocked to find her still sitting there, her legs covered by his duvet. "Hi," he said sheepishly, as if he could get by without explaining himself.

Hermione glared at him. "Harry?"

He plastered on a smile, his eyes refraining from giving her the once over like they were trained to do. The act suddenly felt terribly sexual and... well, it made him feel like a predator. How could she have been okay with it? "How did you sleep?" he asked.

Slowly, Hermione moved positions until she was kneeling in front of him, her eyes in line with his. He just couldn't look at her. "Is everything okay?"

Harry hadn't had much time to come up with a suitable excuse so all he managed to do was nod. Having her that close was doing strange things to him. Apparently, he'd really missed her.

"What happened?" Hermione pressed, leaning forward ever so slightly. "You practically ran out of here. Did I do something?"

Harry knew she was smart enough to figure it out but he sincerely hoped she wouldn't. And, even if she did, he hoped it didn't happen while still in his presence. That would be beyond embarrassing.

"Harry?"

"I desperately needed the loo," he said quickly, somewhat pleased with himself. "Sorry, I just couldn't hold it."

"Nothing to do with me?"

Harry just managed to shake his head as her arms lifted to his shoulders. She clasped her fingers behind his neck and pulled him towards her. For a terrifying moment, he thought she was going to kiss him. His eyes widened in surprise at the thought that he actually wanted her to.

Hermione didn't kiss him. Instead, she pulled him into a loose hug. "Thank you," she whispered into his ear.

Harry couldn't bring himself to wrap his own arms around her. He didn't trust himself to touch her. Not in his current state. Something was happening. Something he couldn't explain or control. He felt panicked and he was fully aware of his racing heartbeat. He just hoped Hermione didn't notice. He needed to be alone to sort through whatever was happening.

Hermione eventually released him and climbed off the bed, while Harry took quite a large step back to make space for her. "I should probably go back to my room before Neville wakes up," she said softly, still not entirely convinced that whatever was wrong with him this morning wasn't to do with her.

"I'll see you later," he said as he watched her leave, her wand held tightly in her hand. He remained standing there even after she was gone, his thoughts swirling haphazardly in his mind. What was going on with him?

Harry flopped down onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He could smell Hermione in his sheets, which was so familiar and wonderful that his mind drifted back to the feel of her bare skin under his fingers. Harry's smile at the memory quickly turned into a frown. Something had to be wrong with him. In all the time that he and Hermione had shared a bed, he'd never reacted this way.

That wasn't an exaggeration. Besides his obvious control; he'd never actually seen Hermione that way. It wasn't that he was blind... even he could see how beautiful she was. Sometimes it was even painful to look at her, which was probably why she was always best suited to stand right next to him. It was just that, in all their years, he had surely always thought of Hermione like a sister.

Well, he couldn't say he knew all that much about having a sister. From what he had seen of Ginny interacting with her brothers, he knew that his and Hermione's relationship was vastly different. They always seemed to have hands on each other, consciously or subconsciously touching base with each other. So maybe Hermione wasn't like his sister. He surely loved her like she was one. He'd said as much to Ron when they were destroying the Locket. But what did Harry Potter even know about love?

Harry closed his eyes, suppressing a groan. He forced all thoughts from his mind, settling for the fact that he'd just missed Hermione. That was it. He'd been physically ill without her and this was how his body was reacting: merely returning to normal. Normal?

Harry rolled over, buried his face in a pillow and groaned loudly. When he breathed in, all he got was Hermione, and he immediately sat up. It was going to be a long day.

Harry tumbled off his bed when Neville woke up. He made quick work of getting ready to face the day, determined to find something to distract himself from thinking about Hermione and her soft, warm skin; the sweet smell of her hair or the way she fit perfectly against him.

When Harry and Neville arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Hermione and Ginny were already waiting for them in the Gryffindor common room. Harry immediately smiled at the sight of Hermione, who was also smiling at him. They had a precious little secret.

"What's up with you two?" Ginny asked, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Nothing," Harry said. "Just feeling rested."

Hermione chuckled. "And loved."

Harry moved to stand beside Hermione, his eyes automatically giving her the once over. He felt calmer now that there were other people around. If he could imagine that people could hear what he was thinking, he could refrain from thinking about his best friend in such an unsavoury way.

"You two are so strange," Ginny concluded, before she tugged on Neville's sleeve, pulling him towards the portrait hole.

Harry and Hermione followed close behind. Harry didn't try to touch her, even though he usually would have placed a hand on the small of her back. There were just things he didn't want to chance now that his body was doing strangely normal things. Hermione kept glancing back at him as the four of them headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast. She looked so content, even happy. He would have paid great amounts of money to have her smile at him like that for the rest of his pitiful life.

In fact, Harry felt quite smug. He'd managed to do that by just holding her while they slept. Imagine what he could accomplish if he... He stopped thinking quite suddenly. That was dangerous territory.

It really was going to be a long day.

Because Harry was actively avoiding touching Hermione, he was made viciously aware of how much they did usually touch during a single day. Most of them were glancing touches because they had no aversion to each other. Well, he hadn't until that morning. Harry attempted to count the amount of times Hermione leaned into him during Transfiguration but the shivers running up and down his spine made it near impossible to concentrate. She was always so close to him, knees touching, elbows knocking. She even put her hand on his thigh a few times. There really was no boundary between them.

They were together in a way that Harry hadn't noticed until he just did. Suddenly, Harry saw what everyone else saw. Hermione was right. Even as he sat there, fighting off the tingling that was erupting from within him, he knew that there were very rarely things about which she was wrong.

"You're acting strange today," Hermione pointed out to Harry as they made the journey from the Gryffindor common room to their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom after they'd eaten lunch. "And I'm not the only one who's noticed."

Harry tried to think of something intelligent to say but nothing came to mind. He couldn't think of a suitable excuse. "Today just feels strange," he finally said.

"Because you finally had a full night's sleep?" she asked, winking at him.

Harry actually skipped a step as they walked, making Hermione give him a curious look. Why was she winking all of a sudden? Did she normally wink? Had he just not noticed before? Why was he noticing now?

Her winking was not the only thing he now noticed. He was looking at her in a different way, seeing her in a new light, and it was driving him crazy. There were so many little things that she did - like furrow her brow when she was reading something important or bite her bottom lip when she was waiting for the reply to a probing question - that he hadn't really registered until he started to look. And the way she walked! He'd never found anything so fascinating before.

"Seriously, Harry, are you okay?" she asked seriously, even coming to a stop. "Are you mad at me for going back on what I said about not crawling into your bed?"

"Why do you always think I'm mad at you?" he asked.

"I don't," she huffed. "But you do have this new expression on your face and I'm trying to figure it out. I've never seen it before, and I'm the person who probably knows you better than you know yourself. So, Harry James, tell me what's up?"

He just smiled at her as he got them moving once more. It wouldn't be proper to be late for a class after lunch. And plus, Harry really didn't feel like getting in trouble with Professor Martin Puth. In the lessons they'd already had with the man, he'd ripped through everything Harry thought he knew about how to defend himself. During the hunt, he, Hermione and sometimes Ron had furthered their knowledge in several different things. Spellwork was one thing. And defense was another, definitely much larger thing.

Still, though, Harry was just relieved to know that there were still things he could learn in what was still his favourite school subject.

"Did you ever think that I could be considering what to get you for your birthday?" Harry asked, as they entered the classroom.

Hermione gave him a wistful look. "You know you don't have to get me anything, Harry," she said calmly. "You already do so much for me. Just the fact that you're here is enough of a gift."

Harry felt his insides do what he assumed were somersaults. It was an entirely new experience for him. Hearing Hermione say these kind of things was not surprising to him but he had never really taken them at face value. He had never reacted this way. The entire day just felt like an out-of-body experience and a part of him wished it would stop and go back to normal. Though, an even bigger part of him did not want that. That bigger part of him even started to think that he rather liked it.

Hermione led them towards a table right in front of the classroom, setting her books down before she turned to look at Harry. "You're not going to listen to me, are you?"

Harry had the decency not to deny it. "When have I ever listened to you?" He asked the question intending for it to be amusing but it just brought back endless flashbacks of the Battle at the Department of Mysteries. He couldn't stop himself from reliving watching Sirius die and fall through The Veil. Harry had to put a hand on the table to stop himself from stumbling at the impact of the memory.

Hermione watched the emotions play out on his handsome face. The grief, anger, blind rage, total anguish, painful loss. It made him look a lot older than he was and it ripped through her own heart to witness it. Without another thought, she had him wrapped up in one of her signature hugs, knowing that the human contact would be helpful in bringing him back from his torturous thoughts.

Well, it would have, on any other day.

Harry stiffened in her hold, which only made Hermione tighten her grip. Harry had never resisted her touch, but it felt different to him. Instead of being comforting, it was... different. Harry couldn't put his finger on it. And even if he could, he doubted he would ever voice his thoughts.

"I'm okay, Hermione," Harry said softly. "You can let go now."

Hermione waited another moment before she released him, dropping her head. "You're embarrassed, aren't you?"

Harry noticed the hurt in her tone, which propelled him into action. "Oh, definitely." He placed his hands on the sides of her head and gave her a sloppy kiss on her forehead.

"Harry," she protested, unable to stop her smile as she tried to wipe at her forehead. "That's disgusting!"

He placed another sloppy kiss against her right cheek, even pulling her closer. "Oh I'm sorry. Did I get something on your face?" He laughed. "Is this embarrassing?" Another kiss on her left cheek. "And this?"

Before he could place another kiss on her face, she put both of her hands on his chest to stop him, laughing out loud. "Okay, okay!"

Harry released her, his heart rate coming down. "I'm not embarrassed," he said, sitting down. "Today is just a very strange day. I'm sure I'll be back to normal tomorrow."

Hermione also sat down, using the sleeve of her robes to wipe her cheeks. "You're making the assumption that you've ever been normal."

"You keep that up and I'll kiss you again," he said.

Hermione threw him a look that he'd never seen before. "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You definitely would."

This was a topic not particularly new to them, but it definitely straddled an unspeakable line between what they were and what they could be. Whether they were conscious of it or not, these were conversations that quickly died down. Hermione was saved from a response by the classroom door opening. Several Ravenclaw students walked in and found their way to their respective tables. Harry and Hermione didn't exchange words on anything other than DADA until the end of the lesson, though they did sneak curious looks at each other.

As Harry was walking Hermione to her Arithmancy class after DADA, she said something that made him skip a step. "I think we need to get you a girlfriend."

"What?" he chocked out.

"A girlfriend, Harry. We are way too comfortable with each other. You can't just go around kissing people, you know?"

"You're just saying that because you liked it," he managed to say, just able to recover. "Honestly, Hermione, just out with it already, will you? You want me." Harry had no idea where he found the guile to say such a thing to her.

Hermione seemed just as surprised. "Is this just you embracing your very strange day?"

"Possibly."

When they reached the classroom, Hermione stopped before going inside. "If this is the way you act when you've had a full night of sleep, I think we should go back to being zombies."

Harry hid his panic well. He didn't trust himself to speak so all he did was smile.

"Are you going to be here when I'm done?"

"Aren't I always?"

"Good man." She reached up, kissed his cheek and then disappeared through the door. Harry watched her leave, wishing this ever so strange day would stop being so very strange. If he could just make it through the day, he was sure things would settle down by the time the sun came up the next day.

He was wrong.

If anything, it got worse.

As she mentioned, Hermione didn't return to Harry's bed that night. He'd even decided to sleep in the Head Boy's room so she wouldn't have to tiptoe around Neville if she did come. He stayed up as long as he could, stupidly waiting for and possibly dreading her arrival. When she didn't show up, Harry's own exhaustion claimed him. He dreamt of Hermione. Other boys probably would have had some sort of dirty dream but Harry's dream consisted of green lights and Hermione's screams.

The particularly bad ones were his nightmares about Malfoy Manor. Healer Patrick mentioned that it was probably the helplessness he'd felt that made their time there so unbearable. Those ones were usually so vivd and painful that he would wake up breathless and layered in sweat. That night was no different. He suspected that he thrashed about in his sleep, because the sheets were tangled in his limbs and his pillows were all on the floor when his eyes snapped open in his panic.

He needed Hermione.

Harry couldn't get to her room. Even if he could, he didn't think he had the guts to climb into bed with her anymore. He was quite certain that his body would react, now that his fingers knew all too well the softness of her bare waist. That damn waist. He was in this mess because of a little bit of skin. It wasn't even skin that he'd never seen before. Harry wouldn't admit it to anyone if he was asked, but he had seen more of Hermione's body than either of them would admit.

Living together tended to do that. Harry knew that the witch had legs that didn't end. He would be daft not to notice and, seeing as they were Harry and Hermione, he felt comfortable enough to tell her that he noticed.

It was what he was thinking about when he headed down for breakfast. As expected, Ginny and Hermione were waiting in the common room. Hermione's body felt foreign in Harry's arms when she hugged him good morning. It was as if he was feeling her for the first time. There were curves in all the right places and Harry was suddenly very aware of where he placed his hands.

Hermione linked her fingers with his as they made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Luna was already there, seated at the Gryffindor table without even the slightest urge to glance back at the Ravenclaw table. Luna definitely wasn't the only one who moved around. Sometimes, Susan and Hannah joined them, and the Hufflepuff boys as well. Sometimes they even went to sit at the Hufflepuff table instead.

Harry loved it.

"You're still holding out for when a Slytherin joins us though, aren't you?" Hermione whispered to him as she loaded scrambled eggs onto both of their plates.

"I think the whole great Wizarding World would come crashing down if that ever happened," he said, laughing lightly as he poured pumpkin juice into her glass. "There would be outrage. Chaos would ensue. The world wouldn't even know what to do with itself."

Hermione gave him an amused look before she reached somewhat across him to retrieve some sausage for them. It was an innocent movement, but it was anything but innocent to Harry. Her free hand rested on his thigh and he caught a whiff of Hermione. It was a testament to how appealing it was to him when it was all he could smell even though there was a platter of crispy bacon right in front of him.

"Hermione," he whispered, alarmed at the pleading in his own voice.

She poked her fork through two sausages before depositing them on his plate. Before she could reach across for her own, he gained control enough to stop her.

"I'll get it," he said, his hand closing tightly around the hand currently on his thigh. This girl would be the death of him, he was sure. She gave him a curious look, but said nothing.

Soon, both their plates were filled to their satisfaction and they tucked in, silently reaching their conclusion simultaneously. Harry barely registered anything but Hermione, and it took the clearing of a throat to get him to look in a direction that wasn't Hermione or his food.

Ginny and Neville were looking at them dubiously when he looked up at them. "What?" he asked innocently.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You do realise that we're here as well, right?"

Harry felt his cheeks start to burn. A quick look at Hermione told him that she was just as embarrassed, if not more. "Sorry," Harry mumbled. "How are you two? Still goggling at each other, are you?"

It was the other two's turn to blush and, after a moment, all four students burst into a fit of laughter.

Luna seemed to miss the entire exchange, which just made the four of them laugh even harder. Harry couldn't imagine a situation any better, save for having Ron with them. He would definitely be the life of the party, making sure that they were constantly held in a bout of laughter.

Harry looked over at Hermione, and he just knew. Something had definitely changed, within him, between them. He couldn't, or he wouldn't, put a name to what that was, but this was something he'd just now figured out.

It didn't scare him in the slightest. This was Hermione Granger. His best friend. She would never leave him.

Hermione caught him staring and gave him one of her trademark looks, silently asking questions to which he had no answers. "So strange, Harry Potter," she muttered, the laughter still dancing in her eyes.

Harry didn't even know what to say. He took hold of her hand and placed it on his thigh, entwining their fingers under the table. He absently rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry Potter vowed never to let go.