Chapter 14

Harry wasn't sure that he was of steady enough mind to apparate. If he wasn't on the brink of attempting something truly life-changing, he would have felt pathetic. Because apparating was something he'd been able to manage many times in the middle of a war, in the midst of many harrowing auror missions, and even sometimes while on the brink of death. But he wasn't certain he could accomplish it safely at the prospect of facing his very best friend. Not given what he was set to tell her.

His best friend- the woman he now suspected was the love of his life.

That idea was the source of his nerves, as that was a phrase he'd never even thought in the past. Despite the fact that he'd been engaged to somebody else and probably should have at least considered it in regards to her. But looking back on it, he never had. Because there had always been somebody else that he loved more. Hermione had firmly entrenched herself in his heart before he'd ever even really met Ginny.

Which was probably why he'd never allowed himself to entertain the idea of Hermione in a romantic light. She was too important, he couldn't have afforded to risk their relationship in the past. At which thought he second guessed- for at least the thousandth time- if he could risk what he was planning to do now.

Once again he arrived at the same conclusion. Which was that he didn't have much of a choice. Because while he'd spent the entire flight to London thinking of one woman, he'd spent the entire flight back thinking of another. That was when he'd decided that he couldn't not risk it.

At first he'd wondered if he should hold off acting on his feelings and let his relationship with Ginny fade into the past. But, perhaps selfishly, he just didn't want to. Now that he was aware of his feelings for Hermione he was also coming to understand how very long he'd felt that way, and he didn't want to waste any more time.

Also, his relationship with Ginny had died a slow and natural death, as hard as that was to admit. However, he was very certain it was over. He was not longing for her, and there would be an ocean between them, he would not be rubbing anything that might happen between himself and Hermione in her face.

Not to mention that his time was limited. He was only in America for six months, more than a month of which had already passed. He couldn't afford to dither around allowing whatever people would deem to be the 'appropriate amount' of time to pass between his breakup and starting a new relationship. He knew how he felt, but loving somebody and building and maintaining a relationship with them were two different issues. He learned that from Ginny. He needed time to see if he and Hermiome could make a real go of things.

With that in mind, and just because of his own restlessness, he hadn't stuck around England for long after speaking to Ginny. He hadn't visited any of the other Weasleys, not even Ron. Perhaps it made him a coward, but he'd told Ginny that she could break their news to her family, and he thought that trumped the best friend card.

He'd taken care of some business with his Wizengamot proxy that was more easily handled in person. After which, he'd inspected Potter House to make sure things were being kept in order. He trusted his elves, but they would have had a fit if he'd been in the country and not stopped by. Other than that, all he did was pop up to Hogsmeade in order to visit Honeydukes to get Astoria some of her favorite chocolates and Hermione some sugar quills, neither of which could be procured in the States.

He slept two nights in Potter House. He still loved it, but although it would always be home, it no longer called to him in the same way it had. He longed for a witch an ocean away and her little Brooklyn flat.

He rang Hermione from Heathrow to tell her that he was flying back and give her his arrival time and when he did he found himself a little breathless by how absolutely ecstatic she sounded to hear from him. So, he boarded a plane without looking back. And when he landed he immediately hailed a cab to her place, not stopping by his hotel to bathe, or even deposit his luggage. In fact, he didn't even consider it.

He was glad it was evening and that she'd be home. He was also happy that he hadn't been in Britain long enough to acclimate to local time- though he knew he'd be fighting let lag on top of just pure exhaustion for days. And he regretted the lack of shower once he was standing in front of her building, but there was no going back now, his nerves couldn't take it.

After buzzing him up before the second syllable of his name had even left his mouth, he found her waiting for him at her front door. She was leaning against the door jamb, beaming at him. When he reached the landing she literally threw herself at him, no hesitation that he wouldn't catch her. He hugged her close and something settled in his heart: he could come home to this forever.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing the place right in front of her ear, "I'm sure I smell like an airplane."

She pulled back looking rather gobsmacked and he realized that he had never been so forward in his affection for her, but she quickly smiled at him. "No, you smell like Harry." She raised a hand to his face but then seemed to think better of it and dropped it as her open expression shuttered. "I'm happy to offer you a shower though, if you'd like. You came straight here?" She eyed the one piece of luggage he'd brought with him and the hold-all he had across his shoulders.

"I wanted to talk to you and it didn't feel like it could wait," he admitted.

"Of course, come on in." She waved him into her flat. "Can I get you anything?" She gestured to the kitchen.

Harry started to refuse but then noticed how dry his mouth was: the combined result of the transatlantic flight and his nerves.

"Water?" He asked.

"Of course," she smiled, and it looked like she was going to reach for him again but dropped her arm almost immediately. "I think I'm going to make myself some tea. Would you like a cup too?"

"Oh, yes, thank you."

"Well, you can come with me, make yourself comfortable in the living room, or you're welcome to the bathroom if you'd like to freshen up." She chuckled. "Not that you need to, but since you mentioned smelling like an airplane I thought you might be feeling grimy, whatever you'd like…" she trailed off.

He didn't like how uncertain she was suddenly behaving around him, but he did need to pull himself together. He motioned in the direction of her bathroom. "I'll just go splash some water on my face."

"Take a shower if you like Harry." She seemed to gather herself and reached out to grasp his arm, this time she didn't stop herself and gently squeezed his bicep, "I'd like to hope we're well past standing on ceremony."

He released a breath. "You're right. That would be great."

"Okay, take your time, I'll be here whenever you're done. I don't know what's been going on but I know that it must have been a long few days for you," she gifted him with the sweetest smile he'd ever seen as she spoke

He wanted to kiss her. He quickly checked himself and smiled at her in return. "Thank you."

"You know where everything is?"

He nodded. "I'm all set, thank you Mione. It's nice to have somebody to come home to."

And he swore he could have seen her eyes melt, but that he'd also confused her with his declaration. He high-tailed it to the loo before he could do anything even more stupid like grab her and kiss her instead of just thinking about it.

In the bathroom he started the water for his shower, quickly stripped, but when he caught his own reflection in the mirror he gripped the sink on either side and glared at himself. "Get it together Potter," he ordered.

He showered, considered trimming his beard but decided that such frivolities were a waste of time at the moment, and then dressed in comfortable sweats. Hermione was not one to judge, or even care about what he was wearing.

When he entered the living room she was curled up on the couch, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. A second cup- still steaming- as well as a bottle of water were situated on the coffee table, clearly waiting for him to emerge. She looked up immediately at the sound of the door opening.

"Hey," she greeted him softly, but she didn't meet his eyes. "I kept it warm for you. Are you sure there's nothing else you'd like? Are you hungry?"

Harry just stared at her for a moment, not liking how uncertain she was suddenly behaving around him. He strode across the room and slid onto the sofa next to her. "I'm fine, love, maybe in a little while we could consider ordering something in, if you're hungry. I'm still settling in."

"That sounds good," she nodded. She took a few measured breaths, her foot tapping against the carpet. "So what's up?"

Harry smiled to himself, unsurprised and amused. How long could he have expected her to keep her curiosity at bay? Frankly, he was astounded by her restraint.

He cupped the mug of tea between his palms and eyed her. "I broke up with Ginny."

She went completely still for a moment but then she closed her eyes and took several long breaths. When she opened them again she met his earnestly. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," he answered immediately.

Hermione looked almost alarmed.

"I'm sorry that it didn't work out, of course," he rushed to explain, "but I'm happy I realized it before we did something foolish like get married."

She just gazed at him over her cup. "Still," She drew out the word.

"It's sad. But it was time."

He watched her swallow and reach for him reflexively, she once again tried to snatch her hand back before he noticed, but he grabbed it before she could.

"Does this bother you?" He asked her, lacing their fingers together.

"No. But I'm not sure it's appropriate."

"Okay," he said quietly, and reluctantly released her hand.

"Things must be difficult for you right now and I hate that," a small hand found his forearm and he was unspeakably comforted by it. Then again, he shouldn't have been surprised, Hermione had been lending him courage since he was eleven years old, which was perhaps why he hadn't recognized it before: he'd become so accustomed to this woman's love that he hadn't recognized it for what it was.

"Yes. But I'm mostly relieved." Harry answered, only now realizing how much it was true.

"Really?"

"I'm not going to try and convince you that I didn't love Ginny. Or that some part of me still does. But this has been coming for a long time."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Then why were you going to marry her? That's an awfully big commitment."

"You're right. It's just that she doesn't understand me and she doesn't love me the way I've always craved to be loved. It's not her fault. However, it was inevitable, I think, that we were going to separate. I'm just happy I realized it now and not too late. Breaking a marriage bond is painful."

Hermione could only stare at Harry. What was he telling her? She had been worrying over him and what he was up to for four days. She had been thrilled that he'd called her to let her know when he'd be headed home- no, not home, back to New York. She had never expected him to show up on her doorstep less than twelve hours later with his suitcase still in hand to tell her that he'd broken his engagement with Ginny.

No matter what Astoria, and even Leah, had said she hadn't really believed it. But she was ecstatic at the confirmation that he and Ginny were no longer together, and she felt terribly guilty for it. Because she should be sad, right? Her friends, who had been together for a long time and were set to get married, were now broken up. She should feel upset, and since she didn't, it was only right that she felt guilty.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice startled her out of her reverie.

"I'm sorry," she lurched forward and enveloped him in her arms, "you must be heartbroken."

They both went still, he breathed deeply and she would have sworn she felt his lips brush against the skin of her neck.

"Would it make me a terrible person if I said that I wasn't?"

"Of course not," she breathed against his shoulder, "you could never be a terrible person."

They held each other for a long time, Hermione was almost tempted to drift off to sleep, so comforted was she by his scent and the sound of his heartbeat.

"Okay, then I have something to tell you."

She easily pulled back and regarded him as he cupped her shoulders, though dread tugged at her heartstrings. "Go ahead." She encouraged.

"I have feelings for you, like romantic kind of feelings." He looked anywhere but at her as he spoke.

She loved him with all of her heart, but he had never been eloquent. She'd never had a greater shock in her life and the immobilization spell he'd cast on her when they'd dueled just a few days before was nothing compared to the way those words froze her on the spot.

She blinked at him.

Eventually her mouth began to open and close stupidly, attempting to respond to his statement, but it didn't work.

Why couldn't she speak?

She'd hoped for this moment. Leah and Astoria had been certain he loved her, and she wanted that to be true so badly. And yet she felt frozen in place at what sounded like confirmation of that very feeling. Her chest was tight with emotion and she struggled to breathe.

He disentagled himself from her and leapt to his feet, his face inscrutable. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'll see you later. Don't worry, we never have to speak of this again, it won't affect our friendship."

Hermione gasped. He shocked her. But she hated how he'd given up so easily, how he'd been able to wipe his face of any emotion without any effort. Merlin, how long, how many times had he been forced to do that? She knew something of his past- before Hogwarts- she had some idea of what it had taken for him to make friends, and especially to trust people the way he had her and Ron.

It was her turn to be brave.

She had never been so grateful for her hard earned defensive skills as she was when she was able to snag his wrist and pull him back down beside her. He spun his head to look at her, his gaze wary and maybe a little angry, but he didn't pull his arm out of her grip.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, "I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I obviously completely understood the situation."

Hermione released his wrist to grasp his hand in hers. When she tugged at his arm he automatically tugged in return, helping her off of the sofa. "Such a gentleman," she chuckled, intertwining their fingers.

She brought her free hand to his face, finally allowing herself to indulge in a way she'd been fantasizing about for weeks and scratching her fingertips through his facial hair.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?" He answered, leaning into her touch in a way Crookshanks once had, making her laugh.

His eyes popped open and his gaze was so adoring that it made her breath catch. And she knew that it was time. She had to tell him the truth, she had to tell him everything.

"I love you completely and I have for a very long time."