Summary: This was it. Harry's last night at the Dursleys. Arriving just a few minutes earlier than the others coming to collect him, Hermione enters Number Four Privet Drive to look for Harry...

(Any small snippets of dialogue you recognize from chapter four of Deathly Hallows is all JK Rowling)

Harry Potter is Tasty

Hermione was one of the first to arrive in the garden of Number Four Privet Drive. The back door of the house was slightly ajar and she pushed it open, stepping into the kitchen. Forgetting that she was still under the Disillusionment Charm, she went looking for Harry. She didn't have to go far. There, in the hallway, was Harry with his back to her and opening a cupboard under the stairs, and she could have sworn she heard him say something to Hedwig which unmistakably sounded like, "—this is where I used to sleep! You never knew me then—Blimey, it's small—"

She was so taken aback that she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the earsplitting roar of a motorbike. Hermione heard an "Ow! Fuck! Bollocks!"—apparently Harry had been startled too and hit his head on the low door frame of the cupboard under the stairs. Quickly, she tapped her wand to the top of her head, and she shimmered into view. Harry's jaw dropped when she lunged and threw her arms around him.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered in her stunned best friend's ear as she hugged him to her as tightly as possible. "I never knew—"

"Er...what?" he gasped. "Sorry, for what?"

"Let a man breathe, Hermione—"

"Ron!" said Harry, grinning at his other best friend.

She let go of Harry and spun around to face Ron, her cheeks growing warm. His tone was cheerful enough, but Ron's grin looked slightly strained. Hermione didn't have time to think about that though; Hagrid's bristly head poked through the kitchen doorway.

"There yeh are, Harry," Hagrid beamed. "Doin' all righ' then?"

"Never better," said Harry—but Hermione could hear the tension in his voice.

"There'll be time for chitchat later," Mad-Eye's voice growled from somewhere in the kitchen."We gotta get a move on."

Then they heard Tonks's voice.

"Blimey, Mad-Eye! Give 'em a minute to say 'ello, won't you?"

And many more voices could be heard from inside the kitchen.

"Good t'see you, mate," said Ron, still grinning. "But we probably should get in there before Mad-Eye's eyeball explodes."

"What's going on?" Harry asked Hermione as they followed Ron into the kitchen. "Sounds like you brought half the Order."

"Er… I'd better let Moody explain," she said awkwardly, not wanting to be the one to tell Harry.

"Wotcher, Harry!" said Tonks. Lupin had his arm around her and beamed at Harry, raising his eyebrows.

"Wait! Did you two—?"

"—get married? Yes," said Lupin. "Sorry we couldn't invite you—trying to keep a low profile, you know."

Hermione wasn't exactly sure why, but she slipped her arm around Harry's waist as he greeted the growing crowd in the kitchen. It really was more or less half of the Order, and she was as amazed as Harry that they all managed to fit in his aunt's kitchen. She wrinkled her nose in disgust when she heard Mundungus Fletcher coughing and wheezing and saw him spitting a great gob of mucous into Petunia's otherwise spotless stainless steel sink.

"You all right, Dung?" asked George.

"Don't hack up a lung," Fred chortled.

"Doubt we'll have time to stop by St. Mungo's," George added.

"Nuthin' a bit a 'baccy won't fix," Mundungus chuckled, stuffing his pipe with tobacco.

He lit it and took a long draw and the kitchen filled with a cloud of pungent smoke that made Hermione's eyes water and set Harry coughing. Ron clapped Harry on the back and sniggered.

"You all right there, Mate? You're not gonna snuff it are you?"

"Just fine!" Harry wheezed, and Hermione shot Ron a withering look.

"Mus' 'e do zat in here?" asked Fleur, flapping her hands in a fruitless attempt to waft away the sickly-sweet smoke. "'Eez revolting!"

Bill sighed. "Mundungus, do you really have to do that right now?"

"No he doesn't," Mad-Eye snarled. He snatched Mundungus's pipe from his hand and chucked it out the door into the garden.

"Oi!" said Mundungus. "That was me best pipe."

"Doubtful!" Fred guffawed.

"You nicked that yesterday—" said George.

Ron sniggered loudly and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"Boys, please," said Mr. Weasley reproachfully.

"Aw, Dad! Don't be such a spoilsport," said Fred.

"Zip it!" Mad-Eye snarled. "It's time we got down to business. ... So, Potter, you all ready to go? We gotta get everyone situated."

"Er..." said Harry, "Not that I'm not pleased to see everyone, but why are so many people here?"

Hermione took Harry's arm, preparing herself to placate him. She knew he wasn't going to like this one little bit. Ron peered at her arm in Harry's, a disgruntled expression on his face. She glared at him and he averted his eyes, looking even more aggravated. Hermione was beginning to get annoyed herself.

What on earth could possibly be wrong with comforting their mutual best-friend? She was so irritated with Ron and trying to work out what his problem was, that she absentmindedly put her arm around Harry's waist again and missed hearing half of what Mad-Eye was telling Harry. She only vaguely heard Mad-Eye impatiently explaining to Harry why they could only travel by means which didn't involve spells while she mulled over Ron's apparent jealousy. She was beginning to wonder if it had been a mistake to let herself get so close to Ron during sixth year.

She still felt absolutely horrible about attacking him with canaries, but he had been awful to her for weeks before she finally snapped. And she still wasn't sure how she felt when she had found out from Ginny much later that the whole sorry mess had come about due to his jealousy of Krum snogging her during the Yule Ball. But it had at least been some indication that Ron had strong feelings for her.

Under those circumstances, Ron's jealousy of Krum was almost understandable, but getting jealous just because she was hugging their best friend was another matter altogether. It wasn't like she and Ron were "official;" they hadn't even had a date or snogged yet.

And that was when she felt Harry tensing up and heard his voice getting louder…

"No! No bloody way!" Harry snapped. "If you think I'm going to let six people be a prime target for Voldemort, you've got another think coming!"

Hermione sighed, her ruminations forgotten.

"I told them you'd take it badly," she said.

"Of course I'm going to take it badly," said Harry, struggling to control his anger. "They're going to be risking their lives—"

"Yeah—like this is going to be first time for us, mate," said Ron sarcastically.

"Pretending to be me is bloody different, and you know it!" Harry retorted furiously. "Voldemort and the Death Eaters don't really care about anyone else—it's me they want!"

That took the wind out of Ron's sails a bit, but Fred chimed in.

"And there I was, thinking it was me," he said in a wounded tone.

"No, it's me they want," said George. "I'm the handsome one!"

"No, I'm pretty sure that I'm the good looking one," Fred retorted.

"Maybe we should ask Fleur and Tonks," said George. "As uninterested third parties with companions, their opinions should be reasonably unbiased—"

"WILL YOU TWO BLOODY SHUT UP!" Mad-Eye roared. "I've got half a mind to send you both packing! We can make do with five Potters if we have to!"

"How about four?" said Mundungus hopefully.

Mad-Eye stared at him a moment, his electric-blue eye boring right into the petty criminal.

"You want out, do you?"

Mundungus nodded, looking quite optimistic.

"Well, too bad, 'Dung!" Mad-Eye snarled. "This was your bloody idea! You're with me so I can keep my eye on you."

Mundungus Fletcher's idea? What? Seriously? Hermione was suddenly wondering if this plan was such a good idea after all.

"Erm… Are you sure about this, Mad-Eye?" she asked uncertainly.

"Having second thoughts already?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows and smirking. "Just because it was 'Dung's idea?"

Hermione's cheeks began to feel warm.

"That's not what I meant," she said defensively, even though it was a lie. "I—I just want to make sure that we've thought of absolutely everything."

"Hmm..." Mad-Eye looked thoughtful for a moment. "Can't say I blame you, Granger—'Dung's a bit of a reprobate..."

"Great!" said Harry, perking up. "So we're making a new plan then, right!"

"Nice try, Potter!" Moody growled. "I'm just thinkin' this through a bit—I'm thinkin' we oughta switch things up a bit. … Right then, Granger, I'm thinkin' Potter oughter fly with you on a Thestral instead o' Kingsley—"

"What?" said Ron, suddenly looking like he was having second thoughts himself. "That'll be a dead giveaway if there's two Harrys on a Thestral, won't it?"

"There's plenty of potion here," said Moody. "Potter's gonna take one o' Granger's hairs an' polyjuice himself to look like her. You can fly with Hagrid instead, Weasley. One o' the other Potters can go with Kingsley. … Now, if there aren't any more interruptions, maybe we can stop jawin' all night and get on with things—anyone else got anything else to complain about?"

"No," Ron muttered, looking extremely annoyed now.

"I'll be fine, Ron!" Hermione reassured him while Moody filled some shot-glasses with potion and passed them around. "Harry and I can take care of ourselves."

"An' yeh'll be perfec'ly safe with me, Ron," Hagrid beamed.

"Yeah, I know," Ron sighed resignedly when Harry gave him one of his hairs; then he swigged down the potion. Almost immediately he started to shrink and his face started to bubble and distort.

Hermione took one of Harry's hairs and dropped it in her glass of polyjuice potion. It foamed up and steam rose from the bubbles. When the froth dissipated, the potion had turned gold. The surface shimmered brightly; the aroma seemed very familiar—not unlike Amortentia—and she felt slightly giddy as the scent hit her nostrils.

"Mmm…Harry, you look very tasty!" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

The Harry who was Ron raised his eyebrows and looked annoyed again.

Hermione's cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Oh shut up," she snapped at Ron, "I just meant it looks much nicer than Crabbe and Goyle's—theirs looked horrid and smelled like vomit."

That seemed to mollify Ron. He looked amused more than anything now.

"Good point," he sniggered, and he grinned at Harry while removing his shirt to change into the same clothes that all the other Harry's would be wearing. "You tasted more like roast beef and gravy, Harry."

Harry's face reddened and he rolled his eyes.

"Like Hermione said—shut up, Ron," he said, giving Ron a little smile and shaking his head.

Ron looked down at his bare chest. "No Dragon tattoo, though. Looks like Ginny was just having a laugh."

"Well—yeah!" said Harry, looking a bit perplexed. "When would she have seen my front? It's not like we ever even had a date. We'd barely hooked up, and then I was in detention with Snape for a couple of months."

"Because of that rotten little Death Eater, Malfoy," said Hermione angrily as she downed her potion. "I can't believe I ever gave him the benefit of the doubt."

"Well, it's not like you were the only one," said Harry quietly, shooting a look at Ron as he took the curly hair she passed him.

"Well—I'm really sorry, Harry, for not believing you about him and Snape!"

"It's okay, Hermione," he said kindly, looking a bit sad as he dropped her hair into his potion, no doubt thinking about Dumbledore. "That's all water under the bridge."

Harry's potion bubbled and foamed, and when it settled down, he looked up at her in surprise.

"Yours is gold too, Hermione," he said, keeping his voice low and glancing anxiously at Ron, "and it smells like that love-potion in Slughorn's class that first day."

Hermione swallowed, a band of tension constricting her breathing.

"Er… Yours did too, Harry," she whispered.

"Huh!" he said, frowning as if an odd thought had just crossed his mind.

Then he downed the potion without a second thought. He shrank a bit and his hair lengthened and turned bushy as his face distorted before he ended up looking exactly like she usually did. His clothes looked baggy on her frame, and his shirt draped over her…

Hermione gulped and her eyes widened as she passed her own clothes to him—including her bra—with shaking hands. He was about to see far more of her than anyone else had ever seen, other than Lavender and Parvati and the rest of the girls in her dorm-room. Her face was blazing like a raging inferno when she whispered, "You'd better go change in the bathroom."

"Oh—yeah! Right!" he said, the same thought having clearly just occurred to him. His face turned as red as the Hogwarts Express. "I promise I won't look," he whispered when she clasped the straps of her bra together.

"It...it's all right, Harry," she said, her voice trembling. "You'll have to look to put on the bra. I've joined it together. You should be able to wriggle into it if you put your hands through those bits there and raise your arms above your head, and then adjust the, er… cups around my… er..."

"Got it," he said quickly, stuffing her bra under her t-shirt and jeans so that nobody else could see; then he darted through the kitchen door.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief to see that Ron was completely oblivious. It was obvious that it had never crossed his mind that Harry was going to see her half-naked figure. But as embarrassed as she felt, a tiny little voice in the back of her head told her that if anyone was going to see her boobs, at least it was Harry. "Shut up," she muttered at the little voice in her head. When Harry returned from the bathroom, neither of them could look each other in the eye.

"Right then," said Moody. "Let's get on with it—Potter..."

All the Harrys looked at him.

"I meant the real one," he snapped, then his electric-blue eye swiveled to look at "Hermione." "You two'll be headin' for Tonks's folk's house instead o' Hagrid and Weasley—you'll be able to take a portkey from there to the Burrow—"

"Er..." said the Harry who looked like Hermione, glancing at Hermione who looked like Harry. "So, d'you know where the Tonks's house is, then?"

"Dora told me where it is," said Hermione, "in case we wanted to visit her and Remus. They're staying with her parents until they can find their own place."

"Okay, folks," Mad-Eye barked. "This is it. Now keep yer eyes peeled. There's bound t'be a couple'a Death Eaters flyin' around keepin' tabs on the area."

Everyone filed into the back garden and made their way to their respective means of transportation. Harry helped her up onto the Thestral, which was still resolutely invisible to her. She reached into her rucksack and retrieved a stuffed snowy owl.

"Here Harry. Let Hedwig out of the cage—she can go on to the Burrow and wait for us there."

"Oh!" said Harry, his eyes widening, "Yeah—yeah, Hermione. Thanks! That's a good idea." He opened the cage door. "You know where the Burrow is, Hedwig. Just make straight for it, and don't look back, okay? … Promise me you'll go straight there! Hermione and I can look after ourselves."

Hedwig gave the Harry who looked like Hermione a dubious look; then she tilted her head, nibbled his (her?) finger, and took off into the night sky.

"Dunno why I didn't think of that," he muttered, clambering onto the Thestral and sitting in front of Hermione.

She immediately wrapped her arms tightly around his waist—her waist, she told herself. It felt very weird to be holding herself, but she was comforted by Harry's presence on the Thestral. She felt much safer now on the invisible steed and she let out a happy sigh. This felt right—flying on a Thestral with Harry. She couldn't help thinking back to the first time she and Harry had flown together on a Hippogriff.

There was the roar of an engine and Hagrid soared up into the sky on the motorbike with the Ron-Harry beside him in the side-car as the others took off as well.

"Harry?" she said. Just as he was preparing to take flight with everyone else.

"Yeah?" he said, turning his head—her head. She brushed aside the bushy hair in front of her face, and kissed herself on the cheek.

"Oh," said Harry, looking surprised but pleased, touching the cheek where her lips had been.

"For luck," she said quietly, and with a beating of wings they joined the others in the stars above.

~o0o~

"Bloody Hell!" Harry gasped as he slipped off the Thestral and helped Hermione down. "I hope Hagrid and Ron made it to Muriel's safely."

She was trembling badly and they both looked like themselves again; though her clothes looked a bit tight on Harry. The Tonkses were worriedly running through the garden towards them.

"That's Mrs Tonks," she told Harry quickly, and then her shaking knees buckled. She nearly collapsed, and she would have if Harry hadn't caught her.

"What happened?" shouted the horrified woman who looked unnervingly like Bellatrix Lestrange, eyeing Hermione's ripped jumper and Harry's red-soaked arm which was dripping blood on her Magnolias.

"We were expecting you an hour ago," said Mr Tonks as he gaped at the disheveled pair in shock.

"Death Eaters," Harry managed to get out between his ragged breaths. "We barely got away—"

"We managed to lose them in the New Forest," said Hermione. "We waited until we were sure they were gone, and then we came straight here.'

"Most of them were chasing Hagrid and Ron," said Harry anxiously. "For some reason they decided that Ron was the real me."

"I'm sure they're all right, Harry," said Hermione, too frightened to admit that they might not be.

"What about Nymphadora?" asked Mrs Tonks, wringing her hands and looking highly agitated.

"Not sure," said Harry, who had guilt written all over his face.

"But she knocked two of them out of the sky with stunners when we last saw her," said Hermione quickly.

"That's our girl," said Mr Tonks in a vain attempt to reassure his wife. "She can really handle herself in a fight. Now, come on, let's get Harry and you, er…?"

"Hermione—Hermione Granger," said Hermione.

"Oh! Of course! You're Nymphadora's friend, the one she invited to visit," said Mrs Tonks.

Hermione was about to say yes when Harry's eyes rolled up and he crumpled in her arms, deathly pale. She struggled to hold Harry up, who had apparently passed out from blood loss. Her eyes filled with tears and she barely managed to keep herself from losing it completely.

"NO! No! … Harry! Harry!" she shouted, hoping that the time they'd spent hiding in the woods hadn't been too long. Mrs Tonks darted back into the house.

"I've got 'im, love … I've got 'im… you can let 'im go now," said Mr Tonks, taking Harry from her arms and laying him gently on the lawn; then he unwrapped the blood-soaked makeshift bandage from Harry's arm.

Hermione fell to her knees beside him and the dam burst; she couldn't hold back the tears any longer

"Is he… Is he…?" she sobbed.

"No, love," said Mr Tonks, who was feeling for Harry's pulse. "looks like 'e's lost a lotta blood, but he'll make it."

"Here, Ted, quickly," said Mrs Tonks who had returned from the house with a flask of potion.

Mr Tonks poured the entire bottle over Harry's deep gash and it began to foam up and close over.

"Essence of Dittany," he told Hermione. "That'll stem the blood loss—"

"I know—if I'd only had some in my rucksack..." Hermione wailed, the tears rolling down her cheeks unabated. "All I could do was tear off a bit of my jumper and tie it around his arm."

She cradled Harry's head in her arms and began kissing his forehead and cheeks, as if hoping that would rouse him.

"There, there, dear," said Mrs Tonks, rubbing her back soothingly. "Let's get inside. We'll get your boyfriend looked after. He'll be all right now—some blood replenishing potion will fix him up."

Hermione was still sobbing and shaking violently; she was so distraught that she didn't bother to tell Mrs Tonks that Harry wasn't her boyfriend…

~o0o~

Harry was stirring. Hermione kissed his clammy forehead for the hundredth time and continued stroking his damp, messy hair. She was still cradling Harry's head, but now it was on her lap and she was on the Tonkses' sofa. Her legs had gone numb hours ago, but she didn't care.

Harry managed to drag his heavy eyelids open. He blinked blearily several times and then looked up at her, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Wh-where are we?" he croaked.

She gave him a watery smile.

"We're at the Tonkses' house, remember?"

"Erm… The Tonkses' house?" Harry frowned, then the fog began to clear from his eyes. "… Oh—right! How long was I out?"

"All night," said Hermione, "It's morning now. Mrs Tonks said last night you can have a bit of breakfast if you're up to it—"

"What?" Harry's eyes bulged and he almost bolted upright, but his head feebly flopped back on her lap. "The others!" he gasped. "We've got to get to the Burrow!"

"You're not going anywhere in this state," Hermione said firmly. "It's still too dangerous for you to take a portkey, with your arm as badly damaged as it is. That was a really nasty gash on your arm—much deeper than we thought—well into your muscle. We could be here for up to a week."

"But the others..." he moaned weakly.

"...are fine," she reassured him. "Every single one of them! Ron got knocked out when the motorbike crashed on Muriel's lawn, but other than some bruises he's just fine now. George lost an ear though—Snape's awful spell..."

"Sectumsempra," Harry said with as much anger as he could muster, which wasn't much given his lack of strength.

Hermione frowned, her nostrils flaring with mixed emotions. She didn't like to say it—she didn't like feeling some measure of satisfaction that someone was dead.

"He got what was coming to him," she said slowly, trying to convince herself as much as Harry. "If you had been hit with his curse instead of an ordinary severing charm..."

"Who?" asked Harry. "Who got what was coming to him?"

She hesitated, then she sighed.

"Snape! … He died—he fell hundreds of feet when Moody hit him with a stunning spell. … Mundungus tried to apparate away when he saw Snape. But apparently Moody had the forethought to cast some sort of spell on Mundungus which made him unable to apparate. … It seems that seeing Snape frightened him so much that it jogged some sort of memory, and he told Mad-Eye—Snape had imperiused him—he's the one who gave Mundungus the plan. That's how the Death Eaters knew what the plan was—"

"Bastard!" Harry hissed. "I should have bloody known! I should have never agreed to go along with the plan—especially after Moody said it was 'Dung's idea. ... Yeah—Snape bloody deserved it! Snape nearly got you killed because of that plan—"

"You mean he nearly got you killed, don't you?" said Hermione.

"No! That Death Eater was aiming for you—I looked like you, remember? … Voldemort wants me for himself—he doesn't care if the Death Eaters kill you or anyone else."

"Oh!" said Hermione, not sure what to feel. All she knew was that she was just thrilled that Harry was alive.

"First my parents," Harry muttered. "Dead—because of him. Dumbledore actually believed that Snape was sorry—Snape, a Death Eater—he's probably killed loads of other people—why would he bloody feel sorry, especially when he hated my father? … And then he murdered Dumbledore."

Hermione bit her lip, feeling an almost overwhelming swell of emotion as she looked at down at Harry. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she drew closer... the sudden urge was interrupted when Harry resumed talking.

"How did Ron and Hagrid get away then?" he asked. "If the Death Eaters reckoned that he was the real me, Voldemort must have been after him as well."

"They almost didn't make it," she said quietly, "Bill and Fleur, and Shacklebolt and Fred—they stuck with them. The fight kept the Death Eaters and Voldemort busy long enough for all of them to make it to Muriel's. … And Ron, he fought really well... he—" Hermione halted and took a deep breath, her feelings as mixed as they had been about Snape's death. "—Ron got one of the Death Eaters with a Killing Curse. … That seemed to surprise Voldemort and the other Death Eaters."

Harry's jaw fell open and his eyes went wide with shock.

"You're joking!"

"I'm not. I promise I'm not."

Harry swallowed, and he blinked several times as he tried to process the information. Hermione took his hand with the one which wasn't caressing his hair and gave it a comforting squeeze.

She could see it in his eyes—the horror he felt at Ron using a spell he would never consider using himself—and the self-doubt, wondering if he should have been prepared to use deadlier spells himself. After seeing Stan Shunpike's mask fall off, Harry had stopped using Stunners and had used Disarming spells instead. That was when Stan had managed to get in the Diffindo which had sliced through Harry's arm. Then she and Harry had flown into New Forest and had only managed to eventually lose Stan and the other Death Eater by covering themselves with Harry's invisibility cloak.

While waiting in the woods until they were certain that the pair of Death Eaters had given up looking for them, Harry had tried to justify himself.

"It was Stan," he whispered defensively as the wind rustled through the leaves above. "He must have been imperiused. If I'd used a Stunner that would be as good as killing him, falling from—"

"I know, Harry!" she whispered back, cutting across him. "You don't have to explain it to me. I would have done the same thing as you."

Harry had fallen silent, looking relieved. Then she had torn off a strip of her jumper and bandaged his arm as best as she could. And then they had made it to the Tonkses without further incident.

Harry sighed in resignation and looked up at Hermione again.

"At least Ron and Hagrid are safe. That's the most important thing."

Hermione nodded and gave him a little smile, and fought the urge again. Instead, she leaned down and kissed his forehead again.

"That's what everyone's been trying to tell him," she said. "Ron felt awful about it afterward according to the Patronus message Remus sent."

"Of course he did," said Harry confidently, returning her smile. "Ron's a good person."

They sat in silence for a while as the first rays of dawn began to crawl up the paneled wall opposite the window. Harry dozed off again in her lap, looking peaceful. She leaned over and kissed his forehead a few more times.

"How's your boy doing?" said a warm voice.

Hermione blushed and looked up at Mrs Tonks who was standing in the doorway and wearing a fluffy white dressing gown.

"Still very weak," said Hermione, "but he woke up a bit earlier and he's gone back to sleep."

"And you?"

Hermione shook her bushy head.

"Not a wink," she said. "I couldn't sleep if I tried."

"You really love him, don't you?" said Mrs Tonks, smiling at her.

Hermione felt her cheeks growing hot again and she nodded shyly.

"Many would give anything to be Harry Potter's girlfriend,' Mrs Tonks sighed wistfully. "He's really lucky to have someone like you—someone who really knows him. … Would you like some tea then, seeing as you can't sleep?"

"Yes please," said Hermione, nodding again.

Mrs Tonks returned with a steaming Belleek teacup a few minutes later.

"There you go, dear. You just let me know when he wakes up again and he can have some more blood-replenishing potion, and a bit of breakfast if he's up for it. Is there anything in particular he likes?"

"Scrambled eggs and bacon," Hermione said without hesitation, "and toast with orange marmalade."

It was nearly nine o'clock when Harry roused again, looking more rested and much happier. Hermione was on her third cup of tea, holding her cup in one hand, the other still stroking his birds' nest of hair. He grinned up at her from her lap.

"I could get used to this," he said. "I don't think my hair's ever had it so good. … All those times in the hospital wing and nobody ever thought to stroke my hair. I'd've probably got better loads quicker."

Hermione laughed and felt the heat rising to her cheeks. She bit her lip shyly.

"Weeeeell..." she said slowly, trailing off.

"Really?" said Harry, catching on.

She nodded. "Sometimes—when you were asleep—Madam Pomfrey let me sit with you."

"Oh!" He looked surprised. "...Wish I'd been awake for that."

Hermione's heart began to race, pounding against the wall of her chest. She wasn't sure if this was the right thing to, but if there was even a chance...

"Harry, do you love her?"

"Huh?"

"Ginny! Do you love her?"

"Er..." Harry looked puzzled. "I broke up with her."

"I know," said Hermione. "But that was because you didn't want anyone to hurt her to get to you, wasn't it?"

"Well, yeah—I guess."

"So…?"

Harry gnawed on his lower lip, his brows furrowed in thought, then he shrugged.

"Dunno, to be perfectly honest. I think I do—I mean, I like Ginny well enough, and I suppose I… er..." His cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. "I suppose I liked snogging her—and she's good at quidditch—and she's a bit of a laugh. ... But I'm really not sure what love's supposed to feel like. … This—this feels sort of how I imagined it, I guess."

Hermione beamed at him.

"She thinks you're my boyfriend—Mrs Tonks I mean—she thinks we're together."

"Really? … Nobody ever told her about you and Ron?"

"Nobody had any reason to tell her, because there is nothing to tell, really—"

"But—I thought—"

"We're not together—Ron and I. … Not really. We do have feelings for each other, obviously, but we never actually talked about it—about where to go from here—we've never been on a date—never snogged—I really don't know what we are, at the moment."

"Oh! … er … erm..."

Hermione took a deep breath, steeling herself as she regarded Harry's perplexed features.

"But I do know one thing for certain. I love you, Harry. … I love you and… and I think I always have."

Harry gaped at her in frank astonishment, and she felt a stabbing pain in her gut. Steam rose from the hot tears trickling down her blazing cheeks.

"Hermione!" said Harry, looking distraught at her tears.

"I'm sorry—I shouldn't have—"

"Hermione, wait—stop! Please, don't cry—"

"It's all right, Harry. I was just being stupid. Obviously you love Ginny and are hoping to get back together when this is all over."

"No! … I mean yes, er… I mean yes, I was thinking maybe we'd get back together after—if there is an after—but I honestly don't know if I actually love her. … What I said right now—about the way this feels being with you—I guess I reckoned this is sort of the way it would be with Ginny eventually. I just… I'm not sure—is this how love is supposed to feel, Hermione?"

She tried to pull herself together for Harry's sake and wiped her tears on the sleeve of her jumper. She nodded.

"Yes, it is! Nobody's ever told you they loved you, have they? ...or cuddled you. … Not since you were a little baby, anyway."

"Well..." Harry gave her an uncertain little smile. "...in your letters—you always signed them, 'love, Hermione'—and your hugs always felt nice. Does that count?"

Hermione couldn't help it. She let out a teary little giggle.

"I suppose it does, Harry. I almost told you I loved you at the end of first year, then I chickened out. Ginny isn't the only girl who had a crush on you. … That's not quite what I meant though. I heard you last night—telling Hedwig about the cupboard. … I knew you didn't get along with your relatives from the bits you let slip over the years. But I never knew they were that awful to you, and I never quite realised until last night what that actually meant for you.

"It's easy for me to know how love feels, because my parents gave me lots and lots of it. You never really knew your parents, and you were really only just starting to get to know Sirius properly before he died. You never had a chance to know how the good bits of loving someone is supposed to feel.

"And this is how it feels for me," she added, stroking his untidy mop of hair again.

Harry closed his eyes for a minute, looking peaceful, then he opened them up once more, looking as if he had just remembered something.

"Last night—the polyjuice potion—it smelled like the Amortentia—a sort of flowery smell—there were other smells too, but the flowery smell… Are you wearing perfume, Hermione?"

Her heart leapt in her throat again.

"No, that's my body wash…" She saw Harry's puzzled expression. "It's a sort of soap," she explained. "The one I use is wild rose."

"That—that's what I smell right now," said Harry. "Er...erm...what did your potion smell like?"

Hermione briefly hesitated and felt her cheeks glowing again.

"Your hair," she said shyly.

"Aha!" Harry grinned. "So that's why you keep messing with my hair. You just want me for my hair."

Hermione swatted him on the shoulder, taking care to make sure it was his good arm.

"Shut up!" she said, blushing furiously. Then she narrowed her eyes at Harry, daring him to answer the next obvious question. "So, what did I… my polyjuice potion taste like?"

"Treacle tart," said Harry without hesitation.

"Oh—that's your favourite pudding!"

"Of course it is," he retorted earnestly. "Your turn now."

"Milk chocolate," she said. "Cadbury's—you… your polyjuice potion tasted like Cadbury's chocolate."

"I suppose that proves it then," Harry murmured, gazing up at her, the rays of sunlight catching his iridescent green eyes. "You really do love me. And I… I really do love you, Hermione—I just didn't know that was what I was feeling."

This time the urge to kiss Harry properly was too powerful to restrain any longer. She leaned over and tentatively drew up his head closer to her own, her bushy hair tumbling over her shoulders. When Harry didn't resist, she pressed her lips to his. Then he reached his hand up; his fingers entwined with her tangles as he kissed her back. The next thing they knew, Harry was sitting up next to her and the kiss grew deeper and steamier, their arms around one another.

Finally, their lips parted when they came up for air, and they bathed blissfully in the golden glow of the morning sun. A moment later, the spell was broken by a little cough from the doorway. Mrs Tonks was beaming at them.

"Sorry to spoil the mood. But seeing as you're up, Mr Potter—"

"Harry—it's just Harry," he interjected.

"Harry it is then. If you're up to it, would you like some breakfast then? Scrambled eggs and bacon, and toast with orange marmalade, is that right?"

"Oh… er, yes please. Thanks Mrs—"

"Andromeda, or Andi for short—whatever you're comfortable with. I'll bring back some tea for you first, and a dose of blood-replenishing potion."

When Andromeda was gone, Harry raised his eyebrows and smiled at Hermione.

"My favourite breakfast—you told her, didn't you? You really do know me."

"I should hope so after six years," she retorted.

"So… er… Where does this leave us, then?" he asked. "I mean, it's not like we've been on a date or anything either. But now that I know I love you, we should probably sort things out."

A little shiver of delight shot up Hermione's spine. There was no question in her mind where things stood.

"Well, Andromeda already thinks we're a couple, and loads of people over the years have thought we were together. I don't see any reason not to make it official."

Following breakfast, Hermione and Harry picked up where they had left off—steamy kisses—and Hermione couldn't help but think that she had been right—Harry Potter was very tasty indeed.