JK Rowling and whatever other appropriate affiliates obviously own the rights Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe. I own nothing but the inserted original characters/plot concepts. I make no money on this. This is simply a FAN based work.
I would like to give a huge shoutout to the wonderful betas that agreed to help me comb through my old chapters to catch all the pesky lingering errors that I can no longer see. AmeliaDaviesWrites, and GalaxyNightangale – that's you. Thank you, your fresh eyes see more than mine.
And thank you to Greca for agreeing to read and beta my new stuff – your help is greatly appreciated.
GENRAL WARNINGS
explicit language, violence, dark themes, sad themes, dark magic, serious and graphic injuries, PTSD like symptoms, blood and gore, bad situations, rape (insinuated but not explicitly described), explicit smut (but not PWP and chapters with smut will be flagged so you know to watch for it and can skip over it if you prefer and it will largely be edited out for this version), mercy killings, LGBTQ and coming out anxiety, potential character deaths, difficult/controversial topics, torture, interrogation and war. Please this warning and read individual chapter warnings.
Chapter Ten
Hermione had fired three spells before Harry had even rolled to crouch facing their attackers. She hit one of the two wizards square in the chest and he crumpled to the ground instantly as the stunning spell knocked him out. The other was more agile and had managed to dodge her second and third attacks by rolling to the right. More concerning, Harry noted, was the large werewolf that was galloping towards them – eyes enraged, snarling and with – Harry noticed it this time, a glint of gold reflecting from the band that circled its front wrist with every step it took.
Hermione and Harry simultaneously hit the werewolf with a stunning spell before they had to roll and dodge a second explosion that the remaining wizard had cast. The werewolf faltered, its front legs going limp momentarily as its face bashed into the ground before the creature regained its balance and lunged towards them – forcing them to dive further apart. Hermione cursed the distance between them and the cold weather, had Harry not been bundled up for the winter she could have grabbed him much more easily to apparate away before this happened. Though then again, she knew that if she had apparated right away there would have been a risk that the explosion spell the snatcher had cast might have gotten caught up in her apparition. Which would have been devastating.
There was no way to know for certain and running what-if scenarios wouldn't get her anywhere. Right now, she needed to focus, and she needed to get them out of this situation. She pushed her panic down as she rolled instinctively to the right to avoid a flash of white and heard the sound of a chain wrap tightly around the tree behind her. Whoever this fucker was, he clearly hadn't decided if he was trying to kill them or capture them.
The werewolf had turned its attention to Harry, and he was currently dodging and running, and jumping away from its claws as he cast spell after spell towards it. His reflexes were faster and more accurate than the last encounter and he didn't allow the werewolf to catch him on his back like the one in the alley had. Instead he lingered in a crouched position as he dodged and attacked – moving further and further down the slight incline of the forest ground.
Hermione cast two stunning spells and a disarming spell at the wizard before running up the slight incline and jumping high over a fallen branch and one of the snatcher's explosion spells. She landed hard and rolled to her feet before casting an explosion at the tree that the snatcher had ducked behind. It exploded forcefully and Hermione internally thanked her ability to cast non-verbal spells – the advantage was greater than she'd appreciated while just practicing with Harry. Non-verbals were quicker and gave her the element of surprise. Unlike the snatcher who cried his disarming spell as he recovered from the explosion that had knocked him several feet away from the tree. She was ready for it though and she rolled forward under the bright red light before managing to catch the side of the man's face with a carefully aimed diffindo. She heard him cry out as his right cheek split open and blood spattered the snow-covered ground next to him, leaving behind a vibrant red streak.
His eyes were wild, his hair a disaster, and she noticed a gold glint from his wrist as he raised his wand. She saw the words begin to form on his lips before he could even get them out and she lowered herself, building energy in her legs before pushing off to roll to the left as he cast a killing spell at where she had been standing.
Fuck! she thought as she rolled behind a tree stump, her back thumping hard against the surface as she stayed crouched low to the ground. The bright green flash streaked by and her heart hammered hard in her chest.
This had escalated quickly and her adrenaline was making her brain and body work double-time to keep up. She tossed a leg locker and a stunning spell around the tree stump before throwing herself further left to avoid the next explosion sent by the snatcher. He'd missed, hitting two feet away from where she'd been but the debris flew violently into the air and thudded hard into the ground as she hunched behind a larger tree, hoping that the flying snow and bits of tree stump might cover her location for a moment. Her mind was racing, she needed to get to Harry, needed to apparate them away from this place before they got hurt. Everything was happening so fast they hadn't even been able to use their shield charm – she knew there was no way they would be concentrated and calm enough to cast it with everything that was going on.
She could feel her frustration building. They'd been so careful and so vigilant during their supply run only to run into snatchers and a werewolf at the first place they landed? This was just unbelievably bad fucking luck, her mind raged.
Hearing the snatcher advancing from her left, her eyes quickly glanced down the slight incline toward Harry who was still fending off the werewolf and she noticed that his left arm hung somewhat limply at his side. He ducked another lunge from the werewolf and rolled to his right further away from her and clutched his arm briefly as he rose back into a crouched position before casting a diffindo at the creature and slicing it across its side. It was in that moment that a small amount of light from the almost completely cloud covered night's sky managed to sneak through the trees and reflect off the snow that she saw the wet red stain that spattered Harry's arm and the pained expression on his face.
Time seemed to slow down, her eyes widened as she saw the werewolf stumble briefly from the injury but turn quickly to face Harry. Harry stepped back and his foot caught in a branch on the ground. She knew what was going to happen before it did – Harry was going to slip and the werewolf would be ready.
And something inside her snapped.
"NO!"
The word was screamed from her mouth before she had even realized it. She felt rage boil up from the deepest darkest depths of her soul, it coursed through her like nothing she'd ever felt before. Her heart hammered, her face contorted, her eyes hardened – and in that moment, Hermione took her empathy, her emotional side, and her constant need to do what was right and stuffed it into a small little box in the corner of her mind. And she closed it tight. For empathy had no place here. Then her body moved before she even knew what she was doing.
She heard the snatcher approach beside her and start to cast an explosive spell but she'd already pushed off the tree behind her, throwing herself forward, rolling once before she popped up to her knee and turned back to the snatcher. Her eyes flashed with raw anger, her wand moved before her brain connected the dots and the word screamed from her mouth.
"SECTUMSEMPRA!"
The snatcher's eyes went wide as his wand arm was torn violently from his body and a huge slash ripped his chest open – but she'd already turned her wand back to Harry and the werewolf. He was on his back, the werewolf was on top of him and Harry's left forearm was latched in its mouth. He aimed his wand and hit it with a diffindo across the chest, its blood pouring down onto him.
Hermione's wand was pointed while her mind immediately ruled out another sectumsempra or diffindo for fear of hitting Harry and instead latched on to what she knew would work. She focused her rage, her fear and her desire to stop the creature – then cried out.
"Plenus-Protego-corPus-LoComotor!"
A dark red spark with a white hot center shot from her wand and flew at the werewolf, encasing it before it became completely invisible.
A desperate roar of agony erupted from the werewolf as it dropped Harry's arm and collapsed withering on the ground next to him. Hermione's ears felt like they were bleeding from the horrific sounds that poured from its muzzle as she pushed off the ground and tore down the incline toward Harry. He'd rolled away and stood up before pointing his wand at it and slitting its throat with a muttered spell.
"HARRY!"
Hermione quickly closed the distance between them, running faster than she thought possible and leapt over a broken branch before skidding to a stop at Harry's side. She grabbed his outstretched wand hand, aiming her own at the creature's body as rapid, shuddering breaths wracked through her.
"I'm okay," his breath came in rasps and he leaned into her side, not taking his eyes off the now quiet werewolf. "It's dead."
She dropped her wand slowly before turning quickly to face him.
"Are you alright? Harry – your arm," she was running her hands all over him, his chest, his arms, his face – ensuring he was alright everywhere else before immediately re-focusing to his left arm. Her eyes examined the shredded material on his left side, and he winced as she began removing his jacket to see the damage.
"It's not that bad," he grimaced as she removed his sleeve with a seam splitting spell and peeled away the jacket. "I managed to cast a shield."
"You cast a shield?" Hermione's hands had momentarily stopped moving over his arm as her eyes locked desperately and incredulously to Harry's. "When did you cast a shield!?"
He laughed gently as she resumed inspecting his arm and quickly pulled a cleaning potion, essence of dittany and silver powder out of her purse.
"It wasn't a very good one," he winced again as she dowsed his arm in cleaning potion and charmed away the excess blood that covered his body to see the wounds better. "I – I wasn't able to focus enough, so it was weak but, I cast it just as I felt my foot get stuck – before I fell. At least it stopped the werewolf from actually taking a bite of my arm."
"Harry," she breathed out as she now covered his arm in essence of dittany and silver powder, being sure to cover every single portion of his open wound before she looked up at him again. "Harry's that's – that's – I can't believe you managed it! I thought – I thought it bit you, I – I thought I might lose you!"
Her eyes watered as she threw her arms around his waist and pulled him into her tightly. He groaned a bit painfully into her neck but patted her gently on the back with his wand hand before she stepped back quickly and grabbed and held the front of his jacket tightly.
"Sorry," she winced as she looked at him. "I was so worried, I thought that you'd been bitten – I – I wasn't sure I'd get to you in time. You're sure you weren't bitten?"
"Nah, not this time," he grinned at her. "Just a scratch. But I think my forearm where it had me is bruised something bad – because holy hell it hurts like a bitch."
Hermione's gaze travelled down his arm, confirming that there were no puncture wounds. She smiled up at him, still clutching his jacket firmly as her eyes poured over him, devouring his features like she hadn't seen him in years. She reached a hand up to the side of his face and stroked his cheekbone gently, the intensity of her eyes making his stomach turn over. Before he could do anything else though, he saw her eyes sharpen as her mind flicked like a switch and refocused.
"Harry, sit here, the wound on your arm is closed – you won't keep bleeding, but grab some blood replenishing potion from my bag okay? I need to look at your wounds more closely, but I need to go take care of the guy we stunned first – I'll be right back."
Harry had only just started to nod when she turned and started running back up the slight incline, muttering lumos so she could see better. Snow had begun to fall again, and the forest seemed eerily quiet and gave no hint of the battle that they had just waged. Only the broken and shattered trees, and the large gaping holes in the ground provided any evidence of what had occurred. She cast a quick homenum revelio as she went to ensure there would be no further surprises – but nothing appeared.
She reached the stunned snatcher quickly, having cut across to the right at a run to locate him. He lay face down in the snow rather awkwardly over a dead branch. She hit him with another stupefy, and then a petrificus totalus before she rolled him over and obliviated his memories. Searching him quickly she noted that he carried nothing useful on his person, just the wand that was still gripped tightly in his hand and a few loose coins. Her movements were robotic as she checked his pockets and then straightened to run over to where the second snatcher was.
He wasn't hard to find.
As she approached, she could see the crimson of blood soaked deeply into the snow – small patches slowly being covered by the new fluffy flakes that gathered on the ground. Her heart stammered and her pulse quickened as the pool of blood got larger. Then she saw the stub of the snatcher's arm, bone protruding awkwardly from the broken flesh, and his motionless body stiff as it lay in the cold snow. His eyes were open, they stared blankly at the sky.
They're blue, she noted as her gaze traced over his face. She didn't need to check or cast a diagnostic to know that he was dead. Her stomach lurched and she clamped her mouth shut with her hand as she gagged slightly. Thankfully, there was no smell – just the surreal image of red against white in a deathly quiet forest as his empty eyes looked up at nothing.
Willing herself not to throw up everywhere, she lowered into a crouch and brushed her fingers over his eyes to close them. She robotically searched his body, ignoring her unease and hoping to find something useful – she came across two scraps of paper and a ticket stub, she pocketed them quickly before standing up to scan the area. Her legs trembled when her eyes landed on the detached arm laying several feet from his body and she saw a thin gold bracelet on the wrist. Forcing her stiffening legs to move, she walked toward it.
-x-x-
Harry sat on the small broken branch watching the light from Hermione's wand bob around on the hill before him. He'd cast a quick diagnostic charm and determined he needed to drink half a bottle of blood replenishing potion. He'd drank it quickly, repacking the bottle before turning his own lit wand to examine his arm. It wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, and nothing in comparison to what Hermione had gotten during their last werewolf encounter – he would have lost his arm had his full body shield not formed fast enough. His arm still ached and hung awkwardly from his shoulder, he frowned at it before casting a second quick diagnostic charm that Hermione had taught him.
"Ahhh," he said with a grimace. "Well that makes sense."
He'd broken his humerus. He had fully expected that the wounds would continue to ache terribly for the next little while as he healed, but he had been sitting there wondering why his arm still hung pathetically and he couldn't move it around very well. And now he knew why. He looked back up to see Hermione's light lingering in one spot just up the hill for a while – he would get her to fix it when she returned. He didn't trust himself to do it while in so much pain and he didn't want to set the bone wrong and leave Hermione with the task of rebreaking it. The light lingered still longer and he was just about to call out to her when it finally started bobbing its way back to him.
-x-x-
Hermione's face was tight and tense when she stepped into the light of Harry's wand, he noticed that her eyes looked hardened and closed but yet her hand trembled gently as she reached to inspect Harry's arm.
"Harry, I think your arm might be broken," she said with focus, but he didn't miss the slight quiver that her voice held as she spoke.
"It is," he said calmly, grabbing her hand with his right and stopping her movement. "Hermione what's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, pulling her hand away and refusing to meet his eyes. "I'll fix your arm."
"Hermione," he caught her wrist again and held it firmly. Staring at her intently until her eyes finally met his. "We're not doing this, okay? We're not shutting down – talk to me – tell me what's wrong. My arm's already broken, it's not going anywhere. We have time."
She stood still and unmoving, her eyes searching his as her jaw clenched and her fist balled at her side.
"Harry I –" she faltered and her eyes dropped down to his chest as her arm shook. "I killed him."
Harry dropped her wrist and reached for her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. She didn't cry, she wouldn't cry – she honestly wasn't even sure that she could cry for a snatcher who followed You Know Who, but her emotions still felt all over the place. She was desperate to never let go of Harry again, her stomach knotted over the bloodied image of the dead snatcher, her soul ached from worry that she'd almost lost Harry and her mind was racing as her heart pounded from the adrenaline that had been coursing through her body. She felt disconnected and disjointed, like her brain couldn't process what she'd done.
"It's okay Hermione," he said gently to her, stroking her back with his hand. "It's okay, you didn't do anything–"
"But I did Harry," she cut him off, surprised by how even and level toned her voice was. "I did do it – it wasn't an accident – I used dark magic, Harry – I – I used sectumpemra. I had to… I did it intentionally, Harry, this wasn't a misfire."
"Hermione," he said as he pushed her away from him gently to look at her face. "You didn't do anything other than what you had to."
Her eyes softened, and she eyed him warily. He could see the unease in her stance, the desperation and turmoil inside her as she tried to process the situation. On one hand – she had just killed someone, intentionally. On the other hand – she'd helped save them and it was hard to mourn the death of one of You Know Who's followers. One that would have killed them if she hadn't gotten him first.
"If you didn't do what you did, we might not still be here. I'm not saying that we should be proud of using every tool that we have to fight this war – some take a toll and some are just terrible. But they're tools, and you did what you had to do. We'll work through this together okay? I – I used it too," his voice dropped at the last sentence and Hermione's eyes shifted to the dead werewolf a few feet away from them. Its head was almost completely detached from its body – a diffindo would not have been strong enough to do that sort of damage.
"I know," she said quietly, her eyes turning back to his. "I'm sorry, Harry."
"Me too," and he meant it.
She stared at him for a moment longer, knees getting colder in the snow and she knelt before Harry's sitting form. The desperation was still evident in her face but her eyes finally travelled back to his arm.
"I'll fix your arm quickly – and then let's get out of here," her eyes refocused as she pushed the inner turmoil back into the depths of her mind. She needed to remain focused and get them out of here. Now was not the time to be a pathetic or naïve child. She'd boxed that up earlier to do what needed to be done – and she would keep it boxed until they were safe.
She cast her own diagnostic spell quickly to assess the break and then healed it just as fast. Harry smiled as he noted that his arm didn't hang limply from his side any more, he could move it, but it still ached. She clutched his hand firmly before meeting his eyes again.
"Before we go, just one more thing," she didn't let go of his wand hand, and instead pulled him to his feet.
Her eyes were determined, and she walked them both toward the dead carcass of the werewolf. Grabbing her purse with her only free hand she accioed a black metal box and opened it with her wand – inside was a slim gold band. Carefully, she then used her wand to remove the golden band from the werewolf's wrist and placed it inside the box with the other – never once touching it directly. She closed the box with her wand and placed several protection spells on it before stuffing it back into her purse.
"There," she said with a strange amount of brightness. "I'm going to take a look at those and see if I can figure out how they work later. But for now – they're safely stored."
"Even in battle you're always thinking ahead," Harry couldn't help but look at her with pride.
She snorted and eyed the area around them with visible disdain.
"Obviously not enough though, we were still caught off guard," her voice was low with frustration.
"We'll fix that Hermione," Harry said quietly and her eyes darted to his, her brow creasing at the seriousness and determination that she heard. "It won't happen again. We won't let it happen again."
She nodded firmly, and gripped Harry's hand tighter. He had noted how she had never let go of him since they got up from the log, and she was standing impossibly close.
"I know where to take us next," she spoke determinedly. "It won't be pleasant – but it will be safe."
With that Hermione stepped into Harry, gently cradling his injured arm between them, wrapping her hand around his waist and gripping his good hand firmly. Then she apparated them away.
-x-x-
With a crack they landed in what Harry thought must have been the middle of a blizzard. The area was rocky, cold and still dark with the little remaining night. She'd brought them to a small rocky mountain so far North Harry figured they might be in Scotland. Immediately upon landing Hermione cast a homenum revelio before walking them toward a rough slightly covered rocky area where they then set up the tent.
Setting up the tent was difficult, not only because of the wind but also because Hermione did not want to let go of Harry's hand. It took them twice as long to erect the tent and for her to secure the pegs with sticking charms. Begrudgingly, she finally did release her hold on him after she ushered him inside to rest while she went out to set the alarms and detection spells. She'd fished out a clean and warm pair of his flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt for him before she turned to leave.
She set 4 alarms and detections. One at 50 meters, one at 100 meters, one at 300 meters and one at 500 meters out from the tent. The small cracking sounds of her apparating to each location went unheard along the mountainside, disguised by the raging wind. While she worked her mind was racing, her stomach nervous and her eyes flicked quickly side to side with anxiety – wand clutched tightly in her hand awaiting any attacks. Images of the dead snatcher's blue eyes kept popping up in her head, she'd shake it to refocus and then continue to push on.
She would need to deal with what had happened – she knew this – but just not right now. Right now, she needed to ensure that they were safe, that Harry was safe. So, she wandered the dark snow-covered mountain with determination, her hand twitching every few steps, pulse racing as she flinched every so often – afraid that she'd heard something. Her twitching and trembling body was tense, every sense on high alert as she shivered in the frigid cold.
Closing the small distance back to the tent she set the final wards and enchantments which would conceal their tent and keep them safe. The wind clawed at her face, the sleet and snow stung her eyes and cheeks. At the last ten steps she felt her energy drain from her body, as if someone had just placed the weight of the world on her shoulders. The adrenaline that had been coursing through her drained away and now she only felt heavy from exhaustion, sore and numb. She found herself thinking that the only thing she wanted to do was just curl up in Harry's arms.
She knew that they'd talked about what was going on between them and that she had been the one to say that now wasn't a good time. She knew that she was the one who said the war complicated things and that she said allowing the closeness was irresponsible.
I don't care though, she thought as she pushed the tent open and came inside to remove her jacket and boots. She looked up to see Harry seated on his bunk, changed into the pajama bottoms and loose-fitting black t-shirt she'd given him before leaving. He looked up at her and smiled – he looked like shit.
She stripped off her jacket, hat and boots before moving toward Harry. Her body felt like it was a hundred years old and full of lead. She was sure that tomorrow she would wake up to a bunch of fun and interesting bruises from rolling around in the forest and dodging to save her life. But right now, she couldn't care less. Sluggishly she knelt before Harry to inspect his arm.
"You were lucky," she said, voice heavy as she ran her fingers over the freshly healed skin.
"Yeah, it really only nicked my arm," his eyes followed hers as she turned his arm over to inspect the back. "I think most of the damage was the break to be honest. That and the bruising from when it bit my forearm – but at least the shield prevented its teeth from puncturing my arm. I only felt the pressure."
A thin jagged angry red scar stretched from the tip of his shoulder down to his elbow. The werewolf's claw had caught his shoulder, breaking the humerus with the downward force of impact and it had carved a thin line several inches before Harry had managed to push it back. Harry was right, deep blue bruises were starting to show on his forearm, but there were no punctures. Most of the blood on his clothes had actually been the werewolf's from several well placed diffindos and Hermione expected that Harry's recovery would not take nearly as long as her own had. Though, like hers – the scar would remain forever.
Hermione accioed her purse and pulled out a balm she had to help with the bruises and proceeded to gently rub it into his forearm. It smelled minty, and it made some of the tension release from his shoulders. After putting the balm away, she sat before Harry and realized that she was holding Harry's hand between her – tracing his fingers and running her hands over his knuckles. She didn't want to let go, she didn't want to leave him. Her mind was blank. She felt dead on her knees and she could feel his warmth spreading through her hands, her eyelids started to slouch.
"Hermione," he said gently as he ran his own fingers over her knuckles. "You should get some rest."
Hermione nodded slowly, her mind churning like an old slow wind-up clock. She raised herself from the floor and squeezed Harry's hand before walking towards her bunk and pulling out her own red flannel pajama bottoms and a dark grey sweater.
"I set 4 alarms and detections, so we will be able to get some sleep without anything sneaking up on us," she heard Harry agree and the creak of his bunk as he laid down gently.
Pattering softly to the bathroom she found that she didn't have it in her to shower, so instead she quickly brushed her teeth, cast a drying charm on her hair, washed her face and cast a cleaning charm on herself after throwing her hair up in a sagging ponytail. The golden locket hung loose around her neck and she was thankful that they didn't lose it in the battle. She would wear it for the next few days while Harry recovered.
Her movements were languished, her thoughts thick and heavy as emotion weighed heavy on her heart. Twice now, twice they'd come so close to losing each other. She didn't want to lose him – she couldn't. When she exited the bathroom the lights in the tent were still lit and she moved quietly back to her bunk, dumping her worn clothes on the ground by her feet. She didn't even have the energy to laugh at how ridiculous it was for Hermione Granger to drop clothes on the floor. She stood stock still staring at the empty and cold looking bunk before her. The raging winds outside rattled the tent and the fabric pulled viciously with each gust. She wasn't worried the tent would dislodge – she knew it wouldn't, she'd been careful with the sticking charms. But the noise and the cold placed an eerie edge to the bizarre calm haze she felt herself in.
She shivered as she continued to stare down at her bed. She didn't want to crawl in it. She didn't want to be alone. Slowly, she turned to look at Harry. His eyes were closed, and he was laying on his back. She wasn't sure if he was sleeping or not yet, he was as exhausted as she was and injured, so he may have fallen asleep quickly while she was brushing her teeth. She shivered again. Her eyes drooped, and her right knee buckled under her weight – but she couldn't stop looking at him. She couldn't make herself turn away to face her bunk. She felt like her heart was aching. It had been too much, today was too much – she couldn't do this… she couldn't do this alone.
Unable to think, to process, to even begin to consider or care about the consequences she took a step toward Harry's bunk. He was laying closer to the tent wall, his injured left arm almost touching the fabric as it rippled in the wind. Her feet padded softly as she took the ten or so small steps between their bunks and she saw Harry's eyes crack open sleepily at the sound of her socked feet approaching.
Without saying a word, he reached his right hand out to her, she took the last two steps to his bunk, grabbed his hand and pulled back the blankets before lowering herself onto his bed. He shuffled over another inch as she laid down next to him, head beside his on the pillow, and rolled onto her side to face him. Her hand intertwined with his and he rested it on his chest. She nuzzled in closer until she could feel his side against her chest before covering herself with his blanket.
"I don't want to be alone," she whispered, the words barely audible above the storm that raged outside.
Harry's hand tightened around hers.
"You're never alone," he breathed out in a whisper. "I'm always right here."
She smiled as she gripped his hand tightly in return, flicking a finger to turn off the lights in the tent. Then darkness overtook her and she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
-x-x-
Hermione woke to the sound of the tent moving around them. A dim light cast strange shadows against the fabric, and she knew it must be the start of the afternoon despite her eyes still being closed. It never got bright anymore now that they were into December and the snow fell heavy. She did a quick mental check of their wards and could feel that they had remained undisturbed. Her body ached, sore from the battle they had faced the night before. She groaned as she made to roll to her back only to realize that her leg was stuck.
Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and saw thick dishevelled black hair. Her mind took a moment to process the image before it linked to the warmth that she felt against her chest and legs – to the sleeping form of Harry that lay next to her.
Her hand was still clutched firmly to Harry's on his chest, her fingers had gone numb, and her right leg was tossed over Harry's right one and weaved underneath his left. She froze for a moment as the cold of the night before, the loneliness, the fear, the exhaustion and the desire to not be alone settled in. She'd wandered back to his bunk after staring at her own for several minutes. She didn't want to leave him. She had wanted to be near him. She still did.
She raised her head to look at his face. His features were loose and calm, Hermione couldn't remember the last time that she had seen him sleep so peacefully. Usually he slept in a fit and got tangled in his sheets - but he had not moved an inch from where he'd passed out.
Makes sense, her mind supplied, he's probably exhausted from last night. She stared at him a while longer before noting, Harry is incredibly handsome, as a blush crept over her cheeks. In the last two years he'd really filled out. Broad shoulders, strong arms and legs, his jaw had become more defined and it gave him the image of a strong and capable man. No wonder the girls at school had always fawned over him, she thought. She'd never really given it much thought or allowed herself to look at him, like really look at him.
But now that she had, she had to admit that he was – rather dashing.
Hesitantly she craned her neck a bit further to peer at his left arm. It looked okay, still sporting a red and angry scar that peeked out from his shirt sleeve but otherwise it remained fully sealed and did not pose any immediate problems.
Dropping her head softly back to the pillow she contemplated her escape. Though tired, she did not want to sleep anymore and frankly she was positively ravenous. Soon her stomach would be growling, and she didn't want to wake Harry up. She also wasn't sure what he would say when he realized that she was in his bed... though the image of him out stretching his hand to her circled around in her head and made her blush further. She decided that he probably wouldn't mind her being there... but still. This had definitely pushed past the agreed distance she had all but requested they make.
And she'd been the one to breach it.
She rolled this thought over as the tent rippled again from a strong gust. She felt warm here next to Harry. Safe. She didn't want to leave, she didn't like the distance that had been made between them. She didn't like forcing space and she didn't ever want to let him go. They'd been attacked last night – unlucky as she unknowingly apparated them into a disaster zone. She'd made a mental note that she would need to look at a map and see if she could figure out what the hell had happened and if there might be a pattern between where the first werewolf attack was and this one. A note she planned to follow-up on today. Right now though, her brain couldn't stop thinking about how for a second time in just four months they'd come so close to dying.
She didn't like it.
She hated their situation, and it made her think more about Harry's words. How he had said that this was what they were fighting for. She pondered a while longer before she felt her stomach rumble. Deciding to think more on it later but making a mental commitment to stop behaving how she should around Harry and instead go back to how she wanted to – she started to gently pull herself out from his grasp. First detangling their hands and then slipping her leg out. She'd just gotten her calf out from under his leg and was gently pulling it across his right thigh, half sat up and resting on her elbow when Harry moved, and she froze.
His eyes fluttered open, dazed only for a second before they circled and landed on her. She felt her cheeks flush and her brain faltered, her face must have looked like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar because he smiled and let out a low gravelly laugh that made her chest tighten.
"Hey," he looked up at her with bright eyes. Not moving and not mentioning anything about her trying to sneak from bed. Or the fact that she was in his bed, or that her thigh was still resting on his.
"Hey," she spoke in a low whisper as if nervous someone might hear her.
"Is this how you feel all the time, having to look up at people?" his eyes danced as he spoke.
She opened her mouth, closed it, and furrowed her eyebrows. At first confused by his statement as he laughed again, then realizing that he was making a joke and probably trying to lighten the mood. Clearly sensing her tension.
"Are you making fun of me for being short!?" she sputtered as she thumped his chest with her free hand, the other still holding her halfway up.
"Ow - hey! Stop!" he caught her wrist gently. "I'm injured."
She narrowed her eyes at him but could not stop the small smile that formed on her lips as she looked down at him. His head was relaxed on the pillow and his grin made it look like he didn't have a care in the world.
"I'm glad you're okay," she said, the words fell from her mouth before she had the chance to gain control of her voice.
It came out soft with worry and she blushed as she started to feel just how close she was to him. Leg still lain over his, the entirety of her front was pressed against his side and her hand was now once again held tightly in his on his chest. She lowered her eyes to their now laced fingers.
"I'm glad you're okay too," his voice was soft and her eyes darted back to meet his. It was impossible not to see the emotion that shone in them.
"I'm sorry about your arm, Harry," she spoke quietly and her eyes held sadness.
"It's okay," he said slowly as the grin faded slightly from his lips. It was replaced with a softer much more intimate smile. "Now we match."
She felt her chest constrict and her heart beat hard against her rib cage. She couldn't look away from his eyes, she couldn't stop her pulse from quickening. She untangled her hand from Harry's and slowly brought it up to his face, resting it on his cheek and stroked her thumb over his cheekbone. He leaned his face into it ever so slightly as he blinked up at her slowly.
Hermione could feel her mind shut off, as if she was physically in there herself and simply closed the door on her thoughts. Then slowly, oh so slowly, she lowered her head to his.
Hermione kissed him, her lips grazing his gently. She heard him breathe in at the contact and he responded to her with equal care. It was slow, deep and warm. Despite her racing heart she didn't feel nervous – this wasn't desperate and heated like the last time. This – was different.
It was unhurried, heartfelt, and deep. Her lips moved against his, gentle but firm as she tried to convey every ounce of her being to him, every string of emotion she held for him – what she knew but couldn't say. That she needed him, cared for him, respected him, wanted him – that she loved him. The kiss made her core burn and her heart thrum, but she kept the pace steady and sure, enjoying the feel of his lips moving against hers in such a slow and agonizingly intimate way.
Slowly, she pulled away from him, leaving her lips feeling cold and alone. She leaned back on her elbow and looked into his eyes. Harry stared up at her, his eyes a mirror reflection of her own – conveying unspoken intense emotion. She felt a blush creep across her cheeks, and she lowered her eyes somewhat bashfully to his chest before pushing herself up to sit on the edge of the bed as her hand dragged slowly away from his face.
Harry didn't stop her as she moved to get up and walk toward the kitchen. He didn't try to turn the moment into anything more than it was. He didn't speak, but his eyes watched her move and he smiled quietly to himself. He would never question Hermione about the kiss. She would never have to explain what it meant, he would never worry about what it might mean, he would never wonder what was going on between them and he would never feel unsure of what it was.
Hermione didn't have to tell him anything – he already knew.