Chapter 8 - Fireworks

May 1998

Hermione took a deep breath and turned her head toward James and Lily, unsure what she was going to find there. Were they still disappointed about her soul-bond? What would they say when they found out she and Harry were sort of together? Surely, they wanted someone for their son who wasn't bound to another wizard. But they didn't look upset, not at all.

Lily was beaming at her, her green eyes bright and shining with tears while James gave her that characteristic half-grin of his. They looked tired, and she knew they'd been working hard on Kingsley's campaign, but overall, they were the same James and Lily, who had been like surrogate parents to her for the past few months. Her eyes filled with tears and she barely managed to force out a, "Hi," before she started crying in earnest.

Lily reached her first, wrapping her arms around Hermione's small frame as the younger witch cried into her shoulder. "I'm so glad you're okay," Lily whispered in her ear. "We were so worried about you."

"I'm not really okay," Hermione said through her tears. "I sleep all the time, I'm constantly in pain, and I have no idea if I can still do magic."

"Don't be ridiculous," James said, taking Lily's spot and pulling Hermione into a firm hug. "The day you can't use magic will be the day the world ends. You'll be fine, just give it time."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to remember he wasn't talking to his parents and promptly closed it. Hermione guessed he was about to point out that he'd been telling Hermione the exact same thing as James.

Hermione gave Harry a pleading look, but he ignored it and walked to the edge of the room, leaning his back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest as he glowered at his parents, who'd taken the seats Ron and Neville had recently occupied.

James knew the look Harry was wearing well. It was that distinct look children reserved for their parents when they'd discovered that they were flawed and made mistakes. That they lied and got it wrong, more than they'd ever let on before. It was a mix of anger, disappointment, and betrayal. James had never worn the look himself – at least, not to this degree, but had seen it on Sirius's face often.

That thought hit him like a blow. That his son could come to hate him as much as Sirius had hated his parents, mixed with the unexpected memory of his old friend. He pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets, rubbing hard to wipe the memory away. Lily placed a soft hand on his leg.

"How's the recovery been, Hermione?" he forced himself to say.

She took up the conversation quickly, explaining the recovery plan the healers had laid out for her and how she was planning to throw it out the window because they'd proven to be inept when it came to her injury so far and because none of their advice, to this point, had matched what her body was telling her.

When Lily tried to argue in the healer's favor, Hermione cut her off and asked them countless questions about the war recovery efforts and the campaign. As they caught her up on everything she'd missed, Harry just glared from the other end of the room. He didn't speak until the conversation turned to Hermione's parents.

"I may need your help," she was saying. "I'm not going to be able to hide this from them–" she motioned toward her body, "– and even if I hadn't been injured, I always intended to tell them about the war. But – um – I wouldn't mind having one of you there. To explain… you know."

"Oh, we know," James grinned. "You just want us there as a distraction, so instead of focusing their anger on you, they can focus on the awful adults who were there and let it all happen."

Hermione returned his smile. "Exactly."

"They wouldn't be wrong," Harry said under his breath. "You were awful adults."

"Harry," Hermione said tersely. "If you don't want to be here, you can go. Standing there and glaring at anyone isn't helping."

He let out a large exhale. "Fine. I'll be in the hall." He crossed the room and threw the door open, then slammed it hard behind him.

Hermione cringed as she focused back on James and Lily. "I'm so sorry. I'm working on him, really. He's – it's not you. I mean, it is, a little, but not all you. You're just an easy target for – for all of it."

Lily reached out and took Hermione's hand. "You're not responsible for fixing this, Hermione. Focus on healing, okay? We can handle Harry."

"What Lily meant to say is, 'Yes, we'll take any help we can get,'" James countered. "'Please help. We're completely out of our depth here.'"

Hermione let out a small laugh.

"This is why you don't have kids," Sirius was saying as McGonagall led Lily, James, Sirius, Molly, and Arthur through the halls of Hogwarts to the Hospital Wing. "Keeping them alive is too much work. And just when you get them off to Hogwarts, thinking the worst of it has past, they begin actively trying to kill themselves."

"It's worse when you have seven," Arthur added.

"I can't begin to imagine," Lily chimed in. "Don't know how you do it. My one causes me enough stress."

"They have the twins, too," McGonagall added, "That pair causes more trouble than all the other students in Gryffindor combined."

"More than us?" Sirius asked, nudging James in the side.

McGonagall gave him an exasperated look. "They're only in their third year. I'll give my final assessment once they've graduated."

"Owl me as soon as the results are in," Sirius joked. Lily didn't know how he did it. She knew he was just as disturbed about what they'd heard in Dumbledore's office as she was. But this was how he coped. Underneath the laughter, he was terrified of how close Harry had come to meeting You-Know-Who. James seemed to be hovering somewhere between Lily's anxiety and Sirius's good-humoredness, not yet deciding where he was going to land.

"Was Augusta right, Minerva?" Molly asked, moving the conversation back to the more serious topic at hand. "Did Dumbledore let it happen? Did he really want to test Neville against You-Know-Who?"

"Of course not," McGonagall said tersely. "He would never knowingly put the students in danger like that."

Lily and James exchanged a look. They were on Augusta's side.

"The way she was berating him at the end there," Sirius said, smiling at the memory of the elder witch scolding Dumbledore before McGonagall had ushered them out of his office. "Has she ever met Voldemort? I imagine that whole, 'Dumbledore is the only one he ever feared' thing would change if the madman ever met Augusta."

"Especially with the way he's going after her grandson," James added with a laugh, which was a bit forced.

Molly and Arthur looked uncomfortable. They clearly weren't the type to make jokes about dark wizards coming after children as a coping mechanism. Lily gave them a small, apologetic smile.

They reached the Hospital Wing and found Harry in a chair between Ron, who was sitting up in his bed, and a small girl with bushy hair who was sitting in the other bed. Lily saw that the bed across from them was crumpled and guessed Harry had been told to stay there, but had ignored the instruction, like always. There was a curtain drawn around another bed, which Lily guessed concealed Neville's sleeping form. According to Dumbledore, he'd wake up in a few hours.

Harry's spine straightened when he spotted them and he gave them a defiant look and a nod that said, 'I've defied a dark wizard now, so we're equals.' There wasn't a hint of shame in his expression. Damn, this boy was going to give her a heart attack.

Molly and Arthur charged to Ron's bed, who, unlike Harry, looked afraid and properly ashamed of himself. They closed the curtain and Lily heard Arthur murmur, "Silencio" before they disappeared from view.

McGonagall went to Madam Pomfrey's office, leaving Lily, James, and Sirius alone with Harry and the young witch, who Lily assumed was Hermione Granger. Even if Dumbledore hadn't told them she'd been an accomplice in this whole incident, she would have known the girl from Harry's description of her in his letters.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, beaming at Sirius.

"Someone had to tag along and make sure your parents didn't kill you."

Harry frowned and looked warily at James. It was like it had just now occurred to him that he'd done something wrong. Lily resisted the urge to strangle him and instead, pulled him to his feet and hugged him tightly. "I could kill you," she muttered in his ear.

"We didn't have a choice, Mum," Harry said as he pulled away, his eyes drifting back to James again. James still looked like he hadn't decided if he wanted to hex Harry or hug him. "Voldemort was going to get the sorcerer's stone! If he'd got it, he would have come back. We had to stop him. We didn't have a choice. And Neville did it – we didn't see it, but Dumbledore said he was brilliant and that he's going to be just fine. So, no harm came of it."

"No harm!" Lily cried. "You went after the most dangerous wizard of all time! You could have died, Harry, and just because you didn't, doesn't make it okay. You should have owled us! We would have helped."

"There wasn't time," he argued. "And I–" he looked warily at James, then focused on Sirius as he said, "–I know it's exactly what you would have done. Both of you," he added as he turned to face his father again.

Lily sighed and gave James a silent look that said, 'This one's yours.'

He nodded, then wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders before guiding him to the hall.

Once they were out of the room, Lily deflated. Sirius pulled her against his side and she leaned into him, welcoming the comfort. "He's okay, Lil."

"Now," she said. "But it's just his first year. Who knows what trouble he'll get into next year? And with Voldemort trying to come back to power, coming for Neville, one of Harry's best–" Her voice broke and she paused to take a breath. She needed to calm down. She couldn't lose it here in the middle of the Hospital Wing.

"Excuse me. Um, Mrs. Potter?"

Lily started. She'd almost forgotten about Hermione. She stepped away from Sirius and tried her best to compose herself before turning to the girl. "Sorry for being so rude," Lily said, holding her hand out. "You must be Hermione Granger."

"Nice to meet you," Hermione said politely, giving Lily's hand a firm shake. "I know you're upset and I want to apologize. I can usually talk Harry down from his crazy schemes. But this time – he was so insistent that we had to be the ones to stop You-Know-Who. Dumbledore was away and we tried telling McGonagall but she didn't believe us… anyway, I can see the flaw in the logic now. It's clear the mirror was enough to thwart him – Neville didn't need to be there."

She stopped talking and looked down at her lap. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Potter. Harry can be… hard to say no to."

Lily put a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Struggling to say no to Harry has been the theme of my entire parenting career."

Hermione gave her a small smile, looking up at her nervously through her long lashes.

"It gets easier. Saying no to that tiresome wizard is like flexing a muscle – it will strengthen over time," Sirius said, holding his hand out to Hermione. "Sirius Black. One of the unfortunate people saddled with the responsibility of keeping Harry alive. Welcome to the club."

"No," Lily cut in. "You're not responsible for keeping Harry alive. We won't put that burden on you."

"Maybe it should be a concerted effort," Hermione said with a grin, speaking with the ease of a child who had spent most of her life conversing with adults. A quality she and Harry had in common.

Harry and James reentered the room, catching the end of Sirius and Hermione's handshake. Harry looked chastised and Lily wondered what punishment James had gone with. "I'll send you an owl with some pointers," Sirius muttered to Hermione, giving her a quick wink before turning back toward the others.

"Oh, you met Hermione," Harry said, looking eager to change the subject of his recent indiscretion. "Isn't she brilliant?"

Hermione blushed profusely while Harry turned and formally introduced Hermione to James. He had that look he used to get as a toddler when he'd found a rare item, like an eagle owl feather or a red sea stone, and couldn't wait to show everyone he knew.

"This is the Hermione Granger from your letters?" James asked as he shook her hand.

"You wrote about me?" she whispered to Harry.

He shrugged and gave her a look that said, 'Of course I wrote about you.' She blushed again.

"Well, it's lovely to finally meet you, Hermione," Lily said.

"We'd invite you to the house over the summer," James added, "but unfortunately Harry's grounded from now until August 31st."

"Even on my birthday?" Harry pressed, looking at James hopefully. He was wearing that endearing look he knew they struggled to say no to. James's eyes flashed to Lily. She gave him a small shrug.

"Fine," James sighed. "We'll lift the ban for your birthday, but you have to stay at the house. And you're still not leaving for the rest of the summer. No Quidditch matches, no trips to Ron's or Neville's, not even errands to Diagon Alley."

"Fine," Harry sighed, looking just as James had a few moments ago. He turned to Hermione and grinned widely. "What do you say? Will you come?"

She was nodding before he'd finished his sentence.

"It's a lot to process," Lily said softly. "Harry will get there."

Hermione dropped her eyes to the blanket. "He doesn't know."

She saw Lily and James shift out of the corner of her eye, but kept her gaze down. "Doesn't know what, dear?" Lily pressed.

Hermione bit her lip and said to the blanket. "Anything. About me and Neville, about the soul-bond, about how I got injured. All he knows is that I was living at Headquarters. He doesn't even know I was a proper Order member."

"Bloody hell," James swore, "and he's already this angry?"

Hermione bit her lip as Lily placed a hand on her leg. "You need to tell him, Hermione."

"I know that!" she cried. She stopped to take a breath. "Sorry, I shouldn't shout. It's just… I can barely keep my eyes open, I haven't got up from this bed since I woke up, I haven't cast so much as Lumos. This body doesn't feel like mine and I want nothing more than to shed it like a second skin and get a better one, which I know requires Dark Magic, which apparently I'm going to be brilliant at now–"

She sighed and dropped her head in her hand, groaning at the pain from the motion. "Everything sucks, it absolutely sucks and Harry – he's the only person keeping me sane and I can't – I can't tell him. Not now. I can't handle the rejection. And I know it's awful, and I know it's not fair to him, and I know that as far as soul bonds go, this is a relatively weak one, so maybe he'll understand. And maybe I can break it, but not soon. I'm in no position to be stressing my soul right now plus, I don't even know if the artifact survived and–" She cut off as the tears she'd been holding back finally overtook her.

Lily sat on the bed and pulled Hermione into a hug. "You're okay, Hermione. You're okay."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said through her tears.

"Don't be sorry," Lily said, patting Hermione on the back as she cried. "Focus on getting better, okay? We can sort out the rest later."

Hermione continued to cry. After a long while, she said so softly, Lily barely heard her, "What if he doesn't forgive me?"

"He adores you, Hermione," Lily said firmly. "I could tell that from the first day we met you. You two will get past this, I promise."

Hermione just held her tighter. When Lily looked over Hermione's shoulder at James, he was wearing a look that said, 'You better be right about that, Evans.'

A week later, Hermione and Harry were walking down the hall outside her room at St. Mungo's. Harry had an arm around her waist and kept trying to take on some of her weight as she made her way to the end of the long hall at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Stop that, Harry!"

"Stop what? Giving you support? Keeping you from falling?"

"Yes. It wouldn't be the worst thing if I fell to the ground. Wizards have survived much worse than a bruise on the hip."

"I'm not going to let you fall," he countered.

"Then just stand back and catch me with a spell, because I really want to see if I can do this on my own."

"Edwards said no magic while you're healing."

"He meant I couldn't perform magic, not that it couldn't be performed on me," she sighed.

"It could interfere with your new magical signature."

Hermione sighed again. She hated being reminded of how the Dark Magic was entwining with her magic, potentially making it different. "If you don't want to use any magic on me, you could cushion the floor."

"Or," he said, tightening his grip on her waist, "I could be right here to catch you if you fall."

"Fine," she grumbled, "but you can't take on any of my weight. You can keep your arm there, but that's it."

"Fine," he said through clenched teeth as he loosened his grip again.

Harry was frustrated. Hermione was too, and it was worse for her, since she knew it was all her fault. She wasn't annoyed with Harry for being overly-protective, she was annoyed with herself for continuing to keep him in the dark about Neville. Then Harry, sensing her irritation, was becoming irritated himself, which just made her even more guilty. Then they bickered, something they never used to do, which just pissed them both off more. And now they were stuck in this back and forth that would only get worse until she finally told him the truth.

"Hey. I'm sorry," he said calmly, cutting into her thoughts. "I'm just worried about you pushing yourself too hard, then setting yourself back. But I – we want the same thing, for you to get better. Okay?"

His eyes were bright and pleading. Hermione wondered if the guilt eating away at her insides was interfering with the healing process. She got an urge to reach up and cup his face in her hand, then remembered she couldn't lift her hands any higher than her navel. What had she done to deserve this life? Oh, right, lie to her best friend.

"Hermione?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

She forced a smile onto her face. "Can you lift my hand to your cheek?"

"Er – sure. Like this?" He grabbed her hand and pressed it against his face.

She smiled as she applied a slight pressure against his warm skin. "I'm sorry, Harry. It's not you–"

"–it's me," he finished for her. "I've used that one before."

Was he trying to remind her about all the girlfriends he used to have at school? How popular he was? How he could find another witch who didn't snap at him and keep things from him in a second? No. She was in an awful mood and it was making her bitter and paranoid.

Harry was apologizing and being lovely when she was the one in the wrong. Hermione blinked back the tears threatening to fall. "You're the best, Harry. Thank you for putting up with me. Most people would have left by now."

He moved her hand down to his lips and kissed it. "You're stuck with me. Sorry. I'm as invested in this recovery as you are, which means you won't be able to get rid of me until you're completely healed and can hex me away yourself."

I bet I can say something to change your mind. She swallowed hard and said out loud, "I'm okay with that."

They continued down the hall and Hermione tried not to let the snail's pace she was making discourage her. Several healers gave them disapproving looks along the way, but Hermione ignored them. Pushing herself like this felt right, and in just a week she'd made a lot of progress. She could get out of the bed and stand on her own and every day, she'd made it a little further down the hall before her legs crumpled under her. Today was the day she was going to make it all the way to the lift.

When she reached the point she'd made it to yesterday, the second door from the lift, her heart was pounding hard in her chest and her legs were wobbling, but she pushed herself forward. One step, another, a third.

She stopped focusing on the lift and just watched the floor, pushing her feet forward one step at a time. She could feel Harry's even breathing against her side and tried not to let the fact that she was completely out of breath annoy her. She could do this, as long as she stayed focused.

Hermione was concentrating so hard on her feet, willing them forward, that she nearly collided with the wall in front of her. Wait, where did that wall come from? She'd never encountered a wall before. Unless… she turned her head and spotted the lift several feet to their right.

"We made it," she breathed, disbelievingly. Hermione looked back and beamed when she saw the distance they'd covered. She turned to face Harry as he wrapped both of his arms around her, finally pulling her up, like he'd been longing to do for the past hour. The muscles in her legs let out an almost audible sigh of relief.

"You made it," he said, smiling down at her. "I was barely touching you. You did that all on your own."

She'd done it! She felt giddy as she took in the long hall she'd managed to traverse. Just last week, she hadn't been able to sit up by herself. Now look at her. She was making real, measurable progress, and that was just in a week. Who knew how much better she'd be next week?

Hermione looked back at Harry, who was still beaming down at her, looking as proud as if she'd discovered a thirteenth use for dragon's blood. She had a sudden impulse to kiss him. Before she could talk herself out of it, she lifted up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

Harry froze. Holy shit. Was this happening? Was she really kissing him? She'd been so closed off lately, barely tolerating the hand holding and other little touches, and he'd been questioning whether she actually liked him or was just pretending to keep from hurting his feelings but this - she'd initiated this.

She started to pull back. No! Harry drew her closer and tilted his head, then began moving his lips against hers. Hermione opened her mouth slightly and they fell into a perfect rhythm and finally, for the first time since she'd woken up, things were just as natural between them as they always had been. But this - they'd never done this. Why? They should have been doing this the whole time. Harry figured he was to blame, but didn't have the wherewithal to consider the topic further.

They temporarily forgot about her injury. He pressed her against the wall behind them as he deepened their kiss, placing a hand on her neck and gripping her waist firmly with the other as he pushed his tongue past her lips and slowly began exploring her mouth.

She was perfect. It was eerie how perfect. Her lips soft and firm as they moved in time with his, her body melting into him. It was almost as if they'd been molded to fit together. A low moan escaped the back of her throat, causing his body to ache with desire.

Hermione arched her back, pushing herself into him as she gripped his hips tightly, digging her nails into his shirt. Harry took her bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly pulled back for air. She kissed the side of his mouth, then peppered kisses along his bottom lip until she reached the other side of his mouth as he continued panting for air, content to just stand there and let her take control. Her mouth visited his jaw and neck before she finally leaned back and gave him a breathtaking smile.

They watched each other for several seconds as they caught their breath. Harry still had her pressed up against the wall and could feel the rise and fall of her chest against him. It was Hermione who spoke first. Harry was too nervous about saying the wrong thing and breaking this spell.

"I never imagined our first kiss would be in the halls of St. Mungo's."

He grinned. "You imagined our first kiss?"

She blushed. "Maybe."

Harry leaned forward and nibbled on her earlobe, sending a shiver through her body. "Me too," he whispered.

"You're a very bad dancer," Hermione said as Harry stepped on her foot for the third time since the beginning of the song.

"Uh huh," he said absently. He was staring at her earlobe, his mind clearly focused on something besides her – though obviously not dancing.

"Harry."

"Hmm?" He moved his gaze to her face, but looked at her forehead, not in her eyes.

"Look at me."

He looked at the spot between her eyes.

"What's wrong with you?"

The hand on Harry's that was on her waist tensed slightly. It was a good question. What was wrong with him? Simply put, he hated that Hermione was here with Viktor Krum, though he had no idea why. He wasn't surprised that Krum had chosen her as a date, like everyone else seemed to be. Why wouldn't he? She was brilliant, funny, and beautiful – something everyone in their year seemed to have noticed for the first time tonight, but which he'd begun noticing at the end of last year.

He was being stupid. He just wasn't used to Hermione dating and was worried about her getting hurt. It was normal to want to protect her, she was his best friend, but Hermione could handle herself. And she deserved to be happy. He'd been watching her all through dinner and she seemed just that, happy, so he shouldn't be getting in the way.

"Nothing's wrong," he said as he forced himself to look her in the eye. That was another thing, why was he hesitant to look at her tonight? Something about how incredible she looked was putting him off. It was sort of like how you couldn't look directly at the sun without hurting your eyes. He reminded himself he was being an idiot, then added, "You look stunning, by the way. Radiant, one might say. Like the sun."

"Oh. Um, really?"

"Yeah. I think so. I mean, yes. Definitely yes." Stop being an idiot!

Hermione blushed and dropped her eyes to his chest. "Yes. A big shock, I know. I've heard what people are saying."

"Don't do that." He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "Don't let witches who are jealous that you snagged a world-famous Quidditch star and are allowed to be simultaneously smart and beautiful make you feel bad. Okay?"

She gave him a small smile as her cheeks went pink. "Okay."

"I do have a question, though," he said, dropping her chin. "What did you do to your teeth?"

The blush on her cheeks deepened and she grinned with her mouth closed. "I may have gone to Madam Pomfrey earlier and had her shrink them for me. My parents are going to be disappointed I didn't use the Muggle method but – I don't know – I was getting ready for this ball, spending a disgusting amount of time on my hair and makeup and I just thought – well, if I'm going to do this thing, I may as well do it all the way."

"Good motto."

Her grin widened and now he could see her perfect teeth. "A motto you and I share."

He smiled back at her, then caught himself just before stepping on her foot again.

Hermione moved her hands to his shoulders, linking her fingers behind his neck while he placed both of his hands on her waist. She winced slightly before asking, "So, you're really not going to scold me for conspiring with the enemy?"

"No. We both know you'd never betray Neville like that."

"Right. Good. You just seemed… upset. I wanted to, um, check."

"I'm not upset." Just then, Harry's eye was drawn to a tall wizard with gray hair at the other end of the room. It was his dad. Despite the fact that this wizard looked nothing like James Potter, Harry knew it was him. No amount of disguising charms could hide that confident stance Harry knew so well. Harry's eyes flashed to Neville, who was dancing at the other end of the dance floor with Ginny.

He knew a few Order members were going to be here tonight, to make sure nothing went wrong, but didn't realize his dad would be among them. He caught the gray-haired wizard looking at him and gave him a curt nod. The wizard nodded back, then shot him a half-smirk. Yep, definitely his dad. Hopefully, Voldemort would decide to leave Neville alone tonight. He looked like he was actually enjoying himself, which was rare for him. Give the poor bloke a break, Harry thought before focusing back on Hermione.

"Sorry I, er, what?"

Hermione stepped back, out of his grasp. He was surprised to find her expression angry and a little hurt. "Harry, I get it. You've been acting weird all night so even though you say you're fine, I know you're not. I know Viktor's one of the champions and we know there's something shady about Karkaroff, but I thought I could count on you to trust me and–"

"I do trust you," Harry cut in, placing his hands on her bare arms. "I'm just distracted. I just saw my dad at the other end of the room." She turned her head so he added, "He's disguised. You wouldn't recognize him. I was just thinking about Voldemort and Neville and how messed up this all is but you – it's cool that you're here with Krum, really."

She studied him carefully, as if looking for a lie in his eyes. Finding nothing, she stepped closer to him and returned her arms to his shoulders. "Sorry," she murmured. "I guess all the glares everyone has been giving me are throwing me off."

"Ignore them," Harry said quickly, hating himself for being such an idiot and adding to her unease. "How is Krum? He seems sort of mean, but you wouldn't waste your time if him if that were true, right? He better be treating you well. I know he's used to witches throwing themselves at him so please don't–"

"I would never throw myself at anyone," she said curtly, cutting off the lecture. "I think that's one of the reasons he liked me. And he's been a perfect gentleman."

"Good. That better continue. Make sure you keep your wand close." He stepped back and scanned her appearance, trying to determine where she would stow it in the form fitting dress she was wearing.

"It's strapped to my leg," she said in answer to his unasked question. Harry smiled. Of course she'd found a way to keep it on her. Most witches, his date included, were storing their wands in their bag. Not Hermione, she was too sensible for that.

"Okay," Harry said as he returned his hands to her waist. "Near the end of the night, he might try something, but you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. And if he doesn't listen, forget about being polite and cast the strongest hex you can manage. Then, hmm, is there a way you can send a message to me? I know you can hold your own with a wand in your hand, but what if he overpowers you physically before you get a chance to grab it? Does he know you have it strapped there? Don't tell–"

"Harry," she said tightly. "Please, stop."

"I know you're strong, but you're also pretty small and he's a tall bloke."

"Harry," she repeated through clenched teeth. "I know you mean well, but you don't have to worry about any of that. Okay?"

"Hermione," he said, enunciating every syllable, "he's eighteen and famous. Plus, we don't know what the customs are in Bulg-"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I already have experience with him in – um – that regard and he was very respectful."

"I – what?" Harry's mouth fell open and all he could do was gape at Hermione. She'd already kissed him? Bloody hell, that bloke didn't waste any time, did he? Was it before the dance or sometime tonight? Where? Had it been just a simple kiss on the lips or something more? Had he put his hands on her – fuck, why did it feel like a million tiny spiders were crawling all over Harry's skin?

Harry's eyes scanned the room for the wizard in question. He found him several feet away, dancing with Fleur while he watched Harry and Hermione. Harry gave Krum a quick nod before focusing back on Hermione, who was blushing profusely now. "When did it – er – happen?" Harry asked, trying to keep his tone even.

"We went for a walk outside, just before you found me."

So, recently. Harry looked for evidence on her lips, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Then he checked her neck and was pleased to see it clear of any blemishes. "Well?" Harry asked.

She swatted his arm. "Well what? Like I said, it's none of your business."

"You're my best friend and you just had your first kiss. That's a big deal! How is that not my business?"

"Hush," she hissed, leaning close to him. He could feel her breath on his neck. To his dismay, she leaned back slightly before adding, "I think even the house elves in the kitchens heard you announce to the castle that I just had my first kiss."

Harry smiled and raised an eyebrow at her, making it clear that he wasn't going to drop this. Why was he pressing her? It's not like he wanted to know. He just had to know. He couldn't explain why.

"It was fine, Harry, okay? Now can we drop this?"

"Fine."

"Yes, fine. There weren't fireworks or anything, but, well, I've always thought that analogy made no sense. Do you really want fireworks going off when you're kissing someone? Seems dangerous."

"So you… didn't like it?"

Hermione frowned as she considered. Harry's heart stopped beating as he waited for her answer.

Why do you care so much, mate?

No idea, now shut up, she's about to say something.

I think I liked it. It was more… intense than I was expecting."

"Intense like he was aggressive? Because I know he's a quidditch star and a champion, but I'll kill him. I can do it under the cloak."

She swatted his arm again. "No, he was a gentleman, like I said. It was just more physical than I was expecting but I think it was okay. I liked it – yeah." She sighed heavily. "Can we please stop talking about this?"

"Yes please!" a voice shouted in Harry's mind. But there was a second voice that needed to know more. The first one won out and he gave her a quick nod.

"How's your date?" she asked.

"Good," he said, scanning the room for Natalie. He spotted her at their table, talking to one of her schoolmates and eyeing him with annoyance.

"Oh," he winced, "she looks upset."

"You should probably go back."

She pulled her hands down but Harry strengthened his grip on her waist before she could step away. "After this song."

"Okay," she said, giving him a pretty smile before returning her arms to his shoulders. "Though you might be ruining your chances of getting some kisses of your own later," she joked.

"Yes, wouldn't want to miss out on any intense, physical kisses," he added teasingly, then regretted it because of the mental image of Hermione and Krum passionately snogging that it had created.

"Devoid of fireworks," she added. "Don't forget that part."

"Oh, right. How could I?" he bit out, suddenly eager to return to his date.

"Hey, look." Harry nodded down at his hand, which he was holding out with his palm facing up. Hermione watched him create colorful sparks in the air about a foot above his hand. "Not fireworks, but I figure it's close enough."

She beamed at him. "How did you do that? Isn't your wand back in the room?"

He shrugged. Before she could press him further, the doors to the lift opened. Three people walked out and a healer at the back of the group said to Harry, "No magic in the halls." He closed his hand and the sparks stopped.

"Maybe we should, um, go back." Hermione said.

The next moment, Harry had scooped her up in his arms and was walking back to her room. She wished she could reach up and wrap her arms around his neck, but had to settle with pressing her palms against his chest instead. As she felt the toned muscles under his shirt, she decided it wasn't a bad substitute.

When they arrived back in her room, Harry kicked the door closed behind him and carefully placed her back on the bed. He sat down next to her, then gathered her face in his hands and started kissing her again. He had no idea if the kissing was a one-time thing and if they'd return to that awkward, tense place again, so was determined to take advantage of this closeness while it was here.

"Can you put my hands up on your shoulders?" she whispered into his mouth.

He did as she asked and she winced slightly, but tried her best to push the pain to the side. She was kissing Harry, finally, and dammit if she wasn't going to do the thing properly and run her bloody fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry I'm so pathetic," she said as she started playing with the hair at the back of his head.

Harry placed a hand on her cheek. "You're perfect."

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She was still holding back. Damn. What did Harry have to do to convince her he was serious about her? He started kissing her again. "How is this kiss?" he asked between each brush of their lips. "Intense? Physical? We already know there were fireworks."

She smiled against his lips and threaded her fingers further into his hair. "It's perfect. I kind of just want to do this for the rest of the day. Even more than I want to ask you about that wandless magic you did in the hall which, as you know, is saying a lot."

"I'd be okay with that," he said seriously. "But on one condition."

When he leaned back to look at her, her eyes were wide and she looked almost nervous. "Yeah? Um, what's that?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

The hesitation left her eyes and her cheeks went pink. Harry leaned forward and kissed each one. "Please? Please be my girlfriend, Hermione Granger," he said as he peppered kisses along her face and neck. "Please, please, please."

"Is this how you ask witches out?" she teased. "No wonder you had so many girlfriends."

"I have never asked a witch out like this, nor have I ever wanted one to say yes as desperately as I want you to. Please?" he repeated.

Hermione bit her lip. Harry held his breath as he waited for her response. "Yes. I'd love to be your girlfriend, Harry."

A/N: They're official! And the flashbacks continue to be my favorite part of the story. It's fun to imagine a past for Harry and Hermione with no Ron or BWL drama in the way. The next chapter will be posted Mon, Jan-24.

I'm doing a Q&A on the Sanctuary Discord this Saturday, Jan-22. Come join us! You can submit questions and watch me struggle to answer them. See this same chapter of AO3 for the invite link. Or can also find me on Tumblr at Alexandra-Emerson or on Instagram at alexandra_emerson_writes.