In the night, she dreams.
The smell and the sound of a sizzling steak on the barbeque are the first things that register in her mind as she awakes; her eyes flickering as she attempted to adjust to the beating rays of sun. She gently lifts Crookshanks off her stomach from where he has taken residence, and plops him down on the floor, earning a hiss as the cat stalks off. Her legs fall over the side of the lounger, and she slips on her shoes as she stands, stretching her arms as she looks around the yard for him. It takes her only seconds to see him, and she knows, she long has, that nothing can now stop the hitch rising in her throat as her eyes feast on him. His black bangs fall around the shape of his head as he bends over the grill, his firm hand gripping on to the tongs as he gets ready to flip the steaks roasting on there. He wears just a simple T-shirt and a skimpy pair of shorts, leaving her to be able to fantasize as she meanders towards him across the crisp grass, her eyes and mind unable to not admire his tight, firm arse...
She shook her head, and averting her eyes, reminding herself that it was only lunchtime, and her parents would be arriving at the cottage any moment now. Besides, There would be plenty of time for that later...
"How are the steaks?" She calls as she gets close, and she cannot help but let an uncommon giggle slip from her lips as he bounds on his feet in shocked response, the tongs dropping from his hands as he flips around, his wand already whipped out in his left to protect himself.
Then he sees her, and she smiles.
"Hermione!" He says exasperately as his shock wears off, and recognition sets in, his boyish face showing the smallest hint of sweat from the encounter. She only smiled at him as she walked towards the barbeque, picking up the tongs and flipping the steaks herself after seeing they were ready.
"Harry," She states as a means of reply, in the most neutral tone she can muster with the grin of a Cheshire cat threatening to show on her lips. Finally she can hold it back no more, and the slightest of laughs escapes her lips before she breaks into mad, hysterical laughter.
He wasn't laughing with her though, she could barely see through the tears of laughter forming in her eyes, but she knew he would have the look on his face. His lips in the slightest of pouts as he tried to hold a scowl, or maybe the smallest of smiles.
"I don't know what is so hilarious, I could've been badly burnt," He says in the midst of her laughter, his voice uppity and his nose raised in the air. Her laughter faded eventually, and when it did, she strode over to him and took him into her arms, kissing the scowl off his face.
"I'm still not happy with you." He murmured against her lips.
"I know," She sighed, his tongue sweeping across her bottom lip, and her gaining the (welcome) intruder entry to her mouth.
When they finally had to release each other's lips, they just held each other as tightly as they could.
"I love you," She whispered against his chest a few moments later.
"I know, I love you too," He answered, kissing the top of her head, and pulling her even tighter...
When she woke up in the mornings, all her other dreams would be long forgotten, but these ones always stayed fresh in her mind, in vivid detail.
She would walk down to breakfast in the Great Hall, and take her usual place next to him, though keeping her hair tightly around the sides of her face, avoiding his gaze as the blush set in on her cheeks from just being so close to him. He would ask her what was wrong, and she would just mumble some quick reply before rushing to class; leaving him and Ron to ponder what was wrong, the picture forming in her mind easily...
"Why does she always do that?" She would see Harry ask, and Ron would shrug his shoulders in response.
"Who knows? Girls."
Yet when she had the dreams, she would never feel better, and she would sleep all night through, waking in the morning feeling fresh and ready until she remembered the content of her imagination's nighttime wanderings.
The dreams were a curse, and they were a blessing.
*
He has the dreams as well, albeit a little more graphic, but he is just a teenage boy after all.
He tries to go on normally when he wakes in the morning, as he eats breakfast, attends classes with her; though sometimes he will drift off, and the dreams will be waiting for him, the embarrassment not being able to be escaped if he calls her name out earnestly in the middle of History.
He knows nothing of his feelings, and dismisses the dreams as normal for a boy of his age. She is his best friend after all, surely there is nothing unusual about a person feeling such things for another in their dreams, and only in their dreams.
She catches him looking at her sometimes, and he turns away as fast as possible, but more often than not his eyes move back to her, some unexplainable force leaving him breathless without seeing her, and breathless seeing her as well.
The dreams stopped his nightmares, he had not had one for several months, ever since the dreams started. He was peaceful.
For him, the dreams were just a blessing.
*
Then the nightmares came back.
It was not the same way it had been before though.
Before, He would toss and turn, scream and shout until one of his room mates would sleepily rise and shake him back into consciousness.
That night, He was frozen. His lips were muted, and his body still, but he was terrified. When the nightmare ended, he shot out of his bed, his eyes wide and his breath heavy. He quickly wrapped a dressing gown around himself and walked quickly out of the dorms, making his way down to the common room, only to see her there.
Her hair was more messy than usual, and her eyes were wide with fright as they met his across the room. It took only an instant for them to both stride towards each other and embrace in a hug, him knowing somehow without asking that she had experienced the same nightmare.
They rocked against each other for an unknown time, her sobs racking against him, and his hand stroking her back as he tried to calm her.
"It was so..." She choked out after a few minutes, her voice quivering. He brought a hand up to her face, and place a solitary finger across her lips, hushing her.
Then he saw it.
From there on, he knew nothing of what he was doing, only that somehow their gazes had met again, and that eventually, his lips had settled on hers.
There may not have been the fireworks you were supposed to experience, and there may not have been the chorus of angels ringing in their ears, but it was enough for both of them.
It was completion.
The dreams came real that night.
*
When he awoke in the morning, he had to wonder whether it had been real. Had it been another of his dreams?
He was alone in the bed, and a thin sheet was scantily wrapped around his waist.
But it wasn't his room, and it wasn't his bed.
Then he looked, and then he saw her. Standing on rocking feet near her desk, her bottom lip being bitten nervously and anxiety written on her face.
He smiled at her, and she smiled back.
Just as it happened in their dreams, except now. Now, it was reality.
A/N - I wrote this a month or so ago, and intended for it to be just a separate ficlet, then I had inspiration to write the first part of this series, so I decided to come back and finish this one. I hope you have enjoyed, and if the mood strikes me again, there could be more. Thank you to all of those who reviewed last time, and if you have got this far, do take the time to leave a quick comment. Thanks.
- Carl