Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and associated characters and events do not belong to me. They belong to the marvellously talented JK Rowling (published under Bloomsbury Press). They are being used solely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made from this work (trust me on this one). No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: This is officially my first completed Harry Potter story :) Am ridiculously happy. Oh, while the other previous chapters weren't overly suffused with romance and fluff, this chapter is as fluffy as a baby bunny, so be warned.

Wandless Magic

Chapter Three

There's one thing that everyone should probably know about Hogwarts. It's excessively cold. Even in the middle of summer a chill breeze whips around near the lake, particularly at night. Apparently tonight is the exception to the rule.

How inconvenient. The one night that I'm traipsing about the grounds – in the moonlight no less – with one Harry Potter, and the weather decides to be pleasant. There's no chilly breeze to send me snuggling against him, no howling wind to scare me into his arms. Nothing but a warm breeze and the brilliant moonlight shining off the still waters of the lake.

I have got to be the unluckiest girl on the face of the planet.

The only consolation would be the fact that we were huddled beneath Harry's invisibility cloak on the way through the castle. We snuck out onto the grounds through the secret passage that Harry and Ron had discovered while running away from Filch one night. From what I understand, it's quite like the Room of Requirement – it only appears when you really want it. That may be why the Marauders never found it. They had all the other ones to use.

Anyway, here by the water there's simply no reason to be any closer to him than I already am.

Perhaps I should try that weather altering charm I read about last week …

Yes, I'm ready to shamelessly admit it. I want the chance to be leaping into his arms. After tonight, I want to snog the dear boy absolutely senseless. Unfortunately, I am not being presented with the chance to do so. And that's incredibly annoying.

However, I haven't got a clue as to why tonight, of all nights. Perhaps it's the sheer romance of the situation. Perhaps it's because his hair is still slightly damn from his shower earlier that night. Or perhaps it's because he's wearing that jumper.

It doesn't really matter, I suppose.

"It's a beautiful night," I finally venture. I can't help but speak quietly.

Harry's sitting next to me, silently leaning against the large tree trunk, arms clasped around his knees and staring out at the lake. He's in one of his pensive moods. I've noticed that he gets that way something. When he's puzzled or confused over something he stops and gets all contemplative.

He looks rather adorable actually.

Harry looks at me and smiles. "Yes, it is."

I resist the urge to melt into a puddle of miscellaneous goo at his feet.

"My mum and dad used to sit here," he says suddenly, still staring out at the water. His gaze flickers down to the soft grass and then back up to the stillness of the lake. "right under this tree."

"They were very happy, weren't they?"

Harry nods, a tiny smile hovering around the edges of his mouth. "They were in love."

Last Christmas, Professor Lupin had presented Harry with a leather bound album absolutely full of photos from his time at Hogwarts with Harry's parents. It had originally been intended as a joint gift from himself and Sirius.

After receiving it, Harry had spent almost an entire week carrying it around and looking through it every chance he got. I can't remember him being any happier than he was at that time. I know he keeps it in the top drawer of his bedside table. It's probably the single best present he's ever gotten in his life.

Professor Lupin and Sirius had chosen the photos well. There were countless images of Harry's parents, smiling and laughing, arms wrapped around each other, staring dreamily into each other's eyes. There were also several of them all together.

Admittedly, the Marauders were rather attractive during their adolescent years. Dark haired Sirius with a mischievous smile at the ready, a quietly cheerful Professor Lupin with a twinkle in his brown eyes, James Potter, who looked so very much like Harry. They had the same smile, the same messy dark hair … And then there was his mum, Lily Evans, with her tumbling curls of auburn hair and green eyes.

I couldn't help but notice that pictures of Wormtail were conspicuously absent.

There was one picture, right near the back. His parents are sitting under this very same tree, smiling at the camera. His dad has his arms around Harry's mum and her head is leaning against his shoulder. Professor Lupin told us that photo was taken in the last few days before the end of Seventh Year.

They look blissfully happy.

This picture Harry had taken out. He carried it around with him, usually tucked into the pocket of his robes.

This isn't the first time I've noticed just how much I know about Harry's personal habits. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was stalking the poor boy. As it is, it's a good thing I'm one of his best friends – now that gives me every right to know every little detail about his life.

Well, perhaps it doesn't quite cover the fact that I know what soap he uses, and the shampoo, and the aftershave he's started to use these days (Mirkwood Madness for Men), and the …

Christ, I've got to get myself a life!

I must have a particularly strange look on my face because Harry's looking at me, rather concerned.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

Rearranging my face into an expression more befitting a human being, I nod. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm just a little tired, I suppose. It's been a fairly hectic couple of days." Well, that's certainly true, what with me going through the emotional wringer and all.

That and the fact that I'm slowly going insane over this entire debacle. Still, it's Harry's fault for being so … Harry-like and practically perfect. Damn him.

"Do you want to go back?"

Call me crazy, but he sounds oddly disappointed.

"Erm, no?" I say hesitatingly, butterflies taking up sudden residence in the recesses of my stomach.

"Good," he says quietly.

He looks at me, very intently, for a very long moment. A shiver makes its way down my spine. It's a very pleasant shiver, mind you, and I can't help but bite my lip.

Suddenly he's sliding closer.

"Cold?" he asks and, without waiting for an answer, his arm comes up around my shoulders.

"Um …" I freeze in place – now that's getting to be a rather unfortunate habit – but he coaxes me toward him with a whisper and a soft smile playing about his mouth. His arm is warm around me and his hand is moving slightly against my upper arm.

I shiver again, unwittingly, and Harry looks down at me. Before I know it, the Invisibility Cloak is around us and I'm snuggled beneath is, my head resting against Harry's shoulder, my hand, for lack of anywhere else to be, is pressed against his stomach. His jumper (a dark blue one he got from Mrs Weasley on his last Christmas) is soft beneath my fingertips.

He rests his chin atop my head and, although it could be just my imagination, I feel his arms tighten around me. His breath is warm, ruffling gently through my hair. My insides turn to mush and I can feel my breathing quicken slightly.

We look out at the moonlit lake; both of us are silent and very, very still. Well, our hands are moving, but at this point we don't seem to have any control over them – well, I know I certainly don't.

My hand is moving against the fabric of his jumper, my fingertips skimming across the slightly rough texture of the woollen weave. One of his hands is pressed against my upper arm, running slowly and deliberately up and down my arm. His other hand finds mine beneath the Cloak.

Oh dear. I don't think I can take much more of this.

His fingers thread through mine.

Well, needless to say, if I was cold before, I certainly am not now.

"Hermione …"

His voice is low. It's husky. I feel it sweeping over me like a cool breeze. My skin is suddenly covered in goose bumps and I'm assaulted by another tingling shiver racing down my spine. I don't want to face him. I don't even know if I can.

Suddenly, I'm terrified. Terrified of everything I'm feeling. Terrified of what could happen. Terrified of what I know is going to happen.

My breath catches in my throat as his hand leaves mine. His fingers brush against my chin as he tilts my head up to meet his gaze. His fingertips skim lightly across my slightly parted lips. They're so very gentle …

His eyes are dark in the moonlight and I'm trembling so much.

Our eyes finally meet, fully, for the first time and my heart speeds up. It feels like it's going to leap right out of my chest.

His eyes, still dark, are searching mine for … something. I don't quite know what, but it doesn't matter.

We've been friends so long that we can almost read each other's thoughts. Although, on his part, that's probably due to the excessive amounts of Occlumency training he's had. I get the distinct impression that he picks up a lot more than he tells either me or Ron. Normally I'd be worried, but right now, I don't care. He can read my mind, he can look into the deepest recesses of my heart; he has every right to it.

It's all his – and probably always will be. There's no point in even trying to deny it.

"Harry," I breathe. My very nerve endings are tingling with anticipation. And I'm not afraid anymore. "Please …"

And then he smiles, that cute quirky grin, and his eyes sparkle in the moonlight, as his dark head lowers to mine.

My eyes slip shut as his face moves closer to mine. My heart is about ready to leap frog out and across the grounds.

And then it happens.

His lips meet mine in the briefest, the softest, the tenderest of caresses.

Time stands still all around us. I never imagined it was possible, but it does. And there's nothing in the world except me and Harry and the feel of his mouth against mine.

It's love.

It's perfect.

It's magic.

THE END