Disclaimer: Once there was a girl, and she wrote fanfiction, and none of the characters, scenes, or situations belonged to her. That girl was me.
"Ron, where are you going?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow at her friend.
"Back to the common room," he said, gesturing towards the Fat Lady's portrait.
"But our patrol isn't over yet," Hermione reminded him.
"It will be in ten minutes," Ron said. "Then we'll have to walk all the way back here. It's only ten minutes, Hermione."
"Ron, the rules say we have to finish out a full patrol," Hermione replied. "You can't just skip off whenever you feel like it."
"It's only ten minutes," Ron insisted.
"Ten minutes that are our responsibility," Hermione said hotly. "Or have you ever heard that word?"
"Ouch, Hermione, that one smarted," Ron said sarcastically. "Right, so, I'm off to bed." He gave the Fat Lady the password, opened the portrait, and with one last smirk towards Hermione disappeared through the portrait hole.
Hermione, being herself, immediately went after him. "Ronald Weasley!" she yelled, dropping from the portrait hole. "Get your smarmy bum back down here!"
"Nope," Ron yelled from the boy's stairs, before clattering up to his dormitory.
Hermione sighed. There was no point finishing her patrol without him. The rules clearly stated that prefects were to patrol in groups of two or more. She really wished Ron would be a little bit more responsible.
Chuckling from one of the couches made her whip around. "Harry Potter, are you laughing at me?"
"Take a break, Hermione," Harry advised between chortles. "Have a seat. Don't get so worked up about ten minutes, alright?"
"It's not the ten minutes," Hermione said, coming over and sitting on the other end of the couch. "It's the principle of the thing."
"It's also that you and Ron cannot keep a civil tongue in your heads when talking to each other," Harry pointed out as Hermione slipped off her shoes.
"Ah, yes, that one too," Hermione admitted, pulling off her socks. "Sometimes I really hate him."
"Liar," Harry said teasingly. "You're such a softie. You couldn't hate him if your life depended on it. You don't hate easily."
Hermione swung her now bare feet up onto the couch, stretching them out as far as she could without hitting Harry. Her feet were so sore from patrolling in those awful shoes that she could hardly stand it.
"Well, I suppose not," she admitted. "But with Ron I come awfully close."
Harry suddenly looked very serious. "Hermione," he said, and she could tell whatever he was about to say had been on his mind for a long time. Outside her control, her heart began to speed up. "Have I ever thanked you for what you did?"
Hermione took a deep, shaky breath. It was so unlike her to get all worked up over one person. Now she didn't know if she was relieved or sad that he hadn't said what she thought he was going to say. "Thank me for…what?" she managed to get out.
"This past summer I was a bit of a prat," Harry said. Hermione snorted. "Alright, I was a lot of a prat. But you made me snap out of it. Thanks."
"I couldn't stand to see you so depressed," Hermione said, serious now herself. "And what I said then still holds, Harry. You've got to live now, and be happy, because the time may come when we don't have this anymore." She gestured between them. "Being depressed helps no one, especially not you."
"It probably helps Voldemort," Harry said darkly.
"Well, I've been thinking about that," Hermione said. "And…you know how you told me and Ron about what Dumbledore said?" Harry nodded, so she continued. "And about that room in the Department of Mysteries that's always kept locked?"
Harry nodded again, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "The one that has the power he knows not?"
Hermione nodded. "The one that you have in such great quantities. You know what I think that power is?"
"I have a feeling you're about to tell me," Harry said with a smile.
She smiled at him in return. "It's love, Harry. And it's not only your love. It's your mother's love, and the love of all those that know you. Me, and Ron, Ginny and Luna, Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, all of us who care about you." She paused, looking Harry straight in the eye. "That's how you're going to win against him. With us."
Harry looked thoughtful. "You know, I think you have something there." He paused, then laughed. "What am I saying? This is you. Of course you have something, you always do."
Hermione's heart sank a little. Is that all she was to him? A fountain of information? A handy girl who knew everything? Useful? Surely she meant more to him. Surely he knew the feelings she'd been trying to deny since forever. The ones currently making her heart race at his proximity.
"You look uncomfortable," Harry said. "Do you want to stretch out your legs?"
She longed to inform him that her discomfort wasn't physical, but she bit her tongue. "I'd like that," she said instead. He patted his lap, so she stretched her feet out across him, surprisingly feeling loads better.
Until one of his hands wrapped around her left ankle. His quick, slim fingers began to knead the arch of her foot, and she stared at him in surprise.
"Harry," she said in astonishment. "Are you giving me a foot massage?"
"You looked like you could use one," Harry said evenly, his fingers never ceasing their sweet torture.
Hermione groaned. "That feels heavenly."
"I'm a very talented wizard," he replied cheekily.
"I'll say," she agreed as his hands moved to her other foot. "Can I keep you forever?"
"You've always had me," Harry said, in a voice so low she almost didn't hear him. Her eyes, which she had closed in pleasure when he began his ministrations, shot open in shock.
"What?" she asked shakily.
He looked up at her, his eyes vulnerable. She'd never seen Harry like that. "I said, you've always had me."
"But what does that mean?" Hermione asked quietly, already knowing the answer.
His hands stopped moving. "Hermione," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've loved you for so long now."
Well, if he could come right out and say it, she could, too. "Me, too, Harry."
First she felt relieved, as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest. Then she only felt painfully aware of him, and his presence, and of that indefatigable thing that made him Harry. She bit her lip.
He picked up her feet and swung them off the couch, then moved towards her, something quite unlike vulnerability flickering in his eyes. She knew what he was going to do, and had it been any other boy she would have made a quick exit.
But this wasn't any other boy. This was Harry.
When their lips met, she knew one more thing. This was Harry, and this was forever.
Oh my gosh! I did it! I wrote H/Hr! I am so proud of myself. You don't know how many times I accidentally typed "Ron" or "Ginny" and had to use the delete button. It was sad. But, Fred, here you are. Siofra's H/Hr. The only one I'll ever write, possibly. But now that I've written it...it's kind of fun. Makes thoughtful noises> No, no! Must rush off to AF and my fellow rabid R/Hr shippers! EEK! Hugs R/Hr