NOTE: JK ROWLING owns the characters in this story. Lyrics attributable to Mariah Carey who is often my inspiration during these late night fluffs.

Also: OMG, I can't believe I'm even posting this corny story! Well, I suppose if you like mega-fluff, you'll rejoice in it. Otherwise, it's corny corny corny! Please don't review if all you have to say is "That was corny!"

Enjoy!

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The rain pattered on the window of Hermione's room in soft, rhythmic melodies. She sat, hunched at her desk, scratching away with her favorite quill. It was late…well, perhaps early was a better term. It was barely past 1 o'clock A.M. and she was just beginning to feel the tug of sleep on her mind.

Putting her quill down, she picked up a framed picture of she and Harry from 4th year. Harry was wearing his Champion attire and a broad smile on his face, having just finished the first task. The Hermione in the picture grinned up at him while holding tightly to his arm.

Sighing, she put the photo down and stood from her chair. Harry had been weighing heavily on her mind in the past weeks. After leaving him at Platform 9 ¾ she had begun feeling pangs of guilt. She always felt guilty, every year….each time she allowed him to be taken back to live with those people. She shuffled toward her bed, tossing her robe over the back of the empty chair at the desk. Yawning and stretching, she clambered into the bed and sunk deeply into the sheets.

She woke an hour later to a soft rapping at her window. An owl perhaps? So late? Jumping from bed, she hurried across the room only to gasp in surprise at the sight beyond the glass.

There, soaked to the bone and hovering on his broomstick, was one Harry Potter.

Flinging the window open, Hermione jumped back as Hedwig flew first into her room. Then Harry, gracefully aligning himself alongside the window, reached one leg and then the other in through the window.

"Harry! What on earth are you doing here? And so late!"

"Ssh, I don't want to wake anybody," he whispered.

"Good thing I wasn't asleep then," she croaked sarcastically, closing the window. "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

"Hmm," he said, shaking his wet hair from his face, "let's see, I flew here in the middle of the night in the pouring rain all the way from Surrey…"

"Which reminds me, how did you know where I live?"

"Hedwig, of course. I think she's been here enough times to know," he said, grinning awkwardly.

"Listen, you can tell me why you've risked your life to get away from the Dursleys after you change out of those wet robes." Leading him to her bathroom, she motioned for him to go inside. "I'll try to sneak some of my dad's bed clothes in to you, I'll be right back," she said, shutting the door.

"But…"

Moments later, she returned with her arms full of clothes and shoved them through an open crack in the bathroom door into Harry's chest. Taking them, he closed the door and slipped into a pair of worn, gray pajamas.

He stepped out of the bathroom adjoining Hermione's bedroom, and closed the door behind him. Hermione was sitting on the edge of her bed, wide awake and waiting for an explanation.

"Thanks for these," he said, tugging at the loose bottoms of the pajamas.

"Are you okay Harry? Is everything alright?" She asked, standing and walking toward him. He stood quietly at first, staring at her as she stood cross-armed in front of him.

"I guess I acted a bit rashly."

"You? Acting rash?" She whispered, mockingly. He sighed and walked around her to sit on the bed. "It was them, wasn't it?" Her tone was accusing. "What did they do to you Harry?"

"Nothing, really. I just got sick of the usual servitude I guess."

"Oh Harry! Dumbledore will be furious that you've left in the middle of the night," she said, seating herself beside him.

"I don't care," he said jumping up, "I don't care what that old fool thinks! He can be furious all he wants, but I'm not going back to that place."

Harry was obviously angry. Angry at the Dursleys. At Dumbledore. Hermione's heart went out to him, but she could not bring her mind to focus. She was having a hard time concentrating as she watched Harry stand before her in the loose pajama bottoms he was wearing. They hung off of his non-existent hips in a satisfying way. Hermione was simply relishing in all that was Harry. She watched intently as the drawstrings dangled before her eyes.

"Hermione?"

"What? Oh, sorry," she croaked, straightening up and rubbing her eyes.

Harry continued on about Vernon and the rest of the awful lot as she let her mind wander once again. Why was she thinking about Harry's pants? Why was it so delicious that he was pacing barefooted through her room?

Suddenly it hit her. Her head spun at the realization. Of course, she had always known she loved Harry…but…she didn't know she was ready to feel…those other feelings. But the truth was, they were both turning 16 this year and she was surely beyond the healthy stage of curiosity. This was different. This was full blown need. Lust, even.

"Harry," she interrupted, "why are you here?"

"Well," he floundered, flabbergasted, "I was just explaining…"

"Yes, I know. But I mean…why here? Why not the burrow?"

"Well…I…er…I don't know. This is just the first place I thought of, I guess."

Standing, Hermione walked so that she was directly in front of Harry, "Harry, you've never even been here before. Why would you think to come here before the Burrow?"

He raised an arm and scratched the top of his head, looking down at her with his brows furrowed. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and pushed his glasses up on his nose, thinking hard.

"I-I guess…well, I guess it wasn't actually your house I thought of first. I guess it was just you." Hermione, on the verge of an emotional explosion, could think of no reply. Sighing deeply, she crossed her arms and leaned into Harry's chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and they both stood quietly in the darkness of Hermione's room. After a few moments, Hermione made to step out of Harry's embrace, but to no avail. He simply tightened his grip around her shoulders. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I can't let go yet." She relaxed once again in his hug and, unfolding them, she wound her arms around his waist. It was several more minute before Harry spoke, and when he did Hermione felt chills run down her arms. "I think of you."

"I think of you too, Harry," she whispered back.

"Every moment I go through…thoughts of you."

Silence.

Then he continued, "I dream of you. All I have are so many dreams of you," his voice was low and Hermione could feel the vibrations of it as she pressed her ear against his chest. "And I keep thinking, won't you please come true?"

"Oh, Harry," she breathed expectantly, lifting her head to gaze into his beautiful olive eyes. Gently, he placed his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her to him. As their lips touched Hermione was whisked away into a completely foreign world. She felt as though they were lifting off from the floor and leaving the earth behind. As though she could simply reach out and touch the stars. She gripped him tighter and kissed him back. Deeply. Passionately.

When finally they broke apart, Harry snatched her up into his arms and tumbled onto the bed with her. Slipping under the covers, she drew him to her and snuggled comfortably down into his embrace, breathing in his scent.

As the two friends fell asleep entwined in each other's arms, everything was right in the world. The owl, softly hooting in the corner. The cat, purring languidly at the foot of the bed. And on the old worn desk stood a framed picture; two young friends clinging to one another in happiness. Hidden within the frame, scrawled in Harry's handwriting upon the back of the picture, was a message Hermione had yet to find:

"Tell me what you need,

Let me give you all of me.

Without you nothing's real,

You're the reason that I feel."

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(((Wow, can anyone say 'mood swings?' Sorry Harry was so up and down. That crazy wizard!)))