Disclaimer: Blah, blah, I don't own anything...what else is new:D

Complete Summary: It all starts out with a meeting. Little do Harry and Hermione know what problems and dilemmas will surface along with their secret relationship. Hearts are shattered, prophecies are spoken, disappearances occur, plans are schemed, and discoveries beyond their understanding are made. Can their relationship withstand the perils it is subject to? Will their fate and worries stand in the way of true love? They can only hope not.

Author's Note: Okay, a few words to you...this was my first fan fic. I didn't know what the heck I was doing half the time. I didn't plan it from the start. I came up with the stuff as I went, and it worked. :) So, please keep this in mind as you read the first four chapters. The real plot doesn't surface till the fifth chapter (that's not to say you shouldn't read ch. 1-4...you should, to know what's going on).

And none of that, my friend, means the story isn't good. It is. :) You just have to give it a chance.

Oh, right--H/HR, written before HBP came out. Set in an imaginary seventh year, from March the first, to the Final Battle, and it's 20 chapters long.

Chapter One: The Secret Meeting

He gazed at her, immersed in her reading, not looking up from her books. She had mild dark circles under her eyes and her hair was as bushy as it ever was. She snapped at anyone who interrupted her without mercy, and she was often called a know-it-all by more than one person.

Yet to him, she was beautiful.

He watched as a tall, red-haired boy snuck up behind her and hugged her. She watched as she smiled and kissed him on the cheek, and as the boy sat down beside her. They talked quietly for a few minutes, before let out a shriek of laughter and pretended to slap the boy. He grinned and tickled her around the ribs, making her become very tired and flushed from laughing. She wriggled free from him and kissed him softly on the lips, and turning to her books instead.

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger weren't the kind of people you'd expect as a couple. They argued more than enemies and had almost nothing in common….except of course, that they liked each other. Or maybe loved? Harry wasn't very sure. He hadn't talked—really talked---for ages with any of them. They were often very wrapped up in their lovely little love story and forgot about Harry, who took to hanging around alone in moody disappointment. Why Ron, anyway? He'd asked himself this much more than once; he's always bickering with her, isn't he?

Well, he did something you didn't. He actually took a chance and confessed his feelings to her.

Harry Potter had loved Hermione ever since their fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had always been kind to her, deciding that, if she loved him as well, she would come to him. It would be defined as the shy, cowardly thing to do by some. Harry saw it as 'drawing her closer slowly, steadily, without being completely obvious about it'.

Perhaps he had waited too long. Perhaps if he had acted sooner, he would be the one sitting next to her, holding hands and doing homework together.

Harry sighed and gathered up his books. He couldn't stand it much longer, so he decided to go to bed. If he sat there for too long, he might get the urge to go sit with them, something they probably wouldn't appreciate. They would see it as an intrusion in their private little world of love. And really, sitting there watching them cuddle together wouldn't do Harry's temper or his feelings any good.

As he made his way to the boy's dormitory, he coldly bid Ron and Hermione good night, and was surprised to see her smile at him, her eyes lingering on his for just a second longer than they should have. Harry merely blinked and continued on his way, surprised by her reaction.

It was as if she had been happy with him speaking to her. At this thought, Harry laughed hollowly. He was so desperate for her love that he was actually seeing things that weren't there. There was no happiness, or love in that smile at all. It had been a friend's smile; purely platonic.

Or had it?

The next day, Harry spent most of his time with Ron and Hermione. He usually didn't, but they had insisted, and as he didn't want Ron finding out he liked his girlfriend, he agreed. It wasn't as bad as he expected, though. He got an excuse to look at Hermione, and to listen to her voice. He noticed for the tenth time, perhaps, the way she always gestured delicately with her hands when she spoke and how she glowed with glee whenever she could answer a teacher's question or explain something.

With her mere presence, Harry even found himself in a rather cheery mood in Potions Class. With her voice, Harry felt as though he could take any criticism or ridicule thrown at him. And with her touch, Harry felt ready to take on the Dark Lord himself, even though he knew no such thing would happen then.

During class, Severus Snape glared at him as usual, and found the most idiotic reasons to criticize his potion making, vanishing it for no valid reason. "Maybe next class, Potter," he sneered, "For now, another D." Just as Harry's temper was to get the better of him, Hermione grabbed his hand. The sudden flare of anger inside him subsided, replaced with an odd sort of flip-flop in his stomach. .

"Calm down, Harry. You could get in trouble," she said worriedly. Her eyes were huge and her voice was soft as a whisper, so that it felt like a light caress to his ears.

That was when Harry felt the note she'd slipped in his hand. He clenched it tightly, and opened it beneath his desk.

Harry,

I need to tell you something important. Please, meet me in the Library tonight at eight o' clock. Be sure Ron doesn't know anything; he can't know about this.

See you,

Hermione

Harry's brain was working frantically. Could Hermione mean what he thought she meant? No, he told himself, she probably wants to do some homework. That's it. Homework. He snorted loudly at this, earning himself a five-point deduction from Gryffindor by Professor Snape. He shook his head and returned to his thoughts. Homework behind Ron's back? Oh, yeah, must be some new technique she came up with to get him to study, he thought sarcastically.

After Potions they headed off to dinner, but Harry didn't eat much. He had some pumpkin juice and a bit of toast, and after he had finished, he decided to try to talk to someone. Looking around, the only person he saw was Ginny. She was talking animatedly with Luna, who, for some reason, was sitting at the Gryffindor table again. He cleared his throat, and called her name. At his voice, she jumped. As she turned to look at him, he saw that she was blushing considerably, wearing a nervous sort of grin. She said hello, and he watched, as if in slow motion, as her expression went from embarrassment to one of concern. She frowned, taking in his appearance--pale, nervous-looking--and bit her lip.

"You alright, Harry?" she asked, leaning forward to look at him, still frowning. A bit closer and their noses could have touched. Harry felt uncomfortable at this; Dean was staring at him from across the table with a bemused expression on his face. His eyes darted from Ginny to Harry in confusion.

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly, pulling back and returning to his uneaten toast. He didn't really want to talk about his problems, especially with Ginny. She was probably asking to be polite, he decided, she probably doesn't really care at all.

Of course, deep down he knew this wasn't true. Ginny wasn't very discreet with things and it was quite obvious that she fancied him. The way she jumped every time he said hello, the looks she gave him, and the way she blushed furiously and giggled madly when they spoke kind of gave it away. Therefore, she probably cared very much about his well-being.

"It's just that….these days you're so quiet; you hardly speak to anybody," Ginny said uncertainly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I said I'm fine, Ginny," Harry snapped sternly, "There's nothing wrong," he sputtered, catching a glimpse of Ron and Hermione. He suddenly realized the terrible position Ginny was in. Oddly enough, it was the same as his. They were both hopelessly in love with someone who was smitten with someone else, and had absolutely no way of making things better for themselves. They both were too shy or too late to confess the truth and were confined to merely talking or looking at the object of their affection.

"Okay, okay…." Ginny murmured, trying to see what he was looking at. Harry felt a surge of pity towards her. He was often rather cruel, or ignorant to her. He had never noticed how her eyes seemed to lose their brightness and life whenever he said something such as what he had just said to her. He made it a point to try and talk to her more from that moment on. Well, at least after Hermione and I meet.

"I'm sorry, Ginny…" he murmured hoarsely, "I…have to go. We'll talk later, okay?"

Ginny shrugged, her expression unfathomable. She gave him a small smile and a wave before turning to Luna, who started asking her about her opinions on the article she was reading. She looked rather miserable, staring out into the enchanted sky and speaking only when she told Luna to shut up.

Harry sighed and got up from his seat. This really was no time to be worrying about Ginny. He had more pressing matters at hand. He decided to head for the Library. It was early, but he would entertain himself with homework while Hermione arrived.

Hermione saw him as he took off into the Grand Staircase. Her heart started beating very fast. That's not why you're meeting him, she told herself, so don't do anything stupid. She casually turned to Ron, "Ron?" he looked up from his food and nodded, "You wouldn't mind if I went to the Library, would you? I uh…want to get a head start on that essay McGonagall assigned us today…."

"Yeah, sure," he said, shrugging, "Don't be too late, though, I want to talk to you later."

"No problem," Hermione said, kissing him lightly on the lips, "See you."

Hermione got up and strode off swiftly into the Grand Staircase. Ron stared after her, wanting to run after her and say to her what he felt. He clutched the ring in his pocket and wondered whether she'd accept. He had waited so long….it worried him to finally do it. He buried his face in his hands; something about Harry had been troubling him lately. He'd seen how he'd looked at Hermione, and he'd noticed how quiet he was all the time. But Harry wouldn't do anything to take her from me; we're friends, Ron thought hopefully.

Wouldn't he? Are we still friends at all?

In the Library, Harry sat down and pulled out his books, even though he didn't feel up to homework very much. Whatever happens, I have to tell Hermione, Harry thought desperately, I can't stand this anymore. She has to know. He opened his Transfiguration book and read the instructions for the essay McGonagall had assigned them earlier. He groaned; twelve inches on human transfigurations? No way…I'll just do the homework with Hermione. This is too much thinking.

He started doodling in small pieces of parchment to pass the time. He decided to take a leaf from his father's book for once; and drew a Snitch with the initials H.G. on it. He charmed it so that when he tapped the parchment with his wand, the Snitch sprung alive, blazing through the air, which was limited due to the parchment's ends, trying to avoid capture by a Seeker's hand.

"Harry," a voice behind him said suddenly. Harry jumped and quickly folded the parchment; he knew who it was. There was no one else on the face of the Earth that had such a delicate, beautiful voice. It was accompanied by a soft tap on his shoulder with her finger, which made a shiver run through his spine.

"Err…hi, Hermione," he said, attempting to look calm. He wished he hadn't been so nervous; he was now sweating exaggeratedly and probably looked like a giant tomato because he was blushing so much. He suddenly understood how Ginny felt every time she talked to him.

"Hello," Hermione said, grinning. Her voice was shaky, as though she too was nervous, but she was certainly not sweating at all. Harry marveled at her self-control. Assuming, of course, that she is nervous, Harry reminded himself pointedly.

"So, what's up?" Harry asked stupidly. He cursed himself. Manners, Harry, manners! Ever thought of asking her to sit down? Of pulling a chair out for her, perhaps? A nasty voice nagged him inside his head.

"What? Oh, right. Of course," Hermione squeaked. She spoke before he had a chance to show her good manners, "Err…can I sit down?"

"Sure, of course! Err...allow me…" Harry breathed, getting up from his chair and pulling one out for her as well. He wanted to apologize for his lack of sense, but he couldn't find the words, so he just sat down and looked at her expectantly.

"Thanks." She said, sitting down, "Well, I told you to meet me here so we could talk about something….without Ron finding out," she kept her voice low. It really wasn't a big deal, what she wanted to discuss, but still, something told her that they shouldn't be seen—or heard.

Harry nodded; he was really too nervous to talk. His light dinner seemed to be thrashing about in his stomach, making him wish he hadn't eaten anything at all.

"It's quite stupid, really," Hermione said, shaking her head and hesitating for a moment. Was he really the right person to be asked this? Sometimes it seemed he hardly knew Ron at all. Besides, he seemed to be hopelessly nervous about something, "But I can't think of anything to get him for his birthday."

Those last words hung in the air between them. Harry remained thunderstruck as he heard what she had just said. A present for his birthday? he thought angrily, That's what she wanted to ask me? Mingled anger and bitterness flooded him, followed by feeble embarrassment. How could he have thought she wanted anything more to do with him? he was just a friend to her...just a friend.

Hermione wanted to kick herself. Oh God, she thought miserably, I shouldn't have asked him at all. He was clearly expecting something else. "I'm sorry, Harry. I--I should go," she said, reaching for her bag. Oh, I knew it. I knew he had something else in his mind, and now I've made him feel worse!

"No," Harry said, taking a deep breath, "I need to tell you something first." Sorry Ron.

"I don't really think---" Hermione started, but Harry cut her off, forgetting whatever manners he had or had recently discovered.

"Please, Hermione," Harry whispered urgently, "Please…just let me tell you what's on my mind."

Hermione looked into his eyes, knowing what was coming. She was glad, yes, hopeful, but this would change things too much. Ron would be so hurt, and she would be at fault. No matter what she did, she would be wrong. If she said no to Harry, she would hurt him, yet if she said yes to him, Ron would be crushed. She hated this. She hated that she had feelings for Harry, hated that she had mistook what she felt for Ron, that she was now about to do something that would make a right mess of things...she hated not knowing what the right choice was.

"What..." she said, her voice so low, Harry could barely hear her. Every syllable dripped with uncertainty, with doubt. She didn't know if she was doing the right thing at all, "What is it, Harry?"

"I'm in love with you," Harry said quickly. It was hard to admit things he wanted to hide. It was as if his body was forcefully trying to drown the words in his throat, but being unsuccessful. They came out as an odd tangle, along with a fresh burst of redness into his face.

Hermione gazed at him, her eyes wide, mouth half-open. Hearing it seemed so much more different than imagining it. God, she would have a hard time adjusting to this new Harry...assuming she did accept all this. She could storm out now, insulted, and never speak to him again...she could...

But she couldn't. She cared too much about him to do that.

And she knew, right at that moment, that she would never be able to say no to him.

Harry was speaking again, "I'm in love with you. Ever since our fourth year. I—I don't know why, or how, but I love you, and that's all I need to know," he explained, untangling his tongue and uttering what he had longed to say for years now. It felt as if a huge weight was lifted off him. He felt so much more cheerful now…

"Oh, Harry…." Hermione mumbled, her voice trembling. This was really going to be very hard. She cared for both of the, Ron and Harry. She did...but in different ways. She cared for Ron as a friend, and nothing more. Harry...he was another story. They had always shared a different sort of relationship. They understood each other, helped each other...they treated each other with respect and care. They had always sort of, clicked, from the start. They had only been too young to realize what their relationship led to, back then. Now...now she knew, and she would never be able to explain why she said yes to Ron instead. It had been a mixture of pity for him and a dull feeling that told her that Harry didn't have time for stupid love affairs anyway.

Oh, God...where was that Hermione that always had the answers? Where?

"I know you love Ron, but I just had to say it. I couldn't hide it anymore," Harry whispered, burying his face in his hands. She seemed to be taking things differently than he had thought. There was a glimmer of happiness in her eyes, yet it was tainted by fear. Was she afraid of him? Or was she afraid of the consequences his confession might bring?

Hermione looked down at her feet.

"I…I love you too…" She whispered in a small, yet truthful voice. She knew she was making the right choice, somehow. If she didn't say this, she would be lying to herself, wouldn't she?

"You don't have to say that," Harry assured her, "You don't have to return my feelings towards you. I just needed to get everything off my chest."

"I can't Harry. I just can't," Hermione said, tears finally streaming down her face. Her lip trembled as she spoke once more, this time her voice was strong and definite, "I can't deny what I feel, but I can't accept it, either. I can't do anything about it now, don't you understand? We--we wouldn't work out, anyway," she added, trying to convince herself. She got up, grabbed her bag and made to leave, but Harry followed her.

"Don't say that," he hissed, "Don't you say that, Hermione. You know it isn't true. You can't have...you must have realized that you and I...we would work, Hermione," he finished weakly.

"Harry, don't make this more difficult than it already is!" she hissed, trembling from head to foot. This was too hard…too terrible, to face. This was killing her, saying no to him and walking away, but she would do it. She needed time to think, to sort things out. A part of her wished she would throw caution to the winds and give Harry and her...give them, a chance...

But she couldn't. She wouldn't.

"Be true to yourself, Hermione," Harry said, frowning at her face. She had been silent, yet in a heated debate with herself. Her face went from embarrassment to anger, to anguish, and to embarrassment again. Why did she have to keep being so emotional about this? "Who do you love most?" he asked in a lower voice than intended. His confidence was dropping slowly just by observing how long it took her to decide what to do.

Hermione stared at him exasperatedly, "You can't possibly expect me to answer that," she whispered back to him, shaking her head. She gave a low sob and turned her back on him.

Harry's heart plummeted. His disappointment was clearly visible in his face. His eyes were cold and sad, and they looked anywhere but the woman before him. No longer able to speak or argue with his long-lost love, he turned back to the table, where he sat and buried his face in his hands.

Hermione sobbed audibly. She slopped down to the floor and came to rest her head against the bookcase next to her. She felt terrible, like she had become some sort of valueless and dishonorable person overnight just for making a mistake.

But wasn't she human? Wasn't that what life was all about? Now that she knew what her mistake was, shouldn't she get up and fix it?

But I swear I'm going to regret this. I know I am. This can only bring trouble. After all the time Ron and I have been together, I couldn't just leave him like this.

Wincing, she remembered her mother's words when she'd confessed about hers and Ron's growing relationship: "Why, sweetheart, that's...that's lovely! You can't imagine how relieved I am to hear you say that! I was worried you were sick, but you are merely in love…oh, this is wonderful…I can't wait to tell your father!" Her mother had praised her and gushed about how glad she was for a few more minutes, before looking at her straight in the eyes and saying softly, "I am so proud of you, darling. Really I am. Ron Weasley is a fine match, despite his bad economic situation. You will have to work hard to get yourselves settled financially, but with your marvelous intelligence, you can get an excellent job, and I'm sure he can get a decent one as well. He is bound to be a fine wizard when he leaves Hogwarts, and you two would have lovely children, I'm sure." She chuckled merrily at the thought, not noticing Hermione's shocked glare, and continued in a more serious tone, "I am very relieved you are willing to marry him rather than Harry Potter, too. Don't get me wrong, Harry is also a fine young man, but…this business with You-Know-Who…no, no, honey, it is too much trouble to be getting into. He could die at any moment, and leave you as a pitiful young widow! Goodness! Such a wound at your age would be terrible, believe me, Hermione. You are much better off with Ron Weasley." Hermione had argued heatedly with her at this point, but her mother had stayed firm on her belief. Her father had only backed his mother up, so Hermione had had to keep her thoughts to herself.

Were her parents right? Would her relationship with Harry end in sorrow and despair?

Maybe.

But what if they weren't? Could she live with herself, knowing that she had let this chance pass her by? Knowing that she would never be truly happy?

Hesitating, she dropped her bag slowly. God, please help me. Please, please help me get through this! she pleaded as she walked slowly towards Harry. She tapped his shoulder and kneeled beside him, giving him a look of mingled fear and determination.

"What's wron…?" Harry asked, but his voice trailed away as Hermione kissed his lips softly. After being overcome by momentary surprise, he pushed a lock of her hair away, hardly believing he wasn't dreaming this.

It wasn't a passionate embrace. They didn't lock their arms around each other, or touch. Their lips barely grazed. But the kiss had a certain feeling...a sort of promise. A promise that things would get better...that they hadn't made a mistake with this. Harry felt the emotion firing up inside him, forming a sort of knot in his chest...and he knew. He knew that he loved Hermione, and that he wouldn't let her go. He knew that he had made the right choice...

But Hermione pulled away. She looked immensely troubled. At Harry's questioning look, she shook her head, attempting a small smile, but barely managing it, "It's…nothing, I suppose. I just need to get used to this," she murmured softly, "I have to go, though, Harry. Shall we meet here tomorrow around the same time?" The way she uttered his name brought a peculiar feeling to his stomach very unlike the one he had experienced earlier. She no longer said his name with anguish and worry, but with love and care.

He nodded. As she came to her feet, her fingers trailed over his shoulder and upper back tenderly, sending chills down his spine. She made to smile again, and, this time, managed it. Her face lit up with such a simple gesture, so that she looked more beautiful than Harry had ever imagined. They stared at each other for a few moments, before Hermione turned, grabbed her book bag, and left.

Smiling, Harry willed himself to get up and head for the common room, too.

Yes...he had no doubt that, no matter what this led to, they had done the right thing.

No matter what happened, they were meant to be together.

And always had been.