FALLING SLOWLY IX: Be With Me Always

It was his second letter that changed her mind and led her to give in:

Dear Hermione,

Nearly a week ago, I was content to live my life in the way I have since the wars ended. I was happy to watch Harry find love with Luna, and Remus begin a family with Tonks. I even found humor in Padfoot's off-and-on-again affair with Emmaline Vance. But I never thought to look for love for myself.

Harry brought it up recently, in fact. He told me that I had done enough. That it was okay for me to look for someone again, that he wanted me to be happy. At the time, I laughed, because I thought I was content with my life.

Until I met you down an alley in Godric's Hollow, arguing with yourself. I barely managed to keep a level head when I finally made you notice me, you were so bloody beautiful. But what struck me was after bringing you to my home, and taking tea with you. After we flew together for the first time and your magic reached out to mine.

I haven't felt anyone in this way in years, love. For decades, I've kept my shields up, to the point I did it without thinking. Even when I was with my brothers and Harry. I didn't realize I'd dropped my shields around you until your magic made your skin glow as you rose into the air, and I could hardly breathe.

I don't know when I fell in love with you, Hermione. I hope this sounds romantic and not creepy, but, in a way, I feel like I've been slowly falling for you since that wedding. Since I watched you dance with my best mate and wished it was me you smiled at, my arms wrapped around you.

And now I can't imagine my life as it was before. I can't drift any longer, love, pretending to be happy and content with the empty bed and the empty house. For a few precious days, you showed me what my life could be like. Morning and afternoon teas and hours spent flying about the grounds together. Dinners we forget to eat because we'd rather spend hours tasting one another. Our bodies entwined and tangled together in sleep.

Before I realized you were gone the next morning, I woke up happier than I can remember since the night Harry was born. That morning was the first I'd woken without nightmares of losing the war and losing my family. For one perfect night, I knew what it was to have you.

And since you still want me in your life, love, I'm afraid you're stuck with me. For as long as my magic holds to this world, for as long as you'll allow me, Hermione.

I love you,

James

She shouldn't have written him back, had sworn she wouldn't.

I love you.

Her cheeks ached from smiling.

Her flight test at the Ministry was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Where had the time gone? Where did the ever-present fear and underlying panic she'd struggled with go? How could four wonderful days with just one person alter so much of her carefully ordered life?

Hermione hadn't been on a broom since her last lesson with James, and now...

I could go to Muggle University with you (I could pass for a student, couldn't I?), to follow you wherever the next part of your journey takes you.

She wasn't sure that it mattered so much, anymore, whether she passed her flight test.

Crookshanks butted his head against her leg, startling Hermione as she realized she'd been holding his food bowl between her hands for more than five minutes.

"Oh! Sorry, Crooks, here you go, lovey."

Crookshanks bit her finger in chastisement before tucking into his dinner.

She glanced out the window and was startled at the purple hue of the twilight sky. "Gods, have I really been brooding this long?"

Her fingers ran self-consciously through her tangled curls before twisting in the shirt she had stolen from James, the shirt that had somehow ended up on her body between his last two letters.

Her phone rang.

Hermione jumped and jabbed her knee against the kitchen counter. She cursed as she darted for the handset in the living room. "Hello?" she managed after the fourth ring.

"Hermione?"

"Harry?" She frowned at the odd note in his voice, the whispered echo of another voice catching the other end of the receiver. "Harry, is everything all right?"

"Um, yeah...uh, I hope so?" Harry laughed and hissed at whoever was speaking nearby to "please shut up a minute," before his voice came clearer on her end. "Sorry. Look, Mione, I just wanted to check and see if you've seen my dad anytime in the last two hours?"

Her nails dragged almost painfully over his shirt covering her chest and she blinked past the rising swirl of worry and panic tinging the edge of her conscience.

Shit, what did I say in my last letter?

"Mione? You still there?" Harry coaxed, softer now with only a hint of the panic he'd revealed before.

"Yes!" She winced and at her too-loud tone and added, "No, I haven't seen James."

Does Harry know about the letters? Oh, Godric...

"Um, okay...no, Padfoot she hasn't seen him." Harry sighed. "Yeah, I was gonna ask, gimme a bloody minute, would you?"

Hermione chewed on her thumbnail and summoned her wand as she held the phone against her shoulder and ear. "Harry, what's happened?"

He hummed, as though mulling over his words before saying, "It's probably nothing."

"Oh, it certainly is something, Prongslet," Sirius's voice interrupted in the background.

"Padfoot, I swear, I'm about to send you to Moony's," Harry grumbled before speaking to Hermione. "Sorry, you know how Pads gets when he's scared."

"I am not scared!" Sirius sputtered.

"And how my uncle loves to overreact," Harry loudly interrupted.

Hermione pulled the phone away from her ear with a nervous laugh. "Well, he has been known to go off the rails on occasion. But why is he worried...about James?"

"Right, sorry. Look, it's just—he said something about going flying before dinner, and that's not unusual, except Dad—hasn't come home yet. And when I checked the wards, I realized he wasn't anywhere on the grounds. We've been looking for the last hour and so I'd hoped, maybe..."

Wards.

Hermione froze as her wards rippled, the sensation a persistent tug at her navel. And the tug was followed by an abrupt pull as her wards, careful layers not even Death Eaters had cracked, quickly unraveled.

Harry's voice buzzed in her ear, a dimmed background noise to her rising heartbeat as Hermione climbed over her couch and used her wand to part the curtains just enough to check her front lawn. Her heart promptly rose to her throat.

"Harry?" her voice came more shrill and thin than she intended.

"Mione? What—"

"He's here," she interrupted, her voice trembling as she watched her Wizard land from his broom in an unsteady heap in her front garden with a loud groan.

"Oh thank Merlin," Harry cheered. "Look, I know you—"

"Sorry, Harry, I'll have to call you later," she murmured as she fumbled with the handset and settled it back on its cradle. She'd apologize to Harry later with cookies...and—and whatever he wanted...later.

Hermione drew in a deep breath as she tripped over her boots by the front door. Her wand was still clenched almost painfully in her palm, but she could barely think clearly enough to pull open her front door and flick the lights on to illuminate the front garden.

James Potter cursed as he winced at the sudden light and lifted a hand to right his spectacles. His black hair appeared more windswept than usual, the lower half of his handsome face darkened with more stubble than she'd seen yet as he awkwardly stepped out of the dahlias and onto the overgrown walkway leading to her front door. He was wearing a dark Muggle tee and worn jeans and socks, of course, the loon. He froze as he looked up and jerked as though startled to find her watching and waiting from her doorstep. "Hermione? Shit, I'm sorry I frightened you..." His hands clenched on the handle of his broom.

"Just like you promised you wouldn't?" She spoke quickly, before she lost her nerve, wincing at how hoarse her voice sounded.

A strangled laugh escaped him as James rubbed his cheek and ducked his head. He looked so tired, she realized with a distant ache. "I know I promised I wasn't gonna do something this barmy, showing up like this," he said. "I know I swore I was going to give you space, and I swear I will, but I just—" he choked on a sob and her heart lurched as he staggered forward another step.

"I miss you so much, Hermione." He blinked rapidly and drew in several quick breaths through his open mouth before saying, "I know we've only shared a few days together, but I don't know how to—I just feel so fucking lost without you." He dropped his broom and ran his hands through his hair, his wet eyes darting from her rose bushes beneath her windows, anywhere but her.

Hermione clutched her wand to her chest. She'd been gripping his shirt again, she belatedly realized. Her legs ached as she started and stopped the urge to close the distance between them.

Gods, how could we feel like this so strongly, so quickly?

He laughed again, a bitter sound as he pushed his spectacles aside and wiped at his eyes. "Sorry, I'm such a mess, I've been such a fucking mess. I can't remember the last time I slept...wait." He stilled and then slowly lifted his head, meeting her gaze for the first time. The weight of longing and determination in his eyes made her shudder as he took another step and said, "That's a lie."

Hermione covered her mouth to contain her sob. Tears spilled over her cheeks and she wondered when she had started crying.

James's chest rose and fell heavily as he took in the tears on her face, then followed the line of her neck to the collar of the shirt she wore—his shirt. His lips parted and her name fell past his lips, a plea, and a benediction at once. "Hermione..."

She couldn't do it. She wasn't strong enough.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as she took two steps off the threshold, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry, I can't."

He stiffened at her approach, then flinched at her words. "Please don't—"

She threw her arms around his neck with another sob, nonsense spilling from her mouth without her consent. "I can't let you go. I'm sorry, James, I'm sorry I'm so selfish, but I bloody can't stay away from you anymore."

A startled groan filled his chest as she dragged his head down, stood on her toes, and covered his mouth with her own.

James's hands fluttered against her sides, flexing as she pulled back to meet his frightened gaze. She shook her head and whispered, "I'm sorry."

His breathless laugh spilled over her forehead as he lifted a tentative hand to cradle her cheek. "Don't be sorry, sweetheart. I'm the one that pushed. I'm the bloody fuck up."

Her eyelashes fluttered as she caught his wrist and dug the fist that held her wand tight against his back, drawing him closer. Gods, he felt amazing and they still weren't nearly close enough. "I wanted to protect you. I'm not—I don't know how to love anyone anymore. I'm so scared I'll hurt you, James."

He covered her tears with kisses and trembling fingers. "Let me love you, sweetheart."

"I shouldn't," she whispered while bringing her free hand to trace over the hair he had forgotten to shave, the wildness of his hair, the deep circles under his hazel eyes. She had done this to him. It was one thing to read about how he felt in his letters, and quite another to have him in her arms again. That tug beneath her navel she'd felt at his dismantling of her wards seemed to coax her magic out from behind the steel walls she had erected after leaving him. Oh, how much she longed to let him in.

Please don't give up on me, James, she nearly said.

James smiled, a single tear carving a line over his rough cheek. His eyes were faintly red, and he smelled like the wind and alcohol, and his clothes were rumpled as though he hadn't changed in days. He'd never been more beautiful to her than now as he finally replied, "Let me be the judge of that, yeah?" His gaze flickered to her mouth as she pulled her lip between her teeth and darkened. His hands shifted, grip tightening and drawing her hips firmly against his. "May I come inside now, love?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

With the unbearable combination of both his best mate and his son pressing over him, James had done as he'd always done in stressful situations. He'd forgotten to put on shoes and barely remembered to call out, "going flying!" before escaping to the skies.

He'd needed to escape, just for an hour or so, away from Sirius and Harry's knowing looks after he'd finished reading Hermione's latest letter, buzzing with too much magic and bloody feelings.

She hadn't written him off the way he'd feared she still might, but...

I don't know when I'll see you again, but please don't stop writing to me, James.

Everyone liked to joke that Padfoot was the irrational one, but Harry hadn't known James in his early youth. Since Lily, few had seen the part of James that felt far too deeply and often had reacted to such feelings without pausing to think. It was so quintessentially Gryffindor of him, and he'd worked hard to repress so much of himself. To be a better father, to keep them all safe, he'd needed to be more thoughtful, smarter about his actions.

He was barely aware he'd left the family grounds behind until he had already flown halfway in the direction of Hermione's home.

It hadn't been that difficult to suss out the location the portkey Harry had given him would lead. He'd told himself the night before he needed to know these things in case something happened and he couldn't access the portkey in time. He told himself a lot of things to pretend he hadn't slowly been unraveling ever since he woke without her.

He had been so bloody careful for so many years, and for the first time in decades, he had given in to his instincts, into his magic.

All because of her.

Something about Hermione made him want to lose control, to drown in her magic, and kisses, and everything she was.

I don't know when I'll see you again...

Hermione's wards were just as formidable as she'd promised, but he had come too far already. And she forgot he had often been nearby while they camped during the war. He had had ample time in the past to marvel over her spellcasting, and the wards she was so fond of. But she didn't know what he'd done for a living the past twenty years, either.

He'd eagerly poured his magic into her wards, savoring the feel of her as he made certain to alert her of his presence before stripping them away. What she may not notice until later, were the wards he erected in their place as soon as he broke through.

It probably hadn't been the best idea to do all of this whilst flying, as he learned soon after.

But then the lights came on, and there she was, illuminated in artificial light both within and without her cottage, glowing luminous like one of the fey. Words spilled from his mouth without thought, and the sound of her voice had him aching, and it was all he could do to keep from rushing to hold her in his arms.

He fucked up. He should have given her space, like everyone said, though it had gone against his first instincts. And he might have been stronger, if not for her last letter, if not for: I don't know when I'll see you again.

James should have been stronger, but he was worn down from days of little sleep, too much alcohol, and a desperate need to see her face.

If she tells you to bugger off to your face, you will. But at least you'll have seen her one last time.

"I'm so sorry, I can't," she finally said, shredding his heart in tatters.

And then she kissed him.

James didn't dare draw her to him the way he was desperate to, not until she answered his deepest wish in the way he had feared she never would.

"Yes."

"Yes?" James echoed, scare able to believe it.

Her smile was like the sun. "Yes, James," she replied. And in case he was left in any doubt, she kissed him again.

This time, it wasn't too like a goodbye, but a come closer. She kissed him again and again, and then, taking his hand in hers, pulled him inside her home.

James followed, speechless and numb, though his magic and happiness were building up within him an increasing roar.

The door clicked shut behind him and locked with a flick of her wand before she set the vinewood aside. Then there was just the ticking of the clock in the hall nearby, the meow of her cat, and James's heart pounding in his ears. He stared at her full lips that had been moving.

Shit, what was she saying? Something about phones and Harry, but the burning in his heart had moved to his limbs. And as he drew in another breath, her scent hit him full force. Being an Animagus offered more than a few odd side effects, but he was never more grateful as he zeroed in on the shirt cuffs she fiddled with at her wrists.

His shirt. He'd noticed outside, hadn't he? It was part of what gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't fucked up completely.

"...want something to drink?" she was offering.

James swallowed another breath of Hermione-infused air as he shook his head.

She laughed and ran a hand over her wild curls and shifted on her bare feet.

This was when James finally noticed she wasn't wearing any pants. "Merlin," a choked groan left him and her brow furrowed, his name at her lips.

"James? What's—" She gasped as he moved, catching her waist and lifting her in his arms.

Her bare legs wrapped around him as James crashed his lips to hers.

Hermione moaned as he licked the seam of her lips and opened to let him in.

James watched through half-closed lids as her eyebrows arched and he managed to press her back against the bare wall in the hall past the living area. "Bedroom?" he pulled free long enough to ask as he rocked his hips into hers and lowered a hand to catch her bare bottom. "Oh, fuck, Hermione, are you wearing anything besides my shirt?"

Her laughter filled him with a different warmth. "Kind of forgot after my shower," she murmured with heavy blush to her cheeks.

"Godric, you're going to kill me, Witch." James pressed his forehead into her neck as he rubbed his hand over her smooth arse and rocked his denim-clad erection over her core.

Her giggles spilled into a moan as his mouth closed over her pulse point and he sucked hard. He wanted more. Her nails dug into his scalp and he sucked harder. Her hips rolled over his at a quicker pace and her moans rose to a higher pitch.

Fuck, could he make her come like this?

James bit lightly down before running his tongue over the tortured skin and shifted his hand on her arse to test a different angle.

Hermione's head thudded on the back of the wall, her eyes rolling up as her lips parted into a perfect, "Oh! Oh Gods...please."

He kissed her as he leaned back just enough to catch her pert nipple with his thumb. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," he growled as she cried out again. The scent of arousal filled the air until he couldn't stand it any longer.

She stumbled, panting as James dropped her to her feet. His hands caught her hips and kept her pressed to the wall as he sank to his knees, desperately keening, "...need you." He brushed a trail of kisses over her upper thighs.

"What—oh, fuck!" she cried, thin fingers flexing through his hair, tugging.

James brushed the tip of his tongue over her swollen clit, tasting once, twice, and then swiping down to catch the sweet moisture. Hermione's hips bucked against him, his nose brushing her nub as he thrust his tongue into her center.

That's it, love, just like that.

He wasn't sure how skilled he was and were Hermione anyone else, James might have been worried he couldn't please her. But he loved to make her come apart for him like this. He had missed it as much as he'd missed the brief hours he'd buried himself between her thighs. He'd known few precious hours of such bliss that he had forgotten how to feel. And it had been so very long since Lily, James wasn't sure he had ever wanted like this.

Pulling his tongue free, James wrapped his lips around her nub and lightly sucked.

Hermione spread wider for him with a curse and her legs trembled as that perfect pitched cry passed her lips again.

James was painfully hard and had been mostly able to ignore this fact until then. The thought of spilling without being inside her made him leave the heaven of her core, rubbing his face against his shirt at her hip. He picked her up in his arms as he rose to his feet.

Hermione gave him a lazy smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Second door," she murmured.

James carried her and miraculously did not fall to pieces as Hermione's teeth grazed his earlobe before he could open the door. "Fucking hell," he cursed, laughing at her giggle. They bumped into her dresser by the door, but thank Merlin, there was the bed. Not quite so large as his, but perfect for laying her out atop the perfectly tucked-in coverlet.

A pair of small blue flames illuminated the room from a jar at her bedside table, and the moonlight peeking through diaphanous curtains cast a fey light over the room. That and the copious stacks of books scarred in every corner was so very Hermione, James had to pull back long enough to admire her.

The way her amber eyes glowed and her curls spread like dark ink over her pillow. Her chest heaved, breasts peaked beneath his shirt, long legs spreading in anticipation as her fingers clenched over her thighs.

"Merlin, look at you," he whispered, still so achingly hard and wondering if this wasn't somehow a dream.

Her chest heaved as her breath hitched, drawing his eye. "I swear if you don't take off your clothes right this second, James Potter…"

He smiled and removed his spectacles to set beside the jar of bluebell flames. "I think I like the direction this is going. Do tell me everything you'll do to me, sweetheart."

Hermione snorted and covered her mouth eyes crinkling with mirth. Somehow, she managed to glare at him in clear warning.

James laughed as he banished his clothes to—he hoped—her living room. He groaned as his cock sprung free, relishing the way her gaze took all of him in, and the faint trace of her tongue at her lips as she watching him draw his hand over his erection.

Merlin, please let me last long enough to savor her.

"Come here. Now," she ordered, lifting a hand for him.

"Yes ma'am," James said with a smile.

His thoughts muddled as Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, the way she took his cock in hand to guide him in. All the breath left him as he continued to fill her, until their hips brushed together, their moans breaking the silence. He resisted the need to close his eyes as he kissed her. He didn't want to close his eyes and this all be a dream. He never wanted to leave her.

His vision slightly blurred, and he no longer cared that he was a sodden mess as she arched up to meet his first thrusts. They moved slowly together, but with an intensity they hadn't shared before. Last time, James had foolishly believed them beginning something wondrously new. Now he knew how quickly and easily perfection could be stolen away. He would do anything, and everything, to keep her now.

"Hermione," he said, drawing her lidded gaze to his. "Please…let me love you."

She shuddered and cupped his face between her hands before drawing him into a kiss. "Yes," she whispered.

James felt the swell of her magic reach for him, to fill her and be filled with her magic like this drew him higher, deeper. He savored her gasp as their power tangled together, as his vision began to blur and fill with stars and color. She came with him, clinging tightly to him as the air about them crackled with excess magic.

He pressed his ear to her breast, the steady thrum of her heartbeat carrying him back. He pressed an absent kiss to the peak and smiled as she ran her hand over his much-abused hair.

"James?" she whispered, throat thick with emotion.

He froze, and couldn't help the fear that made him tighten his hold at her hip.

"I—James, I love you," she said.

His hand spasmed and his heart leaped in his chest. He moved before he could think, he needed to look into her eyes, and...oh. "Why are you crying, sweetheart?"

Hermione smiled beneath his hand as he wiped and then kissed her tears away. "Because I love you, and I'm still afraid."

James sobered and his fingertips hovered over her kiss-bruised lips. "Why are you afraid, sweetheart? You know I'm not going anywhere. You know I love you."

Hermione pulled his hand closer as she replied, "I know it sounds silly, but—I suppose I'm afraid because I've never been this happy."

He rolled onto his side and drew her into him, until their chests were pressed together, her legs naturally tangling with his. He pushed her curls back over her shoulder and couldn't stop smiling as he said, "So let's be happy, love. Let me love you, and be happy. That's all I want, Hermione."

"I love you, James." She closed her eyes with a sigh and a softer smile as she snuggled closer into his embrace. "I love you..."

Review: I'm so happy to finally bring these two back together again :) Next is the final chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who has supported me this past year with my stories. It's been a hellish year, and I'm doing my best to hang in there as I'm sure you are too. All we can do sometimes is just keep going, right? And in the meantime, we can still share our stories with each other, and maybe bring a bit of light back in dark times. Sending virtual hugs your way. We've got this!