Do you know what it's like...to be with a person who makes you feel so comfortable. And when in you're in a room together, it's like you're in a room by yourself.
You don't have to try, you don't have to worry, you don't have to pretend.
Because it's just you. And it's just them. And it's so simple.
I wish life was always like that, I wish it was always that simple.
"Hey, Harry!" Hermione called.
She walked in and found him lying on his bunk, searching the Marauder's Map as usual. "Do you have anything that needs to be washed? I'm about to do my clothes."
"Er...don't worry about it, I'll do it myself," he said, not looking at her.
"Harry, we both know you're terrible at cleaning spells," Hermione stated. "Just give them to me, it'll take two seconds."
But he seemed to hesitate.
"I promise I won't look," she added finally, with an eye roll.
Harry sighed, setting down the map and sitting up. He bent down to retrieve his small pile of laundry from under the bed and then walked over to place it in her waiting hand.
"They'll be back before you know it," she reassured him with a smile, exiting the tent before he could respond.
True to her word, Hermione didn't let her eyes linger on any article of Harry's clothing that was not normally made available for her viewing pleasure. Whether or not she wished otherwise, however, was a question she was too shy to answer even to her own self.
After she was finished, she used her wand to fold everything into a neat pile and walked back inside the tent to return them to their owner.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Hermione said, placing the pile into his arms.
Harry didn't respond at first.
"Is something wrong?"she asked, confused.
"Hermione...why do these smell like strawberries?" Harry asked, after taking a whiff.
Hermione felt her eyes go wide.
"Oh Harry, I'm sorry! I always use a special fragrance charm after I'm done washing my clothes. I guess I just did it without thinking," she explained. "Here, let me fix it."
"Well, it does smell quite nice," he admitted, handing them over.
She turned away, fearing he would see the heat in her cheeks.
"It's just not really me, I suppose," he said, jokingly.
"Well, there," she said, turning back around, "now I made them smell more like you."
"Not that I know what you smell like," Hermione added suddenly. "I-I just meant like...like normal."
Harry stared at her.
"You do smell nice, though. Well...in that you don't smell bad. Okay, no—" she said quickly. "What I really mean to say is—"
"Hermione," Harry said loudly, cutting her off, "I get it."
She was silent for a moment, mentally berating herself.
"Right..." she finally said. "I'm going to go collect some more firewood, then."
"I can do that if you want," Harry offered.
"No, no, it's fine. I want some fresh air anyway," Hermione insisted. And she headed out of the tent before he could get in another word.
Once outside, Hermione was finally able to relax. She really had no idea what had come over her, but supposed it was just a temporary bout of insanity. After all, she couldn't even remember the last time she had blushed in his presence.
Being alone with Harry for weeks had caused her to become almost immune to self-consciousness and embarrassment. They were too used to each other by now. They were too used to seeing each other every waking moment of the day. To the point where Hermione was fairly certain she now knew Harry as much as she knew herself.
It was a wonderful, terrifying thing.
Wonderful, because she never dreamed she could be so unreservedly at ease with another human being.
Terrifying, because it was becoming that much more difficult to conceal her feelings.
So many times she longed to tell him. During those moments in the night when the only relief they could find was each other's company.
Some days they would sit outside by the fire for hours, just talking. They talked about a lot of things. There were the more frequent conversations about the horcruxes and hallows, but after a certain point they would lay rest to these discussions. And then they talked about other things. They talked about each other, about themselves. Because really, what else was there to do? What else was there to keep them sane?
"My turn."
Hermione opened her mouth in indignation. "Um, no. You didn't answer my question!"
"Yes, I did," Harry insisted.
"No, you didn't. Saying that you'd find the counter curse isn't an acceptable answer," she said matter-of-factly.
Harry groaned loudly. "Fine. If I woke up one day and found I'd been turned into a girl, I would...I dunno...see what it feels like to fly with long hair."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"What?" he said defensively.
"That's the best you can come up with?" she asked.
He threw her a pointed look.
"Well, at the rate you're going, you can probably do that in about a month, anyway," she said, leaning over to touch his hair. "You really need a haircut."
Hermione observed him for a moment, holding her wand delicately in her fingers. "Maybe if I just..."
Harry, who was forcefully chewing on a piece of meat that Hermione had attempted to cook, suddenly looked up.
"Maybe if you just what?" he asked, warily.
"Well, I'm not exactly an expert at grooming spells, but I do know the basics. Perhaps I can just...give you a little trim?" she suggested, moving towards him.
But he immediately moved away. "Er...I'll pass, thanks."
Hermione scoffed. "Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately? You're starting to look like Hagrid."
"I just shaved yesterday!" he exclaimed.
"I'm talking about your hair, Harry," she said. "Come on, just a little trim. Do it for my sake if not yours. I'm the one who has to stare at you all day."
He looked at her wand apprehensively, not yet convinced.
"If I make a mistake, I'm sure I can just fix it up with some more magic," she assured him. "Let's go, I'll do it inside."
She stood up abruptly, proffering her hand.
"Wha—you mean, now?" he said, looking up at her.
"There's no better time like the present, Harry."
He sighed in defeat, taking her hand and standing up.
Moments later Harry sat on a chair, waiting impatiently for Hermione to begin.
"What's taking so long?" he complained.
"I'm just observing," she replied. "I want to make sure I do this right."
Hermione carefully took a lock of Harry's hair between her fingers and recited the incantation. Then a faint purple glow emitted from her wand, severing the hair in a perfect straight line.
"It worked!" she exclaimed.
"And why do you sound so surprised?" Harry asked, slowly.
But instead of answering, she merely continued on with the process, yelling at Harry every so often to keep his head straight or to stop moving.
However, Hermione was starting to feel just the slightest bit guilty. She knew she was enjoying this task much more than she should have and probably could have completed it a lot sooner than she actually did. But the feel of Harry's soft locks between her fingers was simply too enticing.
She'd often had fickle fantasies of being able to run her hands through Harry's untidy hair, to see if it felt as amazing as it looked. And perhaps this was the closest she would ever get to these fantasies.
But Hermione longed for it to be otherwise. She longed to one day have free liberty to touch and feel and run her hands through Harry's soft, black messy hair as much as she wanted, for as long as she wanted. She couldn't imagine ever growing tired of it.
"Done," she announced, finally.
Harry immediately brought his hands up to his head as if checking to make sure he still had hair left.
"Here," she said, conjuring up a small mirror and holding it in front of him. "Not too bad...right?"
He observed himself, turning his head in either direction. "It actually looks quite normal," he admitted.
"Gee, thanks," she said, shoving his shoulder.
"No, you should take that as a compliment. Believe me, I've had my fair share of horrendous haircuts."
"Have you?" Hermione asked as she seated herself crossed legged on the ground. "I've never noticed any."
"Well, you wouldn't. It was a long time ago, when my Aunt Petunia still thought she could make me look less like a freak," he said, taking a seat across from her.
Hermione looked at him questioningly. "A freak?"
"You know—because of the scar," he stated. "She used to chop off all my hair and leave a bit to cover it up. But then the next day I would grow it all back with magic, anyway."
Hermione grinned. "I bet she hated that."
"Oh yeah," he said, chuckling. "More than I ever realized..."
Harry stared off into space for a minute, seemingly lost in a string of forgotten memories.
It wasn't until that moment that Hermione realized she really didn't know as much about Harry as she thought. There was a whole other life he had lived without her. A whole other life she knew nothing about. And she wasn't sure if he'd want to share it with her, or with anyone for that matter.
"Did you ever do any magic when you were a kid?" he asked, finally breaking out of his reverie.
Hermione pondered this question for a moment. "You mean besides the occasional destruction of valuable items when I was sad?" she said, smirking. "No, not really. Well...actually, there was this one thing..."
"Go on, then," Harry urged.
"I don't know...you'll laugh at me," Hermione said, looking away.
"I promise I won't," he insisted.
"Oh, nobody ever keeps that promise," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Okay, so then tell me anyway."
Hermione sighed, looking into Harry's willing face.
"Fine," she announced, finally.
He gave a little whoop of triumph that made Hermione smile despite herself.
"But you cannot share this with anyone, do you understand?" she added, seriously.
"What, did you kill someone or something?" he asked.
"Harry."
"All right, all right," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Who am I going to tell anyway, the dead leaves outside?"
Hermione threw him a stern look. Or at least tried too. The mirth dancing in his green eyes was simply too infectious.
Not to mention, he was looking especially adorable with his new hair cut.
"Okay, so, when I was younger, there was this...insufferable girl whose main pleasure in life was to tease me," Hermione began. "She would say a lot of things, but it was mostly stuff about my hair or how I read too much or whatever. I mean, I ignored it after a while, but...one day she went a little too far, I guess."
Harry stared at her, his eyebrows creased in concentration, and his arms crossed firmly over his chest.
"And it just happened all of a sudden," Hermione continued. "I was so angry that I—well I—I..."
"You what?"
"I made her vanish," Hermione uttered, guiltily.
Harry's eyes went wide in disbelief. "You what?"
"I made her vanish," she repeated. "She was gone for about two weeks..."
"But, wh—how...where did she go?" he spluttered, his voice increasing in pitch with every word.
"I honestly have no idea," Hermione replied, shaking her head. "But do you want to know the worst part?"
He nodded wordlessly.
"Nobody even realized she was gone. And I mean nobody. It was like...she didn't even exist!" she exclaimed. "And you can imagine the state I was in. I didn't even know what to think. I knew it had to be my fault, but I had absolutely no idea how I'd done it."
"Then two weeks later, bam there she is," Hermione continued emphatically. "And the world carried on as usual, like nothing had happened. Hermione Granger had officially gone mad."
Harry stared at her for a moment. Then out of nowhere he gave a loud bark of laughter that continued on for about five minutes.
"Are you finished?" she asked at last, her sweet tone dripping with sarcasm.
He nodded, letting the last of his chuckles die down before clearing his throat. "Did you ever tell anyone?" he asked, the amusement still clearly written on his face.
"God, no," Hermione replied, affronted by the mere idea. "Well, I did tell my mum a couple of years ago, but absolutely no one else."
"Besides me," he added.
"Besides you," she admitted, grudgingly. "And remind me again why I did that?"
"Because I'm skilled in the art of persuasion," Harry answered, cheekily.
Hermione stared at him with one eyebrow raised.
"And because I'm your best friend and you trust me."
"Much better," she smiled.
"By the way," Hermione said suddenly. "Did you or did you not promise me that you wouldn't laugh at what I had to say?"
"Oops."
"You know what," she said, delicately. "You deserve some sort of punishment for that."
Harry looked up at her with a small smile. "What are you going to do? Make me vanish?"
Hermione opened her mouth in indignation. "Oh you did not just go there!" she scoffed loudly. And with one swift, motion, she pushed Harry hard to the ground.
"I've taken self-defence classes, you know," she warned, her knee digging into his stomach.
"Funny, seeing as I'm the one who clearly needs the self-defence," he grunted.
"Will you ever break another promise again, Harry?" she asked, ignoring him.
"Well...it's possible," he shrugged.
She dug her knee harder into him and laid her arm across his chest firmly. "And you're sure about that?" she said, her hair falling around her face as she stared down at him.
Harry grimaced in slight pain, but stared back at her nonetheless.
"You're quite strong, you know that," he stated, still looking into her eyes.
"Thanks."
Hermione suddenly noticed that her face had somehow gotten much closer to Harry's since the start. She knew she should pull back, but even the thought of doing so seemed absurd at the moment. Everything about him was much too inviting, everything about him made her heart beat furiously in her chest. Did he have any idea how much he affected her? Did he have any clue in the world that she was trying so desperately hard not to do something stupid right now?
Her eyes shifted down to his lips for just a fraction of a second, but that was all it took to set her body on fire. She was suddenly much more aware of her arm and leg that were still firmly placed on top of him, trapping him underneath her.
Trapping him?
He doesn't want this...
He doesn't want you.
And just like that, reality came crashing back into her. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said, untangling herself from him. "I'm sorry, I'm probably hurting—"
"Your hair smells like strawberries."
Hermione froze.
She watched as he pushed himself back up to lean on his elbows, casually lying there as if he hadn't just made her heart stop.
"Er...yeah, I know..." she replied, not quite sure what to say.
She really wished her pulse would slow back down to a normal pace because it was making it quite hard to formulate intelligible thoughts.
Calm down. He didn't proclaim his love to you he just pointed out that your hair smells like fruit.
Do. Not. Overreact.
But...he did say he liked it earlier...
No.
On his clothes, he said he liked it on his clothes!
Stop.
I'm overreacting, aren't I?
Yes.
Oops...
"Hermione," Harry said, bringing her back to her surroundings.
She looked over at him and saw that he was now sitting up facing her.
"Thanks for making me laugh, by the way."
Hermione smiled softly. "We haven't laughed in a while, have we?"
He shook his head thoughtfully.
"It's good for you, laughter..." she mused. "It strengthens your immune system, diminishes your pain, boosts your energy...what?"
She stopped as she saw Harry chuckling quietly to himself.
"Nothing, it's just...do you know everything, Hermione?" he asked, grinning.
She blushed slightly. "Don't be silly, of course I don't know everything."
"Well, it certainly seems that way. You're like the most brilliant person I know," he said matter-of-factly.
"You don't know too many people, Harry," she laughed.
"Ouch..." he said, putting a hand on his chest as if wounded.
Hermione giggled.
"Hey, Hermione," Harry said suddenly.
"Hmm?"
"Can I ask you something?" he said, slowly.
The sudden change in his tone made her look up at him curiously. "Sure," she replied.
"What did that girl do to you...to make you so angry?" he said, quietly.
Hermione was a bit taken aback by his question, wondering why he had even remembered this small detail in the first place.
"Oh...um..."
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he said quickly. "I was just...curious.
Hermione paused for a moment, thinking. Did she want to tell him...? Did she want to share something so private with him? Could she?
She stared into his eyes, into the deep green depths, and he stared back, unblinkingly. What was it about Harry's eyes that always seemed to bring her comfort? How was it that she was so hesitant to tell anyone anything about herself, yet when it came to Harry...one look and she could spill all her secrets.
It was scary, it was terrifying, it was unnerving. But she loved it.
Because she knew she could trust him, and that feeling was absolutely wonderful.
"No, I-It's fine, Harry. I'll tell you," Hermione replied, softly.
He nodded, waiting patiently for her to begin.
"Okay, well...have you ever heard of the Wizard of Oz?" she asked.
"Yeah..." he replied.
"Well...I used to have this book about it, about the story. It had a bunch of beautiful pictures and everything. I absolutely adored it," she said, smiling wistfully to herself. "And I used to bring it to school, everyday. You know, just to read..."
"But one day, this girl, who used to pick on me a lot, well...she took it from me. She took it and she threw it to the ground. Then she picked it back up and—and started ripping the pages before my eyes, ripping all those beautiful pictures. She destroyed them, every last bit... And it just really hurt me inside, you know."
"And then she told me that I was ugly. Just like the wicked witch." Hermione swallowed hard before continuing. "I mean, I know it sounds silly, but...when you're seven years old those words cut through you like a knife. You wouldn't believe how many days I spent crying because of it, because of her..."
Hermione was surprised to find a single tear escape her eye. She wiped it away quickly, but Harry pretended not to notice.
Silence continued to fill the room for a long time after, leaving Hermione to dwell on long forgotten memories of her childhood.
"Hermione," Harry said, once again breaking into her thoughts.
She looked over at him, having almost forgotten he was still there.
"I'm sorry..."
She was slightly taken aback by the gentleness of his tone. It was a tone she had never heard him use before, and it affected her in a way she couldn't quite explain. It was like a sudden warmth had spread throughout her entire body, to the darkest depths of her soul.
And she realized then...that she didn't care. She hadn't cared for a while. Where once her memories had brought her pain, now—now they seemed so incredibly insignificant.
Because she wasn't alone anymore. She hadn't been for years.
It was this thought that brought a smile to her face, that filled her with happiness and made her heart sing.
She wasn't alone...
"Don't be sorry, Harry. It's not like it was your fault," she said, jokingly. "And besides, it was a long time ago, a very long time ago."
"Well, she deserved what she got, and worse," he stated. "You're too good of a person to ever be treated like that."
Hermione smiled softly. "Even if that were true," she remarked, "It's often the good people that have to endure the worst, Harry. I don't know...maybe it's better that way..."
Harry creased his forehead in curiosity.
However, he didn't ask any more questions that night. Or the next night. Perhaps for years to come, he would sit and contemplate these very words until one day—he would finally understand.
"It's my turn, by the way."
He looked at her, comprehension not dawning on him. "For what?"
"To ask a question," Hermione explained with a small grin.
"Oh...right. Fire away."
She bit her lip, trying to think of the best way to ask what was on her mind. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, either," she began.
He nodded his head in understanding.
"Do you think about Sirius a lot?"
Harry inhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. She saw him clench his jaw tightly and turn his head away from her.
"Harry, I—"
"I don't really want to talk about this, Hermione," he said, cutting her off quickly.
There was silence for a moment, then:
"Why?"
Harry turned his head sharply to face her. "What do you mean, why?" he asked.
"Why don't you want to talk about it? I mean...is it me? Do you not want to talk to me about it, or—"
"No, Hermione. No...it's not you," he said, rubbing his temple.
"Then...what is it?" she said softly.
Harry exhaled loudly. "I just don't want to think of him, okay?" he replied in an almost desperate voice. "There. There's your answer! I never think about Sirius. Never."
He was almost shouting now, but Hermione knew this was the only way Harry ever let out his feelings. So, she would let him shout.
"It hurts you when you think about him," she said. But it was more of a statement than a question.
"Of course it hurts me," he exclaimed. "It eats me up inside! I mean, who am I to remember him, to have good memories of him, when I'm the one who killed him."
"And...you think he would want that?" Hermione asked, slowly. "You think he'd want you to just...forget."
"Of course he wouldn't want that," Harry replied, annoyed.
"Then why do you insist on it?"
He didn't answer her, but instead clenched his jaw even tighter.
"Sirius loved you so much. More than anyone or anything in this world. And if there was one person he would want to remember him after he was gone, it would be you, Harry. Don't rob him of that. Don't rob him of the chance to see you happy," she said, pleading for him to understand.
"I know," he said, miserably. "I know you're right, but—it's just really hard for me to do that."
"I understand, Harry," she responded. "But can you do me a favour?"
"What?" he said, looking up.
"Think of a memory of just you and him. Something that makes you smile or laugh. A memory that you love...your favourite memory."
He stared off into the distance for several minutes, his face blank and expressionless.
"Got it," he announced, at last.
"Good," she replied, simply.
"Well, what do I do now?" Harry asked, confused.
Hermione smiled. "I don't know..."
He stared at her as if she'd gone mental.
"What do you think you should do now, Harry?" she responded.
He sighed, rubbing his face as if exhausted. He then stared down into his hands for a long while.
A very long while, long enough for him to cool down. And that was when he finally spoke.
"Think of it always," he said, quietly.
"I think that sounds perfect."
They both made eye contact at that moment, and Hermione's heart seemed to skip a beat. Harry smiled at her, but his smile seemed different.
It was fonder, more loving than she had ever seen it before.
A/N: Hello! Okay, so sorry for the century-long wait. I should be updating more frequently now that I'm on break (woot!). I hope you all enjoyed this painstaking chapter because it definately knocked all the energy out of me to write it. Please let me know if you loved or hated something (or simply liked or disliked something...cause you know...we're not all that passionate about fanfiction). I would really, really appreciate it as usual. And come on...this chapter was pure Harmony start to finish...I was contemplating adding Ron's entrance at the end but then I thought nahhhh these two lovebirds need their alone time. Sooo yeah, thanks for reading as always!