Yes, this is a chapter (: I'm really sorry for not updating for almost six months. I should've warned you, I'm terrible with updates. I'll start writing something and then I lose interest and leave it for a while, I do that a lot. I have to be in the right mind frame to write something, especially when it comes to fanfics. I bounce from Twilight, to Harry Potter, to Vampire Dairies, to which ever. If I'm not into it, then I won't write it. And on top of that, I went back to school this year, before I was home schooled so I had all the time in the world to write, so adjusting to school and studying, it played a role in not updating. But last weekend was the Harry Potter marathon on ABC Family, and naturally I watched it, and therefore, regained interest in my story. I had started this chapter, intent on updating but I put it aside, so I went back to it and finished it, and wellah! Another chapter! I didn't proof read this so I'm sorry about any spelling mistakes or anything else. I really hope you guys like it (:
As always, all the credit goes to JK Rowling, sadly not me. If so, Harry and Hermione would've been together from the start.
"Why do we have to be so quiet?" Harry whispered to Hermione.
"Because of-"
She was cut off by a commotion downstairs.
Crash!
"Tonks!" Mrs. Weasley cried exasperated.
"I'm sorry!" Tonks wailed. "It's this stupid umbrella stand-"
Tonks never got to finish her sentence, because in the next second, she was drowned out by an awful, earsplitting, bloodcurdling, scream.
The moth eaten curtains that Harry and Hermione were passing, flew open, revealing not a door, but a portrait of an old woman with greying, jet black hair, yellowing skin, who was screaming at the top of her lungs, as if being tortured. Her grey-blue eyes rolled into the back of her head, drool coming out of her thin lips. To say Harry was horrified would be an understatement.
Her screaming awoke all the other portraits in the hall and they started screaming along with her.
Harry clapped his hands over his ears, as Moony and Mrs. Weasley rushed over and tried to shut the curtains, but they wouldn't shut, and only seemed to make her screech louder, her hands coming up and scratching against the glass, as if trying to tear their faces off.
"Filth! Mutants! Half-breeds! Mudbloods! Scum! By products of dirt and vileness! Freaks, be gone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers-"
Tonks kept apologizing over and over, while fixing the umbrella stand—which, Harry realized, was a troll's foot—she had tripped over. Mrs. Weasley abandoned the attempt to fix the curtains, and ran down the hall, stunning the portraits as she went, almost knocking into Sirius, who was running down the hall to help Moony.
As soon as he came into, the lady started screaming louder.
"You! Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"
"Shut up!" Sirius roared.
"How dare you talk to me, you blood traitor! I am ashamed to call you my son-"
"Well I'm ashamed to call you my mother, so SHUT UP!" with one good pull, they managed to shut the curtains. The screams died down, and then quieted. Panting slightly, Sirius swept his long dark hair out of his eyes, and turned to smile grimly at Harry.
"I see you've had the unpleasant pleasure of meeting my mother." Sirius told him.
"That is your mother?" Harry asked, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.
"Shocking isn't it?" Sirius said in a slightly amused tone.
"A bit."
Sirius smiled, "We've been trying to get that down for weeks, but I think the old bat put a Permanent Sticking charm on the back of the canvas. But let's go down stairs before they wake up again."
Harry nodded, suppressing a shudder.
The kitchen was located in the basement. It was scarcely less gloomy than the rest of the house, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light coming from the lager fire place at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like a battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. Many chairs had been crammed into the space from the meeting and a long table sitting in the middle of the room, littered with parchment, goblets, old Daily Prophets, and a heap of what appeared to be rags.
Mr. Weasley and the oldest of the Weasley clan, Bill, were sitting at the end of the tables, heads bent in a quite conversation.
Harry sneaked a peek at some of the parchment that was laying on the table; it looked like a plan of a building, hasty hand writing here and there. Mrs. Weasley, noticing Harry's attention straying, cleared her throat, causing Mr. Weasley look up through his horn-rimmed glasses.
"Harry, it's good to see you again!" Mr. Weasley said, hurrying forward to greet him. He grabbed Harry's hand, shaking it.
"Journey alright Harry?" Bill asked rolling up the parchment hastily, grabbing all of them at once. "Mad-eye didn't make you come via Greenland?"
"He tried." Tonks said, walking over to help Bill, and immediately sending a candle toppling onto the last roll of parchment. "Oh no—sorry—"
"Here, dear." Mrs. Weasley sighed wearily, repairing the parchment with a wave of her wand. With the flash of her charm Harry caught sight of the wording on the parchment. It looked like some sort of schedule, but as soon as he saw it was gone, snatched up into Mrs. Weasley's hand.
"This sort of thing ought to be cleared up right after the meeting." She snapped, irritated.
Bill took out his wand, muttered, "Evanesco!" and Harry watched as the scrolls vanished.
"Have a seat Harry," Sirius told him, gesturing to a chair. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"
The thing that Harry had thought was a pile of rags let out a prolonged grunting snort, jerking awake.
"Some'n say m' name?" Mundungus muttered sleepily, "I 'gree with Sirius…"
He raised a rather grubby hand as if voting, his droopy, blood shot eyes unfocused. Ginny giggled, while Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted.
"The meeting's over Dung." Sirius informed him as they all sat down at the table. "Harry's here."
"Eh?" Mundungus grunted, peering balefully at Harry through his matted ginger hair. "Blimey so 'e 'as. Yeah…you all right 'arry?"
"Yeah." Harry said.
Mundungus nodded while he fumbled through his pockets nervously. He produced a grimy looking, black pipe. He stuck it in his mouth, ignited the end of it with his wand, and took a deep pull. Great billowing clouds of grey smoke enveloped him in seconds.
"How many times do I have to tell you to not do that in the kitchen?" Mrs. Weasley asked exasperated. She waved the smoke away with a wave of her wand.
"Sorry Molly." Mundungus said sheepishly.
"And if you want dinner before midnight I'm going to need some help. Not you Harry, you've had a long journey." She added as Harry made his way to get up.
"What can I do Molly?" Tonks asked enthusiastically bounded forward eagerly.
Mrs. Weasley hesitated, looking apprehensive.
"I—er—why don't you rest you have had a long journey as well, I'll be quite alright."
"No, no, I want to help." Tonks said brightly, knocking over a chair as she hurried over to the dresser to help Ginny gather the cutlery. Mrs. Weasley looked like she wanted to say something, but soon dismissed it, but she continued to watch Tonks closely.
Soon a series of heavy knives where chopping up meats and vegetables of their own accord, supervised by Mr. Weasley, while Mrs. Weasley stirred a cauldron dangling over the fire.
Harry sat at the table with Sirius and Mundungus, who was still blinking up at him mournfully.
"Seen old Figgy since?" he asked Harry.
"No," Harry eyed him for a second before he finished, "I haven't seen anyone."
"See, I wouldn't 'ave left," Mundungus began, leaning forward a pleading note in his voice, "but I 'ad a good business opportunity-"
Sirius cut him off, rolling his eyes making Harry laugh, "Had a good summer so far?" he asked.
Harry's laugh faded and he shook his head grimly, "No, it's been lousy."
Sirius barked out a laugh
"I know how you feel, been locked up in this house for a month." He told Harry, giving him a sympathetic smile.
"Why?" Harry asked curiously.
"Because the Ministry of Magic is still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail would've of told him by now, so my big disguise is useless. There's not much I can be doing for the Order…so Dumbledore feels." He added fatly. Harry could understand, he too was not happy with the Headmaster at the moment. He felt an sudden rush of affection and sympathy for his godfather.
He escaped Azkaban to be free, not to be held prisoner in his dark childhood home, going mad with boredom. Harry knew what it was like to sit on the sidelines and watch people getting hurt all around you, wanting to help, but not being able to.
He felt that way a few months ago, when he watched helplessly as Cedric died right in front of his eyes. He relieved that moment and that feeling every time he closed his eyes.
"At least you know what's been going on." He said, a hint of hardness slipping into his tone.
Sirius snorted, "Oh yeah, listening to Snapes reports, having to take all of his snide comments about how he's out there risking his neck, while I sit here on my backside, having a nice comfortable time, asking how the cleanings going-"
"What cleaning?" Harry asked.
"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation," he said, waving his hand around the dismal kitchen, "no one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear old mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone around the bend, hasn't cleaned anything for years-"
"Sirius?" Mundungus asked, completely oblivious to Harry's and Sirius's conversation, studying an empty goblet, "this solid silver, mate?"
The glare Sirius was shooting Mundungus was replaced with a look of disgust at the goblet in his hand.
"Yes," Sirius answered, "finest fifteenth-century, goblin-wrought silver embossed with the Black family crest."
"That'd come off, though." Mundungus said, polishing the goblet with his sleeve. Sirius gave him a look and Harry snorted in amusement.
"Fred—Gorge—NO JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.
Harry, Sirius and Mundungus looked up, startled, and ducked out of the way a split second later. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron full of stew, a large pitcher filled with butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with a knife, hurtling through the air towards them. The cauldron full of stew skidded across the table, stopping just shy of the edge, leaving a black burn mark across the table, the pitcher of butterbeer fell, spilling its contents everywhere, and the knife slipped of the board and landed point down and quivering ominously where Sirius's hand had been seconds before.
"FOR HAVEN'S SAKE!" Mrs. Weasley screamed, "THERE WAS NO NEED—I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS—JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"
"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" said Fred, hurrying over and wrenching the knife out of the table, "sorry Sirius, mate—didn't mean to-"
But Harry and Sirius were too busy laughing, Sirius just waving off Fred's apology. Mundungus, who had toppled out of his chair during the fiasco, was pulling himself up, cursing under his breath and throwing the boys a disgruntled look.
"Boys," Mr. Weasley began, lifting the stew to the center of the table, "your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now that you've come of age-"
"—none of your brother's caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins, slamming a new pitcher of butterbeer on the table, spilling almost as much. Again. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't need to charm everything he met! Percy-"
She stopped dead, catching her breath, her face frightened as she looked over to her husband's now wooden expression.
"Let's eat!" Bill said suddenly, sensing the rising tension in the room.
Everybody agreed and sat down and began filling their plates with food.
Harry sat back and just watched as everyone as they talked and ate, Sirius, Moony, Mr. Weasley and Bill talking quietly at the end of the table, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were laughing along with Tonks as she changed her facial features. Harry assumed this must have been normal dinner entertainment because Ginny and Hermione were requesting their favorite noses, The twins were having their own whispered conversation, and Molly just sat in between Tonks and Mr. Weasley, listening to their conversation.
Harry smiled slightly, for the first time that summer, he didn't feel alone. This was his family, albeit dysfunctional and slightly weird, but it was his and he was thankful.
After dinner, everyone sat around, the adults drinking coffee and the teens eating a cake Mrs. Weasley had made earlier in the day. Harry dropped his fork, the waist band of his jeans feeling a little snugger than they had been since he arrived, and considering they were an old pair of Dudley's, that was saying something.
Mr. Weasley was leaned back in his chair, looking totally relaxed and peaceful, Tonks yawned widely, her nose back to normal, looking like she was ready for bed, and Sirius was petting Crookshanks, Hermione's bow legged, smushed faced cat.
"I think it's about time for bed." Mrs. Weasley yawned.
"Not just yet Molly." Sirius said, pushing away his plate and turning towards Harry, " You know, I'm surprised at you. I would've thought that the first thing you did when you got here was start asking questions about Voldemort."
The light, relaxed atmosphere turned serious and tense with the mention of the dark wizard's name. Lupin, who was about to take a sip of his coffee, set his cup down, looking wary.
"I did!" Harry said indignantly, "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we weren't allowed in the Order-"
"And they're quite right." Mrs. Weasley interrupted, "you are much too young."
She sat bolt upright in her chair, her eyes serious and her fist clenched on the arms of her chair, all signs of drowsiness gone.
"Since when does anyone have to be a member of the Order to ask questions?" Sirius asked, "Harry's been trapped in that muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen-"
"Hang on!" George interrupted loudly.
"How come his questions get answered?" Fred said angrily.
"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a stinking thing!" George cried indignantly
" 'You're too young, you're not in the Order' " said Fred in high pitched voice, that sounded uncannily like his mother's. "Harry's not even of age!"
"It's not my fault that you haven't been told what the Order's been doing." Sirius told them calmly. "That's your parents decision. Harry, on the other hand-"
"It's not up to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply, her usually kind face looking dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"
"Which bit?" Sirius asked, a hint of sarcasm dripping into his tone.
"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know." She said, placing heavy emphasis on the last three words.
Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny's head all turned from Mrs. Weasley, to Sirius as if watching a tennis match. Ginny's mouth was open slightly, Hermione was watching Harry closely a grin playing on her lips, and Remus was keeping his eyes fixed on Sirius.
"I don't intend on telling him more than he needs to know." He told her, mimicked her tone. "I just thought that sense he was the one who saw Voldemort come back" Sirius ignored the collective shudder that went through the room and continued, "he has more right than most to—"
"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" Mrs. Weasley said shrilly. "He's only fifteen-"
"—and he's dealt with as much, if not more, than most in the Order-"
"No one is denying what he's done!" said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising even more. "But he's still-"
"He's not a child!" Sirius shouted impatiently, slamming his fists on the table, making everyone jump.
"He's not an adult either!" Mrs. Weasley shouted back, rising from her chair, matching Sirius's temper. "He's not James, Sirius!"
"I'm well aware of who he is, Molly." Sirius said coldly.
"I'm not sure you are!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him it's as if you got your best friend back!"
"What's wrong with that?" Harry demanded.
"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father no matter how much you might look like him." Mrs. Weasley told him, her eyes still boring into Sirius's. "You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"
Before Sirius could reply, Harry stood up, anger bubbling up inside. He was getting tired of the shouting match between Mrs. Weasley and Sirius and he was really getting talked about like he wasn't sitting right there.
"I'm sick of everyone thinking that they have to protect me at every turn! I've fought him since I was eleven years old! I'm the one who fought him that night in the grave yard, I watched as he killed Cedric right in front of me, I watched as he came back that night! I think I deserve to know what has been going on for the past month! I want to fight him and I want to help."
Harry's outburst startled Mrs. Weasley, who sat back down in her chair. Hermione was smiling up at him proudly, Ron was trying to stifle his laughter, Ginny's jaw was practically sitting on the table, Remus was smiling slightly, and Sirius couldn't stop smirking.
There was a few moments of silence until Mr. Weasley spoke up. "I think, Harry, that you are right."
Mrs. Weasley rounded on him, scandalized. "Arthur, you can't be serious!"
"Molly, Harry may only be fifteen, but he has dealt with more than most members have ever encountered, and he, as he pointed out, did see You-Know-Who rise again. I think he deserves to know what has been going on and what we're up against. And ultimately, the decision is not up to us."
Mrs. Weasley gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"Personally," Remus began quietly and Mrs. Weasley quickly turned to him, her eyes hopeful a finally gaining an ally, "I agree with Arthur, Harry deserves to know what's going on, and it's better he hear the facts from us-not all of them," he added at her glare, "but the general idea, instead of hearing a twisted, mixed up version from the public."
His expression was mild, and when Mrs. Weasley wasn't looking, he winked at Harry. Harry, felt a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. He was pretty sure that Moony knew that some Extendable Ears had survived Mrs. Weasley's purging.
"Well," Mrs. Weasley huffed, looking around the table for support that she wouldn't find, "I can see that I'm going to be overruled . I'll just say this: Dumbledore had a reason for not wanting Harry to know too much and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interest at heart-"
"He's not your son." Sirius said quietly.
"He's as good as!" Mrs. Weasley said fiercely. "Who else has he got?"
"He's got me!" Sirius told her"
Yes," Mrs. Weasley said, her lip curling, "the thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"
Sirius rose from his chair, shaking with anger.
"Molly, you're not the only one at this table who cares about Harry." Remus cut in sharply, "Sirius, sit down."
Molly's face was flushed with anger, her face flushed with anger. Sirius slowly sat back down in his chair, his face dangerous, his blue eyes darkened in anger. Anger that was directed at Molly.
"I think Harry ought to have a say in this, as he has said and as Arthur has said." Remus continued, trying to defuse the situation, "Harry is old enough to decide for himself."
Remus looked over at Harry and Harry didn't hesitate.
"I want to know what's been going on." He said at once.
He didn't look at Mrs. Weasley when he said this. He was touched by what she had said about him being as good as her son, but as he had tried to argue, he didn't need people trying to protect him against something he had been fighting against his whole life. He was not a child.
"Very well." Mrs. Weasley said, her voice cracking. She looked over to the other teens in the room, all of whom, except for Hermione, were wearing equal amount of shock on their faces. "Ginny—Ron—Hermione—Fred—George—I want you out of this kitchen, now."
There was an instant uproar.
"We're of age!" Fred and George bellowed together.
"If Harry's allowed to, why can't I?" Ron shouted.
"Mum, I want to!" Ginny wailed.
"No!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, her eyes overbright. "I absolutely forbid-"
"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George." Mr. Weasley said tiredly. "They're of age—"
"But they're still in school-"
"But they're legally adults now." He said in the same tired voice.
Mrs. Weasley looked like she was about ready to explode.
"I—oh, all right then, Fred, George you can stay but Ron-"
"Harry'll just tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron started hotly, but then looked over at Harry, suddenly unsure, "Won't—won't you?"
For split second, Harry thought about telling Ron that he wouldn't tell him and single word, that maybe he could get a taste of what it was like to be kept in the dark, then maybe he know what it felt like. But that thought vanished, the only proof of it being there was the pang of guilt that suddenly hit his chest.
"Yeah, 'course I will mate." He answered Ron with a smile that felt forced.
Ron grinned, but when he caught Hermione's eye, she gave him a concerned look, seeing through him.
"Fine!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, "Fine! Ginny—bed!"
Ginny looked like she wanted to protest, but with one glance at her mother's angry face, she wisely decided against it. But she didn't go quietly. Her loud, stomping footsteps could be heard all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hall, Mrs. Black's shrieks could be heard all the way down the stairs, breaking the sudden awkward silence. Remus excused himself and quickly darted out of the room to restore the calm. Only after he returned did Sirius clear his throat and turn to Harry.
"What do you want to know?"
Hours later, after finally giving up the thought of sleep, Harry walked down the stairs, quietly so not to wake up Mrs. Black's portrait, therefore the whole house. He made his way into the drawing room, setting himself on the sofa, staring into the still burning fire.
His mind was to clouded with thoughts to sleep.
Voldemort was back and this time he was back with a vengeance. He as no longer the spirit that fed off of Professor Quirrell that he defeated first year, he was no longer a ghost in a diary, manipulating people through a diary. He was real, and he was back and there was nothing Harry could do to stop him this time.
This time it wasn't just him facing him, it was other people he cared about. Other people lives were at stake of helping him get rid of Voldemort for good. It made him sick to know that other people, people he cared about, were going to die. Sirius, Remus, Molly, Arthur, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, all these people were put in danger because they cared about him and his wellbeing.
"Galleon for your thoughts?" a soft voice asked from behind him.
He jumped startled, turning around to see Hermione standing there in the doorframe.
Despite his thoughts, Harry smiled at her.
"What are you doing up?" he asked her.
She walked into the room, sitting down next to Harry.
"I couldn't sleep." She admitted.
"Same here." he told her, looking over at her.
Hermione studied him, she could see the dark circles under his eyes, he was paler than usual and his green eyes were dark with turmoil, reminding Hermione of the sea during a storm. Without thinking about it, she grab his hand and held it between her own.
"Harry." She whispered, her heart fluttering at their contact, but she ignored it for now.
Harry gave her a brave smile, "I'm fine Hermione."
"No you're not." She disagreed, "How long has it been since you slept a full night's sleep?"
He sighed, defeated. "Since that night in the graveyard." He whispered.
"How-how bad are they?" she asked him tentatively.
"Bad." He answered quietly, "I relive that night over and over again, I see my parents ghosts, I can still feel Wormtail stabbing me with the dagger, hear Voldemort telling me to bow to death, putting me under the Cruciatus curse, and when he touched my scar…." Harry shuddered, remembering the pain that had coursed through him, he had never felt pain like that before in his life.
"And then the worst part is reliving watching Cedric die, I couldn't help him, not then and not now." Harry swallowed, trying in vain to push down the emotions that were rising to the surface.
"Oh, Harry." Hermione whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. Without thinking about it, she seemed to be doing a lot of that, she threw herself at Harry, hugging the life out of him. His arms wrapped around her in surprise, but relaxed, pulling her against him tighter.
Warmth enveloped him like a blanket when Hermione hugged him, her scent wrapping around him, comforting him. She had a vice like grip on him and he hugged her back with equal amount of strength.
They stayed like that for a while, reveling in the comfort they gave each other. Harry didn't realize how much he needed this, he didn't need someone to tell it was going to be all right, they both knew that was a lie, he just needed someone to listen and that's what Hermione did.
Finally Hermione pulled away, giving him a shy smile, her cheeks flushed pink. Harry gave her a small smile in return, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
They sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts until Harry broke the silence.
"So why were you and Sirius talking about me?" he asked her. He watched her reaction, remembering the way she blushed when he asked her about it earlier.
Hermione's face heated up, and she avoided his gaze.
"Hermione, you can tell me anything." Harry reminded her gently.
Hermione nodded, acknowledging him, but still not saying anything. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her hands slick with sweat.
"Hermione?" he urged softly.
"We were talking about you." She blurted out. Harry looked at her in amusement, a grin playing on his lips.
"I gathered that much, but why?" he asked her again.
Hermione closed her eyes, and tried again.
"Before you got here, I was so worried about you. I came in here to read, take my mind off of it, but I didn't even get past the first page. I ended up pacing, thinking the worst and that's how Sirius found me. He told me it reminded him of your mum the way I was worrying," she gave him a hesitant smile, "He'd tell her that he was fine, but she wouldn't believe him until he came home."
She took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart, a nervous butterflies.
"Harry, I worry about you all the time, and I can't stop until I see you and I know for myself that you're alright. It's been that way since first year, and last year I could barely sleep I was so worried about you and that bloody tournament. I didn't think I was going to make it." she admitted, giving him a small smile.
Harry looked guilty and when he opened his mouth to say something Hermione cut him off.
"Don't apologize Harry, you can't help it, so don't blame yourself."
He shot her a sheepish smile.
"I always thought that the reason I worry about you is because we were friends, and that I cared about you, so I never thought anything of it, but…" she trailed off suddenly, the nervous butterflies fluttering faster in her stomach, matching her heart beat.
"But what?" Harry whispered.
"But this year I realized it was more than us being friends, more than me caring about you I—I love you, Harry." She whispered, meeting his eyes.
"I've loved you since you saved me from that troll in our first year, I just never realized it until now. This year I couldn't stop worrying about you during the tournament, and I couldn't stop until I saw that you were okay, that you weren't hurt, that you were alive. When you came back from the maze and you weren't moving I thought-" she choked back a sob.
"Hey, hey, I'm fine. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere." Harry reassured her, pulling her into another hug. She sniffled, and after a few minutes pulled away.
She went to wipe her eyes, but Harry beat her to it. His calloused thumbs wiped away her remaining tears, his touch gentle and soothing. They caught each other stare, mocha meeting emerald.
Harry's hand slid down her face, cupping her cheek. Even when her eyes were swollen, puffy and red rimmed, she was still beautiful. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned down, his eyes never leaving hers, as Hermione watched wide eyed but not stopping his actions.
After what seemed like forever, their lips met in a sweet, hesitant kiss. It was nothing more than a few brushing of the lips, when Harry pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers.
"I love you too." He whispered.
Hermione beamed up at him, and Harry leaned down and kissed her again.
Unbeknown to them, a certain god-father and a certain werewolf were watching the whole exchange, both wearing matching grins on their faces.
Sirius looked over a Remus, never losing his grin and said,
"I believe you owe me ten galleons."
A/N: Am I forgiven? Let me know what you think, and if you have any other ideas for what should come next, let me know. I've done some rethinking on this story, and it might go places I didn't intend for it to go. If you have any ideas, hit the little button at the bottom of your screen and let me know. (:
Peace and Pygmy Puffs,
Bri (: