Oliver and Felicity (Arrow)
Harry and Hermione walked out of Ron's room and into the hallway of St. Mungo's. He could see the relief that he felt mirrored in Hermione's expression. Although he was sure they were both glad to see their friend alive, Harry couldn't help but think that despite it all, he had once again endangered his friend. He knew what he must do, but the thought of doing it nearly killed him. He so badly wanted this thing between him and Hermione, but Harry knew he was being selfish. Hermione turned her face to Harry as she walked down the hallway and he thought she looked simply radiant in the purple dress she wore, the swell of her breasts showing through the cutout triangle in the front. She had her coat slung over her right arm and her curly brown hair tied back into a ponytail. Harry was wearing a sweater and slacks, day old scruff on his face, his previously messy hair now trimmed.
"He's going to be okay," she said, smiling at him. He loved the way she smiled, the small dimple in her cheek that formed.
"He is," he concurred.
They walked in silence for a moment.
"We need to talk," he said finally, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground. He didn't really want to tell her this, but he knew he had to. They continued walking down the hall.
"I don't want to talk," Hermione said before he could continue. She had slowed down to walk behind him. "Which for me, I know is a little unprecedented."
Harry kept walking, not looking back at her.
"But," she continued. She sighed and he turned to face her. "As soon as we talk it's over."
He knew that this was true, that the flirting, the long glances, the brushes of fingertips, would all stop. He looked her directly in the eyes and was caught off guard by her beauty. How had he not noticed this sooner?
"I'm so sorry," he said and she shifted her gaze down. He did not tear his gaze away from her, savoring the last time he would be allowed to look at her with longing. She looked as if she might cry and his heart twisted. He hated this expression on her face. "I thought that I could be me now that the war is over, but I can't. They're still hunting me. Not yet. Maybe not ever."
"Then say never," she said and he could hear the anguish and disappointment in her voice. In this moment, he hated the word never. The idea of never being able to love Hermione the way he wanted to. She looked at him with profound sadness. She looked back at him with a tinge of defiance and shook her head. "Stop dangling maybes. Say it's never going to work out between us. Say you never loved me. Say-"
The words were too much to bear. He leaned down, pulled her face closer with his right hand and kissed her to stop her from continuing. They're mouths were suspended in time as they slowly walked in a circle, both his hands on either sides of her face. His imagination had not even come close to how good this felt. He breathed in the scent of her, knowing he would never forget this moment. He wasn't sure how long had passed-a minute or an hour-but he wanted it to be an eternity. When they slowly broke apart, his face was still millimeters from hers. He loosened his grip to be able to pull back and look at her face. She stared at him, silent for once.
"Don't ask me to say that I don't love you," he said with emotion. He hoped he had been able to convey just how much he loved her with the kiss. His eyes slid from hers back to her lips again, desire coursing through him, before meeting her eyes again.
"I told you as soon as we talked," she said, now pulling away. "It would be over."
She pulled his hands away from her face and turned away. He watched her walk away from him, his hands suspended where she had left them.