Wow, just wow. Thanks so much for the outpouring of support, folks! It's be a real pleasure reading all of your comments and if I wasn't aching to write more for this fic, I certainly am now. However, I'd like to address a few housekeeping matters first.

Firstly, I'd like to mention that this story is not AU, but I have no interest in keeping strictly to cannon from either the books or movies. For the most part this likely won't be an issue, but some things may not sync up properly and that likely is a result of my twisting of the original fiction to better suit the current story. I hope that doesn't ruffle too many feathers.

Secondly, I've become very interested in the idea of assembling a list of songs that I have been listening to while writing. My writing, and I hope it shows, is heavily influenced by mood and atmosphere. To that end, I think that the music that has served as a background for me might help "set the stage" for you folks. Let me know if it something you'd like me to continue doing, or if I'm wasting my time. If it exceptionally well received, I'd also be amenable to explaining some of my thought process behind song selection (but I am likely getting far ahead of myself). ;P

Music for Chapter 3:

Charlie Puth – We Don't Talk Anymore ft. Selena Gomez (Our Last Night Cover)

Anatu/Matthew – Bleach

Music for Chapter 4:

Jessie Siren – The Sway

Phoebe Ryan – Mine (Win & Woo Remix)

With those two things out of the way, I hope you enjoy this chapter half as much as I did while writing it.

There was no wood in Harry's hands when he returned to the clearing, nor was there a Hermione by the fire. He'd expected as much. They'd been far too close to confronting some extremely inconvenient truths for her to stay put. Harry would bet the entire contents of his bank vault at Gringott's that she was pacing a line into the carpet floor of the tent.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here, Harry…" He whispered to himself. The trees that had seemed so comforting just a few moments ago now felt oppressive. An overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia gripped at his chest, tightening his breath and spiking his heart rate. This was too much. He'd made a mistake coming here. Why had he wanted to come back to this miserable place to begin with? All of these thoughts ransacked Harry's mental and emotional stability.

The odd thing was, all of the anxiety mounting inside him seemed to trigger something deep within his subconscious. He cared right now. Really, truly cared about what happened in the next few minutes. Everything happening tonight mattered. Harry was fundamentally invested on his most basic of levels in the outcome of his next few conversations with Hermione in a way that he hadn't been with anyone in years. All of his and Ron's banter, all of the squabbling with Ginny, all of the family chats with the Weasley's, none of it had ever really mattered. They were empty words meant to fill the empty space that was left in the wake of the devastation caused by The War. Part of George, Molly and Arthur, sweet as they might be, would never forgive him for Fred. Ginny would never understand being left behind during the hunt for the horcruxes. Ron would never come to terms with the guilt of his abandonment. It was because of those things and more that they'd all been stuck in a ridiculous pantomime of their relationships before that last year.

"Not her, though, you bloody idiot." Harry ground his knuckles into his eyes, trying to fight off a wave of antipathy for his ignorance. He thought he was beginning to understand just how deliberately blind he'd made himself to that particular truth.

He was inside the tent flaps in an instant, desperate to be inside before another wave of anxiety surged up and overwhelmed him. She stood with her back towards him, the light of the hung lanterns casting their shadows on the far wall, just barely overlapping. The inside of the tent was different than Harry remembered it. So far, it was the only difference he'd noticed since arriving and was struck dumb for a moment by its significance. It wasn't subtle and sent a wave of hot, sticky warmth through his chest. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, and failed categorically. The anxiety was back and had cut his previous momentum to pieces.

It wasn't Harry that made the next movement, as Hermione flicked her wrist, dropping her wand into her hand and tapping on a radio sat on the table to her left. Soft electronic music filtered through the speakers and filled the space in between them. With her other hand, Hermione reached up and tussled her hair and let it splay across her shoulders. Harry brushed his hand delicately through them, having no recollection of crossing the distance from the entrance to her.

"I like the alteration." The words came out from a place deep in his throat, sounding entirely almost foreign to both of their ears. It was enough to turn her around.

"Mmm. Do you now?"

"Yeah." Hermione inhaled deeply and placed a hand on Harry's chest, sliding inside his coat and up towards his neck. Paralyzed, he stood in place focusing on remembering to breathe as her feather soft palm came to rest on his cheek.

"Do you know why we're here, Harry?"

"Yes." It was little more than a growl, barely distinguishable from bestial noise, but Hermione seemed to have no issue identifying it. Her eyes burned with intensity and Harry felt consumed by it. With the heat he felt building inside him and the surprising sound of his own voice, he knew he couldn't look too different either. Her control of the situation felt… right. His earnest devotion, her brilliant construction. It was the way they'd always been.

Harry's hands snaked their way up from his side and rested delicately on her hips, thumbs brushing at the belt loops on the waist of her jeans. Hermione sucked in an involuntary breath and they couldn't help but smile at one another, a blush blossoming on her cheeks. For all her planning, he'd always been the one to make the push. The first to mount the trench and charge.

"I don't remember you being quite so warm the last time we danced, 'Mione…" Harry breathed into her ear, switching slowly over to the other one, brushing his nose lightly against hers on his way. "If I remember correctly, you were awfully cold…" Tugging gently on her hips, Harry brought her closer to him, collapsing the distance between them.

Hermione bit her lip and pressed her face into the crook of Harry's neck.

"You're right. I wasn't." Her voice was as delicate as his was rough. A ludicrous part of Harry worried that he'd break it, shatter that delicacy with his own hunger. The thought lasted less than a second before he felt her teeth nip at his skin. An almost guttural chuckle escaped his throat and he banished the concern, remembering who he was pressed up against.

They moved together for a while, not really dancing, just swaying. Exploring each other without the guilt and frustration that had plagued them six years ago. This wasn't revenge or betrayal. It wasn't spiteful or self-centered. Ron and Ginny simply didn't exist here.

When the slow song faded out, it was replaced by one with a faster tempo. As tuned into the rhythm of the music as they were, the pair began to pick up the pace, moving their bodies faster, matching the beat. With the speed came even more warmth and that warmth necessitated a change in wardrobe. Hermione's fingers danced across Harry's shoulders, sliding his coat to the ground. Harry's grasped the hem of her jumper helping her pull it up and over her head. Almost feverish with the anticipation of an increased degree of connection, the two collapsed back together. The music played on, but dancing had stopped as Hermione's lips crashed onto Harry's. His hands tangled themselves in her curly locks and as hers frantically undid button after button on his dress shirt. Bare chested Harry detracted himself from Hermione's hair and gathered her up in his arms, carrying her to the queen-sized four-poster located where their three beds had previous resided. He laid her down, disconnecting his lips from hers and relocating them to the pearlescent skin of her stomach, exposed as she tugged off her undershirt.

There was an almost frantic pace to which they disrobed one another. The years they'd spent apart from one another, repressing latent, but undeniable truths felt too heavy to bear now in the presence of one another. Every exhalation was a miasma of released inhibition, every inhalation a consumption of indulgence. There were no words shared between the two as Hermione flipped Harry onto his back, straddling him and joining their bodies together in what felt like the final act of a play too long at intermission. Harry's hands pulled at her hair, crashing her lips against his in an act of almost panicked desperation. Long, pulling twists of her hips ground Hermione against the base of him, and they both shuddered in the pleasure elicited by the movement.

It wasn't long before they both collapsed into a mass of tangled, sweat slicked limbs. Endurance wasn't something their passion had afforded them, but neither seemed to care very much. Harry laid flat in something akin to a stupor, Hermione curled against his side. She was shivering, body still wracked by aftershocks of their simultaneous climax. His eyes closed, Harry pressed his face to the top of her head, planting a gentle kiss and drinking deeply in the scent of Hermione. Her hair smelled of cinnamon, her skin of fresh cut grass. Those, mingled with the thick musk of sex that surrounded them was intoxicating.

They laid together for what could have been hours without moving, just reveling in the perfection that was their coupling. It was Hermione that broke the stillness first, pulling a blanket up and over them as the heat they'd generated together began to fade. Harry's hands traced lines up and down Hermione's side from mid-chest to her thigh. Every time he would reach the small of her back, she'd squirm and kick at his legs playfully.

"Wha-"

"Shh… Please don't. Not right now. Right now you're mine."

"Okay."

Both sets of eyes closed heavily and 'just a little longer' stretched into hours of blissful, dreamless sleep. Sleep better than they'd both had in just under six years.

There we are, my friends. The deed is done! Hope it was as good for you all as it was for me. ;). The moment felt as inevitable to me as it must have to the two of them. In following chapters, I plan on exploring the resulting fallout this situation has placed them in and how our lovers deal with it. Interestingly, I realized in the writing of it that it wasn't the most important part of the story. Originally, I had been attracted to this fic as an expression of latent, repressed desires. I think, however, the story has become more about perspective. Let's see where those perspectives take us, shall we?