It was almost as if the fight hadn't happened. Like the hateful words spewed across the distance between Ron and Draco had been a fever dream. The only proof that it had happened at all was the forced conversation between Hermione and Draco afterward.
Her second "I love you" had been enough to pull him from the depths of his self-reproach and cause his heart to race beneath the palm of her hand against his chest. His lips against hers chased the words from her mouth, filling the space they'd left behind with his tongue.
Nothing else mattered in that moment, not whatever nonsense Ron had been yelling at him, not whatever happened in the aftermath between any of the rest of them. All that mattered was the feel of his hands beneath her shirt, fingertips searing across her back as she twisted around into his lap. His lips left hers and teased along the sensitive spot beneath her ear, leaving just long enough for him to pull her shirt over her head.
Her hair fell down across them both as her back bowed, pushing her into him, the tender brush of his palm against her breast as he pushed beneath her bra wasn't enough. She reached behind her to unclasp it altogether, and then, couldn't hold back a moan as his lips closed around her nipple, his tongue tracing circles around one hardened peak.
She panted against him, gripping the back of the chair when he followed the curve of her breast, his teeth gently scraping across her sensitive skin. The familiar hum of electricity pooled in her abdomen, arcing flashes through her limbs. She tried to push further into him, wantonly canting her hips to rub against him, but the arms of the chair pinned her legs in place, keeping her a few inches above his waist. Goosebumps broke across her stomach as he chuckled at her frustrated growl, rumbling through his chest and blowing his breath across the wetness on her skin.
"Tell me what you want," he said as he tilted his face up to her.
They'd never done this before, talked to one another this way; but the heat in his eyes matched the smoldering flames she felt growing in her core, and the blush blooming up her neck wasn't from embarrassment but from the heat of it all.
The flames burned hotter, sparking and swirling throughout her entire body, when she unbuttoned her jeans and said, "Touch me."
He licked his lips, the intensity of his gaze deepening, and all at once he stood up, his hands cradling her bum, and her ankles crossed behind his back. He carried her the few paces to the bed, and they both tumbled down onto it, the wood groaning beneath them.
There was something different in his touch, something a bit more deliberate. He'd always been careful, gentle and easy with her. She wasn't sure what it was exactly—either her first attempt at boldness in telling him what she wanted and the way she'd tugged her denims off the moment they'd landed on the bed or her openness in telling him she loved him—but something had shifted. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers anything but gentle as he clutched her to him, and her skin smoldered beneath him.
She fumbled with his belt, tugging it loose and attempting to unzip him, but her hands couldn't reach far enough. Standing back up, he shed his own trousers as she kicked her knickers off. The urgency from seconds before faded away momentarily as she lay beneath his gaze. Her self-consciousness was a distant echo; she felt nothing short of worshiped as his eyes traveled across her body.
"You're so beautiful," he said, leaning forward just enough to trace the tips of his fingers along her hips, and she squirmed beneath him. She arched her hips into his touch, craving the greedy way he'd held her before. "Like this? Is this how you want me to touch you?" he asked, a smirk tugging at one corner of his lips as his hands ghosted across her, slow, languid feather-soft touches when she wanted so much more.
Emboldened by the way he was teasing her, she met his gaze and said, "I want you to fuck me."
His eyes flashed, and his pupils grew so wide they drowned out the stormy sky of his gaze entirely. Time seemed to stand still as his hand tightened around her thigh, gripping her hard enough to bruise. Fleetingly, she wished it would, and the very air around them seemed to spark.
All at once, as if the world had righted itself and resumed its spinning, he dropped down onto her again, and she immediately lifted one leg, wrapping it back around his waist to feel him against her. She bit down onto his neck, rougher than she'd typically be, spurred on by the heat of his body against her and the feel of him finally pushing where she needed to be touched the most.
It still wasn't enough. Reaching down, she hooked her fingers into the band of his boxers, and just as she started to push them down, a heavy knock on their door made them both snap their heads toward the sound.
Neither of them moved, their eyes glued on the door and their bare chests rising and falling rapidly against one another. Hermione blinked, feeling the heady fog of desire start to clear in her mind just as whoever was on the other side of the door knocked again.
"If that's fucking Weasley, I'm going to lose my mind," Draco said, dropping his head onto her shoulder as she continued to stare at the door. It was ridiculous, but she had an immediate desire to ignore them completely, as if that would make them go away.
"'Mi," Harry's voice called out. "Are you alright? Ron's gone. I…I'm not leaving. I just…"
The rest of whatever Harry had been saying was drowned out by Draco pulling off her and snatching his pants from the floor.
"What are you—" she started to ask, but she stopped, her eyes widening as he walked to the door. "Wait! What—"
Draco snatched the door open, and Hermione scrambled to cover herself with the blankets even though she was completely hidden by the door as it opened.
"'Mi, I'm—" Harry's voice stopped abruptly when it wasn't Hermione who opened the door but Draco, hair disheveled, love bites along his chest, and his trousers held in front of his waist to cover the obvious erection he was sporting.
"I've never hated you more than I do right now, Potter," Draco said, his voice lacking any real emotion.
When she heard Harry sputtering on the other side of the door, she wrapped the blankets around herself and jumped off the bed, almost tripping over them as she scrambled to the door.
"Hi," she said awkwardly as she peeked around the door. Harry blinked at her, wide-eyed and ashen, his gaze switching rapidly between her and Draco. A bubble of laughter rose up into her throat, as it typically did in the most inopportune times. "Hi," she said again, "umm… I'm fine. We're fine. Everything's fine. Umm—"
"Oh, yes, everything's clearly fine," Ginny said, and Hermione's eyes flinched toward her. She hadn't even realized she was standing there, Hermione had been so focused on the mortified expression on Harry's face. Ginny looked shocked, but the wide smile on her face said she was enjoying Harry's discomfort entirely too much.
Pansy and Blaise stood just behind Ginny, and they, however, both looked like they were barely holding back their own fits of laughter.
"You see?" Draco asked, glancing pointedly toward Hermione once. "She's fine. We're all fine. Goodnight."
Hermione had about two seconds to register Harry's shocked expression and Ginny's bark of laughter as she took his arm before Draco shut the door and locked it with finality. He turned toward her, his face still red, and the moment his eyes met hers, it was as if he'd just now realized he may have made a mistake. His own eyes widened at the stunned expression on her face, and he said, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thin—"
Hermione's laughter cut through his apology, and she doubled over, feeling the giddiness overtake her. She knew, logically, it likely wasn't even that the situation itself that was funny. It was the sheer insanity of Draco answering the door and telling Harry he hated him while clutching his boxers to hide a boner, paired with her own escalating nerves from it all, that had her unable to hold it back.
When she finally managed to stop long enough to look up at him, the terrified expression he'd worn just as he'd started to apologize had morphed into a look of amusement, likely at her inability to stop laughing at the absurdity of their situation.
After wiping her eyes on the sheet she was using to cover herself, she dropped it to the floor and said, "Kiss me."
He obliged, leaning down to softly press his lips to hers. But she'd already tasted his heated kisses, and she wanted more than the chaste ones he was offering her now. She tugged his trousers out of his hands and threw them across the room, eager to get back to the fire they'd had before Harry interrupted. She bit down onto his lip as she dipped her hand beneath the elastic of his boxers, taking him into her hand, his skin soft and hot beneath her palm.
He sighed into her mouth, before sliding his hands down her hips and gripping her bum again to lift her off the floor. This time, when he dropped her onto the bed, he didn't join her. He stood over her again, looking down at her almost reverently, and for a second she thought he was going to start teasing her again. But, as soon as the thought entered her mind, he leaned down over her, his lips wandering across her stomach.
Her breath hitched, sending a shiver across her body when he kissed a particularly sensitive spot along her hipbone. His eyes flicked up to hers searchingly, and she lifted her head to smile down at him. "That tickles," she said with a laugh.
He smiled back at her, one of her favorites—more sincere than his normal smirk but still only one half of his lips curling up one side—before dipping back down to kiss the same spot, pulling an involuntary purr from her mouth when he opened his lips and swirled his tongue just beneath her hip.
She couldn't stop her quivering as his hands slid up her thighs, his mouth still lathing across her skin and trailing further south. Each soft brush of his lips paired with the firm nip of his teeth sent a euphoric flame directly to her core, causing her to clench her eyes and lift her hips from the bed, begging for more contact.
When she felt him shift to his knees, his fingers dragging on the outside of her hips to pull her closer to the edge of the bed, she realized what it was he was doing, and her eyes flew open as she lifted her head to look at him.
She didn't exactly pull her thighs closed, but she did freeze, her heart thudding violently against her chest. They'd definitely never done this before either, and she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about it. When his lips wrapped around a spot on the inside of her thigh, his eyes focused and never leaving hers, she bucked again, momentarily forgetting all of her wariness at being this exposed in front of him.
"Can I touch you like this?" he asked, his voice heady, heavy-laden with the same desire pulsing through her, leaving her panting beneath his gaze.
She could say nothing—she wasn't sure if her vocal cords were even connected to her brain anymore, the translation between the two drowned out by the overwhelming need coursing through her veins—so she nodded, swallowing once to push back the lingering insecurities at her vulnerable position.
He gently pushed her legs further apart, his lips returning to the same spot where he'd stopped before. He took his time working his way up her thighs toward her center, and she bit her lip, feeling equal parts nervous and excited, her heart practically humming in her chest and her skin singing beneath his touch.
She felt overhot, practically throbbing with need, and the moment his kiss reached her apex, she had to bite back the cry that rose to her lips, remembering they hadn't cast a silencing charm.
She had a split second of nerves, telling her she was lacking in some way, before all thought was driven from her mind by his tongue twirling circles against her sensitive bud.
Heat pooled in her stomach, pulsing through her body like fireworks beneath her skin. "Holy hell," she said between gasps, the words spilling out of her without restraint. Dipping lower to drag his tongue the length of her slit, he moaned, his hot breath washing over her scorching center.
She clenched her fists into the sheets beneath her, arching further into him, helpless to the way she squirmed beneath his lips. It was simultaneously too much and not enough, every nerve erupting inside her, pulling her closer and closer to the brink. Coolness breezed along her back when she arched into him, the air instantly cold against the damp sweat on her skin.
A moan slipped from her lips, punctuated by her, "Oh gods!" as time stood still, colors swimming behind her eyelids. She felt the coil within her winding tighter and tighter. Draco's hand pressed firm against her abdomen, holding her hips in place while she tumbled over the edge, every inch of her hot and vibrating like an electrical current, humming and melting across her skin as she crested like waves crashing to the shore.
His tongue flicked across her center once more, and she flinched away from him at the sensitivity of the touch, a soft laugh pouring out of her as she said, "It tickles" again. Her voice was thick, heavy and drunk as she came down. Releasing her grip on the sheets, she realized how tightly she'd been pulling them by the stiffness in her fingers.
She opened her eyes, blinking a few times to clear them, to see Draco heatedly looking down at her, his eyes full of want, fanning the hot coals he'd just burned down, already reigniting the flame inside her again. His cheeks bloomed red as his eyes roved across her, and she reached for his hand.
He smiled, his face lighting up as she pulled him down beside her, and his soft chuckle mixed with the sound of her breathing when she reached for his boxers and shoved them down, using her foot to push them the rest of the way off.
"Impatient, are we?" he asked, his open smile turning into an arrogant smirk. Typically, she'd offer some witty retort to knock him down a peg, but she didn't really have it in her, and, quite frankly, this time he'd more than earned the haughty expression on his face.
She never considered not kissing him after where his mouth had just been, and somehow, the taste of her on his tongue when she did just turned her on even more. As she took him in her hands, she effectively silenced any other quip he had been preparing to say, and the deep exhale he gave in response had her throwing one leg around his hip and trying to roll her hips into his.
His hands were on her again, gripping her waist, before he stopped, breaking their kiss and pulling back to look at her. A light flush colored his cheeks and his eyes searched her face. "Can we try something else?"
Then the hesitance on his face and the tentative way he was now brushing his fingers up her stomach made sense.
She loved confident Draco, the one who'd been so pleased with himself while he was teasing her a half hour ago. She loved protective Draco, his heated gaze as he ensured whoever it was on the other side of it knew he was a force to be reckoned with. But she also loved this side of him, the one who always took his time with her, always searching for reassurance, never wanting to hurt her.
"You could ask just about anything of me right now, and I'd be willing," she said with a laugh, but the heat never left her eyes as she touched his face, her fingertips skimming across his stubble.
The hesitance on his face was gone in an instant, replaced with a hunger so fierce it was almost primal, one that made her heart stutter.
"Roll over," he said, his tone commanding, but never once did she feel anything less than safe with him. She complied immediately, feeling the familiar tug of desire settling between her thighs again just from the timbre of his voice.
His hands on her hips pulled her up onto her knees, and he eased into her, slowly, cautiously, as if he were afraid to hurt her. Rightly so, as this angle certainly had him deeper inside her. It wasn't exactly painful, but the fullness did require some getting used to.
Gradually, his pace quickened, and she could feel his hands trembling, one resting on her hip and the other on her back. As she grew accustomed to the new position, the fullness eased, turning into a new kind of pleasure, and with each slow thrust, she pushed back into him. She knew based on the shaking of his hands, that he was holding back, and after having felt his rough grasp earlier and the way his near demand had shot to her core, the last thing she wanted was for him to hold back.
With their paired actions, he thrust into her further, his pace quickening again, and it still wasn't enough. They weren't even done yet, and she'd already decided this was her new favorite position.
"Harder," she said, before she could stop herself, and he never hesitated. His hand left her back, joining the other on her hip, and he took over, pulling her hips back to his as he drove into her, the pace almost punishing.
She bit her lip, trying to keep from crying out, knowing already that the sound they were making had to be heard in the hallway already. She could only hope that Harry and the others weren't just waiting on the other side of the door for them to be done. Needing more friction, she dropped down to her elbows, and the way he hit her in just the right spot with each push made it impossible for her to hold back her urgent moan.
She dropped her face into the bed, trying to hide her gasps. The sound of her bum slapping into his hips filled the room, almost enough to drown out his voice, but she could just make out snippets of what he was saying.
"Perfect…
…beautiful…
…everything."
She felt her orgasm building within her again, rising closer and closer to the surface and filling her body with heat, the snapping of his hips enough to send her over the edge again.
"Don't stop," she managed to squeak out, just before shuddered around him, feeling it crashing over her and pulling his name from her lips again.
With one final thrust, she heard him say, "Fuck," and then felt him spilling inside her still clenching around him. For a moment, they stayed that way, riding out the last waves of their own peaks, him slowly pushing into her a few more times and her breathing heavily.
When he pulled out, she immediately dropped onto the bed beneath her, feeling spent but entirely satiated. He dropped down beside her, their legs tangling together and his hand brushing slow strokes up and down her spine.
Her heart still pounding in her chest, having not calmed entirely yet, she rolled over enough to face him and brushed his damp hair from his forehead. "That was," she said, between her deep breaths, "a great idea."
He smiled widely at her and said, "You have no idea how long I've been imagining that." Before she could respond, he'd pulled her leg up around his waist and leaned forward, catching her lips with his. As he kissed her deeply with a fire that she'd come to live for, needing it as much as the air she breathed, she knew then that it didn't matter at all if he never told her he loved her.
Whether or not the words ever left his mouth, she felt them.
It was a full three days later before Hermione mustered up the nerve to talk to Harry and Ginny. Yes, Ginny was pretty open about their love life, though that was more Ginny's doing than Hermione's. Truth be told, Hermione was just as disgusted to hear about—or hear, for that matter—Harry having sex as he was by the thought of her doing it.
But, after half the week had passed and she still hadn't spoken to him, she thought she really should. It was rather rude that he'd been coming to check on her only to be greeted by Draco with a boner.
So, on Thursday night, Hermione stepped through the Floo after dinner and found Ginny sitting on the couch, an open Quidditch magazine on her lap and a half-empty glass of wine in one hand.
The way Ginny's mouth curled up into an expectant grin the moment Hermione brushed the soot from her clothes looked entirely too reminiscent of her twin brothers, and Hermione immediately wanted to turn around and leave again.
"Oh, no, no, no," Ginny said, sitting her wine glass down onto the table beside her when Hermione started to do just that. "Come have a seat and spill."
Hermione's face crumpled involuntarily. She should've known. All the Weasley's were pretty open and forth-giving with far more details than the average person, which likely explained their seven children. Molly had tried to talk to Harry and Ginny over dinner once about whether or not they were being safe, and Arthur never even looked up from his shepherd's pie, as if it was just a completely normal table conversation in front of the entire family.
And once, Ron had confided in Bill about his and Hermione's obvious sexual issues, which had turned into a huge fight because Hermione, having already felt like something was wrong with her, felt like it was a major violation of trust. Especially, given that she didn't found out that Bill—and subsequently Fleur—knew until they both mailed her a stack of letters on the importance of sexual health…full of personal details! She'd slapped them down on Ron's desk in the middle of the Auror's office and stormed out without even giving him a chance to respond.
Truthfully, Hermione thought it was rather enlightened of them… but she wasn't quite ready to partake. The fact that she'd openly stepped through the floo anticipating an uncomfortable conversation with Harry and not Ginny was a complete oversight on her part.
Ginny shot her wand at the floo behind Hermione, and a bubble appeared around it, blocking the entirety of the entrance and Hermione's possible escape.
"I'm just curious," Ginny whined, and Hermione's shoulders sank as she realized there was no way out of this conversation. She dropped down into the seat beside Ginny and already felt herself blushing, and she hadn't even started speaking yet.
"I am beyond satisfied with Harry's—"
Hermione immediately held up a hand, shaking her head. "Nope. I don't want to hear anything about Harry's anything."
Ginny at least paused for a split second, long enough for Hermione to think she'd won—stupid mistake really.
"Cock," she said, as if it were impossible for her to not finish her sentence, and Hermione immediately groaned. She was completely aware of how immature her blahhh was, but she was helpless to stop it.
"But, his is the only I've ever seen. I'm curious."
"I'd imagine they all look rather similar, Gin."
"Well, just tell me if he's any good. He strikes me as incredibly intense."
Prior to the events after he'd shut the door in Harry's face, Hermione never would have called it intense, per se. Now, however, she definitely realized how much he'd been holding back, and the blush she'd managed to push away before was now crawling back up her neck as she tried to fight the smile that broke across her face.
"Okay, it's that good then," Ginny said, leaning forward expectantly, like a child waiting for story-time.
Really, what kind of friend would she be if she didn't oblige?
The words came easier than she'd thought possible, especially given her history, and she told Ginny everything…well, not everything.
"I'm not giving you specifics on his…you know."
"Cock?"
"Will you stop saying that? Yes"—whispering and waving her hand vaguely in front of them, as if the gesture alone was enough to clue Ginny in—"that."
"Why are you talking about cocks?" Harry's voice cut through the room, and both women turned sharply to find him rounding the corner, his nose in a binder for work. When he looked up, noticing for the first time that Hermione was there, his face drained of color. He turned on his heel, ready to sprint from the room, and Hermione couldn't help noticing the similarity between his action and hers when she'd first stepped through the floo.
"Will you both stop being so immature? It's just sex," Ginny said, exasperated with them both.
Harry turned back around, and the expression on his face was enough to break the tension, at least for Hermione. She covered her mouth but not quickly to completely cover her laughter at Harry's curled up nose.
"I've seen enough. I don't want to hear about it too."
Before Ginny could cut in again, Hermione said, "Believe me, I don't want to tell you about it. Your deviant of a fiancé cornered me and made me talk."
"Sounds like something she'd do," Harry said, leaning over the back of the couch to drop a kiss onto Ginny's cheek before taking the armchair beside her.
"I wanted to say thank you, for the other day." Hermione shifted, turning herself to face Harry. "Not just for being there and being oddly pleasant with Draco and Pansy, but for trying to intervene as well."
Harry closed his binder and sat it onto the coffee table in front of him, his eyes flicking up to hers sheepishly before dropping back to the table. He straightened the stack of books on it, and Hermione realized he was stalling.
"What?"
"Ron knows he screwed up."
"Good. He did."
"Yes," Harry said placatingly, his eyes still anywhere but Hermione's, "he did."
"But?"
"But, outside of that last bit—"
"You mean the bit where he said Draco should have died?" Hermione asked, feeling her anger begin to spike. She knew, based on Harry's expression, that he was trying his best to tip-toe around the conversation, but she couldn't fight back her own pulse spiking at what she could only assume was Harry about to take up for Ron's actions.
"Yes, that bit," Harry said, finally looking at her. He sighed and glanced once at Ginny, whose only help in the matter was to tip her head down and lift her eyebrows at him. Harry blew out his mouth, his cheeks puffing out in exasperation. "Okay, I don't at all agree with his behavior, so you can stop bristling, but…nothing he said was wrong."
And there it was. She clenched her jaw, fighting her first instinct to just head for the floo. She forced herself to breathe, knowing Harry meant well.
"I told you about Dobby," Hermione said, after two full ten-counts to make sure she wasn't escalating the situation unnecessarily. She wanted to tell him everything else, about how he'd tried to give her better memories while she was being tortured, about all the ways he'd helped her since then, but she didn't think she should have to.
"Ron doesn't know that."
"No, he doesn't, but I shouldn't have to explain myself to him. He should know that I'm capable of making decisions about my own life." Unable to hold back the anger she was feeling any longer, she snapped, "You should know that."
Harry jerked back. "I—I do. I'm not at all fighting you on this, if that's what you think my point is." His brow furrowed as he paused, as if he were genuinely confused as to how she'd made that assumption. "Hermione, I already told you that I'm okay with it, and I meant it. I've asked far too much of you over the years. And…and you've asked me for nothing. The fact that after everything, you think I'd be upset with you over something like this, something that is really none of my business, is, quite frankly, really unfair."
Well, damn. Feeling thoroughly chastened, she started to speak, but Harry went on.
"If you wanted to date bloody Filch, who am I to tell you that you shouldn't? I'd certainly think you were mad, but I stand by what I told you on Sunday. It isn't my place." He absently scratched a spot on his neck, his nose curling up again. "I mean, it's not like you're asking me to like him."
"Thank you," Hermione said, her eyes shifting toward Harry's lop-sided smile and the rare look of seriousness that Ginny was currently wearing.
"My point is just that you and I both know Ron has a tendency to overreact. He knows that. He's already apologized to Pansy, and—"
"To Pansy? He should be apologizing to—"
"I know," Harry said, holding up a hand to stop her. "I know that. I'm just saying, he knows he's screwed up, but you know how hard admitting that is for him. I'm not telling you to give him a pass or to just sweep it under the rug. This is a lot to take in, and Ron has never been one to handle change very well."
"So, we should all just look over his tantrums because it's hard for him to admit it?" Hermione asked, snapping at him a bit more than his words probably warranted. She knew he was just trying to keep the peace, but damnit if she wasn't tired of always giving Ron a free pass—his antics when they were still at Hogwarts, his lingering prejudice at times, his constant need for validation—it was ridiculous.
"No," Harry said, placatingly. "I'm just trying to tell you to…just remember that he does care about you."
When she huffed and folded her arms in a completely mature manner, Harry went on. "Look, I'm not saying Malfoy was at fault either, but Ron…he—he still struggles with that night at the Manor."
As angry as she was, Hermione couldn't help but drop her look of irritation knowing how hard this was for Harry to talk about. "We had…we had to hear it, 'Mi, and I know that's nothing compared to what you went through, but we had to hear it." Harry clenched his jaw and swallowed, and that more than anything he was saying cut straight through her.
She knew right then how difficult this conversation was for him, and honestly, she'd never once looked at this from their point of view. Understandable really, given that she'd been reliving her own torture regularly since it happened, but still. Now thinking about it, she couldn't deny how terrible that must have been for them. Just watching Draco's memories and Harry's on the one occasion he'd shared them with her had been traumatic. Imagining how awful it must have been to actually be there, forced to listen while someone you loved was hurt, had a knot rising in her chest.
Harry shifted in his seat, kneading his hands. "If you had seen him in that dungeon… he was terrified, not for us, but for you. We both were, but he"—Harry paused to break her gaze, looking briefly at some spot on the wall beside them as he took a breath—"everything he said, right or wrong, is because he cares about you, and to think that you're now with a person who had the ability to end that, even if it would've meant his death, that's just a lot to take in. Maybe just give him the opportunity to fix it."
Harry was right. None of them saw the changes in Draco the same way that she did. None of them had seen his memories, listened to him while he fought against them over and over again in his nightmares. None of them knew him like she did now. To them, he was still that same person; the only image they had for him in their minds was the same one she'd had of him months ago as well.
She didn't want to just give Ron a pass. She wanted an apology, and she thought she deserved one, as did Draco. But she did know that Ron loved her, and he cared more fiercely than anyone she knew. He wasn't always right in his actions, in fact, he very rarely was, but his heart was in the right place. The hurt look on his face when he'd looked at her then, as if he didn't even know her, was proof of that.
She hadn't been sure that she was ready to forgive him before, and that was even prior to his irrational actions on Sunday. But Harry was right. Now she was at least willing to give him the chance to fix it. It was certainly going to take some substantial effort on his part, but she'd at least give him that opportunity.
She nodded, unable to say anything because of the lump rising in her throat. Harry reached forward and laid a hand across hers, a soft smile on his face as he urged her to look at him.
"When did you get so wise?" she said, with a watery laugh.
"When he asked me to marry him, of course," Ginny said, standing up to cross behind Harry, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.
He laughed and started to speak, but Ginny, being Ginny, cut in with a devious smirk that she turned toward Hermione, "So, getting back to the sex…"
Harry groaned, and Hermione took that as her cue to leave. Stopping to hug Harry first, Hermione whispered that she loved him before kissing his cheek and heading for the floo.