A/N: Without further ado...
The great hall was dimly lit with palm sized jack-o'-lanterns, translucent in nature, floating close to the ceiling that was charmed into a purple sky with bright red stars blinking rhythmically. Every ten seconds a roar of thunder reverberated across the hall and blasted every window outward into the chilly October air, the effect lasting for no more than a second before shiny new windowpanes replaced the countless shards as they dispersed like specks of dust into the night sky, it was accompanied by a flash of lightning streaking across the floor, further adding to the ominous and chilling atmosphere.
Like a magnet, the spectacle drew – demanded everyone's attention; every head was tilted, every mouth opened in wonderment, every set of eyes trained at the overwhelming display of magic.
All except one.
The elderly witch standing at the far corner, away from any traffic, had only spared one short glance when the first thundering rumble started every soul present, and that included the wizard who came up with the ingenious idea if the smug smile on his face was anything to go by, before her eyes snapped back to the entrance.
With one arm supporting the other as she nursed her glass of champagne in slow intervals, contrasting with the fast tapping of her one-inch heels, Hermione was the picture of impatience and agitation. One might mistake and they would be justified to do so that the Arithmancy professor detested festive occasions and her secluded spot indicated that she wasn't keen with mingling with her peers as well, and although there was some truth to both these points, tonight it couldn't be further from the truth because the irritated expression across the curly haired witch's face was due to an entirely different reason as she once more craned her neck when a group of seventh year boys – all above six feet – blocked her line of vision.
"I'm not familiar with how muggles conduct themselves in public but in pureblood society it's considered bad etiquettes to outwardly show that you'd rather be anywhere else but amongst present company."
The drawling voice instantly spiked her foul mood up a notch, and she took a hefty gulp of her frizzy drink to calm her nerves. "Fuck off." Inclining her head up towards him and flashing her teeth through a saccharine smile, she added, "That's how muggles conduct themselves in public when idiots approach them even when they know they shouldn't."
The balding wizard sighed deeply while shaking his head. "You know what, Granger?"
"No, I don't, Malfoy, but I'm sure you'll educate me – Harlow, Edwards, Muskins! The only hole I want to see that pie stuffed in is your mouth. Back to your dormitories all three of you and that's 50 points off each."
"As I was saying," Malfoy eyed her up and down, a smirk curling one side of his mouth once their eyes met. "You were a lot more fun back in the day." Maintaining eye contact as he lifted his orange drink to his lips, he snorted, "And that's saying something," before taking a small slurp.
"It's called growing up, Malfoy. A part of life that seemed to have evaded you completely." Hermione rebutted dryly, before returning her focus back to the entry way.
"Oh wow." He let out a low chuckle, taking another sip of his drink. "You're ruthless tonight. Anyway, you like what I've done with the place."
He waved his arm around in a circle over his head just as another crack of thunder shattered the window a couple of feet to her left.
"Fishing for compliments, are we?"
He sighed. "Merlin have mercy on any soul that asks you for a compliment." A pause. "There is no one I pity more in this world than your husband. The guy must have found some way to permanently inject you with Amortentia – by the way, is he even alive? Not once has he visited you or vice versa. I don't think I ever even heard you mention him." He stepped forward and brought his mouth next to her ear, whispering, "Trouble in paradise, Granger."
"He's dead."
She was shocked with the ease the words left her mouth.
Almost three months have passed since that day in the cabin. Since she began her journey towards healing, towards remembering. Tearing down the mental blockades that she had built to protect herself had been the first step, and by the end of the first week Hermione was close to admitting defeat as reliving even the happiest memories of Roger rendered her a complete wreck. If it had not been for Harry – she didn't even want to think how the last few months might have shaped out.
The night she spent at the cabin, sleep wouldn't come to Hermione, and apparently Harry either as long after she assumed he'd fallen asleep his gravelly voice cut through the darkness, startling her. "What would you do if…if you were able to remember?"
The silence prolonged for quite a while; she would've thought he had fallen asleep if not for the complete silence, which meant he was holding his breath lest she whisper her answer.
Which she did.
"I would return to my house…our house."
From that night on not a single day went by when he didn't at least spend five minutes with her. On the days his job was less rigorous, and he could spare a few hours, they crossed one thing off the list. The list was his idea and consisted of all the things she loved to do with Roger: strolling, cooking, reading, seeing live theatre every month, painting, brewing potions, and just talking for hours on end about everything and nothing.
It wasn't the same – it couldn't be.
She couldn't hold hands with Harry while they strolled through the castle grounds, she couldn't lay her head on his shoulder and without saying a word feel the gentle pressure of his fingers combing through her scalp as they read, instead of laughing and giggling as they cooked together or experimented with new potions recipes the foremost thought in her mind was to keep a reasonable distance from him due to the confined space, the live theatre performance Harry took her to was fine but throughout the night she felt this weird tension between them and it didn't help that his posture during the show was very stoic, which led her to assume that this was not his thing and in turn it sour her mood too, she thought painting would be the one activity best suited for them because they could both work silently and be in their own space but instead it turned into a lesson since Harry had never painted before and she couldn't watch him destroy the beautiful white canvas by zigzagging on it with every colour at his disposal.
In her mind it was a complete and utter disaster, that is until about two weeks ago when the pair of them were sitting across from each other on the sofa in her living room, laughing uproariously because of a story Hermione had just finished sharing that included Roger and a fishing bowl, when suddenly, she froze, realizing that she was not only openly talking about Roger but instead of feeling her heart clench tightly at the mere thought of him, it was bursting with joy. That's when it struck her. Harry wasn't trying to take Roger's place as she had feared, that was not the purpose of the list, the purpose was to keep his memory alive. The moment her eyes connected with his, she saw them sparkle brightly in recognition of her revelation.
"I see my job here is done." With that he got up, walked two steps till he stood next to her and said, "Send me an owl before you leave, alright," leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead, whispered, "Happy remembering, Hermoine." and left.
That was the last time he visited.
Now that she was able to reminisce about her late husband and that to her hearts content and not worry about the heart clenching pain that accompanied it in the past, Hermione did exactly that, or at least she tried to, but every time she pictured Roger's face or sifted through her memory bank to pluck out a favorite memory of theirs, her mind would automatically drift towards another set of memories that were of a recent past.
It was the same compilation of flashbacks every time, a series of moving pictures rotating in a never-ending loop before her eyes: resting her head against his shoulder every time she broke down, holding her hand when she felt scared and vulnerable, showering her with compliments during moments her insecurity was in high gear, making her smile either by telling dirty jokes with a bland expression or by reenacting their more outrageous stories from when they were young.
The moment Hermione realized what was happening it was already too late; her treacherous heart had already made up its mind and she was in no power to convince it otherwise.
At some point in the last couple of months, her feelings for Harry manifested into something that transcended the boundaries of friendship.
To say Hermione was discombobulated by this unexpected revelation would be putting it mildly. It took up all the space in her head and steered her mind with an iron clad grip. Sleep eluded her once again but not only that, she wasn't able to focus on anything, which led to a few embarrassing moments in the classroom, the most humiliating being when she was started out of her reverie by Lisa Zenatia, a seventh year Ravenclaw, shouting her name at the top of her lungs as the students around her cackled unashamedly. But it wasn't until Draco Malfoy pulled her out of her thoughts during dinner with his hand on her shoulder and his eyes narrowed in suspicion that she realized she must put an end to this.
So, next morning, on a Saturday, when the sun still hadn't risen, Hermione ventured outside the castle walls and set off with no direction in mind.
She walked till she could no more, and it was only when she stopped and lifted her head that she realized her feet had led her into the forbidden forest.
Hermione plopped down against a tree and let out a long breath of exhaustion, her skin was coated in a heavy sheen of perspiration. She pulled her knees up and rested her forearms on them, little puffs of air leaving her parted lips as she rested her head against the trunk and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were shining with resolution. Her decision was made.
When she got back to the castle, Hermione didn't head towards her quarters, instead she went straight to the Owlery and after penning a brief note, tied it to the leg of an owl and sent it on its way.
Thus, the sole reason why she never once let her gaze slide away from the open double doors. Except for now where she is staring up into Draco Malfoy's horrified expression as he opened and closed his mouth in a perfect imitation of a fish choking for breath.
"I – I – I didn't know." He managed finally.
"That's because I haven't told anyone. Well – " She shook her head. "Listen, I would really appreciate if this remained between us, okay."
He nodded vigorously. "Of course – anything. Listen Granger – "
"Professors." Hermione whirled her head in the direction of the voice at a breakneck speed.
Standing not two feet from her was the man whose been stealing her sleep.
"Feels like I intruded on something." joked Harry as his eyes flicked between her and Malfoy. "Wrong moment, perhaps."
"You came." She breathed.
Harry's eyebrows shot up in bewilderment. "Of course, I came." A brief pause later, "Want to get out of here. This shitty display has already gotten on my nerves." He finished just as another streak of lightning set the hall alight. "Whose dumb idea was this anyway." He cast a glance toward Malfoy, who had been silently watching the exchange but now was glaring at Harry with his fists clenched at his sides.
Harry's face remained stoic and his demeanor calm, but his eyes flashed in satisfaction.
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes and slightly worried that the idiots before her might end up creating a scene that was long past them, she grabbed Harry's hand in two strides and without so much as a glance led him outside.
"Pasty Wanker." muttered Harry as she breathed in a lungful of fresh air.
"Oh my god, is this how it's always going to be." she swatted him on the shoulder with a backhand flick of her wrist.
"C'mon, you know that was too good to pas – wait, what do you mean by is this how it's always going to be."
Hermione let go of his hand, facing away.
"Hermione?"
She sensed it before she felt his fingertips brushing against her shoulder.
"There are some things I need to say." After a moment of silence, she continued. "But not here."
She could feel the tension sizzling between them, and it was evident in his speech when he said, "Alright. Then where?"
Though this was only her second visit Hermione felt an odd sense of familiarity as she looked around the dimly lit cabin.
"This should be enough." Harry walked in through the open door carrying an armful of cutout pieces of wood. He crouched low by the hearth and one by one added the logs to the crackling fire. Within seconds, the flames doubled in height.
Harry got up with a grunt and crossed the length of the room to close the door. Folding his arms across his chest he leaned his back against the door and crossed his ankles, eyes locked onto hers, waiting.
"I – " she began, and then faltered. "What I want to say is – " she began again, and then stopped once more, lowering her chin. "Thank you so much, Harry." she rushed the words out in one breath and cursed herself internally.
Fear be damned. If she was doing this, then she was doing it properly. Harry deserved that. She deserved that.
Raising her head, she looked him deep in the eye. "Thank you. For everything."
"Hermione – "
"Shut up."
"Words are not enough – can never be enough for me to let you know how grateful I am. But they are all I have. So, thank you, Harry. You saved me when it was no longer your responsibility."
A muscle fluttered across his cheek, and she could tell that it was killing him not to say something.
"I had lost all hope, but you made me believe. Still, I thought it was nothing but a pipe dream. That's why when you asked me that night right here what I would do if could remember, and I didn't say anything for a while, it was because I didn't think it was possible. I never thought I would be able to return, never be able to step inside my own house. But you made that possible too."
He gave a curt nod in return, his expression devoid of emotion but she saw something akin to fear flash across his eyes.
"I'm glad I was able to help." He said woodenly as he uncrossed his ankles and scraped his shoe against the floor. "So," he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side. "When will you be leaving?"
"Harry," Maybe it was the desperation in her voice, or the whispering nature with which she stretched the two-syllable word, but something made him jerk his head and lock eyes with her. "You made me believe that I have the strength to push past any hurdle that comes across my way, but what I don't have the strength for is to spend the rest of my life in misery when I know there was an alternative if only I was brave enough." She swallowed hard. "Here's me being brave enough."
It took every bit of courage in her, but she met his gaze. "I want to be by your side, wherever that is. My home, your home, at the castle, right here or anywhere else. I don't care. If I get to spend the rest of my life with you, that'll be a life worth living."
Just as she had begun to think that maybe she had misinterpreted the entire thing, his hoarse voice broke the silence. "It's what you want." And then. "You're sure?"
She nodded.
"Well, alright then." Finally, a hint of a smile and then he was clutching her forcefully, and she met his passion equally.
They stumbled onto the floor with him landing on top of her, fingers working with an urgency that made warmth pool at the center of her body. He pushed the dress off her shoulders, helped her turn this way and that until she was free of it.
"Merlin," he muttered, burying his face in the curve of her throat, his hands clenching on her back.
He captured her bare shoulders and leaned over her.
"It's been a long while, and I'm having a hard time keeping my self-control."
She smiled then. "Nobody has asked you to," she whispered. "My turn."
He captured her hand as she was about to remove his black shirt. Frowning, she looked up into his eyes that shone with vulnerability. "It's not pretty."
She pulled him down and claimed his mouth in a kiss as heavy and demanding as the metal pressed against the inside of her thigh.
"I don't much care for pretty." She breathed against his lips, a trail of saliva connecting them. He squeezed her wrist once and then ran a fiery path down to the small of her back, fingers slipping into the dimples on either side of her tailbone.
As the last piece of clothing joined the others on the floor, Hermione maneuvered him to his back and propped herself onto her elbow.
He was right. It wasn't pretty. His torso was a map of scars, some faded, others angry and puckered. Hermione leaned down and took her time caressing every single one of them with her lips. When she pulled back his flesh was coated in a sheen of spittle.
The next moment she found herself on her back with her arms above her head, Harry's grip on them relenting. With his other hand he lined himself up and then he was with her, sinking deep inside with a cry, swallowing hers with a bruising kiss. She arched against him to match the thrust of his hips as they found the perfect rhythm. At some point Harry turned her onto her front and covered the length of her body with his, her neck tilted at an awkward angle as they breathed heavily into each other's mouth, in sync with the sensual roll of their hips, the friction eased by the heavy coat of sweat dripping off their flesh.
When she could think again, the first coherent thought that came to Hermione was that she wouldn't mind spending the rest of her life in this cabin, turn this into her new home – their home. A soft chuckle filled the musky air surrounding them as she registered the absurdity of the idea.
"What are you thinking?" asked Harry, his hand stroking her arm from wrist to elbow and back again, his breath on her shoulder.
She craned her neck to face him. "I was thinking that some things don't lend themselves to rational analysis."
He grinned, his teeth flashing white. 'Is that good or bad?"
"Good." She said simply.
"Rational analysis is overrated anyway, and that's coming from someone whose job requires to think rationally." He nuzzled deeper into the curve of her neck, yawning loudly as his eyes fluttered to a close.
"Hmm." hummed Hermione, as she pushed herself deeper into his embrace.
Her last thought as she joined Harry in dreamland, maybe not an absurd idea after all.
A/N: Well peeps, you know the drill. Let me know your thoughts blah blah blah.