"Harry, where have you been?" She asked and Harry registered the words, but at the moment he was still busy drinking in the sight of her. He had immersed himself in her gaze until he was drowning in her eyes. The rain which hadn't ceased was struggling against her drying charm and beginning to win as her thick hair began to stick to her beautiful face, weighed down by the weight of the water.

She wore a plain red blouse with short sleeves and a pair of muggle jeans, but Harry thought he had never seen anything more beautiful in the world. He had breathed in her scent, and she smelled like he remembered, jasmine, and citrus, but as she spoke Harry could smell the intoxicating aroma of wine on her breath, deep and rich as it rolled off her tongue. He wanted nothing more than to taste it for himself.

Her eyebrows furrowed at him and Harry realized she was waiting for a response. What was it she had asked him again? Ah, that's right where he had been. He considered for a moment and then frowned.

Instead of answering her question he took one of her hands in his own, trying to ignore the electricity that pulsed through him, and realizing quickly that no ring adorned her fingers. He led her through the rain to the inn he was headed to when she had run into him and opened the door.

An older gentleman sat seated behind the desk, a book in hand which he closed at the sound of the bell that hung above the door. He looked them up and down and frowned as he noticed the water dripping from them. "Forget your umbrella, did ya?" He asked and Harry ignored the question as he made his way forward.

"One room please." He said in response and the older man scowled but took a key off of the rack behind him and told him a price. Harry nodded and pulled out a stack of notes, giving him some extra as an apology for the soggy carpet.

He led Hermione up the narrow staircase and stuck the key into the door with the number of the room the man had muttered engraved on it. The door swung open a moment later, and they entered. It wasn't a large room by any means, a television on a dresser on one wall, one large bed on the other. A window sat on the far wall with curtains covering the view to outside and a desk beneath it, but they could still hear the pitter patter of the rain against it as the weather mercilessly beat against the pane of glass.

Harry removed his wand and cast drying and warming charms upon himself and Hermione muttered a thank you in response. He walked to the desk pulling out the old wooden chair and turning it towards the bed indicating to Hermione that she should sit. She did.

He watched as she sat primly, crossing her legs and folding her hands on her lap, all the while her eyes didn't move from his face. She was staring at him like she was afraid he would turn to mist and dissipate from in front of her eyes. As if he was an apparition. He supposed he was.

"Harry?" She questioned again and it was enough to finally snap him back to the present.

"Hermione." He breathed and he could see the goose pimples that rose up on her arms at her name.

"You're real?" She asked and Harry couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. Hermione frowned, and Harry felt bad for laughing.

"I'm real."

"How? And where have you been?" She asked again. "It's been eight years, Harry. You were dead. I— I saw your body. Hagrid carried you and you were pale, and you weren't breathing and then, you were gone. We had assumed someone had vanished your body or hidden it. Harry—

"Hermione," Harry cut her off. She was still the same person from school. Trying to piece everything together, asking questions aloud not giving time for answers. He knew he had to get ahead of it.

She stopped and blushed prettily, her cheeks coloring slightly the same way the sky pinkens at dusk, but her eyes remained fixed steadfast on his own.

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

And so, Harry told her. Explained to her his vision of Dumbledore after his death, what they had spoken of in King's Cross. He watched curiously as her eyes darkened, and her posture stiffened at the mention of their headmaster.

He told her how he had awoken on the Hogwarts grounds, bodies of friends and enemies strewn around him, and the severed head of Nagini near him. How he had hid himself under his cloak and stole away the last piece of Voldemort's soul, and with it his life from him while the Dark Lord was unaware.

He stopped after that, embarrassed to continue. To tell her what he had done. Why he had done it.

Hermione continued to look at him. She allowed the silence to sit with them for a moment, but Harry knew her. He knew she would cast it out soon enough and demand answers. She didn't disappoint.

"You had won, Harry. Why did you leave? We finally had our entire lives in front of us. You had your entire life in front of you."

Harry sighed.

"I left because of you."


Whatever answer Hermione had been expecting that wasn't it. She looked at him, so similar, yet so different. Looked into his eyes which remained unchanged, still the same startling green that haunted her nights ever since he had died— no, disappeared— and they were now pleading with her to understand.

There was no malice in his words. No hatred or anger. Yet she still felt like the air had been pulled forcefully from her lungs and tears sprung to her eyes unbidden. "Harry?" She asked him.

His face immediately softened, and his eyes widened in panic.

"Not because of you." He backtracked, "But because of you." He ran a hand through his hair and looked away from her. It was a gesture that was so undeniably him and with each passing second, she was more and more sure that this was real.

"I've always been pants at this Hermione, you know that better than anyone." He continued. "I'll be honest, I was never planning on having this conversation, but I'd be lying if I didn't imagine it a time or two or ten. Let me just explain from the beginning."

Hermione watched as he struggled with the words, waiting to hear what he had to say. Now that the relief of seeing him had run its course along with the adrenaline that had come with it, she was left shaking and anxious.

Finally, his eyes locked onto hers and she could see him summon his Gryffindor courage. "I've loved you since we were children." He said, and immediately that same adrenaline coursed through her yet again. She felt her heart as it attempted to beat its way out of her chest and her head began to spin, whether from the intoxication of the wine she had drunk earlier or the words he had just told her, she couldn't be sure.

"I'm sorry?" was all she could manage as she attempted to hold herself together.

Harry continued to look at her. His gaze searching and seeing through her.

"I've loved you since I was twelve years old. For a long time, I was too daft to see it. To understand what I felt. I had never known what love was, no one had ever explained it to me or even told me that they had loved me. How was I supposed to tell someone else?

"When that snake petrified you Hermione, I sat by your bed every fucking day. I held onto your hand and told you about every class you missed. I prayed to every god I knew that you would be okay.

"I still remember to this day, when I was in the chamber, sword in hand and eyes closed, the only thing that kept me from running was the thought that that basilisk had hurt you, Hermione. When I laid there dying, as the poison worked its way up my arm, I thought of you Hermione." He looked at her earnestly, pleading with his eyes.

Then Fawkes saved me, and the mandrakes matured, and they could wake you. My god when you finally woke up and had hugged me." He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and wiping at his eyes. "I can't tell you the relief that flooded through me. That was when it happened, even if I wouldn't know it until later."

Hermione felt her own tears run across her cheeks but made no move to wipe them. She was transfixed on the man in front of her. Part of her mind was screaming that this must be some hallucination. That she had been hit by a cab on her walk and that she was having some strange death dream, because although it felt so real, surely it must be too good to be true.

"Then third year came round, and I tried my best to push those thoughts away. I thought it was disrespectful, I thought it was just a crush brought on by proximity. The spat over the fucking firebolt of all things helped and by the end of the year I thought I had it mostly under control."

Another hand through his hair. Another brief glance away from her.

"And then Buckbeak and the dementors. You encouraging me. You holding onto me as we flew away, your cheek nestled into my back, your arms wrapped around my waist. That memory brought all those emotions back and got me through that summer." He said, his voice quieting at the end of his sentence, and his eyes looking at her in a way that she could only describe as fondly.

"Then fourth year came round, and Ron was a git, but you were with me. You stuck by me. Hours on end, practicing together, revising, working on prep for that thrice damned tournament. I thought then that maybe— that maybe you had liked me to." He looked down and Hermione wanted to call for him to look at her. To have those beautiful, expressive green eyes find hers and never look away again, but she couldn't find the words. She couldn't find any words.

Instead, she waited.

"But then Krum came round. At the library, then the ball. My heart felt like it was crushed. It made sense and I didn't fault you, after all he was taller, more handsome, a professional quidditch player, but I had allowed myself to believe that I had a chance.

"In fifth year, I tried to speak to other girls. To date Cho, and then set my sights on Ginny. I had convinced myself I could get over you, and it had worked for a while. You had shown interest in Ron and even though it stung, I couldn't blame you for liking someone else.

"Sixth year the potions book pushed us further and I thought that was a good thing, but deep down I knew it wasn't. I was acting like a right fucking knob because I thought I wanted distance between us.

"Then finally came the tent and the hunt for the horcruxes. You and Ron were getting closer. The horcrux was putting all these thoughts in my head. I was so jealous. And guilty for being jealous. When Ron left and you stayed, I thought maybe you might have felt the same way. We got closer, and I allowed myself to believe one last time."

He sighed then, closing his eyes. Hermione continued to stare at his blurry visage through her tears. He took a deep breath and then another. When he looked back up tears were in his eyes as well.

"Then Ron came back, and you ran to him. In the middle of the battle at Hogwarts it was his hand you held onto. After I killed Voldemort, I wanted nothing more than to tell you how I felt, but then you clung to him, and I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't stay here and watch you love someone else." He said it softly and Hermione felt a sob pull itself free from her lungs.

"Everyone thought I was dead, and Voldemort was gone. I hoped you would be happy, but I knew I couldn't tell you what I was doing, that I was leaving, because you would have asked me to stay, and I would have said yes because I can't refuse you Hermione. I can't say no to you.

"So I up and left. I traveled the world from the alps to Australia, Europe to America and everything in between. I looked for anyone or anything that might distract me or keep me from thinking of you. To let me forget just how much I loved you."

Hermione looked at him and finally found the words that had been eluding her. "Did you find it? Did you find something to distract you? To make you forget" She asked through her tears.

"No."

"Me neither."

"You and Ron?"

"Didn't make it past a week."

"Fuck. I really, really fucked this one up, didn't I?"

Hermione considered. "I think it was you being gone that pushed me to not go forward with him, but I can't be sure."

"And now? Is there anyone else?" he asked, his face looking at hers intently. This question was important.

"No." she said simply. "I've tried Harry, but it's always been you, I tried like you to push it away, and I realized it only after you left, but I love you too." His posture relaxed in the chair he sat in, and his eyes closed.

"Hermione Granger." He whispered and she felt the hair on her arms stand at the sound of her name on his lips.

"Harry Potter." She breathed in response.


His name from her mouth drew his eyes back open. Her eyes were red and puffy, and tears still fell on her cheeks. He could feel his own tears and wiped at them for a moment before standing. He made his way to the bed, reveling in the way her eyes followed him, never leaving him.

He sat next to her and took one of her hands in his own. That same electricity he had felt earlier jolted through him again, but this time it coursed through him like magic. He ran his thumb over her hand and suddenly her other hand was on his face.

She was tracing the line of his jaw through his beard with her thumb, while her other fingers cupped his cheek gently. He could once again smell her and the wine on her tongue. He leaned forward, trying to get closer to the intoxicating scent that was Hermione Granger.

She leaned in just like he did. Her eyes were half lidded now and suddenly the hand on his face was pulling him closer to her and her lips were on his. The electricity from their previous touch felt like the static of a balloon shock compared to the absolute lightning that erupted within him now.

The wine was sweet he thought when her tongue finally found his and he could taste it. He drank it greedily. Her hand moved itself from his face and began to clutch at him. At his shirt, his hair, his back, pulling him closer until no space remained between them.

She was laying down on the bed and Harry was on top of her and this was everything he had ever wanted. All he had ever needed. He couldn't believe that a little over an hour ago he was sat in a bar with a snout and drink in hand, nothing other than the thought of leaving this country on his mind. And now— well now he was flush against the woman he had loved since he was 12.

He thanked whichever god had orchestrated this random reacquaintance.

He pulled off her slightly, his arms on either side of her head. Her hair was a glorious mess on the duvet and her eyes were blown wide. Her lips were swollen and bruised where he had worked them against his own, and Harry had never seen a more beautiful sight in all the traveling he had done.

When he spoke, his voice was coarse with desire. "We should stop, it's only our first night back together."

Hermione looked at him and worried at her bottom lip. "Are you going to leave again?" She asked him in a small voice and Harry looked at her incredulously.

"By some miracle, all I've ever wished for has been answered. They'll have to pry you from my dead cold hands if ever I'm to leave you again." He told her, bending his head to kiss her softly.

"Then I think we should continue, because honestly we're already nearly a decade late." She said, her voice so full of conviction that Harry could never deny her, not that he wanted to.

"Making up for lost time it is." He said and then his lips were on hers once more. In the morning they could figure out how to tell everyone he was alive. In the morning he could figure out what it meant that he would be back to living in England, or maybe he could convince Hermione to come travel with him?

He pushed the thoughts away. For tonight nothing other than Hermione mattered.

She flipped him onto his back in one swooping motion and straddled his waist.

Yes, nothing other than Hermione, and he couldn't wait.


A/N: That's it for this one! I didn't want to go too in depth so apologies for the shorter chapter, but there will be more Harmony on the horizon :)