Put Your Best Foot Forward - Part 2

It took every ounce of his Gryffindor courage to keep Harry from fleeing the dancefloor when the slow music changed for something more energetic and upbeat. He clutched at his champagne glass like it was a lifeline, or a wand. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Ginny and Dean wore broad grins as they danced, making it look so normal and so embarrassing. Hermione danced in a more subdued, side-to-side way, tipping her head, her smile a little fixed and forced.

Harry opted for just side-stepping in time. The drink in his hand excused away doing anything too energetic. Sly glances around the dancefloor told him that most of the wizards were doing the same awkward shuffle. He spied Cormac MacLaggen dancing with one arm around Cho's slender waist. Taking inspiration from his successor, he stepped up to Hermione and brought his right arm around her waist.

Her surprised smile, excited eyes and aura of happiness made him want to attempt some of the more energetic moves he had witnessed. Twirling Hermione around under his arm, pulling her into a spin, lifting her up… all of those could result in extreme mortification. Not just for him, but for her too. An arm around the waist was a safe move.

Time passed, drinks were consumed, toes were trodden on. Harry bravely soldiered on, holding Hermione to his side and giving his all to grinning along with the rest of them. Eventually, Hermione inched herself up onto her tiptoes to bring her lips up to his ear.

"We are definitely sitting the next one out. My feet are killing me," she said to him. Harry inwardly whooped at the liberation from an experience that made him crave being humiliated in Snape's class. He turned to look at her and as he did, her lips brushed over his cheek before she could pull away. A shock jumped through him at the intimate touch and his gaze dropped at once to her lips. They were still coloured from the lipstick she had worn for the occasion, a soft rose hue that was perfect.

She is perfect.

It kept happening. The murmurs in his mind. He began to blame the fizzy drink he was consuming rather quickly.

Finally, the song ended and Hermione gave him a meaningful look. Sagging with relief, Harry let Hermione make their excuses to Ginny and Dean. He kept his arm around her as they moved from the throng. It was uncomfortably hot under the lights and in a crowd. Parting from the dancers, cool air tickled Harry's face. He didn't realise how sweaty he was. He was very hot under his layers and he wasn't used to having the top button of his shirt done up. Nor used to having a bow tie.

He replaced his empty glass with a full one as he passed one of the house elves. Moving back to where the tables were set up, Harry searched for somewhere for them to sit. Ideally somewhere that wasn't in direct line with the photographer.

"Ah, Miss Granger, we meet again!"

Dirk Cresswell, the man from the Goblin Liaison's Office who had been so enamoured by Hermione, made a beeline towards them. At his side was a petite witch in pale pink dress robes, her blond hair elegantly coiled around her head in a braided halo.

"Amanda, this is Hermione Granger… Hogwarts' top student."

The two guests reached them. The witch smiled kindly at Hermione, extending her hand towards her. Hermione politely shook the woman's hand.

"Ah, so this is who Dirk believes will be the next voice of the Magical Brethren Equal Rights movement?"

Hermione was taken back by the statement. She glanced nervously over to Harry, the request for help reaching him. Not wasting a moment to relish in how, for once, Hermione needed his help with a social situation, Harry stepped in.

"Hermione's been trying to make things better for house elves since our fourth year," Harry said, giving them his best smile. The witch then noticed him and her eyes widened as she realised who the model student's date was. He then dropped his arm from around Hermione's waist and held his hand out to the woman. The witch mutely took his hand and shook it. Dirk grinned at the exchange.

"Ah yes, sorry Amanda. I should have warned you first. Harry, this is Amanda Colshaw. Amanda, meet Harry Potter." He said, but then turned at once to Hermione.

"Is this true? You are advocating for elvish rights?"

Hermion glanced over her shoulder at Harry, giving him an apologetic look. Harry leant towards Hermione, inhaling the wonderful aroma of her luscious curls.

"This night is for you too, not just for me to get paraded about," he reminded her under his breath, "don't hold back."

Her eyes met his. A look took over their deep, dark golden brown depths as they flickered between each of his eyes. He wished he knew what she was thinking when she looked at him like that. Then she turned to Dirk.

"Yes. I believe that the way that house elves are treated is akin to slavery," she said boldly. Harry noticed a few passerbys looking around sharply at her statement. Some of which were house elves. Dirk's head, however, bobbed in agreement, his eyes gleaming.

"Oh dear. You've done it now, Miss Granger." The witch, Amanda, said, smirking at her companion. "Dirk's never going to leave you alone now."

Harry watched on proudly as Hermione engaged with the two. Once she relaxed, animatedly talking to Dirk Cresswell, Harry didn't want to interrupt her. Unlike most wizards who she spoke to about house elf rights, Dirk was interested. Harry soon became increasingly aware of his need to use the bathroom. He drained his glass and edged over to Hermione.

He tapped her on the shoulder. She looked over, breaking off mid conversation.

"I'm just going to the bathroom," he told her softly, not wanting to air his need to use the toilet to a whole gathering. "I'll only be a moment."

She looked at him a little too knowingly. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back.

"Thank you." She said softly. He knew what she was referring to. He smiled back and bid a quick farewell to the others. He made his way to the door leading out of the office. He passed a few people who turned as he neared, looking about to speak to him. He just pointed to the exit and announced 'bathroom' to them.

Once out in the corridor, he let out a huge sigh. A small sound at his elbow made him jump out of his skin. The doorman was still there. Harry pressed on, making his way to where the boys' toilet was on the floor. It was only around the corner, close enough for the thrum of the music to still be audible. He reached the door, pushing through. He paused when he saw that one of the stalls was occupied.

His shoes loudly clacked on the tiles as he made his way to one of the empty stalls. He could hear whoever else was in the bathroom moving around. Harry inwardly sighed to himself, taking in a deep breath, enjoying the small moment of solitude before going about his business. The other occupant had finished and was at the sinks by the time Harry pulled the chain and left his stall. He stepped out, doing up his fly, and looked up.

Cormac McLaggen stood before the mirrors, fussing over his appearance. They immediately locked gazes in the mirror. The older Gryffindor gave Harry a smirk as he raised his wand, fixing the curl that he had flopped over his brow. As Harry walked up to the sinks to wash his hands, he was fiercely reminded of Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Potter."

"McLaggen." Harry glanced up at the other boy as he pumped soap into his hands and lathered them clean. He noticed McLaggen looked uncomfortable as he continued to sort out his coppery locks. Harry dried his hands with a charm and went to leave McLaggen to his grooming.

"Say… uh… how did you get your hair to do that?"

The question took Harry by surprise. He checked to see if McLaggen was talking to someone else. Harry then checked the mirror, looking at his own reflection. He barely recognised himself.

"Do what?"

"That… flick…" Cormac gestured to his own hair, to the curl that he was manipulating with his wand. His face was flushing as he avoided Harry's eyes. Harry approached, absolutely baffled. Harry looked at his hair in the mirror, a little startled to see that it was still behaving itself. Sure enough, the styled curl that rested over his scar did look a little too perfect. Harry tilted his head to the side, properly looking at himself.

He drew out his wand from where he had it stowed in a concealed pocket in his robes. He cast a quick hygiene charm that Neville taught him before heading down from the dormitory. It cleared away the sweat from his skin, but his clothes were still damp.

"Did you use Sleekeazy's? I bet you get it free, what with it being a Potter Potion."

Harry glanced at McLaggen. He had no idea what he meant by a 'Potter Potion' but he wasn't in the mood to question it.

"No. I used styling wax." He saw the confusion on the pureblood's face. "It's muggle. No magic involved."

"Huh…" McLaggen was genuinely stumped. "Well, it looks good. Not that you need me to tell you that - what with every chick in that room unable to get their eyes off you."

Harry cleared his throat at that.

"Eyes off my scar, you mean."

"Ha, well… Potter," MacLaggen turned from the mirror, his gaze going brazenly to the scar on Harry's brow. "Your scar is definitely on your forehead and those ladies were not looking there."

Oh… great…

He glanced over to the mirror again, to that stupid bow tie. His fingers brushed the knot, causing McLaggen to laugh.

"You undo that, you're going to have to keep a shield charm around yourself all night to keep them away." Harry's eyes snapped over to him. MacLaggen laughed. "Merlin, Potter, you really are clueless, aren't you?" He shook his head, smirking at him.

"Apparently so," Harry said resignedly. He dropped his hands to his sides. He checked his appearance quickly, pulling his sleeves out straight. He stowed his wand back in his robes, looking over to McLaggen. A pair of cautious, brown eyes met his. It hit Harry then who had come to the party as Cormac's date.

He drew himself up straight, taking a step towards the other, older boy.

"I know I don't have much of a right to say this, considering how things went with me and Cho." He said, causing Cormac's face to go slack. "But she needs someone who cares. I was too stupid to see that. So… don't be that stupid."

Without another word, Harry left the Gryffindor at the sinks with a limp curl uncoiling upon his brow to lay straight once more.

Returning to the party, Harry at once felt the mugginess. The moisture of lots of people in a contained space made the air dense and cloying. He spotted Hermione at once exactly where he left her, talking earnestly to the two Ministry workers. He approached, moving back to his place at Hermione's side. She beamed at him, truly thrilled to see him. The joy on her face set his heart racing.

"Ah, welcome back," Dirk said warmly. Harry pulled his eyes away from Hermione to acknowledge the greeting. He smiled his response. "Though, I'm afraid you may feel left out of the conversation."

Harry glanced over to Hermione. Her eyes widened in alarm.

"Why would that be?" Harry asked, a little put out. Hermione put her hand on his arm and turned to Dirk.

"To be fair to Harry, he's made a lot more of an impact on elf rights than I have. He actually freed an elf from an abusive household. Dobby now works here and even receives a wage."

Both Dirk and his companion, Amanda, looked at him in astonishment.

"Not just a hero for the wizarding race, then, Mr Potter?"

"Er… I wouldn't go that far," Harry said, his face flaming.

"Don't be modest," Hermione chided him softly, then she turned to the two. "Truly, it's a great injustice to Harry that he doesn't get more credit for his unsung achievements. He's made friends among centaurs and giants."

"I wouldn't say-."

She shot him a look that firmly told him to shut up.

"Well… I do believe I made the wrong assumption about you, Harry. I apologise," Dirk said. Now Harry was very uncomfortable.

"Oh, well… that's fine." He said a little quietly. Hermione's arm snaked around his waist. His heart kicked against his chest in response.

"Yes, and… I think we have deprived you of our adoring public long enough," Dirk said, pointedly nodding to where a few nosy guests were unsubtly overhearing their conversation. He smiled at Hermione. "I will definitely be sending you an owl about your elvish welfare organisation."

Once the two had left them, heading in the direction of the dancefloor, Hermione rested her head against Harry's chest.

"I mean it, by the way, Harry. I hate it… how they all just stare at you and make judgments about you when none of them have even spoken to you." She sighed and looked up at him. Her hand came up, her fingers touching his chin. Harry's breath caught around his Adam's apple, his lungs freezing at the tender touch on his face. He looked down, seeing that intense look once again.

"I wish they knew you like I do."

"You want them to know how much of a bumbling idiot I am?" Harry asked. Her lips quirked up.

"Yes, I do."

He watched her lips form the words. He was very aware of how close they were to each other. Her fingers ran down his cheek.

"Harry, my boy!" Slughorn's jolly voice called out. "Miss Granger!"

Harry and Hermione both jumped at the shout. Spell broken, he looked around. Harry didn't have to look too hard to find the Potions Professor. He was joined with a smattering of guests, politely conversing while they nibbled at the party food. Slughorn pushed at the empty chair next to him.

"Grab another pew, will you both, and join us?"

"We can't say no, can we?" Harry whispered under his breath to Hermione.

"I'm afraid not."

"Certainly, professor," Harry called back, putting on a smile that he hoped wasn't too strained. Hermione's arms released him. The absence of her was galling and he stood, hollowed out, as she made her way to the table. Harry looked around for a seat, grasping one from the nearby table. No one protested as he carried it away. He placed it next to the empty seat, pulling it out for Hermione. She flashed him a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

"My, my, Harry. You really are taking to the occasion admirably," Slughorn said. Harry hesitated as he went to sit down.

"Thank you, sir."

"I do hope you are both enjoying yourselves. I must say, you have quite impressed the crowd."

In the corner of his eye, Harry saw black robes swishing over in their general direction.

What the Hell is Snape doing here?

"It's a wonderful party, sir," Hermione said. Slughorn enjoyed her comment and fetched two glasses from a passing elf. He set them down in front of them both.

"Yes, yes… now, Harry, I was just telling dear Gwenogg here about your latest win…"

Harry's head lifted up, seeing then that he wasn't the only famous face at the table. A very pretty witch looked over at the mention of her name. At her side, Harry noticed a rather burly wizard whose muscles were practically bulging out of his dark green robes. He gave Harry a rather hostile look.

The Quidditch star reached her hand out across the table.

"Hiya. I got here a bit late so haven't had the chance to introduce myself." She said in a bright, bubbly voice that reminded Harry of Tonks. "Gwenogg Jones."

"Harry Potter."

Introducing himself never failed to feel weird. She grinned at him.

"You're quite the stud in person, aren't you?" She said, then leaned towards him.

I'm a what?

Harry was completely caught off guard. Hermione's hand then settled over his. Gwenogg's attention went then onto Hermione. She reflexively settled back in her chair, threading her arm through her partner's arm.

"Ah, Severus. I was beginning to think you would not accept my invitation."

It was the worst possible moment for Slughorn to notice Snape. He lurked at the edge of the room, close to where Harry and Hermione had hidden behind the drapes earlier. He turned to acknowledge Slughorn, his dark eyes impassive.

No… don't come over. Just… slither away.

"While I am not suited to these sorts of events, Horace, I would never refuse an invitation from an esteemed colleague."

Harry cringed at the voice. He reached for the glass of champagne that Slughorn procured for him. Hermione's hand tensed around his. He did his best to not bring attention to himself. He gripped Hermione's hand, holding her gaze.

He tuned out the conversation Slughorn was having with Snape. He stared at Hermione, clambering to focus on what she had just said.

A large hand then suddenly clapped on his shoulder, jostling him out of whatever spell he'd been under. He jerked around, seeing the ringed fingers of Horace Slughorn resting on his satin clad arm.

"Speaking of talent in Potions, Severus, you never told me of Harry's ability in the subject. I daresay, he is a natural in the craft."

Thoughts caught in a flustered haze, Harry gaped for a moment. He looked up, seeing Snape standing at Slughorn's side. His confusion, he noticed at first, was mirrored on Snape's face. Then his lip curled.

"Indeed, Horace? We must have differing perceptions of Potter's ' ability' ."

When Snape's dark eyes settled onto Harry, his usual dislike was absent. Of course, being openly vile with him in front of a crowd wouldn't go down well. Harry was a little surprised at Snape's restraint.

"Truly? Well, you will be surprised to hear then that Harry brewed a flawless Draught of the Living Death during our very first lesson. I haven't had such raw talent in my classroom since I taught you myself." Slughorn smiled fondly at Snape.

A jolt jumped through Harry as he realised exactly how he had made that potion so well. Following instructions from the heavily graffitied book of the Half Blood Prince. He hadn't achieved the potion on his own merit at all. He distracted himself by picking up his champagne flute. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I would strongly advise against giving Potter alcohol, Horace. The amount of devastation he leaves when in full command of his faculties is bad enough."

"Don't be such a spoilsport, professor," Gwenogg Jones chipped in. His gaze then fell on the others at the table. Harry cringed inwardly when he noticed that the strange biographer was present, Eldred Worple. Sat next to him, looking very bored, was the vampire that everyone had been gossiping about before the party. He, noticeably, wasn't eating anything.

"I will leave you to your… festivities," Snape said, his gaze lingering on Harry a moment, "good evening." Before he turned to leave, Snape sneered and swept off with the same air he usually possessed. Harry's shoulders relaxed a little.

Slughorn had his attention back on Harry with Snape gone. A strange expression sharpened in his pale eyes as he looked Harry up and down. His moustache trembled a little. His brow was shining with sweat.

"I really… must say, Harry. You are shaping up to be a remarkable wizard."

Harry now found himself very much wanting to leave. He really did not take compliments well. It was even worse that he had an audience to his discomfort. He sipped at his drink to give him some time to think of a way to respond.

"That's… really kind of you to say, Professor," he said quietly.

"Ah, indeed. Every part as heroic as the rumours suggested." The biographer said. The forced smile on Harry's face was faltering. The man leant forwards with such eagerness, he sent the grapes on his plate rolling out onto the table. "It is no wonder why you fascinate so many. In fact, Sanguini… what do you think of Mr Potter here?" Worple looked across to the vampire, who slowly blinked, registering that the man was talking to him. His gaze slowly moved over to Harry, who felt a sensation go down his spine, similar to an ice cube falling down his back.

"He has power. I can sense it."

Harry was eager to do anything other than look at the vampire who he could see in the corner of his eye, smiling at him. A few people that night had looked at him hungrily. The vampire, however, looked like he did actually want to feed off him.

Hermione tugged on his hand and moved in close to him. He turned his head so she could whisper in his ear.

"Harry… I don't know how you deal with it, but I can't stand it anymore." She breathed out quietly. Her voice was just audible over the general din of the party. "I'm struggling to not hex that man-shaped pustule." She shot a glare at Worpole outright. Her face, he noticed, was blotched with pink angry spots.

"Um please don't?"

She looked at him, huffing a breath out of her nose.

"I would say we run to the dancefloor to escape, but my feet are in all sorts of hell." Her teeth worried over her lip. She gazed at him, looking into each of his eyes in turn. He could see what she was trying to suggest instead.

"You want to leave?" He asked her softly. Her head dipped in response.

"I don't know. I think I just want some… air." She said honestly, holding onto his hand tightly. "Maybe we can find somewhere to just sit for a bit without everyone staring at you. In the castle."

Harry hummed his agreement.

"We can come back. If you want. I'm not ready to head back to the Common Room yet… if you're not."

"No, I'm not," he said, then nodded. Then an idea came to his mind. Not too long ago, he had left a party early. The reasons were different but they still focused on the same person.

"Alright. Let's go. I know of a comfortable step in the Charms corridor that might be free."

Hermione led with the excuse making, telling Slughorn that they were just going for some air, that they wouldn't stray far. She had to control her ire when the nosy guests loitering close for their moment with Harry showed immense disappointment. She had a feeling that Louisa Farley had made her way over to ask Harry for a polite turn about the dancefloor. Head girl or not, she wasn't getting her paws on Harry.

Armed with their reasonable story, they managed to receive the dismissal they were after. Slughorn didn't appear bothered that they would be out in the castle, wandering the corridors against the rules. He merely told them to not stray far and be back for dessert.

Hermione clutched Harry's hand in hers, almost pulling him to the exit. For once, it was a relief that the corridors of the castle were so chilly during the winter months. After the close, uncomfortable heat of the party, the cold was refreshing and sustaining. Leaving the loud music, the clinking wine glasses and the intrusive stares behind, the pair made their way down to the third floor. The corridors were mostly deserted. They had only ghosts and portraits for company.

"It's past nine, Harry." Hermione breathed out in surprise when they passed a window that looked out to the clock courtyard. Bathed in moonlight, the large clock face with its iron hands were clear for them to read.

"Hmm… I don't have my Cloak on me," Harry said in response, catching her eye. He turned, looking over his shoulder, suddenly apprehensive. "Nor my map, now that I think about it."

Hermione drew out her wand. While it wasn't too dark in the corridors, she felt suddenly unnerved walking about the school at night without the protective shroud of Harry's Invisibility Cloak around her.

"I didn't think to bring it. Damn it," Harry cursed softly. "And after Dumbledore told me to not go anywhere without it." Hermione looked across at him, studying the slim-fitting clothes he was wearing.

"You would have never been able to hide it in those robes, Harry."

He looked down at himself, his cheeks darkening with a flush.

"I guess not.

"I'm sure we'll be fine. If we hear anything… you can just, you know, hide." Hermione said.

"What about you?"

"I'm a prefect. I have an excuse," she reminded him. Harry raised an eyebrow at her in response. They then made it to the staircase that led up to the Charms classroom. Hermione immediately went to sit down, eager to get off her aching feet. She noticed that Harry was still looking at her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

"What?"

"Hermione… you do know that we're breaking a pretty big rule right now. Prefect or not."

She looked up at him, baffled. At her look, Harry grinned, giving a laugh. He turned, moving to join her on the step. Hermione blinked at him, searching his face. His glasses flashed in the moonlight when he looked over at her.

It then suddenly hit her what he was talking about.

"Oh." She could feel the heat burning off her cheeks as the blood surged to her face. "But… we're just sitting… talking. It's not like we're…" Harry's eyes met hers and they both looked away. The word didn't manage to leave her lips, but it hung between them.

Kissing.

Harry audibly swallowed. "True." He then glanced back over to her. He shifted on the step, trying to get comfortable. Hermione reached down, undoing the straps of her shoes. She sighed out in relief when she tugged them away from her throbbing soles. The cushioning charms that she added to the shoes had worked well, but she wasn't accustomed to heels. She rubbed at her ankles grimacing.

"You did well wearing them as long as you did," Harry remarked. He then reached up to his throat. He eagerly tugged at the knot, pulling the bow tie loose. The strands of silk hung loose around his neck. Hermione peered up at him as he undid his top button. His face visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping.

"We are going back to the party," she reminded him, "do you know how to do that back up?"

"Nope. Neville did it for me." Harry said with a mischievous grin. He undid another button, exposing the gap between his collarbones. His skin sheened a little with sweat.

Taking in Harry's appearance with his collar undone, the purple tie draped casually around his neck, Hermione felt hot herself. The warmth surged through her, making her feel strangely exhilarated. Harry then pulled out his wand from his robe and started to remove the outer garment.

"What are you doing?" Hermione found herself asking. Harry was folding the garment rather carelessly on his lap. He looked across at her.

"Making something for us to sit on." He said in response.

Hermione shook her head at him. "Honestly Harry."

She pushed herself up onto her throbbing feet. Waving her wand, focusing on the hard stone step where she had previously perched, she transfigured the limestone slabs into squishy, velvet cushions. Harry gave a small yelp as the hard stone under his backside changed state. He looked down, admiringly running his hand over the transformed step.

"The perks of being with the brightest witch of the age, huh."

He looked up at her. In the muted light, his eyes were dark but still very expressive. Glints of moonlight sparkled off their depths. Hermione then took in his appearance properly. The warmth that throbbed through her core intensified. The waistcoat was in full view, the golden thread of the design catching the light. The piece really was tailored to perfection, cut close to his trim physique.

Feeling very warm, Hermione went to remove her own robe. The chilly corridor was suddenly not cold at all. She folded her robe, putting it down next to her before sitting back down on the cushioned step. She put her wand on top of her folded robe. Meeting Harry's eye again, she felt the flush spread through her, a wave of heat that felt as if it was burning from her breast where her heart was fluttering.

Harry moved closer. His heat joined hers. He tentatively went to put his arm around her. She stared up at him, letting him pull her towards him. He gave an appreciative hum as his fingers brushed down her dress, looking down at the opulent garment and the velvet belt.

Hermione looked down at his hand, watching as he carefully curled his fingers to hold her at her waist. Her gaze caught on his sleeve, seeing a glint of gold.

"I didn't know you own cufflinks," she blurted out. Harry turned his wrist in response, over, showing her the design. It was a golden owl.

"I don't," he told her, "Dumbledore lent them to me when I went to see him earlier." He gave a soft chuckle. "These might be an antique you know. He said he wore these to his first formal ball. It might have been during the Victorian Period."

Hermione took his hand in hers, threading her fingers through his. She lifted his hand so she could see the cufflink more closely. It was an owl in flight.

"They're beautiful," she said softly. "It was really kind of him to let you use them."

She raised her head, looking up at him. With his arm wrapped around her, his face was very close to hers.

"Yeah." He shifted closer to her. He put his wand down on his lap and turned to her. His legs moved against hers, the cloth of his trousers brushing her calves. "He… he was understanding about my choice, by the way."

He dropped his gaze down to their joined hands.

"Your choice?"

"To stay here for the holiday."

Only then did it dawn on Hermione that come tomorrow, she would be leaving Hogwarts for the holiday to spend the two weeks with her parents. She would be leaving Harry behind.

Her heart ached. A terrible feeling wrenched through her at the thought. Her lungs seemed to freeze.

"This is going to make tomorrow hard," she said miserably, lifting their linked hands.

Harry's head then dropped onto her shoulder.

"I don't want this night to end, Hermione." He murmured into her hair. "But like all good things, it has to."

She tilted her head to his, resting her forehead against his brow. She could smell the product he had used to tame his hair. It made his jet-black locks stiff and solid. She thought it was a shame as she wanted to run her fingers through what usually looked so soft and silky.

"Does it?" She asked him.

Harry gave a soft, sad laugh.

"We're going to be apart for two weeks, Hermione. That's plenty of time for you to…"

Hermione lifted her head, staring down at Harry's face under hers. His eyes were closed but she could see the pain he was keeping back.

"For me to what?" She drew in a sharp breath. "For me to change my mind?"

To her horror, Harry was silent. His breathing was shallow, panicked. His hand flexed against hers as he struggled to get a handle on what he was trying to say.

"It never lasts."

Hermione couldn't stand the pain in Harry's voice. Gone was the steady confidence, the mischievous glint in his eye. The assured set of his jaw, the casual grace he possessed when he dealt with the attention… all the poise and strength he maintained dissolved away. Here instead was the Harry that people shied away from. The casualty of a tragic life that no one wanted to address, no one wanted to confront. Deep down, under the iron will of a survivor, was a victim. An orphan who knew only neglect for the first half of his life, then constant attention the next. He never could show his grief, for doing so would have him mocked. He never could talk about his insecurities in fear of being seen as weak.

"What do you mean, Harry?" She asked him gently. She took her hand from his and reached for his face. Her hands cupped his cheeks. She tipped Harry's head upwards, making him look up. His eyes peeked open, but he didn't meet her eyes. She then could see the hint of a tear in the corner of his eye.

His breath hitched. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing at his throat.

"Anything good in my life." He finally managed to say. "It never lasts. I'm cursed to go through this life alone. One… one by one, they leave me and…" His eyes flicked up briefly to hers. "You… you're next."

Aghast at what she was hearing, Hermione gasped out.

"Harry… you really don't believe that, do you?"

He said nothing.

"Harry, look at me."

Reluctantly, he did. His green eyes met hers. She reached up with one hand, taking off his glasses. As she did, his eyes widened in surprise.

"I will never stop caring about you, Harry. I never have stopped. Not once… not since you jumped on that troll's back like the brave idiot you are."

A beautiful smile jerked in the corner of Harry's mouth.

"Even when we've had our fallings out, I always cared. Nothing will make me drop you like… how Ron dropped me… dropped us." She sighed out a soft breath. "Harry, you… you matter so much to me."

Her heart could have stopped as she breathed out her confession. He was as important to her as her own parents, her own family. He was her family. He always had been. From the very start. He understood her like no one else did, knew her moods, knew her quirks. He respected that she preferred solitude and privacy to the hustle and bustle. His muggle-upbringing made her feel comfortable and accepted, his open-mindedness refreshing in a world full of bigots and stuffy traditionalists set in their ways.

And right now, the most important wizard in her life needed her.

Hermione leaned forwards, her daze dropping from Harry's wide, astonished eyes. He was breathing quickly through his mouth, almost panting softly. Holding her breath, she kissed him.

Nothing could have prepared her for the touch of his lips. The short, shocked gasp as he drew her breath out of her. She closed her eyes, tears now forming, spreading along her eyelids to the corners.

Harry sighed out. His hands ran down her back, gentle, gliding down her as if confirming she really was there, kissing him. His hands then closed in around her waist and he pulled her closer.

Their lips parted. Hermione opened her eyes, finding Harry's staring into them. His eyes, unburdened by his glasses, were teeming with unconstrained emotion. Moisture clung to his dark lashes.

"Thank you."

It was all he had to say. Two words. His breath touched her sensitive lips. He closed his eyes and a single tear escaped the prison of his lashes.

"You have no idea what it means to me." He rested his forehead against hers, breathing deeply. "To have this… to have what we have. No one comes even close to you, to how important you are in my life."

Harry's eyes then fluttered open. Before Hermione could even try to think of a response to his words, Harry's lips were on hers.

He was kissing her. Really kissing her. The warmth in her core blazed into a sudden inferno and her arms were curling around Harry's neck. Closer… closer… she pushed off the cushioned step. Her breasts were pressing against Harry's chest and she could feel the bounce of his heart.

And his lips. They danced over hers, firm at first, then soft. He kissed as gracefully as he did anything else. The only sound in the corridor was their huffing breaths as they panted through their noses, mouths otherwise occupied.

Her eyes flew open at the same time as Harry's. Their mouths parted. Staring at each other, chests heaving, lips and eyes wet. A new sensation rose within her, a sort of hunger, a need for sensual touch. A need for Harry.

Her hands found the strands of silk still resting on his shirt. She gripped them and pulled Harry towards her. His arms swept under her, lifting her in a quick and purposeful way, dropping her onto his lap. His wand clattered on the ground.

A second passed. Silence rang.

"This is real…" Harry panted out, his voice barely a whisper. "This… we're… we're really…"

"A couple." Hermione finished.

"Yes." Harry breathed out the word, his eyes gleaming. His hands lifted up between them, resting gently on either side of her face. "Does… this make you my girlfriend?"

She then tugged him towards her firmly with his tie. She took in every aspect of his face, drinking in his stunning eyes, his high cheekbones, his dark brows. Her gaze even rose to his forehead where she could see his scar up close, even seeing where the skin dipped, showing that the curse that hit him as a baby had actually carved into his skin.

"No," she said. Harry leaned back, eyes wide. She smiled. "This makes you my boyfriend."

Harry stared at her for a moment, then laughed. His face split into a huge, silly grin.

"Congratulations…" He then said when he sobered. "You won."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Won what?"

"The most coveted prize in Hogwarts." His look turned into that sensual burning look that sent her heart soaring. He leaned a little forwards so their faces were touching. She could feel his cheek dimpling against hers.

"I, Harry Potter," he breathed out his name, his voice turning deep and intense, "am all yours."

Hermione's hands clenched around his tie. In response to his words, she pulled him towards her, their lips meeting again.

They didn't part for some time.