AN: Enjoy the new chapter.

~~ .

Chapter 17 - In This World And The Next

"How is he?" Lily asked as she entered Harry's room. Hermione was sitting by his side, holding his hand in her own.

"Mrs. Gauthier said that he's fine and should be awake soon." Hermione replied, her gaze never leaving Harry's sleeping form.

Lily let out a sigh at the statement, visibly frustrated that it wasn't any different from what she'd heard from the Healer herself just over two hours ago.

Hermione didn't want to do anything but stay here beside him, although a part of her was pressuring her to go to her parents to at least make sure that they were settling down alright.

She couldn't even imagine what her parents must've been going through. Their house had been essentially destroyed from the inside out, as she'd stood there for a few moments waiting for Sirius to arrive with her Dad, her eyes hadn't found a single corner of the house that had been untouched by devastation. To have been so brutally uprooted from your home, by magical terrorists no less, must be exacting a heavy toll on her innocent parents, and yet, here she was sitting by Harry, because he was the only thing that mattered in a strange world that had started to make less and less sense every time she opened her eyes.

Strangely, and somewhat wryly, she realized that she wasn't as traumatized by the Death Eaters barging into her home as she should be, considering she was a mere fifteen year old witch who barely knew the ins and outs of the wizarding world.

But now, waiting for him to wake up, the only worry she had clouding her mind was due to his malady- or whatever it was that was keeping him asleep. She'd almost put the attack at the back of her mind, as if she'd already had this happen to her one too many times to count. And she didn't want to make a mountain out of what she considered to be a molehill. As insane as that sounded.

And in a way, her memories, her experiences, and even her magic largely conveyed that she was right to do so.

"Oh Harry, please...wake up," she whispered, a tear escaping from the corner of her eye, a silent prayer on her lips.

She wished to take her mind off of contemplating the worst things she'd seen happen to Harry, which her mind was incessantly conjuring without her consent, but didn't want to leave his bedside just in case he woke up. He didn't have to wake up alone. He shouldn't.

Sighing, she closed her eyes, leaning her head on the back of the chair that Kreacher had so generously provided. She still couldn't believe that it was the same elf who had been so dangerously antagonistic towards her and Harry since...well, forever. The one she'd interacted with today had felt more like a stranger.

She smiled, and then grimaced.

She still had little idea of what she was going to say to Harry once he woke up and demanded answers. She appreciated and loved him for coming to her rescue in the nick of time, which she still didn't know as to how he'd known about the danger, but he thankfully had.

But she knew that whatever discussion they ended up having as he came about, it wouldn't be about anything but the truth. She had never lied to him about anything, as far as she could remember, and she wasn't going to start now.

Already, he'd suffered too many of her blatantly disrespectful and cruel tantrums, her friendship with Ronald had essentially promised her that, and now she wasn't going to subject him to any more of that. Not now when she had finally come to remember everything about her life and who she was and who she is supposed to become.

Removing the hair that had fallen over his eyes, she felt her heart swell with love for the boy sleeping peacefully underneath the familiar quilt. Distracted for a second, her eyes widened when he recognized the quilt, and it brought some very...inappropriate memories to the front of her mind.

"Hermione?"

She looked away, hoping that her face wasn't blotted with red, to find John standing at the door to the room.

"John!" she said hoarsely, "What are you doing here?"

She was genuinely surprised to see him here and belatedly, she realized that it must've reflected in her face because he looked like he was gonna come in but paused.

"How are you? I heard about the attack..." John trailed off, looking anxious. She opened her mouth and then realized with a start that she had no urge to placate him.

She tried to look at him and come up with something, a modicum of friendship, care, or even empathy. But there was nothing.

"I'm okay. Harry and Sirius saved us," she said honestly, not wanting to remind herself of those moments again.

He walked into the room, coming to stand beside her. "Bloody awful business," he said with a hint of anger, "First Dad and then you, in the same day no less." She nodded, turning back to Harry.

"What were Death Eaters even doing there, in a Muggle neighbourhood?" John shook his head in dismay.

Hermione shrugged. "They weren't there to kill us," she bit out without emotion. "Or they would've done it already before Harry could arrive."

There was a moment of tense silence before John sighed. "Well I'm glad you're alright, Hermione, I don't know what I would've done had something happened to you."

She said nothing. She had nothing to offer him.

John sat at the edge of the bed, grinning at her. "Was he any use at all?" he gestured towards his brother's resting form, "Or did you fight them all off yourself?"

She bristled. "Harry singlehandedly killedat least six of them by himself." She saw him narrow his eyes at her tone.

"At least you got to see the Head of the DOJ in action," he said, attempting a joke. "I've heard he's quite dangerous all by himself"

"I was upstairs with my Dad when the Death Eaters arrived," she replied in a clipped tone. "I didn't see Sirius fighting."

"Seems like Harry's been polishing his hero routine lately, hasn't he?"

Hermione's grip on the blanket tightened, her knuckles whitening. "He saved my life, John. And my parents. It's not a routine. He doesn't treat it like some show."

"Feels like it though," he said chuckling, though his eyes conveyed no humour, "I mean first he's saving you at the ball and now from the Death Eaters...I'll have to give it to him, he's being quite Gryffindorish for a Slytherin."

Hermione was surprised. "At the ball?"

John looked confused. "Of course."

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't need any saving at the ball, John."

John shook his head, leaning in to whisper with a thin smile, "Oh come on Hermione, it's not like you had partners lining up to ask you to dance. Clearly, he saved you from embarrassment by swooping in."

She exhaled sharply, hurt by the statement. Was this really the John she'd been supposedly best friends with for three whole years?

And the more important one. Had she really ignored Harry for this git?

"At least he asked me because he wanted to," she retorted, "and wasn't dictated by his mother to take pity on his best friend. Unlike someone else."

"Alright, alright," John said, raising his hands as though warding off her anger. "No need to bite my head off. I was only joking." He looked at her sidelong, the teasing glint in his eyes far from repentant. "Still, you didn't answer the real question. How impressed were you, on a scale of one to ten?"

Hermione exhaled sharply, her patience wearing thin. "I was relieved, not impressed. And honestly, John, this isn't funny. Harry risked his life."

John scoffed, waving her words away. "Please. It's not like it's the first time he's had to deal with Death Eaters, living in the Slytherin dorms. If anything, I'm surprised he didn't make a bigger show of it. You know how he loves being in the spotlight."

Her jaw tightened, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "That's not fair," she said quietly, her voice steady but brimming with anger. "You're talking about your own brother, John. He doesn't care about the spotlight. He cares about doing what's right. And you know that."

"Nah, I know him," John said, this time with an exaggerated sigh. "But you're getting defensive. Maybe you need a distraction. How about a snack? You must be starving after all that excitement."

Hermione crossed her arms, unimpressed by his sudden change of subject. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Come on," John pressed, with a grin. "Let me take care of you. Kreacher!" He snapped his fingers, his voice ringing with authority. "Bring us something to eat."

Nothing happened. The silence that followed was almost comical, and Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Kreacher!" John called again, louder this time. Still, no response. His confident expression faltered, and he glanced around as though expecting the elf to materialize out of thin air.

"Well, that's odd," he muttered, sitting up straighter. "He usually comes running the second I call."

Hermione couldn't help herself. "Maybe he's decided he doesn't fancy being ordered around tonight."

John shot her a mock glare. "Very funny. Kreacher's a good elf; he wouldn't just ignore me."

"Perhaps he's busy," she suggested, unable to hide the satisfaction in her tone. "Or maybe he's decided that Harry's the only one worth listening to."

John stood, ignoring her barb. "Don't go anywhere, Hermione. I'll be back."

As he strode out of the room, Hermione let out a long sigh, the tension in her shoulders finally easing. She glanced at Harry, still resting on the other bed, his pallor healthy and peaceful.

"You deserve better," she whispered softly, the words barely audible even to herself. She wasn't sure if she meant him or herself, or both, but the sentiment was the same.

She was glad Harry wasn't awake to listen to such barbs for such a selfless act. A large part of her was also relieved that not only would he not listen to his twin trying to downplay everything, but also that Harry wouldn't be mistaken to think that she agreed with him in anyway.

Her mind was quickly becoming a strange mix of memories, fusing together in a way that was becoming harder to separate. She still understood everything she'd lived through and yet, she wasn't eighteen anymore, so how will anyone believe it?

Not that she was going to say anything to anyone.

But the thought niggled at her.

How will Harry believe it?

She remembered him asking her to believe his version of the Chamber of Secrets. She also recalled being in his arms that night of the birthday ball, feeling strangely content. At that time, she hadn't understood why she had felt that way.

Now, she was beginning to understand everything she'd lost.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said automatically, tired of the question. She'd heard it enough times to make her think that it'd lost its meaning.

"Then why do you look so glum?"

"I'm not glum, Harry," she retorted without thinking. "Just thinking."

But then she froze. Turning, her gaze came to rest upon a wide awake Harry sporting a small smile.

"Harry?"

And then, in the next breath, she was almost leaping from her chair, embracing him with all her might.

~~ .

Harry didn't know how long he'd been half awake, listening to John's pathetic attempt at a witty and somewhat weirdly patronizing banter with Hermione. It almost felt like a dream, a rather strange one that that, one that he'd be sure to not repeat if he had any control over the circumstances.

He was barely sitting up before his senses were enveloped by a bushy brown-haired missile that was laughing and sobbing in equal measures all over him.

"Oh, Harry," she was saying over and over, and all he wanted to do in that moment was bask in her warmth, her scent and her softness as best as he could.

He could barely guess what had transpired that made her that way, but was beginning to become thankful that whatever it was, it had only pulled them closer.

Burying his face in her familiar mass of hair, he closed his eyes, inhaling that familiar mix of honeysuckle and parchment as deeply as he could. His arms closed tightly around her waist and her back, almost lifting her off her feet as he pulled her into him.

An act as simple as holding her to him as she wept into his neck and his shirt gave him pleasure beyond anything he'd ever felt and he was immensely grateful for it. He had never believed in fate or destiny or God or anything of the sort before, but feeling her warmth against his, he now felt that all those years of hardship, of continuous and life-threatening danger and turmoil and grief and death, he had somehow found himself back with the one person who had stuck by him for almost all of it.

Suddenly, Hermione was pulling away and he felt himself physically drooping in disappointment.

She sat beside him then, her bare feet on his quilt while her body nestled sideways into his own. He put his arm around her as soon as he was able.

She laughed, wet and dry tear tracks down her cheeks, looking breathless. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "You must be so confused, I don't know what came over me," she bit her lip, "God, but you must have so many questions!"

"I do, but that doesn't mean I don't want your hugs," he retorted lightly, "in fact, please tell me what I did for you to hug me like that because I want to do it again."

She giggled. He loved hearing that sound from her. It felt weirdly right although he'd never heard it from her two times in a row barely minutes apart, ever. "Prat!"

He turned a little to the side, now sitting against the headboard, his body diagonal on the bed. The good result was that now he had her half straddling him, their faces mere inches apart and his arms around her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking her over, "Your parents?"

She nodded, a curl bouncing atop her brow. "Dad looked fine after Mrs. Gauthier looked him over, although I haven't been there to check on him again. Mum is resting."

What was Claire's mother doing here?He was relieved though, prompting her to continue. "Whatever you did there was amazing. Was that some form of Imperius?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I'm trying to figure that out too," he said. "It had something to do with my wand."

"Your Holly wand?"

He nodded, pulling his hands from their comfortable resting place to tuck that curl behind her ear.

She frowned, looking like she wanted to say something, but didn't know how to.

He quirked an eyebrow.

"Nothing."

He felt some suspicion. "Hermione, do you know what happened in that room?"

She looked oddly vulnerable. "Maybe."

He pulled her to him till she was sitting sideways in his lap, nestling her closer into his arms.

"What is it?"

She looked afraid. He had a massive urge to just get up, pick up his wand and go quell all of the objects of her fear that instant.

"Hermione," he cajoled softly. "You can tell me anything."

Her eyes were shining again as she took a deep breath, like she was bracing herself for something. "Are you my Harry?"

He frowned at the question, genuinely confused. She gulped, her gaze not moving away from his.

"I don't understand," he said honestly.

"Are you my Harry?" she repeated, biting her lip again.

He opened his mouth to ask her what she meant by that when realization dawned.

And with realization came a sizzling flare of hope. As unreasonable and unthinkable and improbable it felt, he didn't want to give it up. But that meant, taking a chance. A massive risk of the kind that he hadn't even thought about since he'd opted to leave his world behind, literally.

But could he really do that?

The answer came to him almost instantly. Looking at her tear-stained cheeks, her brows nestled together in a heavy frown and her lips trembling, he knew he had to do it. He had to take that chance.

"Why did you get so angry over the Potions book?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in astonishment.

He smiled.

And then she was hugging him again, her arms circling around his neck. She was mumbling something Harry didn't understand or barely felt the need to.

"I'm sorry," she said, pulling back, almost pleading, "I can't...you do-" she paused, as if looking at something in his eyes, "you remember e-everything?"

He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "I'm sorry for leaving like that." He said the only thing he could.

"You didn't lea-," Her brows furrowed. "When did you leave, Harry?"

He looked down in his lap, feeling guilty. "Just after I heard you arguing with Ron in the dorm..."

She gasped. He looked up to see her struggling to maintain her composure.

"What year, Harry? When?" she asked quietly.

"1997, January?"

She was weeping again and he didn't know what to do except make sure that his arms didn't let go. "What is it?"

She shook her head, as if folding in on herself and began to sob. "Hermione please. Tell me what's wrong? Did something happen?" Then he had a frightening thought. "Did Ron do something?"

He waited patiently as she regarded him. "He did. And it wasn't until the 31st December, 1998."

He felt his heart stop. "What?"

But Hermione looked so miserable in that moment that he just wanted to make her smile again. It was this irresistible urge, this unbearable heaviness from fear and instinct that made him want to do something, the same that had made him jump on the back of the troll all those years ago.

"Hermione, show me everything," he said, his voice firm and insistent.

She exhaled slowly. "Show?" Her voice was small, too small for his liking. He liked her firm and bossy.

"Let me see everything. Please..."

Her mouth opened and closed before she could form a single word. "Legilimency?"

He nodded, placing a finger on her lips before she could say something else. "Please? Let me see."

She nodded slowly.

"From the beginning," he prompted gently.

And then looked deeply into her eyes and felt himself let in, looking, feeling and witnessing a swirl of clouds that were spinning around him in a vortex that made him feel both fearful and expectant. He wished for a memory, the beginning of everything and he felt himself pulled in a direction, a single cloud suddenly becoming more solid and descending until it was right in front of him, a few more behind it.

And then he saw himself, his scrawny eleven year old self shout and jump on the back of the roaring troll.

Hermione solving that Potion puzzle to get them through the wall of fire.

Her eyes tearing up, trying to tell him what she wanted but couldn't finding the words...Friendship, bravery, and...

Her visiting him in the Hospital wing after he'd almost died from Dobby's bludger.

Their fight over the broomstick

Them using the time turner to save Sirius.

Her bringing him sandwiches when he'd been avoiding the Great Hall because of hostile students after his name came out of the Goblet.

Hermione hugging him after he visited the Grimmauld Place for the first time.

Them discussing the idea for the DA.

Hermione getting angry over his Potion's book.

The memories continued until he arrived at the point he'd been dreading. The memories of a future past. A future that he had never lived.

Hermione not believing him that Draco was a Death Eater...

Death Eaters within Hogwarts...

Tom Riddle's Horcruxes...Dumbledore's funeral...

Them leaving the Burrow fighting for their lives...

Ron getting jealous again...

Hermione in a tent, dancing in his arms...

Them kissing, making love for the first time on a blanket under the stars in an unknown forest...their promise to each other...

Them breaking into Gringotts...

A battle at Hogwarts...spellfire...deaths...sacrifice...tears...love...heartbreak...Hermione kissing Ron...Harry fucking Ginny in the Room of Requirement...

His new friendship with the blonde Slytherin...Rebuilding efforts...Hermione supporting him during his breakup...him making love to her in the Grimmauld under the warm glow from the hearth...

Ministry trials...Ron finds out..

Hermione encouraging him to go out with Daphne...marriage alliance talks...

Him proposing to Hermione on the last day of the year...

Their wedding day...Ministry of Magic intervenes...Umbridge alive...a sham of a trial...Ron and Ginny testify...guilty...

Him sentenced to the Kiss...Hermione leaping in front of the Dementor at the last second...his scream...

And then he was there in the present, panting, his heart thudding at a mile a minute. In his arms lay a silent Hermione, his Hermione, who was curled into him, as if awaiting his reaction. His judgement.

"Why?" he breathed, still digesting everything but one extremely painful memory dancing in his vision. "Why would you do that? That Dementor was meant for me!"

Hermione pulled back to gaze at him with a steely expression. "I had to."

"What do you mean you had to?" he asked, before he could think, angry tears threatening to fall. He was feeling so many things in that moment that he couldn't breathe.

She had jumped in front of a Dementor for him? Given up her soul for him?

"Why?" he repeated, his tone mixed with anger and grief and frustration, "You could've lived!"

Her face seemed to harden.

"I made you a promise...we made each other a promise," she said, her tone more than a little bossy and he secretly loved her for it. Her eyes held so much conviction that he felt his breath hitch. "There is no living without you, Harry. There is nothing without you. You are my life, my past, present and future. In this world and the next."

~~ .

She had never seen a broader smile on his face, not even when she'd said yes to marrying him in a different world, in a different time. He'd never looked so carefree, as if all burden had been lifted from his shoulders in that moment. She'd never seen him look so young and passionate and just...full of life than in that moment.

And then she was surprised as he leaned down and captured her lips in the neediest kiss they had ever shared. Her arms already wound lovingly around his neck, she met him with equal passion and an aching need within her core to deepen the kiss with an intensity that made her yearn for breath, but she didn't think that she needed it in that moment, or ever, as much as she needed him.

She could live without air, she couldn't live without him.

She didn't know the last time when she'd felt so alive. Her hands lost in messy hair, her thoughts and her breath were completely surrendered to him.

When she finally pulled back, she was thrumming with passion and her gut ignited with a need so powerful she panted for breath, and then she saw him looking at her with an expression that only meant...more.

And then his eyes were drawn to somewhere behind her and a tiny crease in his brow formed, one that would be invisible if she were anyone else. She immediately felt her hackles raised.

"What is it?"

His eyes retreated to her again. "John."

Her breath caught and her mind swarmed with unfinished thoughts, plans, memories and wishes, and most of all, her immediate need for this moment between them to not end at any cost.

She saw his eyes darting here and there and she suddenly knew what she needed to do.

"Is he coming this way?"

He looked confused. "What?"

"John," she said pointedly. "Is he coming this way?"

He took a quick look. "Yes."

She swallowed. "Is he looking at us?"

Harry nodded. "Now he is."

And then she was leaning forward, closing her eyes and mashing her lips against his.

Their kiss quickly deepened, and she groaned low and deep into his throat as his tongue sought its way through her lips into her mouth, all warm and intimate and lovely and began to caress her own. A shudder of pleasure almost wrecked her body, her spine tingling and her entire being intoxicated by his very presence.

She registered a large crash from somewhere behind her but didn't ever want to pay attention to anywhere but Harry so she ignored it. A moan of disappointment left her lips as he pulled back a little, just enough to stare at her with those deep, dark green eyes that filled her with desire.

"What?" He was looking at her so hungrily that she nearly let herself go in that moment.

"Nothing, here let me," he waved his arm around and the large thudlater, she realized that the door to the room had shut.

Her eyes must've held a question because he chuckled. "My wand always seems to know exactly what I need even when I don't know what I need."

It could only be described by one of those Harry things that he did. Things that just couldn't be done by anyone else.

Like driving away a hundred dementors as a thirteen year old or killing a seventy foot long, a thousand year old king of serpents as a twelve year old.

"I can definitely see it as one of those, yes," he said as if responding to her thoughts but then she realized that she'd spoken her thoughts out loud.

And then her mind went blank as his lips descended on her in a gentle press, a tentative and slow dance, and then growing into something that needed more, demandedmore with a fervour beyond any kiss she had ever experienced.

She thought of the times she'd thought of doing this but refrained, the times she'd held back on acting on her desires, and did it so foolishly. There'd been so many chances, so many opportunities to make the best of everything and yet she had chosen to squander it for so long. And when she'd gotten it back, fate had decreed that it was too late.

Now, by another miracle of the same God and fate and destiny and magic, she had another chance.

Perhaps it was the build up, or the knowledge of how good it felt that this was finally happening after she had waited years for this moment, and her entire body seemed to ignite in response to the amalgamated pressure of his lips and the hand on her back, one which was slowly sliding lower and lower, guiding her body to to mold perfectly against his.

Their kiss was gentle and smooth and delicious. Nothing else mattered anymore.

Harry was here. He was alright. He had found a way to her. And all was right in the world.

"Oh, Harry?" she asked, a question she didn't know why she was so bent on asking. "You feel the same?"

His eyes were dark and heavy with love and regret and a hint of remorse. "I think I have felt it for a while, but when I realized it, it was already too late."

"What happened?" she pleaded him, desperate to know what he had been through, "What happened to us?" She wanted to add, in your world and your timebut refrained. She didn't think she needed to because he knew.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and she almost purred. "Later."

"But I wan-"

"Later," he growled into her ear.

And then his arms were sweeping her up to deposit her on the bed beside him. The soft quilt enveloped her like a cloud, and he moved between her legs, exuding confidence that made her heart skip a beat. Memories of a future past flickered through her mind, leaving a trail of what-ifs in their wake. All those nights she'd hesitated and foolishly pursued a boy who'd never been even a friend to them, all those nights when she'd decided to stay alone rather than confess her deepest secrets to him, could have been theirs, filled with the same passion that now crackled between them like a live wire.

Harry's fingers danced along the hem of her trousers, and he flashed her a mischievous grin as he slowly peeled them down her legs, leaving her in nothing but her knickers. She reached out to reciprocate, but he caught her hands, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Not today," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "Today is all about you."

Hermione obeyed, feeling the bed creak beneath her as Harry moved up beside her. His mouth claimed hers once more, skin meeting skin in a spark of electricity that left her breathless. She lost herself in the tangled mess of his hair, pulling him closer as his cock rocked against her, thick and heavy and absolutely tantalizing, teasing her with promises of what was to come.

As he broke away from her lips, Hermione let out a whimper of disappointment, but Harry just chuckled and began to explore her chest, his tongue tracing lazy patterns that left her nipples tingling. He was taking his time, savouring each sensation, and she felt herself melting beneath him like wax in a furnace.

When he finally reached her knickers, Harry's hands closed around the fabric, tugging them down with an excruciating slowness that left her panting. As she was revealed to him, he let out a low, sensual moan that sent shivers coursing through her veins. She felt a flush rise to her cheeks, but Harry was too busy feasting his eyes on her to notice.

He pushed her legs apart, his breath whispering against her skin like a promise, and her hands clenched the quilt as he leaned in, his tongue touching her with an electrifying spark that left her gasping.

The world narrowed to a single point – the place where Harry's mouth met her skin – and she felt herself hurtling toward the edge of a precipice.

As he began to taste her in earnest, her emotions threatened to overwhelm her, but his gentle persistence kept her grounded, his fingers sliding into her with a rhythmic persistence that left her begging for more.

The image of all those times, those few times they'd been together, him sliding inside her, pumping his cock into her with the same dedication as his fingers, seared to life into her brain, and she felt herself slipping over the edge, letting go of all of her past worries and regrets behind her like a tidal wave.

As she came, Hermione's hands reflexively grabbed Harry's hair, holding him in place as the pleasure washed through her, leaving her limp and gasping. When she finally released him, he began to kiss his way up her leg, his mouth tracing lazy patterns that soothed her frazzled nerves.

But she was done waiting. She reached above and shoved down on his trousers, demanding that he hurry up, and Harry laughed against her skin, the sound sending vibrations through her entire body. "You're scratching me," he whispered, but she just told him to help her, too far gone to care about apologies or gentleness.

As they finally came together, naked and trembling with anticipation, Hermione felt like she was staring into his very soul. Their eyes met, a spark of mutual desire arcing between them like a lightning bolt, and then he was inside her, his hips rocking back and forth with a feverish intensity that left her gasping.

The restraint he'd exhibited earlier melted away, replaced by a primal urgency that left her clinging to him, her nails digging into his skin as they hurtled toward the edge of the abyss together.

His voice was almost raspy as he whispered in her ear, his words barely coherent but full of passion and longing. "You feel amazing... Can't beli-I've wanted you for so long-"

As he came, spilling into her with a cry that was almost feral, Hermione felt like she was drowning in a sea of sensation, her entire world narrowed to the space between them.

And when he finally stilled, his eyes meeting hers with a promise that left her breathless, she knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

"I'm never letting you go," he whispered, his voice full of conviction.

"I'm not going anywhere," Hermione replied, her own voice barely above a whisper.

She was looking at him as if her heart was in his hands, and her very soul in his care and she had no qualms with it, no need to second guess it.

It had always been him, and nothing else mattered.

AN: Chapters 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24 are already up for reading. The link is in my profile.