Cookies for Harry Potter
Cookies, cookies for you all!!
Yeah, anyway, I'm working on a lot of fics, from a lot of fandoms (Digimon, Twilight, Narnia, Harry Potter, etc), but since I'm only progressing with the HP ones, I bring this little fragments from two fics I'm currently working on.
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Title: "A Matter of Names"
Rating: PG (this fragment)
Words: 1,083
Characters: Hermione
Pairings: Harry/Hermione, (one-sided) Ginny/Harry, (implied) Ron/Hermione)
Warnings: Deathly Hallows SPOILERS!! Perhaps? There are some alusions as to what happens on the Epilogue (which, once again, I'm not even considering for this story).
Disclaimer: Harry Potter (c) JKR. Plot (c) Me.
A/N: Post-DH, with some additional twists, mainly character's death wise. So, it classifies as an AU, sort of, plus EWE. 7th year story.
Summary: Hermione wonders about last names, and Harry ponders about his…
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[…]They smiled at each other until someone drew his attention away from her. She watched him laugh at something Ron said, probably something only a man would laugh at, and she couldn’t help the tenderness that swept over her then. Nor could she help the myriad of random thoughts that invaded her mind.
Merlin, I love his smile. And the way he laughs, so carefree now. He certainly filled out nicely this past two years. Oh, I love those eyes. Is it a crime to want to run my tongue over his scar? He can be so endearing when he’s trying to cheer me up. What would it feel like to run my fingertips over his chest, his back? He surely is sexy when he plays Quidditch. His hair is so… I wish he would snog me senseless when I’m being bossy. The way he looks on his Quidditch robes. Oh, Harry-
A sudden screech broke through her daydreaming, and she looked away from Harry, turning towards the girls. Only then, she realized the uncomfortable silence surrounding their table, and the tension building up. Her only response was to arch an eyebrow.
“Black hair?”
“Green eyes?”
“Seeker?”
“Hermione, that’s-”
Hermione watched as Lavender and Parvati tried to make sense of what she just said, while she tried to find an explanation to her sudden epiphany.
“Harry,” Ginny said, coldly.
She looked at her from across the table, and met her equally cold gaze. Ginny looked ready to jump at her and start a catfight. Wouldn’t that be a sight?
“You. Fancy. Harry,” she bit out, standing up quickly.
Hermione stood up as well, but unlike Ginny, she was calm, eerily calm.
“I. Love. Harry.”
There was a collective gasp in the table, and it was a wonder how they hadn’t attracted someone’s attention yet.
“I am in love with Harry.”
Hermione wanted to laugh, but didn’t. It was just… It had been all so simple, her confession. It felt too natural to be an epiphany. Maybe it was only a known fact she was voicing now. Maybe she’d always been in love with him, but that love had developed so gradually that it was just as part of her as her bookishness was, and had realized just now.
Maybe Ron was right, and it had always been Harry.
Just then, the boys walked over their table.
“Hey, we’re going back to the castle. Are you girls done gossiping?” Dean said, but got no answer.
“Is something wrong?”
She almost snorted. Trust Ron to state the obvious.
Ginny scowled at her, and then stormed off the scene, leaving the boys with shocked and confused expressions. Lavender and Pavarti seemed about to burst, ready to spill what happened, but in the end, they didn’t.
Harry looked at her, lifting an eyebrow in question, but she just shook her head.
Well, what at fantastic way to finish a lovely day.
The following days were a pain whenever Ginny was around. She couldn’t stop glaring or scowling at her, but Hermione ignored her diplomatically. What was she so upset about, anyway? Harry had made it clear at the beginning of the year he wasn’t interested in getting back together with her. So, as far as everyone knew, Harry was single, and she had every right to fancy him if she wanted.
~~~~~~
…It’s been a week, and Lavender and Parvati hve yet to tell a word about the incident. Ron’s still oblivious to his sister’s anger, as well as the rest of the school. And Ginny is still being an immature brat.
Harry, on the other hand, is worried about them, and that’s the hardest thing to ignore. Sometimes, Hermione thinks about telling him everything; the talk about last names, the last name she chose for herself, the talk about boys and the answer to that bloody question… her confession. But in the end, she is never brave enough to do it. But that’s alright, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to handle his rejection.
You are going to be the death of me, Harry Potter…
Snape’s voice booms across the dungeon again, and this time, Hermione starts to pay attention to her scribbling, yet ignores the lecture.
Blimey…
Written messily on her scroll is the source of all her problems: last names.
[Hermione Jane Weasley. Ginevra Molly Potter.
Mrs. Hermione Weasley. Mrs. Ginny Potter.
Not right.
Ginny Malfoy/Longbottom/Thomas/random name?
Could be.
H. J. P.
Hermione Jane Potter.
It’s right. It’s perfect.
Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.]
Hermione stares at the names, and suddenly she sees why her admission was so upsetting to Ginny.
Ginny Potter, of course…
It isn’t the fact that some other girls fancies Harry that bothers Ginny, it’s the fact that she, Hermione, fancies him-loves him, actually. And the ever present possibility of Harry fancying her as well -maybe even love her?- makes it all worse. Ginny has been relying so much on she and Ron getting together, that she hasn’t stopped to think of a way to get Harry back. Everyone’s still so sure she and Ron are destined to be together, that they can’t see it’s not going to happen.
She has ruined Ginny’s plan. Her idea of a big happy family; Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Obviously, without Ron and Hermione, the chances of Harry and Ginny are very slim, especially with how their relationship is as of now.
One Big Happy Family… More like One Big Happy Weasley Family.
Well, too bad for Ginny. She isn’t about to marry Ron just because everyone expected her to.
Hermione gripped her quill tightly, before consciously writing down one last sentence on the scroll.
[I am Mrs. Harry Potter.]
Suddenly, her breath catches in her throat, as a warm feeling envelops her. A firm, well toned, and extremely familiar body presses to her side, and a breath collides with the side of her neck, sending jolts of pleasure down her spine. She becomes acutely aware of him, and everything else (Snape’s angry voice, the murmurs of her classmates) fades in the background.
“Hermione-” he whispers in her ears, but halts his sentence suddenly.
She inhales deeply, and marvels at his unique scent. A mix of fresh air and sweat and Quidditch robes and the cupboard under the stairs and freedom and something spicy that’s so very Harry… She closes her eyes and enjoys the sensation assaulting her body.
He smells like magic…[…]
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Title: "Maybe, Definitely"
Rating: PG-13 (this fragment)
Words: 2,034
Characters: Hermione, Harry, (mentions of Ginny and Ron)
Pairings: Harry/Hermione, (implied) Ginny/Harry, (implied) Ron/Hermione)
Warnings: Deathly Hallows SPOILERS!! This time I'm certain. And Forget the Epilogue.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter (c) JKR. Plot (c) Me.
A/N: Post-DH, with some additional twists, mainly character's death wise. So, it classifies as an AU, sort of, plus EWE. 7th year story. This is the first part of a mini series I'm working on.
Summary: In the aftermath of Voldemort’s fall, the Wizarding World struggles to get back its normalcy. And while some people relish their care-free lives, others must face the changes that The Second War left behind…
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[…]Hermione reached the Quidditch Pitch within minutes, heading towards the Gryffindor stands right away. Something told her that the student she’d seen -or not seen- sneaking out was there, and she was fairly certain she knew who it was. Just as she reached the stairs, a thunderous noise coming from above forced her to duck and hide. Before she even had time to scold herself for hiding -she was, after all, Head Girl and the one responsible for making sure nobody was out of bed after curfew- the noise got louder and louder, and soon Hermione saw a flash of red, black and gold rush by her hiding place and out of the stands.
Is that…?
She stood and looked after the retreating form of none other than Ginny Weasley. Frowning, Hermione turned towards the stairs, her eyes darting up. She felt rather smug at the knowledge of being right, once again, but then felt worry settle over her like a dark cloud full of rain as she climbed the stairs. Because whatever it was that had happened to make Ginny run away like that could not be pretty.
One step after another, Hermione made her way silently to the top, and just when she touched the final step, it groaned under her foot. The sudden sound -echoing louder than it should due to the night’s stillness- alerted the person who was there of her presence. And a moment later, a body slammed into her and Hermione found herself with half her body hanging off the railings, her only support being the hand around her neck, and a wand pressed against her forehead rather roughly.
“Harry!” she gasped, grabbing hold of his arm.
The boy in question snapped back to reality, loosening his hold on the girl’s neck -ignoring completely the nails digging painfully into his forearm- as he lowered his wand. He looked at her, not really seeing her at all, and stepped back a few inches.
“Hermione?”
Hermione pushed herself off the railings, one hand gripping it for support, and the other hand rubbing her somewhat abused neck. Under normal circumstances, she knew she should’ve been afraid, but she also knew Harry well enough to know his reaction was only a product of everything they have been through this past year-this paranoia was only a part of what the War left behind. She raised her eyes and saw a flash of recognition on his troubled gaze as he looked from her neck to her eyes and back. Then, with a newfound fascination, Hermione watched as his eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up, horror taking over his expression once the full realization of what he’d done came to him.
“Oh, Merlin…” Harry said, “Merlin… Hermione, I’m so sorry!”
As soon as the words left his mouth, she was yanked away from the railings and into his arms to be secured in a tight embrace. The air was knocked out of her lungs the moment she collided with his chest and, coupled with the desperate force of his hug, Hermione was having a difficult time breathing properly.
“Harry… cannot… breathe!” she gasped again.
He pulled away again, but didn’t let go of her this time, instead he bent his knees a bit until his eyes were levelled with her neck. Hermione watched how the shame and guilt marred his features, mingling with the horror he still felt. She took several deep breathes, trying to calm her erratic breathing, only to have it get caught in her throat again as Harry -oh, ever so lightly- moved his hands from her arms to her neck, inspecting it carefully. She willed herself to fight back a shiver when his calloused hands touched her now sensitive skin softly. Hermione knew she ought to say something -anything- to ease his guilt that, by the look on his face, was most likely eating him up. However, her focus was solely on the way his hands moved along her neck and the sensations such action aroused in her.
“I’m so sorry, Hermione…” Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The tenderness and concern lacing his voice, plus his fingers caressing the exposed skin of her neck, sent her mind reeling out of control and hundreds of jolts of pleasure ran through her body. Harry probably didn’t realized what his touch was doing to her, he was only making sure his rough actions hadn’t bruised her, but Hermione knew that if he kept up with his ministrations she’ll end up doing something they’ll both regret later.
She closed her eyes and bit into her lower lip, summoning all her will power to grasp his hand and keep them locked at each side of her neck. And only when she managed to get her logical mind take over her emotions did she open her eyes, finding Harry looking intently at her, waiting. She smiled at him, giving his hands a little squeeze.
“It’s alright, Harry,” she said, “It’s alright…”
Hermione watched, fascinated, how Harry searched her eyes for the reassurance that, yes, it was all right, before sighing and pulling her into a much gentler embrace. And something about this embrace caught her off guard. It felt different somehow, not like the ones they used to share in the past, nor like the ones friends share to comfort each other; this was definitely different. And maybe it was only the fact that this time he initiated it, but Hermione was sure it felt more… intimate, in a way she couldn’t quite identify.
Still, she embraced him back, glad to know that they hadn’t lost their especial connection-that amazing ability to know what the other was thinking just by looking at each other when it mattered the most. She squeezed his waist a little, telling him with that simple gesture that she was there, with him, and she wasn’t going to leave, no matter what. And a few seconds later, his chest rose and fell under her cheek as Harry let out a heavy sigh, and then he talked.
“I realized I might never have the normal life I always wanted, Hermione,” he began, “No matter where I go, no matter what I do, I’ll always be Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, or as the Daily Prophet so eloquently put it, The Boy Who Freed The World From He Who Must Not Be Bloody Named.”
Hermione smiled a little, amused, knowing well that this new nickname was the less ludicrous among the ones the Daily Prophet liked to use nowadays. And she didn’t need to see to know that Harry, too, had an amused smile on his face, however small it might be.
“And that’s probably all I’ll ever be to most of the Wizarding World; always The Harry Potter, and never just Harry,” he paused, breathing deeply before continuing, “I found that normalcy with Ginny, you know… When we were together, I could forget about the world-about Voldemort, the prophecy, everything. There was only Ginny, and the way her hair shined, or the way her eyes sparkled in the firelight, or the way she felt in my arms… or the way she kissed. Everything seemed to narrow down to her whenever we were together, and it felt good… For a while, it felt good.”
Harry paused again, resting his chin on top of her head. When the pause prolonged more than necessary, Hermione gave his waist another little squeeze, reminding him of her presence.
I’m here, Harry, don’t forget that… Never forget that…
He squeezed back, and proceeded, “Contrary to what I thought, this last months apart from each other made more bad than good to us. I thought that by pushing her away, leaving her in the dark of what was happening around me, I would protect her somehow… I didn’t want to taint her innocence and ruin our chances of a normal relationship, but… I guess I was a little bit too successful.”
“So that’s why you broke up with her,” she said, pulling away from his arms and fighting back the sudden urge to shiver at the sudden loss of warmth.
The look he gave her then was all the confirmation she needed to know she’d been right, right now and earlier when she’d seen Ginny run off to who knows where. She watched silently as Harry sat on one of the benches looking stressed and dejected. For once, she didn’t know what to say make him feel better.
“In a way, yes. Our relationship was too shallow, only skin deep, I guess,” he said, “There was never a real connection between us, only physical attraction; at least on my part. I can’t talk to her the way I talk to you, Hermione. I can’t share with her the things I share with you. She doesn’t know what I’ve been through. She doesn’t understand me. I-I want to talk to her, but I can’t…”
“Oh, Harry…” she sighed, and quickly sat down next to him, grasping his hand.
“The thing is, apparently, what I felt for Ginny was only a fleeting fancy. And now I probably blew up any chance of being friends again by hurting her feelings.”
“No, Harry, I’m sure Ginny won’t stop being your friend just because of that,” Hermione said, “She’ll be upset for a while, but it’ll pass and everything will be okay.”
Harry gave her a grateful smile, but it still wouldn’t reach his eyes. She bit her lower lip and couldn’t prevent the worry from showing on her face, because right then Harry grasped her free hand, trying to put up a strong facade. That was enough to set off alarm bells inside her head; something was certainly amiss.
As if reading her train of thought, he tried to reassure her, “Hermione, I’m fine-”
“No, you aren’t… Harry, don’t try to shut us down, please, don’t try to shut me down… tell me what is wrong…”
He dropped his gaze to their joined hands for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again, “It’s just… Do you want to know what else makes me think I’ll never have a normal life?” he asked, but didn’t give her a chance to answer, “Because of this…” he said, lifting one of his hands and touching her neck lightly. “This paranoia that seems to follow me everywhere I go now, this sensation that I can’t let my guard down in fear that someone might sneak up on me, because then I’ll react harshly and hex this person into oblivion only to realize a second too late that it was someone I cared about… I almost hexed you! This is driving me insane, I-I can’t stand it.”
The wind blew around them, ruffling their hair gently. Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, trying hard to ignore the way his fingers ran up her hand and pass her wrist to her forearm and back, as she listened to him.
“And I’m tired of it, of everything, Hermione, so tired…” Harry closed his eyes, taking several long breathes, “I thought… once the war was over and Voldemort were gone from our lives, that everything would be back to the way it used to be, but-”
Hermione glanced at him briefly, before she, too, looked at their joined hands -which seemed to fit so perfectly together, like they belonged- and said out loud what he couldn’t seem to say, “It still feels like he’s haunting us.”
The silence that fell next was an odd one, not comfortable, but neither uncomfortable, just odd. The atmosphere around them shifted slightly, tension building up rather quickly. It almost felt like that night all over again. Only this time there was no one hunting them down and no tent for a hiding place; there was the safety of Hogwarts and a Voldemort-free world. Hermione wondered idly, while Harry kept caressing her arm, who’d be the one to initiate things this time-if something were to happen that is.
That night we both needed it to relieve some tension, for comfort… Would it happen for the same reasons tonight? Certainly, it seems like it could…[…]
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Comment, please? Remember, feedback is like cookies!
(BTW, I'm also posting this with the purpose of applying for an Author license over a Portkey.org, but that's beyond the point now, isn't it?)
Yeah, anyway, I'm working on a lot of fics, from a lot of fandoms (Digimon, Twilight, Narnia, Harry Potter, etc), but since I'm only progressing with the HP ones, I bring this little fragments from two fics I'm currently working on.
-
Title: "A Matter of Names"
Rating: PG (this fragment)
Words: 1,083
Characters: Hermione
Pairings: Harry/Hermione, (one-sided) Ginny/Harry, (implied) Ron/Hermione)
Warnings: Deathly Hallows SPOILERS!! Perhaps? There are some alusions as to what happens on the Epilogue (which, once again, I'm not even considering for this story).
Disclaimer: Harry Potter (c) JKR. Plot (c) Me.
A/N: Post-DH, with some additional twists, mainly character's death wise. So, it classifies as an AU, sort of, plus EWE. 7th year story.
Summary: Hermione wonders about last names, and Harry ponders about his…
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~~~~~~~~~~~~
[…]They smiled at each other until someone drew his attention away from her. She watched him laugh at something Ron said, probably something only a man would laugh at, and she couldn’t help the tenderness that swept over her then. Nor could she help the myriad of random thoughts that invaded her mind.
Merlin, I love his smile. And the way he laughs, so carefree now. He certainly filled out nicely this past two years. Oh, I love those eyes. Is it a crime to want to run my tongue over his scar? He can be so endearing when he’s trying to cheer me up. What would it feel like to run my fingertips over his chest, his back? He surely is sexy when he plays Quidditch. His hair is so… I wish he would snog me senseless when I’m being bossy. The way he looks on his Quidditch robes. Oh, Harry-
A sudden screech broke through her daydreaming, and she looked away from Harry, turning towards the girls. Only then, she realized the uncomfortable silence surrounding their table, and the tension building up. Her only response was to arch an eyebrow.
“Black hair?”
“Green eyes?”
“Seeker?”
“Hermione, that’s-”
Hermione watched as Lavender and Parvati tried to make sense of what she just said, while she tried to find an explanation to her sudden epiphany.
“Harry,” Ginny said, coldly.
She looked at her from across the table, and met her equally cold gaze. Ginny looked ready to jump at her and start a catfight. Wouldn’t that be a sight?
“You. Fancy. Harry,” she bit out, standing up quickly.
Hermione stood up as well, but unlike Ginny, she was calm, eerily calm.
“I. Love. Harry.”
There was a collective gasp in the table, and it was a wonder how they hadn’t attracted someone’s attention yet.
“I am in love with Harry.”
Hermione wanted to laugh, but didn’t. It was just… It had been all so simple, her confession. It felt too natural to be an epiphany. Maybe it was only a known fact she was voicing now. Maybe she’d always been in love with him, but that love had developed so gradually that it was just as part of her as her bookishness was, and had realized just now.
Maybe Ron was right, and it had always been Harry.
Just then, the boys walked over their table.
“Hey, we’re going back to the castle. Are you girls done gossiping?” Dean said, but got no answer.
“Is something wrong?”
She almost snorted. Trust Ron to state the obvious.
Ginny scowled at her, and then stormed off the scene, leaving the boys with shocked and confused expressions. Lavender and Pavarti seemed about to burst, ready to spill what happened, but in the end, they didn’t.
Harry looked at her, lifting an eyebrow in question, but she just shook her head.
Well, what at fantastic way to finish a lovely day.
The following days were a pain whenever Ginny was around. She couldn’t stop glaring or scowling at her, but Hermione ignored her diplomatically. What was she so upset about, anyway? Harry had made it clear at the beginning of the year he wasn’t interested in getting back together with her. So, as far as everyone knew, Harry was single, and she had every right to fancy him if she wanted.
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…It’s been a week, and Lavender and Parvati hve yet to tell a word about the incident. Ron’s still oblivious to his sister’s anger, as well as the rest of the school. And Ginny is still being an immature brat.
Harry, on the other hand, is worried about them, and that’s the hardest thing to ignore. Sometimes, Hermione thinks about telling him everything; the talk about last names, the last name she chose for herself, the talk about boys and the answer to that bloody question… her confession. But in the end, she is never brave enough to do it. But that’s alright, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to handle his rejection.
You are going to be the death of me, Harry Potter…
Snape’s voice booms across the dungeon again, and this time, Hermione starts to pay attention to her scribbling, yet ignores the lecture.
Blimey…
Written messily on her scroll is the source of all her problems: last names.
[Hermione Jane Weasley. Ginevra Molly Potter.
Mrs. Hermione Weasley. Mrs. Ginny Potter.
Not right.
Ginny Malfoy/Longbottom/Thomas/random name?
Could be.
H. J. P.
Hermione Jane Potter.
It’s right. It’s perfect.
Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.]
Hermione stares at the names, and suddenly she sees why her admission was so upsetting to Ginny.
Ginny Potter, of course…
It isn’t the fact that some other girls fancies Harry that bothers Ginny, it’s the fact that she, Hermione, fancies him-loves him, actually. And the ever present possibility of Harry fancying her as well -maybe even love her?- makes it all worse. Ginny has been relying so much on she and Ron getting together, that she hasn’t stopped to think of a way to get Harry back. Everyone’s still so sure she and Ron are destined to be together, that they can’t see it’s not going to happen.
She has ruined Ginny’s plan. Her idea of a big happy family; Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Obviously, without Ron and Hermione, the chances of Harry and Ginny are very slim, especially with how their relationship is as of now.
One Big Happy Family… More like One Big Happy Weasley Family.
Well, too bad for Ginny. She isn’t about to marry Ron just because everyone expected her to.
Hermione gripped her quill tightly, before consciously writing down one last sentence on the scroll.
[I am Mrs. Harry Potter.]
Suddenly, her breath catches in her throat, as a warm feeling envelops her. A firm, well toned, and extremely familiar body presses to her side, and a breath collides with the side of her neck, sending jolts of pleasure down her spine. She becomes acutely aware of him, and everything else (Snape’s angry voice, the murmurs of her classmates) fades in the background.
“Hermione-” he whispers in her ears, but halts his sentence suddenly.
She inhales deeply, and marvels at his unique scent. A mix of fresh air and sweat and Quidditch robes and the cupboard under the stairs and freedom and something spicy that’s so very Harry… She closes her eyes and enjoys the sensation assaulting her body.
He smells like magic…[…]
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Title: "Maybe, Definitely"
Rating: PG-13 (this fragment)
Words: 2,034
Characters: Hermione, Harry, (mentions of Ginny and Ron)
Pairings: Harry/Hermione, (implied) Ginny/Harry, (implied) Ron/Hermione)
Warnings: Deathly Hallows SPOILERS!! This time I'm certain. And Forget the Epilogue.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter (c) JKR. Plot (c) Me.
A/N: Post-DH, with some additional twists, mainly character's death wise. So, it classifies as an AU, sort of, plus EWE. 7th year story. This is the first part of a mini series I'm working on.
Summary: In the aftermath of Voldemort’s fall, the Wizarding World struggles to get back its normalcy. And while some people relish their care-free lives, others must face the changes that The Second War left behind…
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~~~~~~~~~~~~
[…]Hermione reached the Quidditch Pitch within minutes, heading towards the Gryffindor stands right away. Something told her that the student she’d seen -or not seen- sneaking out was there, and she was fairly certain she knew who it was. Just as she reached the stairs, a thunderous noise coming from above forced her to duck and hide. Before she even had time to scold herself for hiding -she was, after all, Head Girl and the one responsible for making sure nobody was out of bed after curfew- the noise got louder and louder, and soon Hermione saw a flash of red, black and gold rush by her hiding place and out of the stands.
Is that…?
She stood and looked after the retreating form of none other than Ginny Weasley. Frowning, Hermione turned towards the stairs, her eyes darting up. She felt rather smug at the knowledge of being right, once again, but then felt worry settle over her like a dark cloud full of rain as she climbed the stairs. Because whatever it was that had happened to make Ginny run away like that could not be pretty.
One step after another, Hermione made her way silently to the top, and just when she touched the final step, it groaned under her foot. The sudden sound -echoing louder than it should due to the night’s stillness- alerted the person who was there of her presence. And a moment later, a body slammed into her and Hermione found herself with half her body hanging off the railings, her only support being the hand around her neck, and a wand pressed against her forehead rather roughly.
“Harry!” she gasped, grabbing hold of his arm.
The boy in question snapped back to reality, loosening his hold on the girl’s neck -ignoring completely the nails digging painfully into his forearm- as he lowered his wand. He looked at her, not really seeing her at all, and stepped back a few inches.
“Hermione?”
Hermione pushed herself off the railings, one hand gripping it for support, and the other hand rubbing her somewhat abused neck. Under normal circumstances, she knew she should’ve been afraid, but she also knew Harry well enough to know his reaction was only a product of everything they have been through this past year-this paranoia was only a part of what the War left behind. She raised her eyes and saw a flash of recognition on his troubled gaze as he looked from her neck to her eyes and back. Then, with a newfound fascination, Hermione watched as his eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up, horror taking over his expression once the full realization of what he’d done came to him.
“Oh, Merlin…” Harry said, “Merlin… Hermione, I’m so sorry!”
As soon as the words left his mouth, she was yanked away from the railings and into his arms to be secured in a tight embrace. The air was knocked out of her lungs the moment she collided with his chest and, coupled with the desperate force of his hug, Hermione was having a difficult time breathing properly.
“Harry… cannot… breathe!” she gasped again.
He pulled away again, but didn’t let go of her this time, instead he bent his knees a bit until his eyes were levelled with her neck. Hermione watched how the shame and guilt marred his features, mingling with the horror he still felt. She took several deep breathes, trying to calm her erratic breathing, only to have it get caught in her throat again as Harry -oh, ever so lightly- moved his hands from her arms to her neck, inspecting it carefully. She willed herself to fight back a shiver when his calloused hands touched her now sensitive skin softly. Hermione knew she ought to say something -anything- to ease his guilt that, by the look on his face, was most likely eating him up. However, her focus was solely on the way his hands moved along her neck and the sensations such action aroused in her.
“I’m so sorry, Hermione…” Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The tenderness and concern lacing his voice, plus his fingers caressing the exposed skin of her neck, sent her mind reeling out of control and hundreds of jolts of pleasure ran through her body. Harry probably didn’t realized what his touch was doing to her, he was only making sure his rough actions hadn’t bruised her, but Hermione knew that if he kept up with his ministrations she’ll end up doing something they’ll both regret later.
She closed her eyes and bit into her lower lip, summoning all her will power to grasp his hand and keep them locked at each side of her neck. And only when she managed to get her logical mind take over her emotions did she open her eyes, finding Harry looking intently at her, waiting. She smiled at him, giving his hands a little squeeze.
“It’s alright, Harry,” she said, “It’s alright…”
Hermione watched, fascinated, how Harry searched her eyes for the reassurance that, yes, it was all right, before sighing and pulling her into a much gentler embrace. And something about this embrace caught her off guard. It felt different somehow, not like the ones they used to share in the past, nor like the ones friends share to comfort each other; this was definitely different. And maybe it was only the fact that this time he initiated it, but Hermione was sure it felt more… intimate, in a way she couldn’t quite identify.
Still, she embraced him back, glad to know that they hadn’t lost their especial connection-that amazing ability to know what the other was thinking just by looking at each other when it mattered the most. She squeezed his waist a little, telling him with that simple gesture that she was there, with him, and she wasn’t going to leave, no matter what. And a few seconds later, his chest rose and fell under her cheek as Harry let out a heavy sigh, and then he talked.
“I realized I might never have the normal life I always wanted, Hermione,” he began, “No matter where I go, no matter what I do, I’ll always be Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, or as the Daily Prophet so eloquently put it, The Boy Who Freed The World From He Who Must Not Be Bloody Named.”
Hermione smiled a little, amused, knowing well that this new nickname was the less ludicrous among the ones the Daily Prophet liked to use nowadays. And she didn’t need to see to know that Harry, too, had an amused smile on his face, however small it might be.
“And that’s probably all I’ll ever be to most of the Wizarding World; always The Harry Potter, and never just Harry,” he paused, breathing deeply before continuing, “I found that normalcy with Ginny, you know… When we were together, I could forget about the world-about Voldemort, the prophecy, everything. There was only Ginny, and the way her hair shined, or the way her eyes sparkled in the firelight, or the way she felt in my arms… or the way she kissed. Everything seemed to narrow down to her whenever we were together, and it felt good… For a while, it felt good.”
Harry paused again, resting his chin on top of her head. When the pause prolonged more than necessary, Hermione gave his waist another little squeeze, reminding him of her presence.
I’m here, Harry, don’t forget that… Never forget that…
He squeezed back, and proceeded, “Contrary to what I thought, this last months apart from each other made more bad than good to us. I thought that by pushing her away, leaving her in the dark of what was happening around me, I would protect her somehow… I didn’t want to taint her innocence and ruin our chances of a normal relationship, but… I guess I was a little bit too successful.”
“So that’s why you broke up with her,” she said, pulling away from his arms and fighting back the sudden urge to shiver at the sudden loss of warmth.
The look he gave her then was all the confirmation she needed to know she’d been right, right now and earlier when she’d seen Ginny run off to who knows where. She watched silently as Harry sat on one of the benches looking stressed and dejected. For once, she didn’t know what to say make him feel better.
“In a way, yes. Our relationship was too shallow, only skin deep, I guess,” he said, “There was never a real connection between us, only physical attraction; at least on my part. I can’t talk to her the way I talk to you, Hermione. I can’t share with her the things I share with you. She doesn’t know what I’ve been through. She doesn’t understand me. I-I want to talk to her, but I can’t…”
“Oh, Harry…” she sighed, and quickly sat down next to him, grasping his hand.
“The thing is, apparently, what I felt for Ginny was only a fleeting fancy. And now I probably blew up any chance of being friends again by hurting her feelings.”
“No, Harry, I’m sure Ginny won’t stop being your friend just because of that,” Hermione said, “She’ll be upset for a while, but it’ll pass and everything will be okay.”
Harry gave her a grateful smile, but it still wouldn’t reach his eyes. She bit her lower lip and couldn’t prevent the worry from showing on her face, because right then Harry grasped her free hand, trying to put up a strong facade. That was enough to set off alarm bells inside her head; something was certainly amiss.
As if reading her train of thought, he tried to reassure her, “Hermione, I’m fine-”
“No, you aren’t… Harry, don’t try to shut us down, please, don’t try to shut me down… tell me what is wrong…”
He dropped his gaze to their joined hands for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again, “It’s just… Do you want to know what else makes me think I’ll never have a normal life?” he asked, but didn’t give her a chance to answer, “Because of this…” he said, lifting one of his hands and touching her neck lightly. “This paranoia that seems to follow me everywhere I go now, this sensation that I can’t let my guard down in fear that someone might sneak up on me, because then I’ll react harshly and hex this person into oblivion only to realize a second too late that it was someone I cared about… I almost hexed you! This is driving me insane, I-I can’t stand it.”
The wind blew around them, ruffling their hair gently. Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, trying hard to ignore the way his fingers ran up her hand and pass her wrist to her forearm and back, as she listened to him.
“And I’m tired of it, of everything, Hermione, so tired…” Harry closed his eyes, taking several long breathes, “I thought… once the war was over and Voldemort were gone from our lives, that everything would be back to the way it used to be, but-”
Hermione glanced at him briefly, before she, too, looked at their joined hands -which seemed to fit so perfectly together, like they belonged- and said out loud what he couldn’t seem to say, “It still feels like he’s haunting us.”
The silence that fell next was an odd one, not comfortable, but neither uncomfortable, just odd. The atmosphere around them shifted slightly, tension building up rather quickly. It almost felt like that night all over again. Only this time there was no one hunting them down and no tent for a hiding place; there was the safety of Hogwarts and a Voldemort-free world. Hermione wondered idly, while Harry kept caressing her arm, who’d be the one to initiate things this time-if something were to happen that is.
That night we both needed it to relieve some tension, for comfort… Would it happen for the same reasons tonight? Certainly, it seems like it could…[…]
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(BTW, I'm also posting this with the purpose of applying for an Author license over a Portkey.org, but that's beyond the point now, isn't it?)