Voting, Round 1
This is a little later than expected because there was a little confusion as to which midnight exactly I was talking about.
We have four authors for this session, whose first fics are under the cut.
Please vote for your LEAST FAVORITE. I know it says two least favorite in the info, but since we have a lot more voters than authors, I think one vote should suffice.
**Your vote should be formatted like this:
Author Number:
Story Title:
Reasoning:
Your 'Reasoning' should be polite and as unbiased as possible. Your vote should depend upon elements of writing such as characterization, plot, style, flow, etc. Avoid "I don't like..." statements.
That said, here are your fics.
Author 1
Say Anything
Rating: PG
Words: 1665
It was the shine and glint of the sun on her skin and glasses that moved him through the back door and across the hot tiles, reflection flying across the water and his shadow reaching over her legs as he stepped to where she lay. Her chair was leaned back and extended, the bars very white against her darkened skin; one couldn't hunt for a month in the south of France for cursed objects without at least being granted the luxury of a tan, albeit a usually reluctant one. Now, he was blocking her sun, and she knew it.
She might have been looking up at him from behind her dark sunglasses, or she might have been pretending not to feel the sudden cool over her knees and thighs, but he didn't know which. She didn't move.
He was there, though, like he always was, and he was right in her sun and he was bringing another chair over to share in it whether she was willing to look at him now or not.
This sort of thing might seem suspect if one were looking on, especially considering their new proximity, the long lines of their chairs pressed up together. But still she didn't turn her head to face him; she kept her face forward to the now shared sun, eyes open or closed and mouth set in her curved line-even when Harry unbent his chair to near its flattest and laid with his head near Hermione's toes, she stayed the same.
Yes, this would have looked very suspect indeed; that's why Harry always stayed indoors or dunked himself under the water (with his glasses left poolside) when Ron was home or came home when Hermione was allowing herself this one luxury. Even when guilt twisted in his stomach or something prickly heated his face, Harry still couldn't make himself look over whenever Ron’s long and untannable legs stretched out next to her, toes tapping, or when he wrapped her up in all his lankiness and took up most of the room in her chair. All Hermione ever wanted was a minute of quiet, but he never gave it to her. Neither of them ever gave it to her.
She never said anything, though. She let him tap and whistle next to her and take up her space, wrapping around her and subsequently shoving her sideways and knocking her in some awkward way each time. She took it without a word and just a downward curve of her mouth that Ron didn't notice anyway, and Harry knew why.
It was an odd sort of balance that he hated, but he couldn't blame her for it, because he did it too. He pretended that her room wasn't directly above his, he pretended that he slept like a rock, he pretended that he was deaf, he pretended he was distracted. He pretended he didn't always make sure they had her cereal and a very quiet den with too many books, and he pretended that he hadn't memorized the pattern with which she put on her sun tan lotion.
He pretended he didn't walk across the hot tiles whenever he could, and pull a chair up against hers while taking her quiet away and looking across at her face, and at the left arm that got the lotion first. But he couldn't pretend once he got there. He couldn't even pretend there still wasn't a twist to his stomach, but when he moved himself downward, pushing against the sides of the chair to get low enough that his knees bent over the bottom rung and his head was right at her hips, it wasn't what mattered.
For a moment Hermione remained unmoving, and Harry wondered if she might continue to act as if she hadn't seen him there. But as he stretched a hand forwards to reach for the one resting on her stomach, he saw her body already starting to move, her legs pulling her downward after having risen to bend and walk against the bottom half of her chair. Her swimsuit hitched up and up the lower she went, traction pushing against it, revealing inches of her thighs that remained their normal pale white. Harry watched, but his own arm had fallen back down and he didn't reach for her again.
They hadn't the time to be handsy and grabby with each other; desperate pulling and quick beats of time going by wasn't the way they spent moments together, or what they could afford. As painful as the slow minutes ticking by could be, it was better than a frantic plunge and splashing around just to have to act as if you weren't dripping wet afterward.
No; once her face was on level with his, her only move was to reciprocate after she let him lift her sunglasses away from her already slow-welling eyes and slide them to the top of her head, where they could hold her hair back. The tips of her warm fingers brushed against his cheek and nose when she slipped his own glasses off, putting them in the hand of her free side, out of the way. When they kissed they had to crane their necks a little, jaws lifting to meet, but still, this was how they laid. Their eyes were directly across from each other and it was in that closeness that the time ticked by, both watching each other's faces and knowing everything they knew. They looked at one another in the way they weren't able other times and Hermione was even close enough to be in clear view. Her eyes were unguarded with him, very sad and full but brimming with everything she wanted and all the pain she would take in lieu of causing.
Harry didn't know how much longer either of them could go on like this, already so haggard from the traveling and the war that constantly blazed. He didn't know why it had worked out for Hermione that the love heated in the summer months would be something that had to pulsate behind something else. But he did know it hurt her too much to talk about and too much to end, and even now, in just the quiet moments they took together it was already overwhelming. It didn't take long before her tears were streaming freely and running trails in the direction her head was turned, pressed against his so he could feel it all. That's when their slow and full kissing started, after Hermione had parted her mouth to let out a breath that hitched with a little noise and Harry craned his neck to catch her lips. Hermione pushed out a shaky breath through her nose when his arm bent to lay a hand on her neck and they stayed that way, tears pushed between flushed patches of skin and heavy expressions, for as long as they could.
When the familiar crack of Apparation reverberated all the way from the front yard, they both felt their stomachs twisting even as they let their hot foreheads rest together. Her warm tears were still on his face while hers sat crumpled, sad and guilty all at the same time. When they kissed again, they kissed quietly, Harry taking the moister from under her eyes onto his lips as she still cried slow, mouth on his chin and jaw.
Hermione wasn't a wrong sort of person. She wouldn't take what she wanted or needed if it meant doing a wrong thing. Not usually. But when she did, she sat in her guilt and was quiet as she took what she could, even knowing that she shouldn't have any of it, and then she would take what came next. Hermione would lay her head next to Harry’s on a hot pool deck, arms to herself, and kiss him with all the love and sadness she could muster; and then she would sit up, put her sunglasses back on and let Ron hug her and shove her and take up her space without saying anything. Her mouth would curve down, and her eyes would even continue to cloud from behind the dark lenses, but Ron wouldn't notice anyway.
That's what happened this time, when Ron finally came through the back door after having stopped in his room. They hadn't had to rush once they heard him land home; they sat up together and, in the few moments usually reserved for a clearing of expression, a last wiping away of tears and a step apart, Harry had spent on the leaning in once more to put his hands on her cheeks and kiss her mouth and eyes again, taking away that bit of moisture he could.
They let their foreheads touch one last moment and Hermione allowed her free hand to settle heavily on his wrist while her face smoothed slowly, but her eyes stayed the same even after Harry ran a thumb under one.
Then their faces leaned apart and he had stepped away, making Hermione's fingers drop so she could push herself back near the top of the chair, inching her swim suit back down in the process.
Harry was already on the pool's edge by the time Ron was at Hermione's chair, kicking Harry's out of the way to make room for himself. Hermione's sunglasses were well-placed already and Harry couldn't blame her for it, because he did it too. He would dive into the water and let the bubbles push him down as deep as he could go.
But this time, before he could pretend to be distracted, Harry saw Ron start to move Hermione over. He was pilling his legs on her chair and already talking as he pulled her into a hug--and never once did he seem to notice the sad down-turn of Hermione's mouth, or Harry's glasses still clutched in her hand behind his back.
Harry jumped into the water and the bubbles pushed him down.
~
Author 2
Just This Once
Rating: PG
Words: 1370
She didn’t think anyone would find her. She had taken deliberate care in picking her hiding place, hoping that all the noise and confusion that were bound to go on today would distract anyone from finding, even bother looking for, her.
Closing her eyes in thought, a deep sigh escaped her lips. Although the grass prickling her back was far from comfortable, peace still shrouded itself over her like a warm blanket. The sounds from the reception were far away but still close enough if anything were to happen.
She was always thinking that . . . if anything were to happen.
The wedding had been beautiful. Everyone could feel the love radiating from the glows on Bill and Fleur’s faces, but everyone could also feel the impending doom that the new war against Voldemort was bringing. Everyone was living their lives impulsively, yet cautiously at the same time. They were all walking contradictions.
Hermione wondered if her thoughts made sense anymore.
The sound of a twig breaking startled her. Yanking her wand out of a leg holster she had worn underneath her dress, she whipped around, a hex on the tip of her tongue.
“Harry ” she said instead upon seeing who had disturbed her.
“Hermione? What are you doing here?” he asked.
Hermione laid back down on the grass, brushing the blue material of her dress aside to tuck the wand back into place. She shrugged, the grass picking at the exposed skin of her neck and arms.
“Thinking.” Hiding. “You?”
“To be honest, hiding,” he said. Hermione quirked her gaze from the summer sky to his figure standing above her. He looked down, his face upside down to her.
“Isn’t your dress going to get dirty?”
Hermione shrugged again, picking idly at her skirts. “I can clean it.”
She felt him sit down beside her, legs bending for his arms to balance casually upon his knees. Both their eyes were trained upwards at the stars that were beginning to appear.
“What are you thinking about?” Harry asked, his eyes following the path of a flock of birds flying overhead.
You. Ron. School. Ginny. Bill. Fleur. You. Voldemort. Life. Tonks. Lupin. Hogwarts. You. Dumbledore. Books. Clothes. Mum. Dad. Food. Horcrux. Champagne. Death. You. Nothing.
“Stuff.”
He turned to look at her. She could see it from the corner of her eye. “You feeling all right, Hermione?”
Hermione wanted to laugh. Harry was worried about her because she was being quiet for once. She wasn’t voicing all her thoughts and worries to him or Ron in one, big, long confusing jumble of words that their adorable, obviously boyish minds wouldn’t understand. She was being aloof for once . . . perhaps for one last time.
“We leave soon,” she said in reply. Harry looked away from her now. A lot more stars were in the sky.
Hermione closed her eyes. The scent of the grass and summer flowers surrounded her, the sounds of the crickets astonishingly loud from her position on the ground.
“What song are you humming?”
Harry’s question startled her. She hadn’t even known she was humming. She chuckled.
“No idea.” She opened her eyes, warmth filling her when she saw him staring down at her with some laughter in his eyes as well. “Lie down,” she instructed, patting the spot next to her. “It’s better to watch the stars this way . . . your neck won’t hurt as much from craning it all the time.” He hesitated. “You afraid to get your dress robes dirty or something?” She smirked.
Not one to refuse a challenge, Harry complied, stretching out next to her. “You’re acting quite strange tonight, Hermione, I must say,” he said with a slight laugh in his voice. He took a sharp intake of breath when his eyes fixed themselves upon the stars. “But you’re right. This is a better way to stargaze.” A falling star trailed across the sky. Hermione blinked and it was gone.
“Hmm, maybe it’s all the champagne I drank tonight,” she said lazily. She closed her eyes once more. The comfortable heat of the night and the heat coming from Harry next to her was soothing.
“Hermione?” he said after a long moment of companionable silence.
“Yes, Harry?” Eyes still closed.
“Are you . . . scared?”
Eyes opened. “What do you mean?” she asked, lifting her head slightly to turn and look at him.
“We leave soon,” he said in reply.
Hermione bit her lip, her brow furrowing. Harry kept his gaze trained upwards.
“I was just wondering, is all,” he said quietly.
“Yes.”
Harry turned to face her.
“I’m scared out of my mind.” Hermione started to feel tears begin to well up.
Harry looked away. He couldn’t face her.
“I’m scared out of my mind,” Hermione repeated, looking hard at him. She knew he could see her out of the corner of his eye. “But I will not back out. I may be scared, but I am not a coward. I am not going to abandon you now, not after all we’ve done, all we've been through, all I’ve said.”
Finally, he slowly turned and lifted his head to balance on his elbow, staring back at her. “I’m scared, too,” he said, and in that moment he looked like the little eleven-year-old boy lost on the Hogwarts Express, the Wizarding World strange and new to him. “Out of my mind.”
Hermione wanted so badly to comfort him, to reassure him. He looked so fragile and young, but then again, she wondered if she looked any better. Both of them, with Ron, were plunging into all of this blindly.
Quite like the way Hermione leaned in to kiss Harry.
It took a second for her mind to truly register what she was doing, but by that time, Harry was responding back to the kiss.
The kiss was soft and gentle, almost chaste. It was a kiss that just came about to chase the fears and anxieties away, which just happened so they can forget who they were and what they were supposed to do.
They pulled away, their lips still mere inches from one another, their foreheads touching. In the distance, the lively chatter and laughter pierced the warm, summer air.
“Let’s not think about it,” Hermione heard herself whisper, their foreheads still touching. She kept her eyes closed, almost willing with all her strength that this moment would last forever. “Let’s just enjoy the night.” Slowly, she opened her eyes to stare deep into Harry’s green ones. “It’s summer after all, right? Long and carefree.” She cracked a smile.
Harry leaned in to kiss her again, the soft look in her eyes overwhelming something inside of him. Their lips and tongues explored each other, their teeth clashing slightly as they moved along with this new feeling, within this new territory. Harry’s hand came up to cup Hermione’s face, brushing some stray hairs away as his fingers grazed her skin.
Hermione pulled back, breathing heavily, her lips plump and face flushed. Harry was breathing heavily as well, a look of awe and wonder on his face. “Why didn’t we do this before?” he asked, more to himself than to her.
Hermione laughed at that, reaching up to tenderly brush away the fringe that fell into his eyes. “Should we head back?” she asked, her voice not much louder than a whisper.
Harry took a hold of her hand that was playing with his hair. He looked down at their joined hands, wondering again, why this hadn’t happened sooner, why he hadn’t realized . . .
“We should,” he said, drawing out the last word in hesitation.
In reply, Hermione laid back down in the grass, face trained up at the star-speckled sky. She gripped his hand a bit tighter and, following her lead, he laid down next to her once more.
As research acquired after nights of reading began appearing and speeding through her mind, Hermione willed it all to stop. All she wanted was this one night, this one fleeting moment during a summer night where she and Harry were just a girl and a boy, lying in the grass, just staring at the stars.
~
Author 3
Sunlit Days
Rating: PG
Words: 1,094
When Mrs. Weasley started sobbing, Harry realized that it was time to get out. He had never been to a wedding before and had not particularly enjoyed the previous couple of hours filled with last minute preparations and hysterical bridesmaids.
Having spent the first few weeks of his summer holidays at the Weasley’s, he had gotten used to Fleur and Mrs. Weasley arguing over wedding details such as the color of the flowers for the bouquet and the decoration of the house. They usually ended with either one of them in tears and Bill making a decision about whatever they had been fighting about. Fleur had managed to keep both him and Ron busy with the task of mailing invitations. It had turned into a complete fiasco when they had forgotten to sent them to most of the people on Fleur’s guest list so they were glad when Hermione came two weeks before the wedding to help them get organized.
In the rare moments he had to himself, Harry could not help but worry about what was to come. His plan was to stay until the wedding was over and then go to the Dursley’s one last time before starting the hunt for the remaining Horcruxes. He had talked to both Ron and Hermione, trying to convince both of them not to come with him but had been unsuccessful. Although he said that he felt horrible about putting them in such danger, they would not change their minds. Especially Hermione kept reminding him that this was their decision to make and that they were with him no matter what. And even though he kept protesting, Harry had to admit that he was actually very glad to have his two best friends with him.
After a beautiful ceremony in the Weasley’s garden, all the guests were crammed in the tiny living room of the Burrow, dancing to loud music. For some reason, it had not surprised Harry that Ron had immediately found the firewhiskey and was busy drinking one cup after another. Ginny was talking to Fred and George, who were just staying at the house for one night before going back to their extremely successful shop in Hogsmeade. Mr. Weasley was still staring in awe at the party tent in the garden which Harry, Ron and Hermione had been able to set up without using any magic earlier that afternoon. Scanning the room, Harry tried to find Hermione but was unsuccessful. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen her since the ceremony outside had ended and they had all fled to the house as it started raining. He made his way through the crowd towards Ron who was trying to keep his balance while drowning yet another plastic cup filled with firewhiskey.
“Hey, Ron!” Harry began but realized that asking Ron for Hermione’s whereabouts was not the best idea when his friend started swaying and had to hold on to the nearest chair to prevent himself from falling.
“Hey mate!” Ron said loudly, “’Mazing party, huh?” He took another great gulp of firewhiskey and spilled some down his dress robes.
“Ron, go easy on the whiskey, okay?” Harry said and took the cup out of his friend’s hand. Ron protested but Harry had already pushed past him, making his way to the garden. He did not expect anyone to be outside since it was still raining yet just as he started pouring the firewhiskey into Mrs. Weasley’s flowerbed, he saw someone standing under the tiny party tent. He recognized the brown hair and hurried through the rain towards Hermione. She was staring at the sunset and didn’t even notice him standing next to her. This was only the second time he’d seen her all dressed up and looking at her now, he suddenly realized how pretty she looked in her blue dress robes with her hair pulled back.
“Hermione?” Harry asked tentatively.
Hermione jumped and turned around to face him. “Goodness, Harry, you scared me!” she said, smiling weakly.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked her, slightly worried, “It’s pouring!”
She sighed. “I had to get out of there. It’s all just happening so quickly, don’t you think? I guess I really just realized that we’re going to leave tomorrow to find those Horcruxes…and everything, everything depends on us finding them and then on you destroying Voldemort.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you must feel like, that must be a huge burden to carry…”
Her voice trailed off. “I just can’t believe that all this will be over soon…we’re adults with responsibilities now…when did that happen?” she added almost bitterly.
“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. You could go back to Hogwarts, finish school -” Harry replied, but she cut him off.
“Oh, don’t start that again, Harry, don’t be foolish. I couldn’t possibly let you go and…and let you do this all by yourself. I’m coming with you. And so is Ron."
They were quiet for a moment until Harry decided to finally say what he should have said weeks ago. “Thanks. For coming with me. I know it must’ve been a difficult decision but… it really means a lot to me."
She turned around to face him and he was struck by her undeniable beauty once again. A strand of hair was falling out of her ponytail and he put it behind her ear, thereby grazing her cheek. She leaned her face against his hand and he suddenly felt the urge to hold her closer … without thinking, he pulled her towards him and kissed her.
To his immense relief, he felt her responded, felt her putting her arms around him, pressing her body against his, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. He didn’t know why he was doing this, where this was going or what it meant; all he knew was that it just felt so very right, so perfect.
They broke apart only a few seconds later but she did not completely let go of him. Suddenly a bolt of lightning lit up the sky and the rain began to crash down even harder. She looked at him with an expression on her face that signaled both confusion and exhilaration over what had just happened and said simply: “Perfect weather for a wedding."
“Well, sunlit days are overrated," he replied grinning and kissed her again.
~
Author 4
The Onset of Summer
Rating: PG
Words: 2319
‘Summer love.’ Harry had never understood the concept, had never really understood what was so fabulous about the summertime that it made people want to love each other. His summers had for the most part been hot and dreary, full of chores and yard work and dodging Dudley’s gang. Hogwarts had brought a few bright spots to his summers - Quidditch matches and backyard dinners at the Burrow - but those were fleeting, and usually overshadowed by some dark spot on the horizon.
No, he had never understood, not until that hot July after the war had ended, watching Hermione and Ron splashing around at the beach like a couple of children.
Everything was as it should be now, wasn’t it? Hermione and Ron were free to have fun now…with each other…while he watched from the beach, stomach roiling with jealousy.
He’d never expected to feel this way. When they’d been on the verge of getting together back in sixth year, he hadn’t liked it, of course; no one wanted to be the third wheel. But it hadn’t felt like this, this all-consuming, burning possessiveness that made him want to tear Hermione out of Ron’s grasp and keep her for himself.
That was it, the change. Since when did he want Hermione all to himself?
Of course, she’d been indispensable during the war, not only as a source of vital knowledge, which she was, but also a steady support, the one person Harry could count on to ease his worried mind. He wouldn’t have made it without her.
And now, was it over, just like that? After all they had been through, could they just go back to the way things were sixth year, Hermione always moving one step further away from him, toward Ron?
Harry sighed to himself, digging his fingers into sand, watching the grains fall through his fingers. He had changed too much to go back to that. He couldn’t cheerfully be abandoned by his friends while he went off to snog Ginny or whatever other girl was convenient - because that was all Ginny had ever really been, he realized. At the time he’d been lonely, lonelier than he’d been willing to admit to himself at the time, and Ginny had been willing. In the end, there was really nothing true between them.
The truth was, however belatedly he’d realized it, that there was only one girl he cared about in any substantial way, only one girl he could see himself falling in love with in the near future…and she was frolicking in the ocean with his own best mate.
Hermione turned his way, laughing, her curls clinging damply to her cheeks as she grinned and called out to him. “Come out here with us, Harry!”
He looked from her smiling face, brilliant under the bright sun, drops of water clinging to her skin where her modest suit didn’t cover, and he was sorely tempted…but then he caught the look on Ron’s face and changed his mind.
“No thanks, I think I’ll pass,” he called back. He wasn’t really welcome anymore.
~
Harry winced as he sat down on his bed. Movement hurt. Like a fool, he’d sat on the beach all day without using sunblock, and now he was paying for it - and what good had it done him? He hadn’t even been enjoying himself - he’d watched Hermione all day like a lovesick puppy, and had been kicked repeatedly in the stomach, or so it felt like, for his troubles.
A soft knock sounded on his door. He sighed; it would be her.
“Come in.”
“I brought some aloe vera,” she said, bustling in, still wearing her bathing suit - a modest, light blue two-piece with a top that went almost to her navel and boyshorts for bottoms. On her, it was utterly indecent.
“There’s a potion for this,” she went on, “but I don’t have the supplies I’d need, and it has to sit for a day anyway.”
She climbed onto the bed behind him and gave a low, disapproving hiss at the sight of his reddened back, neck, and shoulders.
“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, and he could practically hear her shaking her head at him. “I told you to use the sunscreen.”
“Yes, you did,” Harry admitted, shuddering as she placed a dollop of the cool gel on his upper back. “And as usual, I’m paying for my unwillingness to listen.”
Hermione sighed again, gently spreading the soothing balm across his shoulders. “I just want to see you well-taken care of, that’s all.”
Harry held back the affectionate smile that wanted to break through. “You do a good job of it.”
Hermione spread the aloe down his spine and outward, and he was surprised at the force of his own desires, at how desperately he wanted to feel her petite curves against him - at how very desperately he wanted to have all of her - body, mind, and soul.
“Is it feeling any better?” she asked, rubbing the gel onto his neck now.
“Yeah,” he managed. What was really feeling better, however, was down below, and if he didn’t regain control of himself soon, she would certainly notice.
“Good,” she said, coming around in front of him. Into her hand went another dollop of aloe, and she began spreading it across his chest. He swallowed.
“I could do that,” he rasped as she leaned over him, bringing her breasts level with his eyes.
“I don’t mind,” she said, relentlessly skimming her fingers across his already sensitive skin. The minutes passed torturously, and Harry had to close his eyes against the sight of the girl he wanted more than any other - the girl who doted on him like a mother would, just the sort of girl who would never see him as anything but a friend.
Her fingers left his chest, and he opened his eyes, barely suppressing a sigh of relief. She hadn’t moved, though; she was putting more aloe on her fingers to spread across his face.
“Oh, Harry,” she tutted once more, running her gel-covered thumb over his nose. “How did you get so burnt?”
He would have shrugged, but that hurt too much. Before he could think of a verbal response, she was plucking his glasses off his nose, and then she chuckled. “You look like a pink raccoon,” she commented, and he grimaced - a painful action for such a burnt face. The last thing he wanted was to be giggled at by the girl his heart and body were aching for. Ideally, she would have been weak with desire for his half-naked body, but he knew that was a bit much to ask. He would have settled for being adorable and cooed over. But laughing? He didn’t want to be seen as an amusingly inept wretch who had somehow managed to get a third degree sunburn. He didn’t like to be pathetic in her eyes.
“There!” Hermione announced, wiping her hands on her shorts, “all done.”
Smiling at him, she bent forward as if to kiss his cheek, but then backed away, frowning. “Oh, you’re all covered.”
So she kissed the one part of his face that wasn’t sun-reddened - his lips.
Surely, his heart stopped beating in that moment. Her lips were was soft and lush as he’d ever dared to dream, and all too soon, they were gone, and she was headed for the door as he watched in a daze.
“Oh, a cooling charm on your sheets might help you sleep more comfortably tonight,” she suggested, calmly-as-you-please. Then she stepped out, shutting the door behind her.
Harry started after her for some time, too confused to do anything more than sit and let the aloe dry.
~
The next day was back to the beach, sunburn or no sunburn, but somehow, subtly, the dynamic had changed.
Harry understood part of it - understood that he was even more obsessed with Hermione than the day before, and feeling even more awkward and agonized after her unexpected kiss, platonic as it may have been.
What he didn’t understand was why Hermione was so sedate after yesterday’s boisterousness, or why Ron seemed so put-out. In spite of these things, he tried to enjoy himself; he allowed Hermione to drag him into the water, and allowed himself to savor the feel of her skin under his fingers as they chased each other through the waves. Ron glowered at them from the beach, and Harry wondered at how their positions had been reversed overnight.
When they trudged back to the beach, Harry flopped down on his towel, but Hermione kept walking back to the cottage to find something to drink. Left alone with Ron, Harry felt the tension growing between them, no longer held in check by Hermione’s presence.
“You kissed Hermione,” Ron finally said, unable to keep the accusation out of his voice.
Harry blinked. “No…I…she kissed me,” he argued, ignoring the fact that he’d had no problem kissing her back. “I don’t even know why she did it.”
Ron looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “She kissed you? But…” His voice was so incredulous, so bemused, that Harry couldn’t help feeling a little offended.
“I thought she fancied me,” Ron finally admitted, downcast. Harry felt utterly torn. A covetous, vindictive part of him wanted to dash all of Ron’s hopes and claim Hermione as his own…but a stronger part of him knew he couldn’t. He didn’t even know Hermione’s true feelings; she might very well fancy Ron, and see him only as a friend. He might end up being the one watching from the sidelines as his dreams crumbled into dust.
“I thought she did, too,” Harry finally said, having to force the words out. “Maybe she does…I don’t…I don’t think it meant anything.”
Ron frowned, looking surprisingly thoughtful. “I…don’t know about that.”
Harry quirked an eyebrow at his friend, who was sitting up now, staring out at the water. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s just…even though Hermione and I have a lot of fun together sometimes,” he began slowly, “like we were yesterday…she always ends up…going back to you. I guess it’s always been obvious. I just…didn’t want to see it.”
Harry glanced behind them. Hermione was heading back, so he would have to get his answers out of Ron quickly. “Didn’t want to see what?”
Ron sighed, looking defeated. “That she’s never satisfied with just me. She’s always thinking about you, talking about you. She’s not happy if you’re not involved. But I haven’t seen her complaining about my absence today.”
Harry pondered Ron’s words as the redhead’s eyes flicked back to Hermione, maybe five feet away.
“Just go for it,” Ron whispered, although reluctantly. “It’s…it’s what you both want.”
Harry didn’t have time to respond before Hermione settled onto her towel beside Harry with three bottled sodas. She narrowed her eyes shrewdly at them.
“What did I miss?”
Ron looked away, so Harry answered for him. “Just…bloke talk. Nothing you’d be interested in,” he lied.
Hermione seemed to accept this as the reason for the lingering tension between him and Ron, and handed them each a soda.
Hermione stretched out on her towel, soaking up the sunshine, and Harry sat silently, trying not to stare, while Ron continued with whatever he was thinking on, staring out at the water still.
Eventually, Ron got up, gathering up the few things he’d brought down to the beach with him that day and headed back for the cottage, throwing Harry a significant look in the process. Hermione opened her eyes, looking questioningly over at Harry.
“What’s the matter with him?” she asked. “He’s been moody all day.”
Harry frowned, making the quick decision to tell her the truth. “The problem is that he fancies you, and he saw you kiss me last night.”
Hermione’s expression didn’t change, but a blush spread across her cheeks. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Harry repeated, suddenly annoyed. “That’s all you have to say?”
Hermione blinked up at him, surprised at his outburst. “I…wasn’t aware I needed to say anything.”
“Well, you do,” Harry insisted, turning to look at her fully. “I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
She must have seen some of the confusion and irritation in his features, because she propped herself up on one elbow, a soft look in her eyes that he’d never quite appreciated before.
“Harry…I don’t fancy Ron. I couldn’t…not when my life for the past seven years has been entirely about you. I realized, during the war, that you would always be the most important thing to me. More important than Ron or my parents or anyone else.” She looked down at the stripes on her towel, fingering the terrycloth idly. “I kissed you yesterday because I wanted to. Because…I think I’m in love with you.”
Harry swallowed past the heavy lump in his throat, his heart thumping soundly as her words sunk in, and he finally had the courage to act upon his desires. Without hesitation, he leaned over her and allowed his fingers to cup her chin, tilting her face up to his.
“You’re not the only one,” he said simply, drawn into her warm eyes that widened slightly at his words, before he closed the distance between them and felt her soft lips yield against his.
How long they lay there, absorbed in each other, ignoring the other vacationers, Harry didn’t know. He couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t believe his extraordinary good fortune to be alive for this moment and to be with this girl, to experience a love that was true and lasting, rooted somewhere deep inside him, impossible to ever remove or destroy.
Hermione curled into his side as they watched the sun set over the endless ocean, and for the first time, Harry felt a real sense of contentment wash over him. The war was over, and now it was time to enjoy the summer.
~
You'll have two days to read and vote. Good luck to everyone!
We have four authors for this session, whose first fics are under the cut.
Please vote for your LEAST FAVORITE. I know it says two least favorite in the info, but since we have a lot more voters than authors, I think one vote should suffice.
**Your vote should be formatted like this:
Author Number:
Story Title:
Reasoning:
Your 'Reasoning' should be polite and as unbiased as possible. Your vote should depend upon elements of writing such as characterization, plot, style, flow, etc. Avoid "I don't like..." statements.
That said, here are your fics.
Author 1
Say Anything
Rating: PG
Words: 1665
It was the shine and glint of the sun on her skin and glasses that moved him through the back door and across the hot tiles, reflection flying across the water and his shadow reaching over her legs as he stepped to where she lay. Her chair was leaned back and extended, the bars very white against her darkened skin; one couldn't hunt for a month in the south of France for cursed objects without at least being granted the luxury of a tan, albeit a usually reluctant one. Now, he was blocking her sun, and she knew it.
She might have been looking up at him from behind her dark sunglasses, or she might have been pretending not to feel the sudden cool over her knees and thighs, but he didn't know which. She didn't move.
He was there, though, like he always was, and he was right in her sun and he was bringing another chair over to share in it whether she was willing to look at him now or not.
This sort of thing might seem suspect if one were looking on, especially considering their new proximity, the long lines of their chairs pressed up together. But still she didn't turn her head to face him; she kept her face forward to the now shared sun, eyes open or closed and mouth set in her curved line-even when Harry unbent his chair to near its flattest and laid with his head near Hermione's toes, she stayed the same.
Yes, this would have looked very suspect indeed; that's why Harry always stayed indoors or dunked himself under the water (with his glasses left poolside) when Ron was home or came home when Hermione was allowing herself this one luxury. Even when guilt twisted in his stomach or something prickly heated his face, Harry still couldn't make himself look over whenever Ron’s long and untannable legs stretched out next to her, toes tapping, or when he wrapped her up in all his lankiness and took up most of the room in her chair. All Hermione ever wanted was a minute of quiet, but he never gave it to her. Neither of them ever gave it to her.
She never said anything, though. She let him tap and whistle next to her and take up her space, wrapping around her and subsequently shoving her sideways and knocking her in some awkward way each time. She took it without a word and just a downward curve of her mouth that Ron didn't notice anyway, and Harry knew why.
It was an odd sort of balance that he hated, but he couldn't blame her for it, because he did it too. He pretended that her room wasn't directly above his, he pretended that he slept like a rock, he pretended that he was deaf, he pretended he was distracted. He pretended he didn't always make sure they had her cereal and a very quiet den with too many books, and he pretended that he hadn't memorized the pattern with which she put on her sun tan lotion.
He pretended he didn't walk across the hot tiles whenever he could, and pull a chair up against hers while taking her quiet away and looking across at her face, and at the left arm that got the lotion first. But he couldn't pretend once he got there. He couldn't even pretend there still wasn't a twist to his stomach, but when he moved himself downward, pushing against the sides of the chair to get low enough that his knees bent over the bottom rung and his head was right at her hips, it wasn't what mattered.
For a moment Hermione remained unmoving, and Harry wondered if she might continue to act as if she hadn't seen him there. But as he stretched a hand forwards to reach for the one resting on her stomach, he saw her body already starting to move, her legs pulling her downward after having risen to bend and walk against the bottom half of her chair. Her swimsuit hitched up and up the lower she went, traction pushing against it, revealing inches of her thighs that remained their normal pale white. Harry watched, but his own arm had fallen back down and he didn't reach for her again.
They hadn't the time to be handsy and grabby with each other; desperate pulling and quick beats of time going by wasn't the way they spent moments together, or what they could afford. As painful as the slow minutes ticking by could be, it was better than a frantic plunge and splashing around just to have to act as if you weren't dripping wet afterward.
No; once her face was on level with his, her only move was to reciprocate after she let him lift her sunglasses away from her already slow-welling eyes and slide them to the top of her head, where they could hold her hair back. The tips of her warm fingers brushed against his cheek and nose when she slipped his own glasses off, putting them in the hand of her free side, out of the way. When they kissed they had to crane their necks a little, jaws lifting to meet, but still, this was how they laid. Their eyes were directly across from each other and it was in that closeness that the time ticked by, both watching each other's faces and knowing everything they knew. They looked at one another in the way they weren't able other times and Hermione was even close enough to be in clear view. Her eyes were unguarded with him, very sad and full but brimming with everything she wanted and all the pain she would take in lieu of causing.
Harry didn't know how much longer either of them could go on like this, already so haggard from the traveling and the war that constantly blazed. He didn't know why it had worked out for Hermione that the love heated in the summer months would be something that had to pulsate behind something else. But he did know it hurt her too much to talk about and too much to end, and even now, in just the quiet moments they took together it was already overwhelming. It didn't take long before her tears were streaming freely and running trails in the direction her head was turned, pressed against his so he could feel it all. That's when their slow and full kissing started, after Hermione had parted her mouth to let out a breath that hitched with a little noise and Harry craned his neck to catch her lips. Hermione pushed out a shaky breath through her nose when his arm bent to lay a hand on her neck and they stayed that way, tears pushed between flushed patches of skin and heavy expressions, for as long as they could.
When the familiar crack of Apparation reverberated all the way from the front yard, they both felt their stomachs twisting even as they let their hot foreheads rest together. Her warm tears were still on his face while hers sat crumpled, sad and guilty all at the same time. When they kissed again, they kissed quietly, Harry taking the moister from under her eyes onto his lips as she still cried slow, mouth on his chin and jaw.
Hermione wasn't a wrong sort of person. She wouldn't take what she wanted or needed if it meant doing a wrong thing. Not usually. But when she did, she sat in her guilt and was quiet as she took what she could, even knowing that she shouldn't have any of it, and then she would take what came next. Hermione would lay her head next to Harry’s on a hot pool deck, arms to herself, and kiss him with all the love and sadness she could muster; and then she would sit up, put her sunglasses back on and let Ron hug her and shove her and take up her space without saying anything. Her mouth would curve down, and her eyes would even continue to cloud from behind the dark lenses, but Ron wouldn't notice anyway.
That's what happened this time, when Ron finally came through the back door after having stopped in his room. They hadn't had to rush once they heard him land home; they sat up together and, in the few moments usually reserved for a clearing of expression, a last wiping away of tears and a step apart, Harry had spent on the leaning in once more to put his hands on her cheeks and kiss her mouth and eyes again, taking away that bit of moisture he could.
They let their foreheads touch one last moment and Hermione allowed her free hand to settle heavily on his wrist while her face smoothed slowly, but her eyes stayed the same even after Harry ran a thumb under one.
Then their faces leaned apart and he had stepped away, making Hermione's fingers drop so she could push herself back near the top of the chair, inching her swim suit back down in the process.
Harry was already on the pool's edge by the time Ron was at Hermione's chair, kicking Harry's out of the way to make room for himself. Hermione's sunglasses were well-placed already and Harry couldn't blame her for it, because he did it too. He would dive into the water and let the bubbles push him down as deep as he could go.
But this time, before he could pretend to be distracted, Harry saw Ron start to move Hermione over. He was pilling his legs on her chair and already talking as he pulled her into a hug--and never once did he seem to notice the sad down-turn of Hermione's mouth, or Harry's glasses still clutched in her hand behind his back.
Harry jumped into the water and the bubbles pushed him down.
~
Author 2
Just This Once
Rating: PG
Words: 1370
She didn’t think anyone would find her. She had taken deliberate care in picking her hiding place, hoping that all the noise and confusion that were bound to go on today would distract anyone from finding, even bother looking for, her.
Closing her eyes in thought, a deep sigh escaped her lips. Although the grass prickling her back was far from comfortable, peace still shrouded itself over her like a warm blanket. The sounds from the reception were far away but still close enough if anything were to happen.
She was always thinking that . . . if anything were to happen.
The wedding had been beautiful. Everyone could feel the love radiating from the glows on Bill and Fleur’s faces, but everyone could also feel the impending doom that the new war against Voldemort was bringing. Everyone was living their lives impulsively, yet cautiously at the same time. They were all walking contradictions.
Hermione wondered if her thoughts made sense anymore.
The sound of a twig breaking startled her. Yanking her wand out of a leg holster she had worn underneath her dress, she whipped around, a hex on the tip of her tongue.
“Harry ” she said instead upon seeing who had disturbed her.
“Hermione? What are you doing here?” he asked.
Hermione laid back down on the grass, brushing the blue material of her dress aside to tuck the wand back into place. She shrugged, the grass picking at the exposed skin of her neck and arms.
“Thinking.” Hiding. “You?”
“To be honest, hiding,” he said. Hermione quirked her gaze from the summer sky to his figure standing above her. He looked down, his face upside down to her.
“Isn’t your dress going to get dirty?”
Hermione shrugged again, picking idly at her skirts. “I can clean it.”
She felt him sit down beside her, legs bending for his arms to balance casually upon his knees. Both their eyes were trained upwards at the stars that were beginning to appear.
“What are you thinking about?” Harry asked, his eyes following the path of a flock of birds flying overhead.
You. Ron. School. Ginny. Bill. Fleur. You. Voldemort. Life. Tonks. Lupin. Hogwarts. You. Dumbledore. Books. Clothes. Mum. Dad. Food. Horcrux. Champagne. Death. You. Nothing.
“Stuff.”
He turned to look at her. She could see it from the corner of her eye. “You feeling all right, Hermione?”
Hermione wanted to laugh. Harry was worried about her because she was being quiet for once. She wasn’t voicing all her thoughts and worries to him or Ron in one, big, long confusing jumble of words that their adorable, obviously boyish minds wouldn’t understand. She was being aloof for once . . . perhaps for one last time.
“We leave soon,” she said in reply. Harry looked away from her now. A lot more stars were in the sky.
Hermione closed her eyes. The scent of the grass and summer flowers surrounded her, the sounds of the crickets astonishingly loud from her position on the ground.
“What song are you humming?”
Harry’s question startled her. She hadn’t even known she was humming. She chuckled.
“No idea.” She opened her eyes, warmth filling her when she saw him staring down at her with some laughter in his eyes as well. “Lie down,” she instructed, patting the spot next to her. “It’s better to watch the stars this way . . . your neck won’t hurt as much from craning it all the time.” He hesitated. “You afraid to get your dress robes dirty or something?” She smirked.
Not one to refuse a challenge, Harry complied, stretching out next to her. “You’re acting quite strange tonight, Hermione, I must say,” he said with a slight laugh in his voice. He took a sharp intake of breath when his eyes fixed themselves upon the stars. “But you’re right. This is a better way to stargaze.” A falling star trailed across the sky. Hermione blinked and it was gone.
“Hmm, maybe it’s all the champagne I drank tonight,” she said lazily. She closed her eyes once more. The comfortable heat of the night and the heat coming from Harry next to her was soothing.
“Hermione?” he said after a long moment of companionable silence.
“Yes, Harry?” Eyes still closed.
“Are you . . . scared?”
Eyes opened. “What do you mean?” she asked, lifting her head slightly to turn and look at him.
“We leave soon,” he said in reply.
Hermione bit her lip, her brow furrowing. Harry kept his gaze trained upwards.
“I was just wondering, is all,” he said quietly.
“Yes.”
Harry turned to face her.
“I’m scared out of my mind.” Hermione started to feel tears begin to well up.
Harry looked away. He couldn’t face her.
“I’m scared out of my mind,” Hermione repeated, looking hard at him. She knew he could see her out of the corner of his eye. “But I will not back out. I may be scared, but I am not a coward. I am not going to abandon you now, not after all we’ve done, all we've been through, all I’ve said.”
Finally, he slowly turned and lifted his head to balance on his elbow, staring back at her. “I’m scared, too,” he said, and in that moment he looked like the little eleven-year-old boy lost on the Hogwarts Express, the Wizarding World strange and new to him. “Out of my mind.”
Hermione wanted so badly to comfort him, to reassure him. He looked so fragile and young, but then again, she wondered if she looked any better. Both of them, with Ron, were plunging into all of this blindly.
Quite like the way Hermione leaned in to kiss Harry.
It took a second for her mind to truly register what she was doing, but by that time, Harry was responding back to the kiss.
The kiss was soft and gentle, almost chaste. It was a kiss that just came about to chase the fears and anxieties away, which just happened so they can forget who they were and what they were supposed to do.
They pulled away, their lips still mere inches from one another, their foreheads touching. In the distance, the lively chatter and laughter pierced the warm, summer air.
“Let’s not think about it,” Hermione heard herself whisper, their foreheads still touching. She kept her eyes closed, almost willing with all her strength that this moment would last forever. “Let’s just enjoy the night.” Slowly, she opened her eyes to stare deep into Harry’s green ones. “It’s summer after all, right? Long and carefree.” She cracked a smile.
Harry leaned in to kiss her again, the soft look in her eyes overwhelming something inside of him. Their lips and tongues explored each other, their teeth clashing slightly as they moved along with this new feeling, within this new territory. Harry’s hand came up to cup Hermione’s face, brushing some stray hairs away as his fingers grazed her skin.
Hermione pulled back, breathing heavily, her lips plump and face flushed. Harry was breathing heavily as well, a look of awe and wonder on his face. “Why didn’t we do this before?” he asked, more to himself than to her.
Hermione laughed at that, reaching up to tenderly brush away the fringe that fell into his eyes. “Should we head back?” she asked, her voice not much louder than a whisper.
Harry took a hold of her hand that was playing with his hair. He looked down at their joined hands, wondering again, why this hadn’t happened sooner, why he hadn’t realized . . .
“We should,” he said, drawing out the last word in hesitation.
In reply, Hermione laid back down in the grass, face trained up at the star-speckled sky. She gripped his hand a bit tighter and, following her lead, he laid down next to her once more.
As research acquired after nights of reading began appearing and speeding through her mind, Hermione willed it all to stop. All she wanted was this one night, this one fleeting moment during a summer night where she and Harry were just a girl and a boy, lying in the grass, just staring at the stars.
~
Author 3
Sunlit Days
Rating: PG
Words: 1,094
When Mrs. Weasley started sobbing, Harry realized that it was time to get out. He had never been to a wedding before and had not particularly enjoyed the previous couple of hours filled with last minute preparations and hysterical bridesmaids.
Having spent the first few weeks of his summer holidays at the Weasley’s, he had gotten used to Fleur and Mrs. Weasley arguing over wedding details such as the color of the flowers for the bouquet and the decoration of the house. They usually ended with either one of them in tears and Bill making a decision about whatever they had been fighting about. Fleur had managed to keep both him and Ron busy with the task of mailing invitations. It had turned into a complete fiasco when they had forgotten to sent them to most of the people on Fleur’s guest list so they were glad when Hermione came two weeks before the wedding to help them get organized.
In the rare moments he had to himself, Harry could not help but worry about what was to come. His plan was to stay until the wedding was over and then go to the Dursley’s one last time before starting the hunt for the remaining Horcruxes. He had talked to both Ron and Hermione, trying to convince both of them not to come with him but had been unsuccessful. Although he said that he felt horrible about putting them in such danger, they would not change their minds. Especially Hermione kept reminding him that this was their decision to make and that they were with him no matter what. And even though he kept protesting, Harry had to admit that he was actually very glad to have his two best friends with him.
After a beautiful ceremony in the Weasley’s garden, all the guests were crammed in the tiny living room of the Burrow, dancing to loud music. For some reason, it had not surprised Harry that Ron had immediately found the firewhiskey and was busy drinking one cup after another. Ginny was talking to Fred and George, who were just staying at the house for one night before going back to their extremely successful shop in Hogsmeade. Mr. Weasley was still staring in awe at the party tent in the garden which Harry, Ron and Hermione had been able to set up without using any magic earlier that afternoon. Scanning the room, Harry tried to find Hermione but was unsuccessful. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen her since the ceremony outside had ended and they had all fled to the house as it started raining. He made his way through the crowd towards Ron who was trying to keep his balance while drowning yet another plastic cup filled with firewhiskey.
“Hey, Ron!” Harry began but realized that asking Ron for Hermione’s whereabouts was not the best idea when his friend started swaying and had to hold on to the nearest chair to prevent himself from falling.
“Hey mate!” Ron said loudly, “’Mazing party, huh?” He took another great gulp of firewhiskey and spilled some down his dress robes.
“Ron, go easy on the whiskey, okay?” Harry said and took the cup out of his friend’s hand. Ron protested but Harry had already pushed past him, making his way to the garden. He did not expect anyone to be outside since it was still raining yet just as he started pouring the firewhiskey into Mrs. Weasley’s flowerbed, he saw someone standing under the tiny party tent. He recognized the brown hair and hurried through the rain towards Hermione. She was staring at the sunset and didn’t even notice him standing next to her. This was only the second time he’d seen her all dressed up and looking at her now, he suddenly realized how pretty she looked in her blue dress robes with her hair pulled back.
“Hermione?” Harry asked tentatively.
Hermione jumped and turned around to face him. “Goodness, Harry, you scared me!” she said, smiling weakly.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked her, slightly worried, “It’s pouring!”
She sighed. “I had to get out of there. It’s all just happening so quickly, don’t you think? I guess I really just realized that we’re going to leave tomorrow to find those Horcruxes…and everything, everything depends on us finding them and then on you destroying Voldemort.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you must feel like, that must be a huge burden to carry…”
Her voice trailed off. “I just can’t believe that all this will be over soon…we’re adults with responsibilities now…when did that happen?” she added almost bitterly.
“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. You could go back to Hogwarts, finish school -” Harry replied, but she cut him off.
“Oh, don’t start that again, Harry, don’t be foolish. I couldn’t possibly let you go and…and let you do this all by yourself. I’m coming with you. And so is Ron."
They were quiet for a moment until Harry decided to finally say what he should have said weeks ago. “Thanks. For coming with me. I know it must’ve been a difficult decision but… it really means a lot to me."
She turned around to face him and he was struck by her undeniable beauty once again. A strand of hair was falling out of her ponytail and he put it behind her ear, thereby grazing her cheek. She leaned her face against his hand and he suddenly felt the urge to hold her closer … without thinking, he pulled her towards him and kissed her.
To his immense relief, he felt her responded, felt her putting her arms around him, pressing her body against his, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. He didn’t know why he was doing this, where this was going or what it meant; all he knew was that it just felt so very right, so perfect.
They broke apart only a few seconds later but she did not completely let go of him. Suddenly a bolt of lightning lit up the sky and the rain began to crash down even harder. She looked at him with an expression on her face that signaled both confusion and exhilaration over what had just happened and said simply: “Perfect weather for a wedding."
“Well, sunlit days are overrated," he replied grinning and kissed her again.
~
Author 4
The Onset of Summer
Rating: PG
Words: 2319
‘Summer love.’ Harry had never understood the concept, had never really understood what was so fabulous about the summertime that it made people want to love each other. His summers had for the most part been hot and dreary, full of chores and yard work and dodging Dudley’s gang. Hogwarts had brought a few bright spots to his summers - Quidditch matches and backyard dinners at the Burrow - but those were fleeting, and usually overshadowed by some dark spot on the horizon.
No, he had never understood, not until that hot July after the war had ended, watching Hermione and Ron splashing around at the beach like a couple of children.
Everything was as it should be now, wasn’t it? Hermione and Ron were free to have fun now…with each other…while he watched from the beach, stomach roiling with jealousy.
He’d never expected to feel this way. When they’d been on the verge of getting together back in sixth year, he hadn’t liked it, of course; no one wanted to be the third wheel. But it hadn’t felt like this, this all-consuming, burning possessiveness that made him want to tear Hermione out of Ron’s grasp and keep her for himself.
That was it, the change. Since when did he want Hermione all to himself?
Of course, she’d been indispensable during the war, not only as a source of vital knowledge, which she was, but also a steady support, the one person Harry could count on to ease his worried mind. He wouldn’t have made it without her.
And now, was it over, just like that? After all they had been through, could they just go back to the way things were sixth year, Hermione always moving one step further away from him, toward Ron?
Harry sighed to himself, digging his fingers into sand, watching the grains fall through his fingers. He had changed too much to go back to that. He couldn’t cheerfully be abandoned by his friends while he went off to snog Ginny or whatever other girl was convenient - because that was all Ginny had ever really been, he realized. At the time he’d been lonely, lonelier than he’d been willing to admit to himself at the time, and Ginny had been willing. In the end, there was really nothing true between them.
The truth was, however belatedly he’d realized it, that there was only one girl he cared about in any substantial way, only one girl he could see himself falling in love with in the near future…and she was frolicking in the ocean with his own best mate.
Hermione turned his way, laughing, her curls clinging damply to her cheeks as she grinned and called out to him. “Come out here with us, Harry!”
He looked from her smiling face, brilliant under the bright sun, drops of water clinging to her skin where her modest suit didn’t cover, and he was sorely tempted…but then he caught the look on Ron’s face and changed his mind.
“No thanks, I think I’ll pass,” he called back. He wasn’t really welcome anymore.
~
Harry winced as he sat down on his bed. Movement hurt. Like a fool, he’d sat on the beach all day without using sunblock, and now he was paying for it - and what good had it done him? He hadn’t even been enjoying himself - he’d watched Hermione all day like a lovesick puppy, and had been kicked repeatedly in the stomach, or so it felt like, for his troubles.
A soft knock sounded on his door. He sighed; it would be her.
“Come in.”
“I brought some aloe vera,” she said, bustling in, still wearing her bathing suit - a modest, light blue two-piece with a top that went almost to her navel and boyshorts for bottoms. On her, it was utterly indecent.
“There’s a potion for this,” she went on, “but I don’t have the supplies I’d need, and it has to sit for a day anyway.”
She climbed onto the bed behind him and gave a low, disapproving hiss at the sight of his reddened back, neck, and shoulders.
“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, and he could practically hear her shaking her head at him. “I told you to use the sunscreen.”
“Yes, you did,” Harry admitted, shuddering as she placed a dollop of the cool gel on his upper back. “And as usual, I’m paying for my unwillingness to listen.”
Hermione sighed again, gently spreading the soothing balm across his shoulders. “I just want to see you well-taken care of, that’s all.”
Harry held back the affectionate smile that wanted to break through. “You do a good job of it.”
Hermione spread the aloe down his spine and outward, and he was surprised at the force of his own desires, at how desperately he wanted to feel her petite curves against him - at how very desperately he wanted to have all of her - body, mind, and soul.
“Is it feeling any better?” she asked, rubbing the gel onto his neck now.
“Yeah,” he managed. What was really feeling better, however, was down below, and if he didn’t regain control of himself soon, she would certainly notice.
“Good,” she said, coming around in front of him. Into her hand went another dollop of aloe, and she began spreading it across his chest. He swallowed.
“I could do that,” he rasped as she leaned over him, bringing her breasts level with his eyes.
“I don’t mind,” she said, relentlessly skimming her fingers across his already sensitive skin. The minutes passed torturously, and Harry had to close his eyes against the sight of the girl he wanted more than any other - the girl who doted on him like a mother would, just the sort of girl who would never see him as anything but a friend.
Her fingers left his chest, and he opened his eyes, barely suppressing a sigh of relief. She hadn’t moved, though; she was putting more aloe on her fingers to spread across his face.
“Oh, Harry,” she tutted once more, running her gel-covered thumb over his nose. “How did you get so burnt?”
He would have shrugged, but that hurt too much. Before he could think of a verbal response, she was plucking his glasses off his nose, and then she chuckled. “You look like a pink raccoon,” she commented, and he grimaced - a painful action for such a burnt face. The last thing he wanted was to be giggled at by the girl his heart and body were aching for. Ideally, she would have been weak with desire for his half-naked body, but he knew that was a bit much to ask. He would have settled for being adorable and cooed over. But laughing? He didn’t want to be seen as an amusingly inept wretch who had somehow managed to get a third degree sunburn. He didn’t like to be pathetic in her eyes.
“There!” Hermione announced, wiping her hands on her shorts, “all done.”
Smiling at him, she bent forward as if to kiss his cheek, but then backed away, frowning. “Oh, you’re all covered.”
So she kissed the one part of his face that wasn’t sun-reddened - his lips.
Surely, his heart stopped beating in that moment. Her lips were was soft and lush as he’d ever dared to dream, and all too soon, they were gone, and she was headed for the door as he watched in a daze.
“Oh, a cooling charm on your sheets might help you sleep more comfortably tonight,” she suggested, calmly-as-you-please. Then she stepped out, shutting the door behind her.
Harry started after her for some time, too confused to do anything more than sit and let the aloe dry.
~
The next day was back to the beach, sunburn or no sunburn, but somehow, subtly, the dynamic had changed.
Harry understood part of it - understood that he was even more obsessed with Hermione than the day before, and feeling even more awkward and agonized after her unexpected kiss, platonic as it may have been.
What he didn’t understand was why Hermione was so sedate after yesterday’s boisterousness, or why Ron seemed so put-out. In spite of these things, he tried to enjoy himself; he allowed Hermione to drag him into the water, and allowed himself to savor the feel of her skin under his fingers as they chased each other through the waves. Ron glowered at them from the beach, and Harry wondered at how their positions had been reversed overnight.
When they trudged back to the beach, Harry flopped down on his towel, but Hermione kept walking back to the cottage to find something to drink. Left alone with Ron, Harry felt the tension growing between them, no longer held in check by Hermione’s presence.
“You kissed Hermione,” Ron finally said, unable to keep the accusation out of his voice.
Harry blinked. “No…I…she kissed me,” he argued, ignoring the fact that he’d had no problem kissing her back. “I don’t even know why she did it.”
Ron looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “She kissed you? But…” His voice was so incredulous, so bemused, that Harry couldn’t help feeling a little offended.
“I thought she fancied me,” Ron finally admitted, downcast. Harry felt utterly torn. A covetous, vindictive part of him wanted to dash all of Ron’s hopes and claim Hermione as his own…but a stronger part of him knew he couldn’t. He didn’t even know Hermione’s true feelings; she might very well fancy Ron, and see him only as a friend. He might end up being the one watching from the sidelines as his dreams crumbled into dust.
“I thought she did, too,” Harry finally said, having to force the words out. “Maybe she does…I don’t…I don’t think it meant anything.”
Ron frowned, looking surprisingly thoughtful. “I…don’t know about that.”
Harry quirked an eyebrow at his friend, who was sitting up now, staring out at the water. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s just…even though Hermione and I have a lot of fun together sometimes,” he began slowly, “like we were yesterday…she always ends up…going back to you. I guess it’s always been obvious. I just…didn’t want to see it.”
Harry glanced behind them. Hermione was heading back, so he would have to get his answers out of Ron quickly. “Didn’t want to see what?”
Ron sighed, looking defeated. “That she’s never satisfied with just me. She’s always thinking about you, talking about you. She’s not happy if you’re not involved. But I haven’t seen her complaining about my absence today.”
Harry pondered Ron’s words as the redhead’s eyes flicked back to Hermione, maybe five feet away.
“Just go for it,” Ron whispered, although reluctantly. “It’s…it’s what you both want.”
Harry didn’t have time to respond before Hermione settled onto her towel beside Harry with three bottled sodas. She narrowed her eyes shrewdly at them.
“What did I miss?”
Ron looked away, so Harry answered for him. “Just…bloke talk. Nothing you’d be interested in,” he lied.
Hermione seemed to accept this as the reason for the lingering tension between him and Ron, and handed them each a soda.
Hermione stretched out on her towel, soaking up the sunshine, and Harry sat silently, trying not to stare, while Ron continued with whatever he was thinking on, staring out at the water still.
Eventually, Ron got up, gathering up the few things he’d brought down to the beach with him that day and headed back for the cottage, throwing Harry a significant look in the process. Hermione opened her eyes, looking questioningly over at Harry.
“What’s the matter with him?” she asked. “He’s been moody all day.”
Harry frowned, making the quick decision to tell her the truth. “The problem is that he fancies you, and he saw you kiss me last night.”
Hermione’s expression didn’t change, but a blush spread across her cheeks. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Harry repeated, suddenly annoyed. “That’s all you have to say?”
Hermione blinked up at him, surprised at his outburst. “I…wasn’t aware I needed to say anything.”
“Well, you do,” Harry insisted, turning to look at her fully. “I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
She must have seen some of the confusion and irritation in his features, because she propped herself up on one elbow, a soft look in her eyes that he’d never quite appreciated before.
“Harry…I don’t fancy Ron. I couldn’t…not when my life for the past seven years has been entirely about you. I realized, during the war, that you would always be the most important thing to me. More important than Ron or my parents or anyone else.” She looked down at the stripes on her towel, fingering the terrycloth idly. “I kissed you yesterday because I wanted to. Because…I think I’m in love with you.”
Harry swallowed past the heavy lump in his throat, his heart thumping soundly as her words sunk in, and he finally had the courage to act upon his desires. Without hesitation, he leaned over her and allowed his fingers to cup her chin, tilting her face up to his.
“You’re not the only one,” he said simply, drawn into her warm eyes that widened slightly at his words, before he closed the distance between them and felt her soft lips yield against his.
How long they lay there, absorbed in each other, ignoring the other vacationers, Harry didn’t know. He couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t believe his extraordinary good fortune to be alive for this moment and to be with this girl, to experience a love that was true and lasting, rooted somewhere deep inside him, impossible to ever remove or destroy.
Hermione curled into his side as they watched the sun set over the endless ocean, and for the first time, Harry felt a real sense of contentment wash over him. The war was over, and now it was time to enjoy the summer.
~
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