Fic: Better Late Than Never
Title: Better Late Than Never
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Written for laurenhealy.
The flames dwindled in the fireplace as the two seventeen year olds sat hunched over numerous textbooks arranged just so on the table. The only sound other than the low crackling from the fire was the scratching of the quills as they worked in tandem, making notes.
Harry Potter yawned and straightened up, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s almost midnight,” he announced, glancing at his watch. “I really should get some sleep.”
“Thanks for staying, Harry,” his best friend of seven years said. “It’s so much easier to study with someone else.”
“I don’t dare not stay when you’re cracking the whip, Hermione,” he answered dryly, moving to avoid her hand as it reached out to smack him for his impertinence.
“Ron wasn’t too concerned,” she said with a slight pout, her annoyance at their best friend’s early exit still evident.
“He had better things to do with his time,” Harry responded almost wistfully. Both occupants of the room knew Ron had skived off studying a few hours earlier to make out with his Ravenclaw girlfriend. “I can’t say I blame him. I know what I’d rather be doing.”
Harry blanched as soon as he realised what he’d said; he really didn’t want to get onto the topic of love and snogging and girlfriends, especially in front of the one person he really wanted to experience all of the above with.
Harry hadn’t admitted his feelings for Hermione had changed until the beginning of seventh year when Ron had sat him down one night and point blank refused to let it go until Harry had admitted it. Saying the words out loud -- I think I might like Hermione more than just a friend -- had somehow made them real and tangible, whereas just saying them in his head allowed him to pretend that perhaps they weren’t true.
He glanced over at Hermione as she stared at him. She sported grey circles under her eyes from lack of sleep; all she had done since returning to Hogwarts for their final year was spend every spare minute studying. He knew she would sometimes be up until two in the morning revising; and her being offered the position of Head Girl had allowed her the luxury of her own room, away from the main dormitories, which meant she could study undisturbed. Despite the grey under her eyes and the paleness of her skin and the fact her hair appeared to be the bushiest it had ever been, Harry couldn’t help but think she was still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.
Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.
So what she said next couldn’t have shocked him more. “It’s not like you couldn’t be out doing that, you know.”
Harry’s mouth opened slightly and he swallowed several times before answering with a highly undignified, “What?”
“Snogging. There’s dozens of girls - and I daresay, a few boys - who would give their right arm to kiss The Boy Who Lived.” His mouth must still have been open because Hermione laughed. “Oh, come on, Harry. Don’t tell me you don’t know that!”
“I-- I--” He tried to talk, but no sound would come out.
“Harry,” Hermione said in a tone that might have indicated she was talking to a small child. “Please don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You aren’t known as the most eligible wizard in the castle for nothing.”
Harry snapped out of his trance. “I didn’t realise my love life was so widely speculated upon.”
With the aplomb that only one who was close to him could get away with, Hermione gave him a cheeky grin. “What love life, Potter?”
“Bite your tongue, woman,” he said, huffing indignantly. “I have a love life.”
They both knew he was lying through his teeth, but Hermione was wise enough to greet the declaration with only the raise of an eyebrow.
“Okay, fine, I don’t,” Harry admitted, picking up a cushion and aiming it at Hermione’s head. As she ducked, he realised that the often-sought but rarely-presented opportunity to change it had been given. “But I might if the one witch I was interested in actually realised it.”
The ensuing silence was deafening, and for a terrible moment, Harry was sure Hermione had not understood him. She stared down at her parchment, quill poised in hand, as her gaze swept across it for errors. Several seconds passed in complete silence before she spoke. “Perhaps if you’d actually bothered to indicate in the slightest that you were interested in said witch, she’d have told you she felt the same way.”
Harry’s eyes were firmly trained on Hermione and he shifted closer on the lounge until their thighs were touching.
“So, if I was to tell the witch in question that I was afraid it would ruin our friendship, what would she say?”
He saw Hermione breathe in and out deeply, her gaze still averted. “She’d say... she’s say she was scared, too. But that her feelings for him were strong enough that she would be willing to risk it.”
Harry raised his hand and let it rest softly on her thigh, pushing her skirt up, his thumb stroking her skin lightly. “Now that I know, I wish I’d said something sooner.”
Hermione dropped the quill and tentatively put her hand over his, lacing their fingers together. “So does she,” she whispered. “But she’s sure all could be forgiven if he kissed her.”
Finally, she raised her eyes to meet his, and Harry was dismayed to see tears pooling in hers. “Don’t cry, my Hermione,” he said gently, lifting his free hand up to wipe away the lone tear which had escaped. “Better late than never.”
Hermione merely nodded, and Harry placed his free hand on her cheek, drawing her closer. He slowly leaned in and tilted his head, and as he got closer, Hermione breathed out and closed her eyes. Harry pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and she let out a mewling sound, and when he did it again to the other side, she whimpered.
When he still hadn’t kissed her a few seconds later, Hermione opened her eyes again, and it was only then that he closed the distance between them and kissed her lips.
They stayed that way for a few moments, lips merely pressed together, Harry’s fingers stroking her cheek. When they separated, Hermione licked her lips, as if to savour the taste of him, and it was the sight of her tongue which pushed him to kiss her again.
He coaxed her mouth open, and when her tongue shyly ventured out to touch his, Harry couldn’t help but let out a low moan. Hermione immediately pulled back, unceremoniously breaking the kiss.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked breathlessly, her cheeks pink and her eyes wide.
Harry tried not to laugh. “Of course not. You did everything right, Hermione. Relax.” He pulled her onto his lap and she placed one arm around his shoulders as his arms went around her waist. “Can we try again?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, please.” She gave him a small smile, and Harry grinned back at her before leaning in once more and kissing her again. Their smiles faded as they took the time to leisurely explore each other’s mouths, and when Harry moaned this time, Hermione did too. Between his tongue in her mouth and his fingers on her bare skin, Hermione wasn’t altogether sure she wasn’t going to spontaneously combust on the spot.
She had no idea how long they’d been kissing when they finally separated. “So, does this mean I have a love life now?” Harry quipped, making Hermione smile and blush at the same time.
“I guess so. I certainly hope you’re not planning on doing this with anyone else, though,” she came back with, lightly smacking his arm.
“No.” His mouth was still curved in a smile but his eyes were completely serious. “There’s never been anyone else.”
Hermione’s arm tightened around his shoulders. “Not even Cho?” she asked softly.
“Teenage crush,” Harry answered, pressing a kiss in the curve between her neck and shoulder, then trailing more kisses up her neck.
“You’re still a teenager now,” Hermione pointed out.
“True,” Harry said agreeably. “But I was never in love with Cho.”
This made Hermione freeze in his arms, and he could almost see her heart skipping a beat. “You… you’re… ”
“Yes, Hermione. I’ve loved you as my friend for a very long time; now, I think I might love you as something more.”
Hermione smiled, the kind of smile that made Harry warm all over. The kind of smile he’d never seen her give anyone before and was fairly sure she would only ever give him in the future.
“I love you too, Harry Potter,” she answered, favouring him with a kiss. “Even if you are a bit slow.”
He pinched her bum for her impudence, making her squeal and jump on his lap. “Better late than never,” he said, and the mood was serious again.
“Yes,” Hermione said, “Better late than never.”
When their lips met again, the matter of being late was all but forgotten.
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Written for laurenhealy.
The flames dwindled in the fireplace as the two seventeen year olds sat hunched over numerous textbooks arranged just so on the table. The only sound other than the low crackling from the fire was the scratching of the quills as they worked in tandem, making notes.
Harry Potter yawned and straightened up, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s almost midnight,” he announced, glancing at his watch. “I really should get some sleep.”
“Thanks for staying, Harry,” his best friend of seven years said. “It’s so much easier to study with someone else.”
“I don’t dare not stay when you’re cracking the whip, Hermione,” he answered dryly, moving to avoid her hand as it reached out to smack him for his impertinence.
“Ron wasn’t too concerned,” she said with a slight pout, her annoyance at their best friend’s early exit still evident.
“He had better things to do with his time,” Harry responded almost wistfully. Both occupants of the room knew Ron had skived off studying a few hours earlier to make out with his Ravenclaw girlfriend. “I can’t say I blame him. I know what I’d rather be doing.”
Harry blanched as soon as he realised what he’d said; he really didn’t want to get onto the topic of love and snogging and girlfriends, especially in front of the one person he really wanted to experience all of the above with.
Harry hadn’t admitted his feelings for Hermione had changed until the beginning of seventh year when Ron had sat him down one night and point blank refused to let it go until Harry had admitted it. Saying the words out loud -- I think I might like Hermione more than just a friend -- had somehow made them real and tangible, whereas just saying them in his head allowed him to pretend that perhaps they weren’t true.
He glanced over at Hermione as she stared at him. She sported grey circles under her eyes from lack of sleep; all she had done since returning to Hogwarts for their final year was spend every spare minute studying. He knew she would sometimes be up until two in the morning revising; and her being offered the position of Head Girl had allowed her the luxury of her own room, away from the main dormitories, which meant she could study undisturbed. Despite the grey under her eyes and the paleness of her skin and the fact her hair appeared to be the bushiest it had ever been, Harry couldn’t help but think she was still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.
Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.
So what she said next couldn’t have shocked him more. “It’s not like you couldn’t be out doing that, you know.”
Harry’s mouth opened slightly and he swallowed several times before answering with a highly undignified, “What?”
“Snogging. There’s dozens of girls - and I daresay, a few boys - who would give their right arm to kiss The Boy Who Lived.” His mouth must still have been open because Hermione laughed. “Oh, come on, Harry. Don’t tell me you don’t know that!”
“I-- I--” He tried to talk, but no sound would come out.
“Harry,” Hermione said in a tone that might have indicated she was talking to a small child. “Please don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You aren’t known as the most eligible wizard in the castle for nothing.”
Harry snapped out of his trance. “I didn’t realise my love life was so widely speculated upon.”
With the aplomb that only one who was close to him could get away with, Hermione gave him a cheeky grin. “What love life, Potter?”
“Bite your tongue, woman,” he said, huffing indignantly. “I have a love life.”
They both knew he was lying through his teeth, but Hermione was wise enough to greet the declaration with only the raise of an eyebrow.
“Okay, fine, I don’t,” Harry admitted, picking up a cushion and aiming it at Hermione’s head. As she ducked, he realised that the often-sought but rarely-presented opportunity to change it had been given. “But I might if the one witch I was interested in actually realised it.”
The ensuing silence was deafening, and for a terrible moment, Harry was sure Hermione had not understood him. She stared down at her parchment, quill poised in hand, as her gaze swept across it for errors. Several seconds passed in complete silence before she spoke. “Perhaps if you’d actually bothered to indicate in the slightest that you were interested in said witch, she’d have told you she felt the same way.”
Harry’s eyes were firmly trained on Hermione and he shifted closer on the lounge until their thighs were touching.
“So, if I was to tell the witch in question that I was afraid it would ruin our friendship, what would she say?”
He saw Hermione breathe in and out deeply, her gaze still averted. “She’d say... she’s say she was scared, too. But that her feelings for him were strong enough that she would be willing to risk it.”
Harry raised his hand and let it rest softly on her thigh, pushing her skirt up, his thumb stroking her skin lightly. “Now that I know, I wish I’d said something sooner.”
Hermione dropped the quill and tentatively put her hand over his, lacing their fingers together. “So does she,” she whispered. “But she’s sure all could be forgiven if he kissed her.”
Finally, she raised her eyes to meet his, and Harry was dismayed to see tears pooling in hers. “Don’t cry, my Hermione,” he said gently, lifting his free hand up to wipe away the lone tear which had escaped. “Better late than never.”
Hermione merely nodded, and Harry placed his free hand on her cheek, drawing her closer. He slowly leaned in and tilted his head, and as he got closer, Hermione breathed out and closed her eyes. Harry pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and she let out a mewling sound, and when he did it again to the other side, she whimpered.
When he still hadn’t kissed her a few seconds later, Hermione opened her eyes again, and it was only then that he closed the distance between them and kissed her lips.
They stayed that way for a few moments, lips merely pressed together, Harry’s fingers stroking her cheek. When they separated, Hermione licked her lips, as if to savour the taste of him, and it was the sight of her tongue which pushed him to kiss her again.
He coaxed her mouth open, and when her tongue shyly ventured out to touch his, Harry couldn’t help but let out a low moan. Hermione immediately pulled back, unceremoniously breaking the kiss.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked breathlessly, her cheeks pink and her eyes wide.
Harry tried not to laugh. “Of course not. You did everything right, Hermione. Relax.” He pulled her onto his lap and she placed one arm around his shoulders as his arms went around her waist. “Can we try again?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, please.” She gave him a small smile, and Harry grinned back at her before leaning in once more and kissing her again. Their smiles faded as they took the time to leisurely explore each other’s mouths, and when Harry moaned this time, Hermione did too. Between his tongue in her mouth and his fingers on her bare skin, Hermione wasn’t altogether sure she wasn’t going to spontaneously combust on the spot.
She had no idea how long they’d been kissing when they finally separated. “So, does this mean I have a love life now?” Harry quipped, making Hermione smile and blush at the same time.
“I guess so. I certainly hope you’re not planning on doing this with anyone else, though,” she came back with, lightly smacking his arm.
“No.” His mouth was still curved in a smile but his eyes were completely serious. “There’s never been anyone else.”
Hermione’s arm tightened around his shoulders. “Not even Cho?” she asked softly.
“Teenage crush,” Harry answered, pressing a kiss in the curve between her neck and shoulder, then trailing more kisses up her neck.
“You’re still a teenager now,” Hermione pointed out.
“True,” Harry said agreeably. “But I was never in love with Cho.”
This made Hermione freeze in his arms, and he could almost see her heart skipping a beat. “You… you’re… ”
“Yes, Hermione. I’ve loved you as my friend for a very long time; now, I think I might love you as something more.”
Hermione smiled, the kind of smile that made Harry warm all over. The kind of smile he’d never seen her give anyone before and was fairly sure she would only ever give him in the future.
“I love you too, Harry Potter,” she answered, favouring him with a kiss. “Even if you are a bit slow.”
He pinched her bum for her impudence, making her squeal and jump on his lap. “Better late than never,” he said, and the mood was serious again.
“Yes,” Hermione said, “Better late than never.”
When their lips met again, the matter of being late was all but forgotten.