Always

Always

"Hermione?"

It seemed as though time slowed to a halt, as did the beating of her heart, and as hard as she'd tried not to be one of those girls that melts at hearing the voice of the one she loves, it was harder than it seemed. A lump of tears formed in her throat, and she knew that when he'd gone into hiding, he'd taken a piece of her away. And now, now that she was back... that she'd found him... No, Hermione. He's just Harry. Just... Harry. Then why am I so scared? Suddenly she understood.

"Hermione... what... are you doing here?" she heard the crack in his voice as he tried to regain his composure, and she turned to look at him, taking in the way his eyes still were that penetrating shade of green that made her feel as though he were taking apart her soul piece by piece and examining it.

"I came to see you, Harry," she said, her voice quivering. Before she knew it, her arms were around him, and she was crying into his shoulder, murmuring how she'd missed him so, and how she needed to talk to him so many times and he wasn't there. She felt the way he held her against him, one hand tangled in her hair while the other gripped her waist, and she lifted her face to look up at him. It was then she noticed how pale he seemed, how thin he'd become. Oh, he still had muscles left from Quidditch and Defense training, but his facial features were very prominent - more prominent than they should have been. His hair was longer than it used to be.

"You're freezing, come on inside," he ushered her into the cottage and after closing the door, turned to face her. She quickly wiped away the stains of her tears. They stood there, staring at each other for a few moments, the tension growing. Something inside her hurt, and she was torn with emotion - one side of her battled for her to tell him she loved him, while the other battled for her to tell him she hated him - hated him for leaving the wizarding world to become a recluse, a hermit.

"Er - do you want something to drink?" he offered finally, his eyes wide and Hermione almost laughed. For now, she could see what Ron had meant when he said 'terrified' - Harry looked as though he were going to fight Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and a thousand Dementors at the same time. While she was heartened somewhat by this, it almost made her nervous as all Hades. She wasn't sure she wanted to be an object of fear for him.

"I'd love some iced pumpkin juice," she replied. "You know, I had some Firewhiskey tonight," she thought it would be all fine and dandy after that, but her mouth became a separate entity, and she continued, "and I don't really understand why people like it so much. It feels like you're going to spontaneous combust, or that you are. I mean, what can be so wonderfully appealing about getting drunk off a liquid that makes you feel like that? It would get you feeling even worse about life if you felt shitty enough to drink it in the first place." Her hand clamped over her mouth. She'd not cursed in front of him before, and she saw he was surprised, his eyes now the size of saucers.

"Well, that's... interesting. Why on earth did you drink it?" Harry finally asked, and started to make his way into the kitchen. She followed him.

"I just had a break-up," she waved her hand. "He'd left it, so I figured, why not? I'm sorry I just, er, 'enlightened' you with that fantastic story." He laughed and handed her a bottle of iced pumpkin juice, taking another out for himself. She took a long swig, releshing in the flavor of the drink that washed away the taste of the Firewhiskey that still lingered in her mouth.

"I think I've missed you." They made their way into the living room, both sitting on the sofa.

"Harry, -"

"No, Hermione, I know what you're going to ask," he set down his bottle. "And the answer is that I needed to self-reflect."

"For six years?" He sighed, staring down at the carpet, or something on or around the floor. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, it's really none of my business."

"No, it is your business." She raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because... just... I can't. Not right now."

"Harry." She placed a hand beneath his chin, lifting his head so he was looking at her. And as she did, there was that Bludger-in-the-face feeling again, and her lips tingled. She knew that he was nervous, for he kept swallowing and his eyes were darkened to a forest-green color, a color even deeper than they'd gotten when he was fighting Death Eaters.

"What is it? Your face looks flushed." He observed, his voice thick and somewhat hoarse.

"Don't you know?" he shook his head, and she leaned in, pressing her mouth to his. His lips were soft and perfect, and she was only dimly aware of his left hand entangling in her hair, concentrating instead on the way he was kissing her back and the hand that was pulling her against him, before starting to undo the clasp of her cloak, sliding it off her shoulders. As his hand slipped up beneath her sweater over the heated skin of her back, she drew back, her lips feeling bee-stung from the pressure of his mouth.

"Harry, Ron told me that you were terrified of a girl you loved, back in seventh year. And tonight, I remembered that night, at the Burrow. Do you remember? You were telling me about the girl, but you couldn't tell me, and... you almost kissed me. Or so I thought it was.Was... was the girl me?" her voice seemed somewhat squeaky at this last sentence, and she heard his sharp intake of breath.

"It was," he breathed. "And it still is."

"Why are you so terrified then?"

"I never asked to fall in love with you, Hermione!" he exclaimed, standing and walking to the window. "You think I wanted to fall in love with my best friend, so Rita Skeeter could be joyously happy and everyone would say they knew it would happen and I thought with hiding I wouldn't feel this way about you anymore? I've thought about you every day since I went into hiding, Hermione, and seeing you tonight... it brought back a lot of memories, and nothing could have prepared me for this. It is in this way that I'm terrified of you - I've worked so hard to please everybody these years, but you... you're so very hard to please, and you've got your expectations and your rules you follow. It's harder to love you than you think. I'm terrified also because I knew if I admitted my love for you, even to myself, Voldemort would somehow know and come after you." He turned to face her. She knew tears were streaming steadily down her face, but she didn't care, and she did nothing to wipe them away.

"Harry!" she cried. "You didn't think I wasn't already in danger, did you? I stayed your best friend knowing all the risks that might come with it, and I was fully prepared to die if it meant being with you. I thought you didn't want to be with me, that you had fallen in love and I wasn't who you wanted to fall in love with. You know you don't have to do anything to please me," she said quietly.

"How the hell am I supposed to know that?"

"Because..." she walked over to him, "I love you." Without thinking, she leaned up and kissed him. His fingers traced patterns on the small of her back, and she knew then she would not be anywhere else other than here. Am I ready for a relationship, though? William just left... Harry could hurt you. Oh shut up, this is no time to get analytical. Here's Harry Potter in front of you, who's just kissed you, who's offering himself for your affections.

"Stay with me," he mumbled against her lips, his forehead resting against hers.

"Always."

***