By the Fire

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Hermione crept as quietly as she could out of her dorm room and down the spiral staircase to the common room. There he was; waiting for her, just as he always had every night prior. An invisible chill swept past her as she observed Harry, standing in front of the fire with his hands in the pockets of his robes. He smiled as he turned to face her, apparently sensing her presence. Silhouetted against the fire's luminosity his dark hair and green eyes gave him a striking but handsome contrast. He strolled up to her casually and rested his hand on the small of her back, steering her to an empty couch.

They sat in companionable silence as the fire died down, until the room was lit only by a faint orange-red glow. In the dim light they laid there with her back against his chest. She could hear the rhythmic beating of his heart and feel the of his body against her. Their fingers intertwined as they watched the glowing coals slowly die. Before it died completely, he took out his wand and lit the grate once again.

Once the fire was burning brightly once more, she sat up and turned to him.

"Harry, do you think we'll ever tell people about..." She looked doggedly at him, this wasn't something they ever bought up much, it seemed to out of place during their illicit midnight meetings. The time that they spent together long after everyone had gone to bed was their time.

He looked at her and shrugged pulling her closer to him. "Does it matter Hermione?" He asked, a bit huskily. He looked as though he would say more, but instead leaned forward his lips hovering above hers. Hermione felt her eyes closing against her will and her body closing the small gap that had been between them. The contact was soft, gentle, and tingly at first. It was natural, and downright intoxicating. The more he fulfilled her need of him the more she needed. Harry pulled her on top of him and ran his hands down her back. Hermione was dizzy and beside herself, for once in her life she ceased to think and merely acted. Interacting like this with Harry brought many analogies to her mind, her lips tingled like there were minuscule Filibuster Fireworks being set off and her tummy felt warm as if she had downed a warm butterbeer...

"GRANGER!"

Hermione jerked from her daydream and into the less pleasant present, realizing that she was still in the middle of potions class. She looked up to see Snape glowering down at her. She felt embarrassed and as if a particularly cold slimy cup of Snape had been tossed on her. Blinking rapidly she sat up straight, trying hard to ignore the malicious looks of glee that the Slytherins were throwing her.

"Miss Granger, would you be so kind as to repeat the question I just asked you?" Snape said with the air of a serpent up to no good.

"Er...Uh," she looked up into Snape's beady, glaring eyes and quailed, "I didn't hear the question professor," she mumbled meekly.

Snape and the other Slytherin's faces lit with evil glee. "Apparently," he said in a slimy, quiet voice, leaning forward towards his victim, "Miss Granger doesn't know everything." He grimaced (which in Snape-land was probably a smile) and continued. "However, I will give you a chance to redeem yourself if you answer me this. What pathetic little boy were you thinking about that you were drooling over your homework like the silly little girl that you are? My bets (are on) on Potter here."

The Slytherins were having silent fits of laughter across the dungeon. Malfoy, delighted at the idea of Hermione undergoing humiliation, leaned forward in anticipation.

Hermione felt the color rising undeniably in her cheeks as she stammered and looked down at her desk. Embarrassing enough as this was, it was ten times worse that Harry (who was blushing ever so slightly) and Ron were on either side of her, apparently waiting for her answer too.

"Who says it had anything to do with a boy?" she spat with defiance. Snape only sneered at her.

"Miss Granger, do yourself a favor. Go drool over Harry Potter," he stopped at this point to throw Harry one of his signature looks of loathing before continuing, "and what not on your own time, and stop wasting mine."

Hermione looked down at the desk as the bell rang and students began to file out. Had she really been that obvious? Maybe it was just Snape, he sometimes gave the impression of being able to read minds. She slowly began to put her books back into her bag when Snape's voice penetrated her thoughts for the second time that afternoon.

"Granger! Potter!" he barked, "Get out of my classroom already. Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

Hermione stood and noticed for the first time that she and Harry were the only ones left in the room besides Snape. Harry pocketed something from off her desk then picked up her knapsack and quickly escorted her out of Snape's classroom.

They headed toward the Great Hall for lunch and it was Harry who broke the silence.

"Don't mind Snape, you know he's just a pretentious git"

Hermione expelled a long breath, "I know Harry, but he's right." Immediately she realized her slip up, and judging by Harry's look of mild astonishment, he had heard it.

"He's what?"

Hermione's eyes swelled, "I meant you're right. Absolutely and totally right. Very right. Not left, but right." Harry gave her a dubious look as she continued to babble. She inhaled and tried to start again, "I just feel stupid now."

Harry looked nonplused, "About Potions class or your wonderful display of directions just now?"

Hermione's face warmed, and not for the first time that day. "About every that happened in the last five minutes," she mumbled irritably.

Harry's face softened as they stopped outside of the doors of the Great Hall, "Hermione, relax, it's no big deal." He handed her back her knapsack and placed his hand on her forearm. "This may be hard for you to believe, but us regular people feel quite stupid on a daily basis. Now we just know you're normal," he smiled at her and tucked a loose section of hair behind her ear.

She smiled ruefully and stepped forward to hug him. "Thanks Harry, you've got a way of putting petty things in perspective," she said as she wrapped her arms around his torso.

He returned the gesture and mumbled something inaudible into her hair.

Hermione looked up, "What was that Harry?"

Harry shifted ever so slightly in the uncomfortable silence, "So, what were you thinking about?" he ventured once again, this time a little louder.

Hermione tensed under him and broke their embrace. How could she tell him? It would probably make him feel uncomfortable, as well as making her uncomfortable, and she'd had enough of that for one day. Her voice seemed a bit trapped in her throat but gaping like a goldfish didn't seem like an option for an innocent question. Instead she blurted the first thing that came to her mind-

"The library!"

Harry raised his eyebrows but caught himself and recovered. "The library? You're worrying me, because the last time I checked, the library wasn't that much of an... arousing place... well," he considered, "It wasn't much of anything except some dusty books, but if that is your idea of a swingin' good time then who am I to stop you?"

Hermione shook her head, "No, not like that, I meant, I just remembered that I had... a... an...Er...."

"Book?" Harry offered.

"Er...yeah! One of those... due...now" She looked down the empty hallway and then back at Harry, whose expression suggested that she seek help, and continued to stammer away.

"I'll see you later?" she asked, now wishing she was somewhere else.

" Yeah," He hesitated for a second, but he seemed to discard his thought and opened the doors to the Great Hall. She turned and scurried off toward the library with the odd feeling that she had heard slight disappointment in his voice.

***

Hours later Hermione sat in the company of herself staring at the dimly glowing embers of the fire as though they held all the answers of the universe. Somewhere, she thought vaguely, the deities of hypocrisy were at work. Hermione had always condemned all the air headed girls of her dorm for floating around like beings without substance or sense, who fawned over the male species...and yet she found her eyes glazing over as her mind actively pursued thinking about Harry.

The annoying thing about self doubt and inhibition, she had figured, was that it often prohibited you from making your own opportunities. Every night she thought about what it would be like to be with her best friend and then the myriad of ways their relationship would blossom. Having feelings for another person was like some sort of paradox. She pondered. How else could you both want a person to be with you and not want them to know that you like them at the same time?

How long would this discombobulating of her senses continue? She wondered. Would he one day feel the same way, or would her feelings just die out slowly like the blood red tinder in the hearth?

Ironically, as she was thinking, the flames leapt back to life with lustful abandon. Hermione jumped slightly and turned to see her company.

Harry pocketed his wand and stood in front of the couch, "Mind if I sit?" he asked, somewhat timidly. Hermione scooted sideways on the couch to make room for him. Once he was seated he took something out of his pocket and handed it to Hermione.

She held the piece of parchment that he handed her in her hand but didn't open it immediately.

"So what brings you down here at," she checked her watch, "one o'clock in the morning?"

"I was bored," he replied lamely.

"Bored?" she asked incredulously, "How could you be bored? It's called sleeping. It's what people do at the end of the day...."

"Well for what it's worth, it wasn't here with you. So sue me."

Hermione honestly couldn't find a good rebuke to that. She instead flushed and fumbled with unfolding the parchment he had handed her.

He watched her face as her brows furrowed in confusion.

"These are just my potion notes Harry, how did you get them?"

Harry bowed his head. In the dim firelight he had a healthy glow about him she noticed. "It's not everyday that I see my name covered in hearts and flowers and...." he trailed off and looked down at his hands, "I filched it off your desk when you weren't looking. I'm sorry though."

Hermione looked down, frozen yet again by discomfiture. Apparently she had been absentmindedly doodling her feelings for the whole world to see.

"Oh my," she moaned miserably. "You must think I am some horrible Harry obsessed git and now our friendship will be ruined and you'll think of me as some hormonal nonsensical girl who went off the deep end." She looked away from him at this point and hid her face in her hands.

There was silence for a second and Hermione had to peak between her fingers just to make sure he was still there.

He moved closer to her and took her hand in his and laced their fingers.

"Do I get a say in this?"

Caught off guard, Hermione gaped at him. "D'you what?"

"Maybe I felt flattered when I saw that," he said quietly, moving closer to her. "Maybe I'm not head over heels in love with you," he paused and looked her in the eyes, "yet... but maybe...."

Hermione blinked. They were pretty close now, but she couldn't remember quite how they'd gotten that way. On that note, she didn't particularly care either. "Maybe what?" she breathed in a hopeful tone.

He inhaled softly. "Maybe..."

Suddenly the physical space between them was gone, and there seemed to be no reason to finish the sentence. Sometimes actions speak louder (and are more fulfilling) then words. The magnetism between them was undeniable. Hermione found that the zing, the zest, and the excitement of kissing Harry was immeasurably better in real life. They sat together on the couch until the only thing left of the fire was smoldering ashes. Indeed, oblivion is blissful when there's some one to share it with.

FIN