Impressive Instant

Impressive Instant

"And I'd give up forever to touch you

'Cause I know you can feel me somehow

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment

And all I can breathe is your life

'Cause sooner or later is over

I just don't want to miss you tonight"

-Goo Goo Dolls

Grimmauld Place was a much more awful place to be these days. There was a certain feeling about the house that made Harry feel he didn't really want to be there. It had nothing to do with the people around or with whatever they said, for he really appreciated the fact that Hermione was there with him instead that with her parents; and that Ron... Well hadn't a choice as the whole Weasley family was in there too. It had everything to do with the house.

Harry never had had a good summer in his life, but he was sure this was going to beat all the others. There were the feelings of guilt and incompetence. Feelings that, along with the nightmares had only intensified the moment he arrived at Grimmauld Place; and that only made the house a worst place to be.

Nevertheless, when Harry awoke that morning after his arrival at Number Twelve, the house felt a lot warmer that it had felt the day before.

He didn't realised Ron wasn't in bed until he walking down the stairs and found the entrance and the living room totally empty. He entered the kitchen believing he was dreaming when he spotted Hermione making toast. She turned around then moment she heard the door. She was smiling broadly at him, her eyes twinkling.

"Hello!" she said. "I was thinking about waking you up, I've been waiting for you,"

"Where's everybody else?" he said in response.

"The Order's up in a meeting, and Ron left to Diagon Alley with the twins,"

"He left?" Harry asked looking at the pile of toast she had made.

"Yes, he wanted to wake you up, but Mrs Weasley told him not to," she replied her voice now lot less happy.

"Why?"

"She thought you needed the sleep," she said now disappointment all over her voice. "Do you want breakfast? 'Cause Mrs Weasley set everything but I was waiting for you,"

He raised his stare to look at her and found she wasn't smiling anymore.

"Yes thanks," he replied feeling a little guilty. "Look, I'm sorry I was that rude,"

"Yeah, Ok," she replied not looking at him, but serving a pile of toast, a bottle with jam and a bowl with butter. "Juice, tea or coffee?" she asked him. Her voice still colder than it was when he arrived.

"Pumpkin Juice?" said Harry.

"Me too," she smiled and turned to the sink. "Want to talk about it?"

He didn't need to ask what she wanted to talk about. He knew, and thought he had been unwilling to talk about it in June; once he found himself alone again in Privet Drive, he had felt a terrible urge to speak to her.

He would have given anything for only five minutes to talk with her. Only thing he considered was the fact that he was glad it was her who had brought up the subject.

Sure," he said as she placed a jar of Pumpkin Juice and two glasses in the table. She placed a covered plate in the table before sitting facing him. "What's in there?" he asked absently.

"Pumpkin Pie," she said. "Look, it's fine if you don't want to talk, I'd always would-"

"I said sure," he repeated cutting her off.

"You did?" she asked looking surprisingly at him. "Really?"

"Yes, I want to speak to you. Have been for a while now," he took a deep breath as he motioned to uncover the Pumpkin Pie, feeling as the knot in his throat he was getting used to being to tie. "I want you to know -"He trailed off not being able to cope with the knot. He glared down at his hand still clutched over the covered bowl.

He was still looking his hand when another hand a much more beautiful and tinier hand clutched it tightly. He followed the hand until he met her face and his eyes locked with hers. She squeezed his had slightly. And he felt that so encouraging he was sure the knot in his throat untied slightly.

"The prophecy," he said and she squeezed his hand again as he looked down at their hands over the table. "It never broke,"

She jumped slightly in her chair and laid her back against the headboard, but she didn't let go of his hand.

"But you said...-" she began but he cut her off.

"The record of the prophecy broke, not the prophecy, nor did its meaning," he looked up at her and the encouraging he felt everytime she squeezed his hand along with the look in her eyes allowed him to keep on speaking.

He found himself suddenly telling Hermione everything he had heard from Dumbledore last June; much more freely than he thought he would. He tried hard to keep looking at her hand over his instead of looking at her face, though at times, along the story, he found it impossible not to look in her eyes before continuing.

Although, whenever she gasped or opened her mouth in disbelief to cover it with her free hand a second later, he made sure he was looking at their hands over the table. Actually he made sure he was looking anywhere but her.

"So, by making it short," he said when he had finished with what Dumbledore had told him. "It's a thing out of two: He murders me or I murder him. All because he choose me," he breathed. "Got a mark on my forehead," he said angrily leaning back in his chair looking at their hands. He marveled at the protective way her hand was covering his. He wanted to point this out but couldn't find a way, so he stood quiet. He hesitated for a moment, but after a second thought, he turned his hand upwards and closed it over hers, entwining his fingers with hers.

The silence in the room was almost testable. Neither one of them seemed to recall the breakfast that was already cold. He broke the silence when he couldn't take its depth anymore.

"You've wondered why was I acting different since June, and it's not like I'm doing it on purpose. Only... I've always felt different from everybody else, but having a mark changed it all. See? I'm not just a different person; I feel like a different specie," he looked at her, the urge to point this out to her and how painful it was all over his face. If it had been anyone else he would have been ashamed to admit how painful it was but not with Hermione. Never with Hermione. "I don't feel like a person anymore. I feel my life is already taken. I can't choose what I want to do, because if I even take the chance to choose, I'll be murdered," a visible bunch of fear was spread on her face, but she remained silent. Harry knew it was taking her a great effort but she was doing it to allow him to pour it all out to her. And he was glad she was doing it so he kept talking.

"I don't feel I have the slightest bit of power over my own life. Do you understand it Hermione?" he clutched her hand tightly under his, turning to look at the window and feeling a cloud of water starting to block his view. "If I don't kill him, he kills me. But the thing's I don't know if I can kill him... because I don't know if I really want to," he closed his eyes to stop the tears and she squeezed his hand.

"I feel guilty, 'cause there's a part of me telling me I should want to kill him. I mean, he murdered my parents. And because of him Sirius is dead and Neville's parents insane, and you were hurt... you and Ron that is. And yet, I don't feel like it's within me to kill him... I don't know if I want to be a murderer," he opened his eyes to look at her, and what he found was way beyond his wildest dreams. She was crying. It touched him so deeply that, even in his future years he was not able to explain why that happened. It wasn't the fact that she was crying. It was the way she was crying that touched him. The most deeply hurt and concern was visible in her face. Enormous tears kept falling out of her eyes and down her cheeks, wetting all her cheeks and her mouth, as well as the hand she kept over it. And yet, she was immersed in the greatest of silences.

It wasn't at all like when Cho cried, which by the way, he found annoying, because he had a feeling the reason Cho cried was to be noticed. It was beyond him why it was so touching but the sight of her gave him a tickling feeling that clutched his heart hard against his chest, as if his chest wasn't big enough to hold his heart inside. It was far too deeper to have Hermione crying in front of him, it was much too different. It was much too confidential, so much personal... it was intimate.

It surprised Harry that he had even thought of that word. He had never shared anything personal with anyone; he had never felt intimate with anyone in his life, ever. Until there were her, and he found himself pouring all his feelings out to her; and to find her crying with concern about him. That was just the word, intimate.

He interpreted her silence correctly and continued. Even though it took him a while to find the way his throat worked again.

"It's not my fault really that I've been so cold since June," he managed. "Only, Cedric died because of me, Sirius died because of me, and just for moments I thought you had... too... and just the bare thought of losing you is enough to...er...." he hesitated trying to find words to say what had felt to believe her death. He remembered being praying, begging "Please don't let her be death".

Not being able to think straight, he had not dared to look at her, though he had clutched her shoulder tight as if wanting to hold her life beside him. Suddenly all the fear he remembered poured out of him before he could stop it. He didn't bear the thought that they had killed her. "It's all because I'm the bloody boy who lived, the bloody guy with the save people thing," he yelled clutching her hand. "Because I'm the specimen that's got to save their bloody world," he lowered his gaze but before he could even fix it anywhere he heard her moving from her spot, still clutching his hand. He was barely aware of what she was doing when she moved his chair to kneel facing him. She took hold of his chin with her hand to make him direct his gaze at her. He found her eyes behind the tears and a serous though not angry expression in her face.

"Now you listen to me Harry James Potter," she said, tears still streaming out of her eyes but with all the Hermione determination he had grown to admire. "When I said that I did meant what you just said," he looked back at her amazed. The last time he had heard Hermione speak like that to anyone, it had been Draco Malfoy and she had slapped him in the face. "I don't care if you convinced yourself otherwise Harry, but to me, you are just as human as you were the day I met you,"

"Er... Hermione...I, er-"

"No Harry!" she stopped him. "Just the fact that you can feel and that you're pouring it all out to me makes you a human," she said her voice softening. She let go of his chin and began to rub his cheek. "Harry do you trust me?"

"Er... Hermione where-"

"Do you?"

"Er... yes, of course I do!" he said feeling outraged at the fact she had doubted he trusted her.

"Then believe me you're just as human as I am," she stated firmly all tears gone form her face. "You still have human needs and feelings like me and everybody else. Not wanting to kill him is just as human as fearing death," she was so confidence, Harry couldn't help but marvel at her.

It took him a while to realize he was rubbing her cheek as well, but when he realized it he found he was getting increasingly comfortable with it.

"I'm not scared of dying... I just don't want to," he whispered totally aware of his hand on her cheek now.

"You're not going to dye. I can tell," she stated firmly taking his face in her hand and squeezing his hand on the other. "Something in my heart tells me so. I trust it, because I trust you!" she went back to caress his face when she said that, a soft expression in her face.

Something he couldn't quite define about the way they were stroking each other's faces was too cozy to want to move his gaze from her eyes. It was something way beyond just right. But he wasn't able to put what it was into words so he muttered the only word that came to his mind could fit at the moment; even when it wasn't everything he had wanted to say.

"Thank you" he whispered.

"Harry, Oh Harry!" she whispered back. She let go of his hand and before he could complain she had thrown her arms around him and was resting her face in the crook of his neck. "Heaven knows you don't need to thank me anything," she whispered between sobs.

As hard as it was for him to believe, he found himself holding her back and hiding his face in her hair.

He could remember her clearly hugging him for the first time. "You're a great wizard... Me? Books and cleverness, there are more important things..." her hugging him at second year "You did it!" her smile at him after the first task. "You two are so stupid!" and her worries at London "It's just outrageous... They can't expel you, they just can't," he smiled to himself

"You always make everything look better," he heard himself saying.

"Well that's my job as a best friend, isn't?" she said, and he could have sworn she was smiling. He remembered her voice again "What if he's just trying to get you to the Department...? She was right. He had a saving people thing and that was how Voldemort had tricked him in there. "Harry I'm begging you, please!" And she had been right.

She had been right and he didn't tell her that.

"You were right," he said and she moved away to stare in his eyes. "When you though it was a trap," he said not letting go of her but keeping her close to him. "You were right,"

"You know I wish I hadn't," she said locking her gaze with his.

"And I wish I had believed you," he said heavily.

"You didn't know-"

"I don't want to see you hurt, Hermione," he said moving one of his hands form her back to her face. "I could not stand it,"

"Harry, nothing's going to happen...-"

"Hermione I just couldn't," he said getting closer to her. "I mean... I...er... I need you!"

"Harry... I don't know what to say," she said loser to him. He could still see water in her eyes.

"Say you'll never leave me," he begged her. "Hermione please...-"

"I couldn't," she said and she was so close to her he could feel her hot breath. "Because I need you too,"

And when it happened, it happened very fast. Because next thing he knew he had his lips against hers and it was just the best feeling he had ever had.

He had thrown his arms around her and was pressing her hard against him. The taste of her mouth inside his was not allowing him to think straight. A part of him was yelling at him, demanding to know the reason he was kissing his best friend in the world, and why was he enjoying it so much. Meanwhile the other part was telling him it was too good to even pretend to find a reason to do it. The feeling of her lips against his was not awkward, as it had been with Cho, but welcoming and familiar.

And when she moaned slightly and opened her mouth so that he was able to enter her mouth entirely; he felt he could kiss her until all breath was drawn away from him. He couldn't help but remembering her voice one last time. "Of course you're not"

And he smiled against her mouth happy enough she didn't think he was a bad kisser. The way she kissed him back told him so.

Please note:

The line saying that when it happened it happened very fast is from Lori's STNE

The last line I know someone used it before but I can't quite make who; so just to note is not mine.

The Line "I'm not scared of dying I just don't want to," is from Robbie Williams