Inevitable

"And then after you say the words, you have to flick your wand like this, no... don't jerk it so much... you flick... good... good..."

Hermione bent her head over the book she was reading, her hair falling over her face. Harry shifted uncomfortably, trying to will his mind on the task at hand.

"And then... let's see... Oh, my... it says we need to be able to control the elements. Harry! That's--that's terribly difficult, that is!"

Distraught, Hermione bit her lip, flipping pages in her book, eyes scanning them in a matter of seconds.

"This all takes so much practice. The problem is, we simply don't have time. We're not in a classroom environment. Honestly, tramping all over the globe looking for horcruxes is simply not the best way to study for N.E.W.T.'s." Hermione glared at the book like it had done her great insult.

Harry stifled a yawn, trying to appear concerned for Hermione's sake.

"Mmhmm," he said.

His eyes drifted down to her plated skirt, stopping just below the knee. When she sat cross-legged, he had a nice view of her thighs.

"But it's really worth doing, isn't it? Isn't it, Harry?"

She looked up at him, face screwed up in worry, and so he nodded, trying to look sincere.

"Of course it is," he said.

"Oh, I knew you would understand," she said, beaming. "You always had it in you, you know. I bet you would have been a great student, if only you had put more effort into your studies..."

Hermione trailed off as she contemplated that aspect of his personality before breaking into a wide smile again.

"It is nice that we can do this together," she said. "Not that there would have been anything wrong with Ron being here, but he... lacks focus, Harry."

"Yeah?" Harry said.

She nodded emphatically. "Besides, I like that this is something the two of us get to share together. Just us."

Harry unconsciously licked his lips, his eyes drifting again to her thigh, before he forced himself to focus on her face.

"Yeah... right... just us..."

He trailed off, feeling a little ill. Hermione went back to her book, not noticing anything amiss.

He wasn't sure why he agreed to this. Nearly ten months of searching for horcruxes had Harry stumbling onto more-than-platonic feelings for his best friend. Their hunt had forced them to depend on each other in ways they never had before. They'd had to share a bed, a bathroom, and everything else in between.

He'd always known Hermione was an integral part of his life. He couldn't imagine existence without her. But now he was thinking of her in ways he never had before. And he couldn't stop. Some part of him felt like it had to have been a matter of time. They were as close as two people could be--how could they possibly avoid this?

But there was Ron.

Ron.

Ron.

When he'd begun to fancy Ginny, he'd had to grapple with what it meant to be lusting after his best mate's little sister. Now he fancied his best mate's girl--and that was a line he couldn't cross.

Only he could.

That's what disturbed him.

He could. He would. And he didn't know if he cared.

"We should think about contacting the Ministry, you know," Hermione said. "I don't think we'd be able to take these at Hogwarts."

"Yeah. Good idea."

Satisfied, Hermione dove back into the book she was reading, a preparation for N.E.W.T. level Charms.

Despite their search for the horcruxes, Hermione had taken it into her head to continue studying for N.E.W.T.'s. She insisted that they were the key to their future in the post-Voldemort world.

She and Ron had a huge row over it--of course. Ron thought she was mental. They were far busy enough as it was. N.E.W.T.'s were part of a world they no longer belonged too--full of stuffy old men who had no comprehension of what it was like in the real world. They were learning far more destroying horcruxes than they ever would by studying "safe" spells.

Hermione burst into tears. She declared that Ron never supported her on anything and that it was important. Students had been studying for N.E.W.T.'s for centuries. They were integral to tapping into all parts of their magical potential.

In the interest of keeping the peace (a role Harry was growing tired of), he'd agreed to study for N.E.W.T.'s with Hermione--an arrangement that seemed to pacify both of them.

Hermione turned her head to the side, her tongue poking out from between her lips, her quill tapping against her cheek. Harry watched her, completely enthralled. His attraction to her was something he couldn't understand. It was like it was lying in wait, all this time, biding its time, waiting until she belonged--irrevocably--to someone else.

Ron.

Ron.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you... why are you looking at me like that?"

Her voice trembled. She was biting her lip, rolling it back and forth in her teeth. Her hand clutched her knee, the quill lying forgotten beside her.

"Looking at... I... what?"

She swallowed, her eyes widening ever-so-slightly. There was a small circle of black ink on her chin.

Wantherneedherofflimits.

Don't care.

He moved closer to her. She watched him silently as he rubbed at the ink. He let his fingers linger on her face, his eyes studying her until she blushed.

"Harry..." she whispered. "We--uh--we--have... we have to study."

He pushed the book away. "No, we don't."

She looked flustered. "Yes, we do."

"Why?"

Her mouth dropped, her eyes growing brighter. "To keep up! Our studies are important, you know, Harry--"

"I know," he interrupted. "I'm here, aren't I?"

She faltered, her mouth opening and closing. "Well... yes, you are... but that doesn't--"

"You feel it too," he said.

He couldn't look away from her eyes. He let his hand cup her cheek, his fingers brushing in small circles.

"Feel what?" she said, cutting her eyes away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar."

He cupped her other cheek, framing her face in his hands.

"Harry..." her voice is high-pitched. "Whatever you're implying, it's simply not the case."

He let himself smile, closing the distance between them until his chest was brushing up against her breasts. She didn't move away. Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders, her fingers gripping him so hard they dug into his skin.

"I'm with Ron," she whispered. "Harry, I'm with Ron."

"So what?"

"So...?" she said, agitation making her face screw up. "I can't--not with you--especially not with you."

"Ron isn't here, Hermione," he said coldly. "I'm here. You said it yourself. He never supports you. Frankly, I'm sick of it--the way you two treat each other. I hate it. I won't break up any more fights--I won't stand in and be your punching bag. Not anymore."

Her mouth dropped. "What--you--you can hardly--"

He kissed her, feeling her go stiff against him before relaxing. He pushed himself closer, letting her feel his desperation, theneedwanthave.

He felt her cheeks heat up under his palms. Her lips were warm against him and he moaned, feeling dizzy. He barely noticed when her arms slid around his neck, her fingers tickling the back of his head.

He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, keeping his eyes fastened on hers.

You can stop me if you want.

She didn't stop him.

He kept kissing her, letting his hand drift down from her cheek, slide down her shoulder, her side, resting on her hip. The other hand wound its way into her hair, his finger splaying between her curls.

He pushed her down to the floor, feeling her writhe and shift beneath him. His lips found the hollow of her throat and he scraped his teeth against her skin, listening to her breathy moans, the harsh pant of his name as she whispered it over and over again.

His fingers found her breasts, the pad of his thumbs swirling around her nipples until he squeezed and she hissed.

Her hands reached blindly for one of her books, her fingers enclosing around its leather-bound cover. A bottle of ink fell over, splashing over the floor, its dark liquid spreading towards them.

The ink reminded him of her. She didn't say anything as it seeped into the pages of her beloved books, staining the words she loved so much.

They kissed again, slower this time, letting lips meet and linger. They smiled against each other's mouths, lying in the pile of ink and books and practice N.E.W.T.'s exams.

And this was what he had spent so much time thinking about. He opened his mouth wider, letting her tongue explore him.

She broke their kiss and looked at him, her cheeks flushed, and that's when he felt it. Her hand brushed against the bulge in his trousers and an odd chocking noise escaped his throat.

Her lips tightened together and he thought he might beg or demand or gocompletelyinsane. But she pulled her hand away and he could see the resignation written in her eyes.

"Ron's in the next room," she whispered. "Ron... and he's... and I'm..." She shook her head. "I don't understand what's happening."

He kissed her cheek and then her chin (he couldn't seem to stop, he didn't seem to care about Ron), and she turned her head to meet his lips, their kisses soft and sweet.

"It's not right that you're with him," he mumbled. "S'not how it's supposed to be."

"We're not supposed to be, Harry," she said back, her voice firm. "We both know it."

"Fine," he said. "But it's happened, anyway. Don't tell me it hasn't."

She blinked and then pushed her forehead to his, drawing in a shuddery breath. "Like this, it's wrong."

"I know," he said.

He wasn't sure if he was telling the truth.

"He's your best friend."

"I know," he said again.

"He's my..." her voice broke. "I don't know. I thought he was what I wanted... once..."

They kissed, struggling to connect, to get closer, the danger of being caught, of knowing Ron was rightthere adding to the fuel.

Her nose bumped against his glasses and they pulled away. Her breath warmed his face and she hooked her arms around his neck, giving him a sad smile.

"We can't ever tell him."

"I know."

"This doesn't change--"

"It changes everything," he said. "You'll break up with him."

"What?" she said, pulling back. "I--I can't... you can't boss me around!"

His words were quiet. "You'll break up with him because if you think I can watch you with him now... then I've been giving you too much credit all these years."

She looked away and he saw tears beginning to glisten in her eyes.

He didn't apologize.

He touched her cheek with his fingers, turning her head around to look at him. The pads of his fingers made small circles over her skin. He felt his heart swell at having her so open and vulnerable to him.

"You're going to make me choose, aren't you?" she said.

"I won't make you do anything."

She gave a bitter laugh. "It's written all over your face, Harry. You think you're so good at covering up your emotions, but you're not, you never have been."

"You don't mean that."

She squeezed her eyes shut and leans forward, resting her chin on his shoulder. She gave a deep sigh. "Oh, my. Look at us. I never thought..."

"Me neither."

"I don't know why you feel the need to ask," she said. "You already know who I'm going to choose. You knew the moment you kissed me."

He stayed silent, allowing himself the simple pleasure of holding her, her heart beating next to his own.

"You knew," she said. "You knew even before I did."

His voice was a croak. "I did."

He looked at the ink spread out on the floor--long tendrils of ink reaching and sliding towards them.

She shivered and kissed his shoulder. Above them, the floor creaked.

It could be Ron.

It could be the house.

It could be his own imagination.

But she belonged to him.

It was inevitable that it'd come to this.