If It Hadn't Been For Hermione

Author's notes: This is a one-shot, hopefully fulfilling its duty to simply provide fluff to all.

***

Harry sat in front of the common room fire, staring into it and running his fingers through his hair. He leaned back in the squashy armchair he was sitting in and sighed.

It was becoming more and more frequent for Harry to be sitting up in the common room late at night (or rather, early in the morning). In his seventh year, there was so much to worry about... mysterious disappearances, deaths, and threats were everywhere. He would have completely given up on it all if it hadn't been for Hermione. She was there for him to help him solve problems and calm himself down. She made him see the good in everything.

"Harry?"

He jumped. Turning in his chair, he saw Hermione standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Oh, Hermione," he said. "You scared me."

"What are you doing up?" she asked, leaving her spot on the stairs and sitting by him in another chair.

"Er..." he began. "Just... thinking, you know."

"Harry," she said, placing a hand on his without hesitation. He flushed, and was glad for the dim, concealing light of the flames. "What's bothering you?"

"It's nothing," he said, trying to brush it off. In truth, it was very much something. He was beginning to realize just how much he cared about Hermione... and how much of those feelings were more than just friendly.

"It is something," she insisted. "I hate to see you this way, Harry. What's going on?"

He was silent. Then, "So, what'd you think of that exam in Charms, huh?"

She suppressed a smile. He wished she wouldn't. "Don't try to change the subject on me," she said. "Even if it is about classes."

"Sorry," he grinned. She smiled back. To him, she seemed to glow in the light of the fire. But then, her expression turned serious.

"But honestly, Harry," she said. "What's wrong?"

He sighed. Should he tell her the truth? No, not yet.

"Well," he said. "There's this girl. She's beautiful, clever, and so caring."

She looked confused. "Okay. What's the problem?"

"Well," he said, choosing his words carefully, "I really care about her, a lot. Maybe I love her. But she doesn't know how I feel, and I'm afraid she won't feel the same." He was now unbelievably aware that her hand was still on his.

"Well," she said slowly. "Have you thought about just telling her? What if she does feel the same?"

"But what if she doesn't?"

"I think she does, Harry."

He looked at her in surprise. "Hermione..."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it and closed her mouth again. She leaned towards him and softly pressed her lips against his own.

He felt his eyes close as he returned the kiss. He pulled away gently, taking her hand his both of his.

"Hermione," he said. "I love you."

She just looked at him, and he saw tears in her eyes. "I love you too," she whispered.

He gently wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled her into a hug. He held her tight and stroked her hair.

"I'm sorry," she murmured into his ear. "I'm not upset... I'm just really happy."

"So am I," he replied, kissing her forehead. She pulled away and they sat in silence, her leaning against him as they both looked into the flames.

And that's where they were found the next morning, fast asleep.