Je crois...

Je crois des promenádes longes dans le pleut...

Harry tapped Hermione on the back. "Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked her.

She glanced out the window. "Is it still raining?"

"Only a little," said Harry. "Will you come?"

"I don't know," said Hermione hesitantly. "Are you sure you're up to it?"

Harry chuckled. "I'll be fine, Hermione. And there's something I need to tell you."

Hermione looked up and saw that his handsome face was creased with lines of worry. Finally, she said, "Okay. Let's go."

The two slipped out of the castle and began their solitary walk across the damp grounds, hand in hand. Hermione glanced sideways at Harry. She thought about how strong he was, and how brave. He had recently been very seriously injured, no one knew how, and Madame Pomfrey had not been optimistic that he'd survive. But he had, and even now, two months later, he showed no outward sign of his experience. She had a feeling that that was what he wanted to talk about.

He led her over to a stone bench under the shade of a willow tree, on the edge of the lake. "Sit down," he said, taking a seat. He coughed a little.

"Are you--" began Hermione worriedly.

"I'm fine," said Harry with a smile. "Hermione, I wanted to talk to you about something."

He clasped both her brown hands in his small, pale ones. "Hermione, Ron said you had't left the hospital wing since they brought me in. You didn't eat or sleep during that time, did you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I didn't talk, either. Why?"

Harry looked at her with concern. "Hermione, you're the one I should be asking if you're all right. Not eating or sleeping...you could've died. What were you thinking?"

"I wanted to be there if anything happened," admitted Hermione. "And I didn't want to be distracted by something as little as food." She scrutinised his face. "That's not what you wanted to talk about, is it?"

"No," admitted Harry. He looked deep into her brown eyes with his green ones. "I need to tell you what happened that day."

"Go ahead," whispered Hermione.

Harry took a deep breath and began. "I was heading up to the castle to change into my Quiddich robes, when I came on a group of people in black hoods."

"Death Eaters?" gasped Hermione.

"Well, that was my first though too, but they were our size. Anyway, one of them calls to me, in this voice I certainly don't recognise, 'Hey, Potter! Come and join us!' I figured they were Slytherins, so I said, 'Why do you want me to join you?' Their response surprised me. 'Because you're one of us. You are pureblood. You won't be harmed when Voldemort comes to power.' I pointed out that I was the one he was after, and he would go to power over my dead body--literally. Besides, my mother was a Muggle-born."

"Oh, yeah, I'd forgotten about that," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Keep going, Harry."

"Well, when they heard that, they shoved me into a mud puddle. They started shouting nasty names and throwing clumps of mud at me. Mud, stones, sticks--if it could be thrown, it was. They shot a few curses at me, too." The burns, thought Hermione. "Then one of them shoved mud down my throat, and I guess I fainted, because the next thing I knew, I was in the hospital wing six weeks later."

"Oh, Harry," cried Hermione softly, putting her arms around him. Harry put his arm around her, and they sat there crying quietly for several minutes. Then Harry folded Hermione closer to him...

And gave her one perfect kiss.