A Match Made In Heaven

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A Match Made In Heaven
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This is how it happens: one night, they both have just a little too much to drink. The atmosphere suddenly changes... he realizes she’s actually very attractive, she finds his chiseled features to be surprisingly appealing. They move closer, pushed by curiosity – and something else. He gently touches her face and –"

"No, no, no!” Gabriel slammed his fist against the table, sending the coffee in their mugs into a shaking frenzy. “You’re going at it all wrong! We can’t have them play out some clichéd scenario! We need this to be something beautiful and sweet and tender; something worthy of a love that knows no boundaries.”

“All right, all right!” Ezekiel threw his hands up in mock surrender, crushing the paper in his hand and throwing it into the wastebasket. “You’ve made your point, Mister Romantic-do-gooder. What do you have in mind? I’m all ears.”

“Well,” Gabriel started, “we want our assignment to overshadow everyone else’s, right? So first we assess the situation: observe their lives for a while, tune into their schedules, see what they like to do in their spare time …” He got to his feet and paced around the room, counting on his fingers. “We need to weigh our options, consider the possibilities -- and the consequences of each one, then come up with the most perfect solution, the one that would be the most earth-shattering of them all.”

“Gee, Gabi,” Ezekiel smiled sweetly, turning to face his partner, “that sounds fine if you talk fast, but may I remind you, my dear friend, that we’re on a time limit here? If we want that bonus,” he paused and narrowed his eyes at Gabriel, “which I’m sure we do, this deed has to be in the history books by next week! I don’t think we have time for assessments, inspections, contemplations, or any of those fancy things you suggested we do.”

Gabriel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yes,” he finally agreed . “You have a valid point. Time is of the essence…we need to shorten the procedure.”

“Why don’t we start with the basics?” Ezekiel said quietly. “We don’t know very much about our assigned subjects. What do you say we learn a little about them? You take the girl and I’ll take the guy, we learn what we can in 24 hours and reconvene here tomorrow, same time, with notes and ideas. Does that sound better?”

“I guess so,” Gabriel answered reluctantly, disappointed that eventually he was the one following orders instead of giving them. “I get to observe the girl, you say? he tried to add an amused undertone to his non-excited voice. “That figures,” he snickered. “Is she pretty?"

Ezekiel threw the file in front of him. “As a matter of fact,” he said, pointing at the picture that was stapled to the front page, “she’s rather cute. But don’t you get any ideas, old boy! Remember, our assignment is to bring her together with her one true love.”

“I know that,” Gabriel muttered angrily, then read from the file:

Granger, Hermione.
Age: 21.
Occupation: Student at WarlockshireUniversity.
Residence: Shares London flat with female university classmate.
Additional information: Youngest ever PhD candidate in the Advanced Charms Department. No known-of significant other.
-- End of dossier --

Gabriel lifted his eyes from the paper. “Advanced Charms?" he asked curiously. “WarlockshireUniversity?”

“I guess we got a witch,” Ezekiel replied nonchalantly. “Why should it matter? Our chief said this assignment is not dependent on the subjects’ race, gender or anything else. This morning I heard that another team was assigned with coupling a bushman from Africa with his brother-in-law!”

Gabriel fell forward in his chair, one hand darting up to cover his mouth in a desperate attempt to avoid squirting coffee all over their work papers. “No kidding!” he choked out. “I guess we should be grateful we only have to work with a witch! So who’s the lucky guy? It is a guy, right?”

Ezekiel rolled his eyes “Yes, it’s a guy. And he’s actually quite a looker if I may say so,” he chuckled, turning his attention to the second page in their assignment file.

“Don’t you get any ideas, old boy!” Gabriel teased him.

“Shut up, dumbass,” his partner retorted. “As if we can ever get involved with those humans anyway…now, where were we?” Ezekiel straightened his reading glasses on his nose, turning his attention to the file in front of him.

Potter, Harry.
Age: 21.
Occupation: Professional Quidditch player. Seeker and Captain of this season’s Cup winning team.
Residence: Owns loft in northern London. No flatmates.
Additional information: Famous son of deceased James and Lily Potter. In the past month has been dating 20-year-old Anna LaBella, Chaser on same Quidditch team.
-- End of dossier --

“There’s our first problem,” Gabriel sighed. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy.”

“Relax, will you? So the guy is dating some Bella girl. It only means we have to think a little harder, that’s all.”

“All right, whatever you say,” Gabriel answered impatiently. “Look, it’s getting late, and believe it or not, I have a date I intend to keep -- important assignment or not. So can we please call it a night? We both know what to do, and we’ll meet again tomorrow, just like you said.”

Ezekiel nodded and started to collect their scattered papers. “Sure, go ahead. I’m staying, though - I’d like to start right now.”

“As you wish.” Gabriel quickly picked up his belongings and dashed out of the office.

“All right, Mr. Potter, Harry,” Ezekiel said into the empty room as he settled in front of the sophisticated equipment. “Let’s get to know you a little better…”

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“Thank you, Caro, that was a lovely evening!” Anna smiled sweetly, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck. She brushed his lips with hers, then proceeded to deepen the kiss, her mouth opening under his.

“My pleasure,” Harry said when they parted. “Any chance of being invited in?” he asked hopefully, using the most dazzling smile in his arsenal.

“Non posso,” she replied, running a perfect red fingernail down his cheek. “I can’t...not tonight. I wouldn’t want you to think I am putana.”

“Anna,” Harry grabbed her hand as she began to unlock the door, a bit agitated about her reluctance to take their relationship to the next level. “I would never think anything but good things about you! It’s just that we’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks, and I thought you would want to…you know,” he trailed off, his eyes locked into hers.

She tore her gaze away, content on staring at the floor.

“But I will wait,” he said, kissing the back of her hand. “I will wait until you are ready, ma Bella. Good night, Anna.”

“Good night, Harry,” she echoed softly, not looking him in the eye.

Harry quickly turned and walked down the stairs of her building. He needed some fresh air.

Anna stood at the window, her eyes following his tall figure as he disappeared around the corner of the street.

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“Interesting,” Ezekiel mumbled to himself, busily scribbling notes on his pad. “Very interesting indeed…”

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Hermione’s flat mate opened the door in a fluffy pink bathrobe, her face covered in what looked – and smelled – like cucumber cleansing mask.

“I’m sorry about the hour,” Harry said apologetically. “But I really need to talk to Hermione.”

“Sure,” she muttered, sour-faced as usual. “I’ll go get her.”

A few minutes later, he and Hermione were silently walking through the deserted London streets, en route to Harry’s flat. Old Sour-Face had made it clear that she needed her beauty sleep -- and any intrusion was unwelcome. Seeing Harry’s desperate look, Hermione decided this was not the right time to argue with her flat mate about this being her flat too.

“So,” she began, deciding to take the initiative. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are we going to play twenty questions?”

“Of course I want to talk to you… just organizing my thoughts.”

“I’m glad,” Hermione rubbed his back amicably. “Because my very first guess would be that this has something to do with a certain Italian girl whose name starts with an A.”

“You'd be right, of course,” Harry said as they reached his building. He quickly unlocked the front door and ushered Hermione inside.

“That wasn’t such a hard guess, Harry. I mean, you guys had a date tonight, and yet here you are in your empty flat, about to make hot chocolate for, well, me!”

“Hey,” he cried as he busied himself in the kitchen, “I don’t make my famous hot chocolate for just anyone!”

“I know that,” she suddenly turned serious. “So why aren’t you making any for Anna?”

Harry returned from the kitchen, carrying two mugs of his special, mud-thick hot drink. “That’s just the thing,” he sighed, handing Hermione her mug and sitting on the couch next to her. “I don't think she wants me to.”

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Some time later…

“You mean, you really, really…didn’t?” Hermione stared at him unbelievingly.

“Why do you find that so hard to believe?” Harry questioned in return, a sly half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She shifted uncomfortably. “Well, it’s not that I think you’re some kind of Don Juan lady killer or anything… I’ve known you since we were kids and I’ve seen you with every girl you’ve ever dated.”

“And?” he urged her.

“And…seeing you with Anna, it seemed like you two are very…amorous,” she finally managed.

“You mean, she’s all over me,” Harry helped her out.

Hermione nodded, laughing quietly. “Yes, if you want to be technical, she’s definitely all over you! So to think she’s actually never let you even --”

“No need to get too technical,” Harry raised a hand in front of her.

Sensing he wasn’t entirely comfortable, Hermione decided to return to safe territory. “Give her time, Harry,” she said thoughtfully. “Just let her decide when she’s ready. If you want to wait, that is.”

“It felt like we were 17 again, but that’s exactly what I told her tonight. I told her I’d wait.”

“Do you really want to wait for her?”

He let out a long breath. “I’m not sure.”

“Sleep on it?” Hermione suggested.

“Most definitely!” Harry got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. “Staying?” he asked.

“Staying,” she nodded, kicking off her shoes. “I’m not in a mood to bump into Sour-Face in the morning. I’ll deal with her tomorrow after school.”

“Sorry about that,” Harry said apologetically, helping her pull out the sofa bed.

“Sorry about what? I can assure you she would have found something else to be grumpy about if you hadn’t come over...and besides, that’s what friends are for, aren’t they?”

“In that case,” he leaned over and kissed her cheek lightly, “thanks for being a friend, Hermione.”

“You’re welcome. Now go to sleep! I know where the clean sheets are, and I can make my own bed.”

“Just trying to help,” Harry muttered as he walked to the alcove that served as his bedroom. Girls! he thought to himself as he pulled his shirt off.

Hermione was lost in her own thoughts as she pulled the sheets over the sofa bed. She doubted that she was, in fact, being a real friend to Harry. She also wondered if he would ever know that every time she gave him honest advice on his love life, she always had a small, not-so-honest ulterior motive in the back of her mind…

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24 hours (and a little more) later…

“Not much to report, since I only started in the morning, but those are my observations,” Gabriel concluded importantly, throwing his pad on the table.

“Good job,” Ezekiel complimented him wryly. “Considering I did most of your work for you!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault she spent the night at his place!”

“I know, I know,” Ezekiel answered quickly. “And it’s actually a very good situation for us: those two are already good friends, they’re comfortable around each other are used to talking and spending nights together…”

“Just not in that way,” Gabriel finished for him.

“Exactly. So all we have to do is make the ‘that way’ part happen.” He rose from his seat and paced around the room, imitating his partner’s action from the previous night.

“I got it!” Gabriel suddenly jumped to his feet and joined Ezekiel’s pacing. “We make the Italian chick dump him, and then he’s all in pieces because of the terrible tragedy... not to mention humiliated...after all, he’s her boss at the Quidditch team, right? Hermione comforts him, they succumb to temptation, and…ba-da-bing ba-da-bong, they find each other!

“Oh, and that’s earth shattering?” Ezekiel mocked him. “How’s that different from what I suggested in the first place?”

“You’re right,” Gabriel scratched his head repeatedly, “that’s not good enough. Need to think of something better…”

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A few hours and many coffee mugs later, Ezekiel was slumped in his chair, bouncing a rubber ball against the ceiling. “After seeing them last night, I thought this was going to be a given,” he complained. “Why is it so hard to come up with something good? They’re already so close…just a little push.”

“One small inch that proves to be an ocean long, my friend," Gabriel answered philosophically, throwing another paper airplane to the general direction of the wastebasket.

“Hey Gabi?” Ezekiel suddenly sat up straight, clutching the rubber ball in his hand. “Who says we have to make them fall in love? What if they already are in love, but for some reason don’t – or won’t – admit to it, until one of them is suddenly made to feel...how shall I put this... unwanted?"

Gabriel turned to face him, and Ezekiel could swear he’d seen a light-bulb shine over his head. “Unworthy?” Gabriel offered, continuing his partner’s train of thought.

“Unloved!” They both cried out almost simultaneously, their eyes shining.

“Now we’re talking!” Gabriel threw himself into a chair, reaching out for his long forgotten pad. “This sure qualifies for tender and sweet!”

They were both caught up in the excitement, because now that they had the main idea pinned down, dealing with specifics was a piece of cake. A short while later their plan was all figured out.

“Wait,” Ezekiel raised his hand just as they were finishing everything up. “What about the dreaded ‘morning-after’?”

“I’ve got it covered,” Gabriel replied confidently. “Don’t worry…we got this ‘Made For Each Other’ contest in the bag! Big fat bonus – come to papa!” he cried excitedly.

They exchanged satisfied high fives, then cleaned up the small office and prepared to start executing their plan. Now there was only the simple matter of making it work.

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A few days later…

Hermione put down her quill and shuffled to the door; she didn’t have to ask who was knocking at this time of night.

“Am I interrupting?” Harry asked once she let him in. “Looks like you were studying.”

“The way you look,” Hermione shook her head sadly, “it wouldn’t matter if Prince William himself was here, wearing nothing but a red bow! What on earth happened, Harry?”

“Where’s Old Sour-face?” he asked as he threw himself on the living room sofa, propping his feet on the coffee table.

“At her Mum’s for the weekend. And don’t change the subject, Harry Potter! Out with it...”

“It’s over,” he said dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. “Anna and I are not seeing each other anymore.”

“And that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”

“…Because she wouldn’t go to bed with me,” he finished his previous statement.

“Ah,” Hermione managed, her mouth hanging open.

“There, I said it: I, Harry Potter, broke up with a girl because she didn’t want to sleep with me.”

Hermione sat down beside him, tucking her legs under her body. “Harry,” she said quietly, “I’m sure there was much more to it than just that. I’ve known you forever – you are not that kind of guy!”

He sighed. “I know. And there was. I really want to talk to you about it, if you’re up for it…and, if you’ve got the ingredients, of course,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her, a light smile finally escaping his lips.

“You know I’ve got the ingredients!” Hermione rolled her eyes, hitting him with a small decorative pillow. “If you’re man enough to go to the kitchen and put them to good use, that is.”

Harry shot her an amused look and rose from the sofa, heading for the small kitchen.

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A few minutes later he returned, carrying two steaming mugs of his famous hot chocolate. They resumed their previous positions on the sofa, and Hermione lit the small fireplace with a flick of her wand; she sensed that Harry really needed her tonight, and she wanted to make him feel cozy and comfortable.

“So what happened?” she asked after a few moments in which they sipped their drinks in silence.

Harry tore his gaze from the crackling fire. “As you know, we’ve been together for a few weeks,” he began. “And it’s been… nice, really. But every time we go out, the evening always ends the same way: I walk her home, we kiss at the door, and then she says she can’t ask me in because she’s afraid I’d think bad things about her.”

Hermione bit her lip; this was not going to be an easy thing for Harry to deal with. After all, dealing with rejection was not easy for anyone, let alone her sensitive friend.

“Am I being selfish for wanting more, Hermione?” he asked shyly.

“Of course not! I mean, I’m sure you really did want more - not just to shag her.”

She couldn’t believe she’d just said that…but Harry smiled and nodded, as if the words were taken right out of his mouth.

“That’s just it,” he agreed. “We’re not kids anymore; it’s not about putting up or scoring or getting laid. It’s about physically conveying what you feel for the person you’re with.”

“And you sensed that she wasn’t feeling anything?” Hermione queried gently, hoping she was on the right track, “and therefore, not conveying anything either?”

“Something like that,” he admitted. “Or maybe I was just being impatient and insensitive to her needs? A typical guy who just wants to shag the girl?”

Hermione put down her empty mug and took Harry’s hand in hers. “You are many things, Harry,” she said confidently. “Naturally, not all of them are good… but nobody in their right mind could accuse you of being insensitive!” She tightened her grip on his hand, her heart crying out for him. What’s eating you, Harry? she asked in her mind – but for some reason could not bring herself to say out loud. What’s really eating you?

He smiled at her then, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. “I appreciate your honesty,” he said.

“Can I ask you for an honest answer in return?”

Harry nodded slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on her face.

“Did you really feel, Harry? Or were you just expecting to naturally progress to the next step in the relationship?”

Great Merlin! Harry tried to process the meaning of her question. Where did that come from?Does she know the truth? Does she suspect? She couldn’t possibly…

“I can’t say,” he finally answered, running his fingers through his hair. “Not because I don’t want to tell you, but because I’m not sure myself.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed. “And I wouldn’t blame you for just wanting to shag her either…she’s gorgeous!”

“Ah, yes,” Harry smiled. “Anna LaBella indeed lives up to her name.”

They stared at the fire for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. After a few moments Harry noticed that Hermione was drifting off, her head slowly falling back against the sofa.

“I’m keeping you up,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You should go to bed.”

“Will you be okay?” she asked, stroking his cheek. “You will stay here tonight, of course.”

Harry took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingers lightly. “Yeah, I’ll stay. And I’ll be fine. Now it’s my turn to say that I know where the clean sheets are, and that I can make my own bed.” He winked at her, grinning like the Harry she knew.

Hermione took the hand he offered and stood up. “Sure, make your own bed,” she played along, picking up her shoes and heading towards her bedroom.

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

He closed the short distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you for being here for me,” he said softly, kissing the top of her head. “You know I can’t talk about these things with anyone else.”

Hermione nodded and hugged him tightly. She didn’t trust herself to say anything that wouldn’t betray … NO! she silently scolded herself. He’s hurt and vulnerable and he needs you. Don’t you dare take advantage of this!

He pulled her closer, one of his hands making its way from her waist to her back, rubbing small circles against her shirt, as if she was the one in need of comfort.

Typical Harry, Hermione thought, hoping her actions were enough to convey her support and friendship - because her mind was too occupied with marveling at the perfect way she fit in his arms. She couldn't help but notice that the difference in their heights was just right... he could rest his chin on her head, and she could feel his heart beating, strong and steady under his thin sweater. So against her will and better judgment, Hermione surrendered to the sensation of being wrapped in Harry’s embrace. Just this once, she decided. Just this once…

After a few moments Harry reluctantly let her go, mumbling something about both of them needing to get some sleep. The honest – and painful truth was that his body was starting to react to her nearness, and it was one truth he thought he should keep to himself at the moment.

Hermione wished him a good night, then turned around and walked to her bedroom.

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Harry lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was angry with himself…angry for not letting Hermione know what she needed to know a long time ago.

Idiot! he muttered silently. Why couldn’t you tell her the truth?

He knew the answer, though. He knew it damn well: their friendship was just too valuable for him to risk.

But what if there’s something more? his mind insisted. Something that’s worth taking the risk?

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to urge those troubling thoughts away. But they wouldn’t go away so easily. Instead, an irresistible force caused him to rise from the sofa, pad across the living room and stand in front of Hermione’s bedroom door.

The very same force also ordered him to softly knock on the closed door…and before he was able to understand what he was doing or regret it, Hermione’s sleepy voice called out for him to enter.

“Is everything okay?” she questioned as he entered the room and sat on her bed.

“Yes,” he answered hesitantly. “Actually, no,” he corrected himself. You got this far, Potter. Don’t you dare leave without telling her! the force, suddenly having a voice, commanded him.

“Harry?” Hermione sat up and tilted her head in his direction.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said quietly. “But I wanted to say that I didn’t tell you the whole truth about what happened with Anna.”

Great! More Anna details…or is there something else on his mind? “What is it?” she asked, regaining her composure.

“It’s true that eventually I broke it off ,” he began. “But what I didn’t tell you was what she said to me tonight. The real reason she didn't want to deepen our relationship -- besides the fact that she probably didn’t find me all that attractive...”

Hermione put her hand on his back, silently urging him to say what he was apparently struggling to tell her.

“She said…” Harry paused, fighting to keep his emotions under control, “that she didn’t want get physically involved with someone whose heart clearly belongs to another.” He closed his eyes and drew a long breath, trying to avoid looking at the prospective damage done by his shattering confession.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, her mind refusing to believe the words she’d just heard. “Explain?” she choked out, hoping she didn’t sound as stunned as she actually was.

“Do I really have to?” he finally looked at her, his piercing eyes melting away the last shred of her defenses.

And at that moment she knew. She knew his secret…it was the very same secret she’s been carrying with her for so long…

“No,” she said softly, aware that he was practically holding his breath, waiting for her to say something. “You don’t have to explain.” With that, she threw off the covers and moved to sit beside him, her fingers hesitantly searching for his. She gave his hand a slow squeeze, saying a silent prayer of gratitude when he didn’t pull away.

Hermione was very much aware if his presence…his face was turned away, his brow lowered and his eyes fixed on the floor. He held his glasses in his other hand, then handed them to her so she could put them on the bedside table; the simple, intimate gesture caused her heart to melt. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and judging by the quick rise and fall of his chest beneath his t-shirt, he was just as excited as she was. Yet she made no move to touch him beyond the gentle playing of their fingers; she was afraid to scare him -- but also wanted to assure herself that she wasn't dreaming.

A few moments later they were still sitting side by side on the edge of her bed, their fingers now laced tightly together. Hermione cleared her throat, finding her voice at last. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” she questioned softly.

Another minute of silence passed before Harry spoke. “I was scared,” he admitted, his honesty tugging at her heart.

“But now…” she began, not sure what she wanted to say. Now what? Now the cards were pretty much laid out on the table. Now they had to choose.

“You were right, Hermione,” he finally let it all out. “I want more. But not from someone else...from you.”

Before she knew what was happening, Harry tugged on the hand he was holding and wrapped his arms around her. “I want to be with you,” he breathed into her hair, stroking the back of her neck. “I can’t remember I time when I didn’t.”

A surge of heat coursed through her body at the sound of his words... Hermione couldn’t believe this was actually happening. She indulged in the feeling of being close to him like this, until a faraway voice in the back recesses of her mind interrupted, reminding her that there were things she needed to say to Harry; that he was probably waiting to hear them.

“Tell me, Hermione,” his breath was hot in her ear, cutting off her thoughts as if reading into them. “Tell me, please…”

“I feel it, Harry,” she whispered. “You know I do.”

He lifted her off the bed and she came to him willingly, landing sideways across his lap. She snaked her arms around his neck, his own arms settling lightly around her waist. Hermione thought she would die of anticipation…his lips were mere millimeters away, yet Harry took his time before he finally leaned in and closed the distance. And when he did…good God, how could she have been his friend for so long, exchange all kinds of brotherly pecks with him, but never experience the feeling of those lips against her own? So soft and warm and sweet...

He kissed her slowly at first, touching his lips to hers a few short times before the first longer, lingering contact. But the soft, tentative kisses didn’t go on for long; there was no way they could have. They both needed so much more…they needed to taste each other for the first time, to finally act on those long ago suppressed feelings.

Harry’s hands came up to cup her face and his mouth hungrily covered hers, nudging her lips apart almost immediately. Hermione groaned softly and opened her mouth under the searing touch of his lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside, to greedily explore and taste every hidden crevice, every bit of the sweetness she had to offer…

She needed to feel him just as much. Hermione slid her own tongue into his mouth, letting it tangle with his along the way, then swept it across the roof of his mouth, the smooth insides of his cheeks…she couldn’t get enough of this, of tasting Harry, sharing his breath, feeling his heart beat against hers. She whimpered as he broke contact, but he did that only to slip one hand behind her neck and slant her head so he could kiss her harder, his tongue engaged in a fierce battle with hers.

Harry couldn’t believe he was doing this. He was holding Hermione in his arms and kissing her…really kissing her, the way he’d been dreaming of doing for so long. And she was kissing him back, her sweet-tasting mouth open and hot under his. He could stay like this forever – if it weren’t for another part of him that was quickly rising to the occasion. He couldn’t help but respond to the deliciously wet sounds that emanated from their kisses -- and to the dizzying sensation caused by their bodies being pressed so closely together.

They broke the kiss to draw a much-needed breath, their arms tightening around each other as hard as they possibly could without endangering the necessary supply of oxygen.

“If I only knew you were such a world-class kisser,” Hermione murmured from somewhere against his neck.

“If I only knew you tasted so incredible,” he shot back, dropping a kiss into her hair.

They held each other for a while, taking their time to absorb the reality of this recent turn of events.

“I want to sleep in your arms tonight,” Hermione whispered a few moments later, lifting her head from where it was cozily tucked. “Would you do that with me, Harry?”

“I want to,” he replied softly. “More than anything. But I…”

“What are you afraid of?” she asked quietly, pushing the bangs off his forehead.

“Nothing – and everything… I’m scared of what can happen…I’m scared of losing you.”

Instead of answering, Hermione silently slid off his lap and lay on the bed, lifting the covers for him. He hesitated only a moment before he crawled in, letting himself be pulled into her awaiting arms.

“We’ll be okay, Harry,” she assured him, stroking his hair softly. “Please don’t be afraid of us.”

“I won’t,” he promised, silently vowing to keep that promise.

She kissed his cheeks slowly, then pressed her lips to his a few times, assuring him – and herself – that they would indeed be okay. “We don’t have to do anything we’re not ready for,” she whispered between kisses. “We can just sleep together, just hold each other…we’ll deal with everything else in due time.”

“I’d like that,” he whispered back.

“I’d like that too,” Hermione mumbled sleepily, her hand falling limply against him, too tired to continue stroking his hair.

His own limbs felt heavy and languid, and soon he too drifted into slumber, his mind at ease for the first time in many, many months.

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Later that night…

Harry was gently but persistently being shaken awake, and it wasn’t a very welcome occurrence. He’d slept so soundly, dreaming of a reality that surpassed all of his other dreams... he wasn’t ready to let go of that just yet.

But the nudging continued, and he had no choice but to open his eyes.

Hermione was still in his arms – that part was no dream, thank heavens. But she was also doing her best to wake him up, which was a bit odd considering it was still dark outside. What was going on? He didn’t even want to think of the possibility that she may be having second thoughts…or regrets.

“What is it, Hermione?” he asked sleepily, knowing he couldn’t avoid her any longer.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Now?”

“Yes…I know it sounds strange, but I need to. I’m scared of…” she bit her lip, suddenly unsure of herself.

Harry stroked her hair, encouraging her to speak to him. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of us,” he said, attempting to lighten up the mood.

It worked.

"I'm not," Hermione smiled and kissed him. "It’s just that I’m not very good at handling the morning-after awkwardness…and to think that I may possibly feel awkward around you, well, it scares me.”

“You want to have the morning-after conversation now?” Harry asked, trying to make sure they were on the same wavelength. “But we didn’t…”

“I know,” she cut him off. “We didn’t have sex. It doesn’t matter. When we wake up together I want everything to be clear... I want to lay in your arms knowing that we’re okay with this, so we’ll be free to simply enjoy it.”

Harry was blown away. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine she’d feel so strongly about him…about them. “I can’t wait till I wake up with you in my arms,” he whispered, kissing her lips. “And of course we can talk. As much as you need to.”

And so she told him. It was Hermione’s turn to lay everything out in the open, and it felt wonderful to finally be able to share with him the one secret that overshadowed her life for so long. Resting her head on his chest, she shared her thoughts and fears, and finally admitted to being constantly worried of letting him down as a friend -- because deep down she wanted him for herself.

In turn, Harry told her about his dreams. His forbidden dreams, in which he was blessed with having the one girl he thought he was destined to always love from afar.

They both felt the heavy burden of carrying their respective secrets lift off and dissolve into nothingness, and before long it was a mere distant memory. Once it was gone they were content to just lay in each other's arms, softly stroking and caressing, exchanging tender kisses.

“How long have you known?” Harry asked against her lips.

“Too long,” she replied, kissing her way across his face. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Harry,” she breathed into his ear, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him with her so he had no choice but to flip onto his stomach, trapping her under his body.

A perfect fit, Hermione thought as she slightly parted her thighs to accommodate his weight. He’sthe yin to my yang…

Harry groaned as his intimate parts made contact with hers, but he knew this was not the time to act upon that part of his dreams. He and Hermione would remain fully clothed for now, even though it meant he’d probably have to think of the Dursleys prancing around in a bikini for the rest of the night.

He settled himself on top of her, gently cupping her face in his hands. His fingers stroked her cheeks with all the tenderness one would bestow upon the most delicate porcelain… then his lips slowly covered hers, pressing against them in a series of short, sweet kisses. They both smiled through these kisses, their actions conveying what they had previously put into words.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Hermione asked once they stopped kissing, her warm breath tickling his face.

Harry looked down at her thoughtfully. “May I invite you on an official, all-day date?” he requested, trying to sound as 'official' as possible.

“I’m not in a position to say no, am I ?” she answered, very much aware of the position she was in: Harry’s warm weight covering her like some kind of exotic blanket...she became lightheaded thinking of other ways in which they would be a perfect fit.

“Is that a yes?” Harry nudged her, effectively snapping her out of her rather delightful reverie.

“Of course it is, you git! I can’t think of any other way I’d like to spend a rainy Saturday.”

“Won't it be strange, though?" he asked, stroking her face.

“What, us spending the day together? We’ve done that a zillion times...”

“No, it's strange that I can hold your hand if I want to, or throw my arm around your waist...or just grab you and kiss you.” Harry looked into her eyes, his gaze penetrating into her soul. “ I still can't believe I'm allowed to do that,” he added, kissing her softly.

Hermione smiled against his lips, causing Harry to deepen the kiss, his tongue once again filling her mouth, hotly clashing and tangling with her own. She slipped her hands under his t-shirt and ran them across the smooth plains of his back, feeling his muscles twitch under her fingers as his body moved against hers. He was kissing her like that again, leaving not one remote corner of her mouth undiscovered, stealing her breath away…

He’s devouring me, she realized as their mouths broke apart for one split second only to fuse together passionately in the next. He’s eating me up alive! What a way to die...

After a few more minutes of blissful kissing they reluctantly pulled apart, knowing they needed to avoid stepping into uncharted waters; after all, those waters would be waiting for them whenever they decided that the time was right to take a dip.

Harry rolled off her and Hermione remained on her back, one of her hands reaching for him -- much like she did a few hours earlier when he first came into her room. He met her halfway and took her hand in his. Within moments they both drifted off, their clasped hands resting between their bodies.

They slept peacefully, knowing that the morning-after held nothing but the excitement of exploring this hidden world they had discovered, a world that lay just beneath the surface of their friendship.

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A few days later…

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the host announced as the last murmurs from the audience quieted down. “My fellow colleagues, distinguished staff and guests. I am proud to present this year’s winners of the annual 'Made For Each Other' contest. This year’s award goes to two young and aspiring individuals, who managed to weave together a plan fit for the world’s most hopeless romantics…” He paused for a moment to allow the quiet laughs so subside, then continued, smiling contently. “They have carried out their plan to perfection, while demonstrating some commendable team work. They were not deterred by any of the obstacles in their way…”

“If you can call a leggy Italian beauty an obstacle,” Gabriel chuckled lightly, punching Ezekiel’s shoulder. They both sat in the front row, accompanied by their respective dates -- and eager for the official ceremony to conclude so they could go out and celebrate.

“Patience, my friend,” Ezekiel scolded him. “I think he’s almost done with his speech.”

“…Please welcome: Mr. Gabriel Angé and Mr. Ezekiel Cupidolious!” The host cried out just then, and the two made their way to the stage to receive their badges of honor – and their prize.

“I think I can speak for both of us,” Ezekiel took the microphone while Gabriel was busy checking out the envelope with their bonus, “when I say that we took this assignment very seriously, knowing that the two souls we brought together definitely deserved to find each other. I can also safely say that what all of us do every year when we take part in this contest, we do in the name of love. So I dedicate this award to our colleagues who took part in the competition…and to love!”

The crowd applauded excitedly, and several cheers and catcalls could be heard from somewhere in the back. Ezekiel added a quick thank you before grabbing Gabriel and heading back to their seats, where they were warmly received by their dates.

Before long the ceremony was over, and after the obligatory goodbyes to their bosses and colleagues, Gabriel, Ezekiel and their dates finally headed towards the exit; they were ready for a long night dedicated to celebrating their success.

“See?” Gabriel teased his partner, “I told you we’d pull it off! It was just a matter of figuring out how it happens."

“Oh, it happens beautifully,” Ezekiel beamed. “Just beautifully!”

And the angels all rejoiced that night.

THE END
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