Growing Wings

Fear will always make you blind

But the answer is in clear view

It's amazing what you'll find face to face

Growing Wings

~~

Hermione reluctantly pulled her lips away from Harry's. They're so soft...so tangible. She kept her eyes closed; fearing the expression on Harry's face she knew would come across. He's going to look disgusted, he's never going to speak to me again! She cringed at that thought. At least it was worth it. She opened her eyes slowly and looked at Harry, who looked like he got smacked in the face with a fish. She inwardly smiled to herself. Maybe something good's going to come out of that.

"Ahem... well..." Harry uttered out. He was still frozen from the shock. Hermione, you've never done anything like that!

Hermione looked down and barely spoke.

"Sorry."

"Hmm?"

"S-sorry, Harry."

There was a slight pause.

"Sorry for what, Hermione?"

She looked up to meet his green eyes. She almost died from embarrassment already, and he was asking her why she was sorry? He wasn't making this any easier. God, Harry, sometimes you just don't know what to say in a situation do you?

"I was acting on an impulse."

He smiled before responding.

"And so am I."

He brought his hands up to her cheeks and drew her in for another breathtaking kiss, and Hermione felt thankful for the couch, or else her knees would have given way.

Harry slipped his tongue in, and Hermione gladly gave way. He slid his tongue over hers and she shuddered. He moved his hands through her soft hair. She didn't really care at the moment, being too caught up in Harry's taste. Oh no...what is he doing? Hermione get a grip! He probably will act like this never happened tomorrow! She pulled away from Harry, and looked into his eyes.

"You mean this, right Harry? You're not joking?"

"I'm serious, Hermione. Maybe I was too afraid to say it to you, but I love you. I have loved you," he said, planting a kiss on her forehead. She smiled and her fears fled away from her thoughts.

"I love you, too, Harry." He smiled and gave her a small kiss.

"So what do we do now," Harry asked, leaning back into the couch, although he knew the answer quite clearly. Hermione looked away and thought for a minute, then looked back up and said quietly, "Ron."

Harry nodded and Hermione let out a groan. What was he going to say? Would he approve?

"What are we going to say? That we were caught snogging and just decided to make the best of it?" inquired Hermione.

"Maybe he won't be angry?"

"One can hope."

The book, forgotten on Harry's lap, had fallen to the floor with a thump. Hermione nearly jumped, and looked down. She crinkled her eyebrows and picked up the book. She read the cover in her mind; Alliptonia Règle dans les 1800's? She thought for a moment, and then said, "Alliptonite Rule in the 1800's?"

She looked up at Harry, who had a crimson hue in his cheeks.

"Hermione-"

"Why didn't you tell me, Harry?" she interrupted him. He pondered it for a oment. He didn't know the answer himself.

"Because, I wanted to know more about it."

"So do I, but that's not my question."

"But it's not like I wasn't going to show you!" Harry nearly screamed.

She sighed, and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry Harry, it's just that this situation is so stressful. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have gotten so mad."

His tension eased up a little and sank back into the couch, not noticing how upward he was sitting.

"Why me, Harry? It's just not fair to pick on the mudblood girl, you know? I mean, I just thought it was a sore or something on my back, but surely not wings?"

Harry decided to choose his words carefully in his response. He didn't want to upset her anymore then she already was.

"Hermione, open the book."

Hermione did as she was told.

"Turn it to the section about Martha Mitchgrump...page 194... I think."

She turned page after page, when finally she came upon the pretty witch with wings. Hermione let out a small gasp. Martha looked up, as if she sensed Hermione looking at her, and for the first time, Harry saw her smile.

"She knows I'm an Alliptonite..." Hermione stated. But how does she know? Pictures don't sense things. Hermione's heartbeat started to race a little. She looks almost like me, or me like her. Her eyes widened as she thought for a few more minutes, going over things in her mind.

"Mione? Are you okay?" Harry asked. She had been looking at the picture of Martha for 5 minutes, and hadn't said a word. She looked up at him, and said quietly.

"Harry, Martha Mitchgrump..." she gulped before continuing, "she's my mother."