Mountain Breezes

"Harry?"

Harry jumped, startled that he'd been found, and whipped around.

"Oh, hello, Hermione."

She was standing in the open hatch door in the stone floor of the tower, only visible from the waist up. They were atop one of the schools tallest towers, on the stone roof, looking out over the castle, the lake, and the mountains, the breeze gusting soundly over them from the snowy peeks, bitter and loud, yet refreshing in every sense of the word. Hermione couldn't find him anywhere, but then remembered how he had liked taking her and Ron up there sometimes when he would fly on his Firebolt, and guessed that was where he was hiding out.

The hatch opening wasn't very comfortable, as she was standing on the top rung of the ladder in her black buckled shoes, and when she tired to hoist herself out, her skirt kept getting in the way. Spotting this quickly, Harry walked over and took hold of her wrists, pulling her up enough to let her step out and then kicking it shut.

"Thanks Harry." He grinned back at her, and then it vanished, an unreadable look coming over his face. He seemed to forget she was even there as he turned back around, wandering over to the stone ledge and leaning on his elbows, gazing out over the chilled lake and mountains.

Hermione frowned at the back of his head, tugging her clock tighter around herself. "Harry." She walked up next to him, putting a hand on his arm. He didn't respond. "Harry what's wrong. Why are you up here?"

He said nothing.

She patted his arm. "Tell me."

He sighed and shrugged, shaking his head. "What can I say?" he said softly, looking unblinkingly at the scenery before him, the wind blowing through his hair. Hermione could see his scar, long, arching, razor-sharp . . . the souvenir of a terrible past. His eyes, dazzling emeralds, usually sparkling with mischief and laughter, now sad, reflecting the tall mountains in the distance. "What can I say, other than the fact that I'm tired. I'm tired Hermione. It's over. Everything I've done, everything I know, it happened here. Here in Hogwarts. And now . . . now I'm leaving it. Forever. Once I walk through the doors of this school, there's no going back."

It took a moment for Hermione to take this all in. Where had all this come from? One minute, he's laughing, joking with us all in the common room, chugging butterbeer, the next, standing on the top of this tower, sadder than she'd ever seen him. She placed a hand on his back.

"Don't worry Harry," she said imploringly. "It'll be alright."

He looked over at her, his raven hair blowing in the wind that whistled in her ears, his eyes sparkling into hers, giving him a seductive look. Suddenly, a small, irresistible shiver crawled up her spine, but she shook it off, trying to ignore it. "I mean, we'll be together, you, me and Ron. As long as it always that way, what else matters?"

He studied her face carefully. "You think so?"

"I know so."

Then, to her relief, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Hermione grinned back at him, happiness flooding through her.

He scratched the back of his head and shrugged again, this time a shrug of embarrassment, a goofy grin spread across his charming face. "God, I'm such a loser."

"No, no you're not," Hermione laughed, giving him a playful punch in the arm. "You're a good guy, Harry. You have feelings; you're allowed to express them if you want. Don't feel like a loser."

His shoulders shook slightly with chuckles. For a moment, they merely smiled at each other, Hermione clutching her cloak tightly around her against the cold mountain air, Harry leaning on the stone ledge. Hermione's wavy locks blew around into her face, and she brushed them aside, noticing how bright Harry's eyes were becoming now that his face had lightened up.

Harry's grin became wider as he straightened up before reaching over and cupping her cheek, running his thumb over her soft skin soothingly. Hermione tried not to seem to stiff as gooseflesh spread over her skin.

"You've always been there for me, Hermione. What could possibly motivate you to hang around a jerk like me?"

She smiled again, the feeling of his thumb brushing over her skin enough to make her head spin. "I don't know. I figure, why not? Besides, if the only person you hang around with is Ron, who knows what'll happen to you? Sort of like an added bonus. I'm only here to keep you in line and in one piece."

She had thought this would make him laugh with her or in the least smile back, but instead, his face became serious. He stepped towards her and brought his other hand up to her face, making her shudder as she stared up into his eyes, mystifying as they were. She suddenly felt as if she was about to melt under his gaze. Her knees were definitely shaking and her hands and arms that were frozen down at her side were covered in gooseflesh now.

"Don't say that, Hermione," he rasped to her, their faces a scant few inches apart. "I mean, you mean so much more than that. Look at yourself. Look at you. You're beautiful."

Hermione blushed and shook her head. "No, no I'm not. Not nearly as pretty as Lavender or -"

Harry's mouth fell open and he staggered a bit, as if this statement had delivered a crazy blow. "Are you insane? Hermione, you're gorgeous! So much better than them, better than all of them. You're, you're," he looked up into the sky, casting about for words. "You're . . . amazing!" Hermione gasped as he stretched out his arms, spinning around as he shouted her greatness to the mighty mountains. Birds that had been resting on the towers around them flew into the sky. "You're fantastic! You're brilliant, wonderful, exquisite, irreplaceable . . ." Hermione laughed and ran to catch up with him. He grinned as he saw her come up and laughed with her as she grabbed his arms to stop him, blushing to the high heavens. They spun around with each other, chuckling madly.

When they stopped finally, they were both breathing hard, their breath rising up in front of them in a cloud of mist. Harry looked deeply into her chocolate eyes with his own emerald ones, once again full of laughter and joy. "You're not just to keep us in line. You're to keep me alive, not just physically, but mentally. Without you," he paused and shook his head slightly, "I'd be lost." He paused again, took a deep breath, then said in the most sincere of tones, "I love you, Hermione."

A heavy breath hitched in her throat. It was so out of the blue and surprising she was positive her heart stopped. Surely he didn't mean . . .? No . . . no of course not, she scolded herself. Of course he loves me; he's my best friend.

"I love you, too, Harry," she said, smiling. "You're my best --"

"No, Hermione," he said quietly, shaking his head. "Not like that."

POW. That's all she felt. Without thinking, she took a step back out of his grasp. "What?"

He followed her steps, careful not to cross any boundaries. "I love you. I love you, Hermione, not just as a friend but as something more. I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you. I thought you were so beautiful. And now . . . now you're even lovelier than before. Hermione, you're the only girl in my life that I've ever been close to and even thought my heart is full to the brim with friendly love towards you, the love only between best friends, now it's beginning to tint with a new feeling."

Hermione blinked, her breathing becoming shallow in her throat as he closed the distance. The words he was speaking were so . . . her mind paused in the midst of its rambling to think of the description . . . foreign. Yes, foreign summed it all up to a tack. He'd never spoken like that before. It sounded like a poem, a sonnet from some dark, unseen corner in the back of his troubled mind.

"What feeling?" she asked slowly.

He reached down and took gentle hold of her wrists, pulling them up to his lips, kissing the insides of the left and then the right, and she nearly fainted.

"Love," he whispered.

And with that he leaned in and kissed her, pressing his lips against hers with such softness she thought she might explode. Now her head was spinning. Hermione plucked her wrists out of his hands, causing him to nearly pull back, thinking she would, but instead she put her hands on his shoulders, and he relaxed.

Suddenly, her insides were screaming, and she tore her mouth away, turning her head to the side and breathing hard. Harry, who had nearly crashed headlong into her cheek, pulled back and searched her face in bewilderment.

"Harry," she said firmly, turning her head slowly to face him, her eyes wide and shining. "I need you to look me in the eye and tell me -- tell me -- that Ron or any other boy didn't put you up to this. Tell me that you aren't lying and that you really, truly love me. And so help me God, tell the truth."

He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, and Hermione knew she'd caught him off guard. He sighed. "Hermione . . ." he paused, looking at her with cautious eyes, "believe me. You know me. I'm Harry. You're best friend." She bit her lip, nodding with her eyes on the ground. He took an even deeper breath. "And I'd never, ever -"

What he'd never ever do, we may never ever know, because right then Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she grabbed his shoulders before crushing his lips down against hers, muffling and soon stopping his words. The tears leaked steadily down her cheeks as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her tightly to him.

A shiver wracked her entire body as she felt him run his tongue over her lips teasingly, and she gasped loudly, the sound of it dying in a gust of freezing mountain air. So she opened her mouth apprehensively, letting him explore, not wanting to seem too excited, or worse, too frightened, as she was.

He lifted her up a few inches off the ground, pulling her to him tightly, letting her black buckled shoes dangle slightly. He pulled away, placing kisses all over her cheeks and forehead, now unblocked by her bangs, which were blowing in the wind with the rest of her hair, swirling over them with Harry's raven locks.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against her skin. "Dear God, you're so amazing . . ."

"You are too," she said, her throat clogged with tears. "Harry, Harry I love you . . ."

"I love you too."

Hermione put her hands on his face and dragged his lips back to hers, kissing him, not meekly, but rather ferociously. He groaned into her mouth, loosening his embrace and letting her feet touch the ground again. Her fingers found their way to his hair, tousling it greedily. It felt like she could never get over kissing him. It was a passion; his taste was incredible and his heat was indefinable.

Finally, they were out of breath, and they pulled away, breathing hard.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, her hands on his face, bushing her fingers everywhere and breathing hard, shaking from the intensity of their passion, "don't worry. We'll always be friends. When we leave, we'll be together forever."

He nodded, his hot breath on her face warming her all over. He smiled then, slightly, and kissed her nose. "I love you, Hermione."

She grinned, the brightest grin she'd ever grinned, and pecked his nose in return, giggling. "I love you too, Mr. Potter."