Never All Together

Chapter 17: Friends in Love

Say goodbye
When I can barely say goodnight?
If I can hardly take my eyes from yours
How far can I go?
Walk away?
The thought would never cross my mind.
I couldn't turn my back on spring or fall
Your smile least of all.

--- Alan Bergman and Marilyn Bergman (I'll Never Say Goodbye) ---

"Captain?" Neil Harris, the fourth-year Gryffindor Beater, prompted tentatively. "Don't you think it's time for your last-minute instructions?"

Distracted from his musings, James fumbled with the shoelaces on his right boot--he always put that on first for good luck--and glanced up at his teammate. "In a moment, Neil."

The younger boy nodded meekly and left James's corner of the locker room to join the rest of the team. James knotted the shoelaces of his right shoe, grabbed the left and put it on. He tied it up efficiently, his mind wandering back to wonderful night he had had. Unconsciously, his lips turned up in a smile as he remembered the intoxicating taste of her kiss, the silky texture of her hair even after he had entangled his fingers in it and the way she had given herself to him. Had they no need to return to the castle, he would have gone on kissing Regina Weisz forever.

They had entered the Great Hall for dinner with their hands clasped tightly together, their faces alight with joy. Nobody seemed to notice, but maybe that was for the best. James was afraid that if news of their relationship immediately spread, the bubble he was securely floating in would burst, and everything he had just discovered was his would suddenly disappear.

Not wanting to keep her waiting for him, he had hastened through his rounds after dinner. He just couldn't--wouldn't want to--miss out on whispering to her good night and sweet dreams and all the other things a guy should tell the girl he loved. Once they were together, however, very few words had been exchanged. There seemed to be no need for them to explain what each one really felt. Perhaps that was fine--but only for the moment. A good, long talk was definitely in order, and tonight, James would ensure that they had just that. He had to tell her exactly how much she meant to him, needed to know she still felt the same.

James bit down hard on his lower lip to keep from grinning too widely lest he end up coming across like a fool. The huge smile broke out on his face anyway. Who cared what he looked like? She told me she loved me! He felt like he was already soaring through the clouds with the Snitch in his hand; he was so ecstatic that he wanted to jump as high as he could and pump his fist triumphantly into the air. But then again, even that couldn't really compare to this sheer bliss that infused every fibre of his being.

The ticking of a clock somewhere brought James back to earth and reminded him of the Quidditch match. The corners of his lips drooped slightly. He had not seen Regina at breakfast, even after he had sneaked another trip into the kitchen and had talked for some time with Tinky, so technically--excluding last night--she had not yet wished him good luck. He chanced another look at the clock and saw that there were still ten minutes left before the game started.

Impatiently, he kicked both his boots off and removed the cords laced through its holes. Once he had successfully done so, he leisurely began replacing the one on his right boot before slipping his foot into it. He lazily did the same to his left shoe, unmindful of the seconds ticking by. When he was finished, he checked the clock once more and let out a loud, disappointed sigh. The entire process took him the whole of seven minutes, and yet Regina was nowhere to be seen. She's probably already on the stands, he consoled himself, getting ready to cheer for you. The thought brightened his mood a little.

He finally stood up, brushed lint off his robes and grabbed his Nimbus. He sauntered over to his team, all of whom looked ready to do battle on the field.

"Finally!" Katherine Lyons exclaimed as he approached, rubbing her gloved hands together. She was a sixth year who played Chaser on the team. "We thought you were going to spend the rest of the morning sulking."

"Not when we've got some Hufflepuffs to beat up," James replied, recognising the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through him as thoughts of Regina were temporarily driven away from his head. "Now listen, all of you. Those Hufflepuff players, admittedly, aren't very good or fast when flying. Even so, they are not to be underestimated because together they make one hell of a team. They pass the Quaffle to each other with so much quickness and accuracy, allowing the ball to travel faster than their brooms."

George Everard, another Chaser, jokingly faked a yawn. He had heard this countless times before.

James took no heed of him. "You know what to do, how to trap them. Remember that position we've practiced? Beaters on either side of their usual triangle of Chasers. I'll try to--no, I will--get to the Snitch fast to end the game at once--"

The door to the locker room opened with a noisy, urgent creak. He broke off his monologue and irritably jerked his head backwards at the intrusion. "Just one more minute--"

What a beautiful interloper.

Standing in the doorway with the sunlight fanning her like a halo was the angel he had kissed last night.

* * * * * * *

Hermione stared in shock when his features lit up in recognition and warm welcome. Is it really me he's so happy to see? She glanced once over her shoulder and then back at him; his smile didn't slip an inch, resting all her doubts.

"Hello," she said uncertainly, standing in place. She had not expected to have to talk to him at once the moment she barged in the locker room.

"Hello," James replied, motionless as he gazed at her.

She stepped towards him, her eyes drowning in the depths of his hazel ones as he also stood up and advanced to meet her.

They stopped a couple of feet from each other, watching and waiting for the other to make the next move. James suddenly smiled widely, revealing his perfect set of teeth. Hermione blushed, running the tip of her tongue over her upper lip as though to savour the remnants of the kisses he'd ravished her with last night.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, still smiling. "Regina." Her name came out reverently, trembling slightly with emotion.

"James." She smiled and lowered her eyes momentarily before meeting his again. "I woke up late, but I wanted to see you first before the game."

"You must've had a good sleep, huh?" James teased cheekily, causing her to blush more deeply.

"Quite," Hermione indulged him. "That was one sweet dream I had."

"I assume it was of me?"

She shook her head, amused at his audacity. "No."

His expression at once darkened into a questioning scowl. "No?"

When had they blurred that line between friendship and romance; when had he learned to be jealous about her? "It was of the two of us," Hermione clarified, earning his smile back.

"You'll have to tell me about that sometime," James requested. "Make sure you describe it vividly."

Hermione put one finger to her lips and pretended to be in deep thought. "Wouldn't that be more difficult? Maybe it would be better if I just showed you."

James gaped at her for a moment, surprised at her sudden recklessness, before letting out a throaty laugh. "Well, whatever pleases you, of course."

"Potter, as much as we enjoy the show you're putting on for us, we have a game to attend," Katherine demanded imperiously a few feet behind him. "Unless you prefer to give them a win by default?"

Hermione started as though she had forgotten there were other people around. She swallowed hard and flushed an even more furious shade of crimson. "Well, I guess I should leave. I'll be up in the stands, cheering for you." She gave him one last, lingering smile before swiftly turning to walk away.

James watched her step a few paces, her footsteps only lightly touching the ground. It was almost like she was literally floating on air. He smiled happily, understanding that he affected her as much as she did him. But then a thought unexpectedly hit him, and he called out, "Regina, we've both forgotten something."

She looked back, her head tilted in query. He closed the distance between them in two long strides and held her by her shoulders. She glanced down at his large hands and up at him.

"What is it?" she murmured.

He smiled amorously before bending low to whisper in her ear, "I love you."

It was as though a bucket of honey had been poured all over her, enveloping her in sweetness and warmth. Before she could respond, though, he drew back slightly and sealed her mouth with his. Reflexively, her eyes closed, and her lips parted to allow him access. He did not waste this opportunity, and dimly, Hermione wondered how he could kiss her unrestrainedly and yet make her feel chaste--cherished--at the same time.

James broke off and stared at her fluttering eyelids and glowing face. He enjoyed making her blush, thought it was charming of her.

Once she had focused her irises on him, she smiled and whispered, "I love you too, James."

He planted a brief, loving kiss on her forehead before pulling her to him, resting his chin atop her head. He didn't care that his whole Quidditch team was staring at the two of them, stunned into silence. Did he say that he wanted nobody to know about this? Merlin, he desired nothing more now than to tell the whole world they were together!

"We shouldn't forget again, should we?"

"I won't," Hermione promised, touched beyond words. She lifted her head, stood on tiptoes and brushed his lips with another kiss. She straightened herself afterwards and sighed, almost regretfully, "Now I really should get going. Good luck, James. I'll see you later."

James waited until she had left before turning to look at his teammates, all of whom seemed to have had their patience strained to the limit.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" he asked them exuberantly, running towards them and grabbing his broom. "Let's give them something to talk about!"

* * * * * * *

It had been an easy win.

Only five minutes had passed since the whistle that signalled the start of the match was blown, and already James Potter was clutching the Snitch in his right hand, the ball's wings fluttering helplessly in his tight grasp. He was smiling victoriously as he summoned his teammates in the air, and together they landed gracefully on the ground, James's hand still raised in a fist.

"What a show-off!" Sirius hollered over the roar of the Gryffindor fans. "He didn't even let either team score!"

"So much for practicing for a whole week," Remus replied laughingly, clapping his hands in delight.

"He just wanted to make a statement," Peter contributed thoughtfully, seemingly the only one who didn't look surprised at the game's finish. "Scare the Slytherins out of their wits for the final match, now that we're two hundred points up."

Hermione wasn't listening to all their comments about the game; she was too absorbed with the sight of James on the pitch, feeling the glow radiate from him. She watched him as he gave all his teammates and the Gryffindors who had jumped down from the stands high-fives. He looked every bit the winner that he was.

She was suddenly mindful of a warm hand resting on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Remus smiling gently at her. "We should get inside for the early lunch," he said. "And then party at the common room later."

Remus led her through the horde of students back inside castle, with her glancing back every once in a while at James, who was surrounded by his throng of admirers. Far from being jealous, however, Hermione felt proud and happy for him. As far as she was concerned, they could have all the time and attention they wanted with him now; she was confident she would have him all to herself later on anyway.

Hermione soon noticed the absence of the two other Marauders. "Where are Sirius and Peter?"

Remus' lips twitched before answering. "Oh, somewhere around Hogwarts, I'm sure," he answered, "preparing for the party."

"You mean like nicking food from the kitchens?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"I was thinking more along the lines of butterbeer," he replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

She burst out laughing as she grasped his implication. "Do you always do that? Sneak out into Hogsmeade?"

"Just often," Remus answered in jest as they entered the castle. All around, he could hear people talking about James's spectacular game. He glanced at Regina and saw her beaming.

"Do you think James broke some record--fastest catch in Hogwarts history or something?" Hermione wondered, obviously aware of the conversations going on around her.

He shrugged noncommittally and took his place at the Gryffindor table. "Wouldn't surprise me if he did," he replied lightly.

She smiled contentedly and served herself lunch, realising how hungry she was after missing breakfast. For fifteen minutes, they simply ate in silence, until Hermione broke it by asking worriedly, "Won't James be having lunch?"

"He'll be fine," Remus assured her. "He's probably in the locker room, discussing the next game with the team. They always stay for about an hour, just talking about strategies and subsequent practice sessions. He'll be in the common room later."

Hermione nodded slowly, absorbing everything Remus had just told her. "Okay," she said, smiling serenely at him. Remus did not doubt for one moment that it was James she was thinking about.

After half an hour more of a very delicious meal, they both rose from the table and made their way up to the Gryffindor tower. Hermione was surprised to see the party already in full swing after clambering through the portrait hole. Still in their red-and-gold scarves, everybody was eating and drinking and laughing, and streamers that read LIONS FOR THE CUP! had already been hung. Hermione smiled in reminiscence. Except for the lion's roar that resounded through the room every now and then, the common room looked the way it usually did on such occasions in her time.

"There you are!" Peter squealed happily as he and Sirius advanced towards them. He was clutching two untouched butterbeers in a hand and his own uncorked one in the other. He handed a bottle each to her and Remus. "Here, have a drink."

Despite having just eaten lunch, Hermione accepted it, twisted it open and took a swig. "Thanks."

"Where's Prongsie-boy? Where's our star player?" Sirius sang in a high-pitched voice as he scanned the common room.

Remus snickered. "Last time I checked, he could hardly move due to the mob that had closed in on him."

Sirius snorted. "Ah, yes, his fan club." His jaw dropped comically as he turned to Peter. "How come you're here then?"

"Eh?" Peter protested, sputtering on his butterbeer.

"And you?" Sirius asked, ignoring him and rounding in on Hermione. "Why aren't you with that gaggle of screaming girls demanding his autograph?"

Hermione eyed Sirius before answering coolly, "Because I don't need to clamour for his attention." Her crisp words and the faintest smug smile on her face shocked all three Marauders. "Now if you'll excuse me," she added, gratified at their reaction, "all this noise is too much for me. I'm going upstairs to read a book."

"I thought you were going to wait for James," Peter croaked, having only slightly recovered.

"Oh, I'll see him later," she said airily, inwardly laughing at the identical looks of stupefaction on their faces. With a dismissive nod, she turned on her heels and wove her way through the crowd to the stairs.

Sirius followed her with his eyes until she disappeared from his sight and frowned in disbelief. "James told her already?"

* * * * * * *

Hermione flopped down on her bed with a contented sigh and folded her arms behind her head, closing her eyes and allowing a dreamy smile to cross her lips. James. She breathed in deeply as his name echoed in her head, loving how it sounded. She grabbed one of her pillows and hugged it to herself in giddiness. He loves me. I cannot believe it myself either, but he loves me! A while ago, while watching him on the pitch, Hermione wanted nothing more than to announce to the whole world how very much in love they were with each other--that he was hers and she was his.

Exhaling another satisfied sigh, she rolled over and reached for the book she had checked out the day before but had not had the chance to read yet. The motion caused something shiny to swing briefly along her line of vision. She traced her fingers along her collarbone until they came in contact with the smooth, cold surface of the hourglass that still hung around her neck. After pulling it over her head, she held it up in front of her, her elbows propping her on the bed.

It really is a beauty, Hermione thought as she saw the light from outside create dazzling patterns of rainbow colours within the glass. But her appreciation of this object went far deeper than that. For the first time since she arrived, she let her mind travel through everything she had been through to get where she was now. She stifled a sob, reminded of what her action had and would probably cost her and the people she cared for.

Hermione closed her eyes to hold back the tears; all she could see were a pair of hazel eyes gazing lovingly at her. She tightened her hold on the Time-Turner, as though afraid it would slip away and bring her along with it. She had to stiffen her resolve. No matter what the consequences were and would be, it would all be worth it, she was sure.

It had to be.

She pulled open the top drawer of the small bureau beside her bed and gently laid the Time-Turner down on the wooden surface. She wouldn't be needing it any longer. She was where she rightfully belonged now, sheltered in his love.

And she had every intention to stay, for it would be craziness to run away.

* * * * * * *

"Congratulations, James," he heard a male voice tell him, slapping him amicably on the shoulder. "Fantastic catch there."

"Thanks," James answered absently as he walked past his fellow Gryffindor, not bothering to see who he was. His eyes impatiently roved the common room, unsuccessfully seeking her out. He sighed in frustration. Where is she? This should be as much her celebration as mine. He had entered the common room to hearty cheers and shouts from the Gryffindors. As usual, everybody wanted to talk to him, to hear his personal take on the game that had to be the shortest in all the years of Hogwarts' existence. He had humoured them--he was in a very exuberant mood, after all--but it grew tiring after a while. It was almost an hour and a half before things had settled down enough for him to finally attempt to find her only to hear Sirius say that she had gone to her dormitory and had not come down since.

"Did she say why?" he had asked, receiving only a suspicious look as an answer. He rolled his eyes. Whatever was bugging his friends at the moment, it was something definitely not on top of his to-do list. He had to find her first.

He gnawed apprehensively at his lower lip. Is she mad at me, jealous of all the people competing for my attention? Despite himself, he grinned. Jealousy, as long as it was in the correct proportions, made a relationship healthy. His eyes fell on the clock above the fireplace, and he laughed aloud when he saw it splattered with what looked like pumpkin cake. Rowdy Gryffindors, partying for more than three hours straight now. Three hours? His realisation at the time--it was almost five o'clock--made him clench his fists in increased anxiety.

If Regina doesn't come down this instant, my plan for tonight is going to be shot to pieces.

James stared hard at the stairs to the girls' dormitory, willing her to appear. She did not. Shaking his head in resignation, he walked towards it and was about to take the first step up when an icy cold voice drawled, "I wouldn't try that, Potter, if you don't want to be hexed senseless."

He whirled at the voice and saw Lily smirking at him. For all her beauty, he still couldn't understand why she exhausted so much time and effort frowning at him. "What do you mean?" he enquired evenly.

"There's a protective magical barrier that keeps guys from visiting our dormitory," Lily informed him, still glaring. "Elaborate charms designed to make sure toerags like you don't mess our upstairs."

"You're bluffing," James reacted sceptically.

She laughed derisively. "Go ahead then, why don't you? I for one would rather you do it so you can forever be out of my way."

That stung, but James refused to show it. She had hurt him enough. "Are you on your way up then?" he asked instead. "Could you ask Regina to meet me here?"

"You've really got unbelievable nerve," she replied scornfully. "I'm not an owl." With that, she passed him and marched up the stairs.

James frowned, not at Lily's attitude but at the loss of what to do.

"Good game, Captain," he heard another voice say. This time, he recognised it as Neil's.

"Yeah, thanks," James replied, his brain still whirring. Wait a moment. A thought struck him. "Neil! Hey!" he shouted, pulling him back by his arm to face him. "You have an owl, don't you?"

Neil tossed his hair out of his eyes and looked confusedly at him. "Er--yeah, why? You plan to use it as a Snitch or something?"

Distracted, James repeated, "A Snitch?"

"Well, my owl's small and golden yellow, and it has wings," the fourth-year elaborated with a shrug.

James shook his head in amusement and chuckled at his humour. "No, it's for something else. Listen..."

* * * * * * *

Something feathery soft tickled her nostrils and began flapping, but a disgruntled Hermione simply turned to the other side and hugged the book closer to her as she soundly slept on. And then she felt it again, that impatient flutter now hitting her eyes, determined to wake her up. She groaned and fumbled blindly for whatever it was in an attempt to put it out of her reach, but ended up swiping air. Sighing in frustration, she forcibly sat up in bed and groggily looked around.

Two roses, one in full bloom and the other a mere blossom, were lying next to her pillow beside a furry little ball.

No, wait. She blinked and scrutinised it more closely. The ball had eyes and wings; it was an owl.

Comprehension hit her, and she smiled sleepily. Trust James to always surprise her with his thoughtfulness. Hermione scooped the owl tenderly with two hands and stroked its feathers lovingly.

"Did James send you?" she asked, her voice croaky from sleep. The owl hooted softly and nipped her index finger affectionately. "Go down and find him again. I'll be there soon." She watched it beat its wings in anticipation of flight before taking off and sailing out the door.

The sweet smell of flowers beckoned to her, and she picked them up to savour their perfume. Why James had given her only two, she made up her mind she would ask later. She gently laid the roses back beside her pillow and hopped off the bed, rushing to the lavatory to tidy herself up.

As she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she stopped to take a closer look at her smiling reflection. She was incandescent, her eyes clear and sparkling and her complexion luminous. Hermione felt her cheeks with the palms of her hands; they were flushed and round and warm, betraying her excitement in seeing him again. I feel beautiful. He makes me feel beautiful.

Four minutes later, she was on her way downstairs, clutching the leaf-adorned rose stems in one hand. The noise that greeted her made her feel somewhat disconcerted; how could anybody stand partying for several hours straight? Didn't they have anything better to do? She squeezed herself through the crowd in search for him.

"Excuse me; excuse me," she murmured, pushing off elbows and shoulders as she went about. "Excuse--"

Suddenly, one large hand was covering her eyes. Hermione jerked and tried to kick her attacker from behind, but an equally strong arm held her around her waist. She inhaled and prepared to scream, but stopped short when she recognised the familiar masculine scent tempting her to lean back against him.

"Guess," a husky voice teased, his breath blowing past her ear. She tried to tug at the hand over her eyes, but it wouldn't budge.

"James," Hermione said, already annoyed.

All at once, his hand lifted, and she spun around to tell him off.

He was grinning roguishly. "I would be disappointed if you had guessed otherwise."

And then he kissed her.

Taken aback, she automatically closed her eyes and pressed herself to him as her toes curled. There was nothing playful about him now; he was all about passion, and it consumed her. Nobody existed except the two of them; she could hear nothing but the crazy pounding of his heart as it beat in perfect sync with hers.

When he lifted his lips from hers, he whispered, "Finally. I've been wanting to do that for hours."

All words of indignation forgotten, Hermione reached up and pushed his messy hair away from his forehead. "I've been looking for you too. Congratulations, James. You were magnificent."

"Are you talking about the game or the kiss?"

She blushed. "Both."

James kissed her forehead before slightly loosening his hold on her so that she was able to stand firmly on her own. With her two feet planted on the ground, she was finally aware of the stunned silence and the gaping faces around them.

"I have something for you," he murmured, drawing her attention back to him.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot," Hermione replied. She showed him the flowers she held in one hand and thanked him.

He laughed. "No, not that," he said. "Those were just a ruse to wake you up. I had to use someone's owl to deliver them, did you know?" James took her hand in his. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Confused, Hermione followed him as he led her towards the portrait hole. She could still feel the burning, questioning eyes of their fellow Gryffindors, embarrassing and pleasing her at the same time. She supposed many of the girls were envious of her; what they wouldn't do to be in her place!

Just before they exited the castle, James turned to her and spoke. "To get your surprise, you'll have to trust me."

Hermione smiled. "That's easy."

He quirked one eyebrow. "Really? Even if I blindfold you and take you somewhere you don't know?" Her shoulders shifted, and he sensed her hesitation.

"Is this a joke?"

James gazed into her eyes with so much honesty that it was difficult to look away. "I've never been more serious."

Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled at him. "Well, then, I'm in your hands." She watched as he produced a scarf from his pocket and walked behind her to drape it over her eyes. Without her vision, all her senses seemed to have sharpened. "James?"

She gasped as she was literally swept off her feet. "James, what's going on?"

"Relax," James said, hooking both of her arms around his neck as he cradled her like a baby. "I didn't know you would weigh this light."

Hermione heard the creaking of the door and felt the cold air on her skin. She took her cue from the chirping birds and his footsteps on the springy grass and knew that they were already outside. After ten minutes of walking, James stopped, and she presumed he was surveying the area. What's happening?

"Do you know where we are?" James asked, looking down into the peaceful face of the woman he was carrying in his arms. He saw her lick her lips and could almost imagine her eyes taking on that pensive expression, like she did whenever she was thinking.

"Yes," Hermione answered certainly after several moments. The soothing sound of water waves could have only come from the lake. "We're under the beech tree, in your spot."

James smiled at her perceptiveness. "Wrong," he stated simply.

Hermione snorted. "I know I'm right," she insisted. "I can hear the lake."

What feistiness. He grinned once more. "We're under the tree where I kissed you last night, Regina. Or have you forgotten already?" He dipped his head towards her and claimed her mouth once more, silencing her protests. "Just a reminder," he murmured against her lips afterwards.

Hermione struggled to speak through her breathlessness. "So I was right. We're in your spot."

James groaned. "So stubborn," he muttered. "No, love, we're in our spot."

"Like I said," Hermione argued, refusing to be swayed by his term of endearment, "we're in our--" She paused in mid-sentence, finally realising what he meant. "Oh. We're in our spot," she repeated softly, a giddy smile curving her lips.

He did not miss that, and its sight delighted him. "Now it's time for your surprise," James said, setting her down on the ground without removing her arms around his neck. He lifted his hands to untie the cloth around her eyes, now wide with expectation.

Still in his embrace, she looked around and saw a tent erected a few feet away. Her features brightened, and she glanced back up at him. "What's inside?" she queried, excited and mystified.

Nodding towards it, James said, "Go and see."

Hermione disentangled herself from him and approached its entrance, James in her tracks. He rubbed his hands together both in anticipation and nervousness, all the while praying fervently, Please, let her like it.

She parted the curtains obscuring the tent's interior and gingerly stepped inside, wondering what awaited her.

"Merlin," Hermione breathed, enthralled by what she saw. For a moment, she stood immobile, her eyes roving the room. It had been set up like a camping cabin; a long couch was on the far side, three cushions were on the floor near her and a small wooden table prepared with a dinner for two occupied the space between. The only light inside came from the crackling flames in the fireplace; the air smelled strongly of strawberries, contributing to the romantic atmosphere.

James smiled to himself as he noted her reaction. "Like it?" he asked, enclosing his arms around her waist without waiting for an answer.

She tilted her head up at him and answered, her voice quivering, "I love it. Did you do all this?"

"I had help," James said, thinking of Tinky and the other eager house-elves who had acquiesced to his request early that morning. "But it's the thought that counts, isn't it?"

Hermione stroked the contours of his jaw before agreeing, "Of course. You never fail to catch me off guard, James." She drew him in for a brief kiss and then added, "Thank you."

Relaxed and satisfied at how his plan had gone so far, he remarked, "So you're not mad with me anymore?" At her confusion, he explained, "For not meeting you at once after the game?"

Again, she bit her lip as she considered what he said and leaned back against him. "Oh, yes. I'm still mad--."

"You are?" James asked in surprise. "But--"

"Maybe you should let me finish first," Hermione cut in, the lilt in her tone suggesting she was less than serious. He fell silent and waited. "What I was going to say was that I'm still mad..." She swivelled to face him again and locked her eyes with his.

"Madly in love with you," she concluded gently.

James stared at her for several long moments, as though allowing the full impact of what she had just said to sink in. Finally, his face broke into a huge smile, and he laughed heartily. He lifted her into the air in jubilation and swung her around, ignoring her shrieks of protest.

"You'll pay for that joke, Regina!" he exclaimed, relief and happiness sizzling through his veins at her words. He slung her easily over his shoulder even as she pounded his back, and walked to the couch, plopping her down afterwards.

She crossed her arms and glared at him, not caring that he towered over her. "It wasn't a joke. I meant that."

"I know you do," James replied, sitting beside her and reaching for her hand. "I'm mad with you too, did you know? Madly in love with you." He cupped her face in one large hand and kissed her, gently at first and then with more intensity. At this point, her hands had already found their way to his back, coming to rest on his nape and urging him closer to her. He complied by deepening his invasion of her sweet mouth, feeling her melt in the same way she made him boneless, moulding her tightly to him for support.

He ended it slowly, wanting to cherish as much of this experience as he could, knowing each kiss they shared would be different every time. His face hovered a few millimetres from hers, and he dotted her partially closed eyelids with butterflies. She sighed, and he chuckled at this. "You talk tough, Regina, but you're very, very soft."

She opened her eyes and stared at him reproachfully, but her disapproving expression dissolved into serenity when she saw him smiling. With her, he could always get away with anything. "Trust me; I wouldn't be this way with anybody else."

"Glad to hear that," James said, a hint of pride in his voice. He stood and held out a hand to help her up. "Time for dinner."

Hermione laughed as she took it and smoothed down her robes. "Have you got everything planned tonight?"

James smirked. "You bet."

"What's after dinner then?"

"Now, now," he chided lightheartedly as they ambled towards the table. "We wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, would we?" James pulled out Hermione's seat for her on the side of the table nearer the cabin entrance and then sat on his at the opposite end. Just after a split second, however, he jumped up and dragged his chair to where she was.

Astonished, Hermione asked, "What did you do that for?"

"I don't think I'll ever understand why it's supposed to be romantic sitting opposite someone you love, especially when you can sit beside her," James rationalised. "I mean, how else can I serve you food," he added, scooping some of the pasta on her plate, "pour you a drink," he continued, ladling punch into her goblet, "and feed you?" he finished, spearing a meatball and bringing it up to her mouth.

Choking with laughter at his antics, Hermione slapped his hand playfully before biting into the food he offered. She concentrated on chewing and swallowing it before James could come up with something that would make her double up once more.

"Juice?" he proffered tantalisingly, raising the goblet to her lips. She smiled appreciatively and took a sip, finally washing down what she had eaten.

"My turn now," Hermione asserted, twirling the pasta around her fork and feeding it to James, who exaggerated his chomping, leading her to another round of giggles.

"It tastes so much better when I eat it this way," James said, playing with Hermione's hair as she gathered a second ball of pasta to give him. He accepted it, took a swig of juice and exhaled contentedly. "A guy could definitely get used to this."

Hermione laughed and ruffled his hair. "Don't you think you're forgetting my share?"

He sat up straighter in his chair, and soon enough, they were taking turns feeding each other pasta, chicken, and even the chocolate pudding that was their dessert, the whole affair interspersed with banter and sweet nothings. Once, James had missed and swiped the spoon accidentally along the corners of Hermione's lips.

"That's why I'd rather play Seeker," he joked, gently wiping the red sauce away with the serviette. The stain seemed to have relocated to Hermione's cheeks as she coloured; James fanned his thumb over those pink apples and whispered, "You know, you look so adorable when you blush."

Pink turned to crimson, but Hermione didn't say anything. She reached for another spoonful of pudding and presented it to James, who shook his head.

"I've had enough, thanks."

Her forehead creased. "Are you sure? I don't think you had lunch."

"Well, yes, I didn't. But I'm fine now, really." He took her hand and squeezed it. "Besides, we have to return to the castle soon."

"Oh." She would have liked nothing more than to stay here with him, secluded from the rest of the world. Hermione inclined her head away from him and thoughtfully asked, "We're not going to camp out and spend the night here?"

"That would be divine," James agreed, pulling her to her feet as she reluctantly stood up. "But not tonight." He took each of her hands in his and held them between their bodies.

Hermione smiled. "Of course. I forgot you still had rounds." Then she looked down at their clasped hands and wondered, "What are we going to do?"

"Wait." James withdrew his wand from his pocket and pointed it at a weird contraption that almost looked like a radio. Nothing happened. He frowned and flicked it, his attempt futile. He slipped the wooden stick back into his robes and said, "There was supposed to be music."

"Music?" Hermione repeated.

"I wanted to dance with you," James said, his hazel eyes penetrating her brown ones with so much feeling. Hermione realised how deeply emotional he really was despite the carefree facade he upheld in front of everyone. "Will you dance with me, Regina, even without a song playing?"

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat at his sincerity. "Of course."

James smiled mysteriously as his left hand travelled down to her waist and her right clenched around his upper left arm. He then guided her left hand outward and aligned her arm with his right, coaxing her to sway to some invisible rhythm. Her feet stumbled every once in a while, as she had never really been graceful, but eventually she was able to keep in step with him--or maybe it was he who had learned to dance harmoniously with her. It didn't matter anymore.

"James?" Hermione prompted after a while.

"Hmm?"

"The roses you gave me... Why were there only two? And why was one--"

James pulled her nearer to him. "Ah," he murmured. "I was almost hoping you'd ask. The rose in full bloom symbolised you, a beautiful woman at the pinnacle of her femininity."

Hermione smiled, thrilled at his words. "And the bud just about to bloom?"

"It represents my love for you," James confessed quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Young and new, and yet..." He took a deep breath before continuing, knowing that this was the perfect time to say what he had long desired to say, to finally make her understand. "Last night, I was thinking about how I came to feel so much for you even though I had known you--really known you--for a little over three weeks. But then I realised that time did not make any difference anymore--"

Hermione's heart jolted at his words.

"--because I felt like I had already shared a very big part of myself with you, maybe an even bigger part than I had ever shared with anybody else." His hand released hers and fell to the other side of her waist; instinctively, she rested her arms on his shoulders and entwined her fingers behind his neck so that they were now closer than ever.

"At first I was uncertain whether I really loved you because I had just been..." He bit hard on his lower lip. "I was just starting to get over Lily. You had become my friend--one of the very best--and I didn't want to hurt you or use you in any underhanded way." James lifted his right hand and traced his index finger along the curve of Hermione's face, only to settle at her chin and tilt her head up. "I promise you, Regina, that whatever you might hear from other people about me taking advantage of you is false. Nothing could be further than the truth." He clenched his jaw, as though daring her to contradict him.

Hermione put a finger to his lips to calm him. "I know," she told him softly. "You couldn't have looked at me this way if you were still carrying a torch for her." His features relaxed, but his embrace around her tightened. She rested her head on his chest, unable to say anything, and for a while, they simply continued to sway to their own imaginary music.

"This is funny, isn't it, dancing to a nameless melody and yet feeling like it's the only way to dance," James murmured in her hair as one hand ensnared itself in her mahogany tresses. "I had always expected love's arrival to be heralded by bells ringing and a symphony playing, only to discover with you that love is when everything else is quiet and all you can hear are two hearts beating in tune with each other."

How did he know that was just exactly what she had been thinking when he had kissed her earlier that day? Hermione blinked back tears and looked back up at him, overwhelmed with every heartfelt word he had uttered. "James, this is... I don't know what to say."

James shook his head almost imperceptibly, as though to tell her that she need not say anything. The passion in his eyes were intensified by his glasses, but barring those, he seemed almost composed now that he had told her everything--almost everything.

"I love you very much, Regina Weisz."

He lowered his mouth to hers for a searing kiss, as if to prove his point, but stopped a fraction of an inch from her slightly parted lips.

"And I love you just as much, James Potter."

In that heartbeat, she had made him the happiest he could ever be.

James almost didn't want to break off the kiss, for it was during those moments that he felt both weak and strong at the same time, that he loved and was loved back. But then it was always incredible to have to start, to spiral into that vortex of emotions, all over again.

When he drew back, he recognised the starry look in her eyes and saw his reflection in them, confirming that he had touched her in the way he had most wanted to--in the most intimate way. His heart suddenly felt light, and he gently removed Hermione's left arm around his neck and extended it along with his right.

"Do you know any good dance moves?" James asked mildly, his lips curved in that tiny, devastatingly handsome smile.

Hermione returned his smile sheepishly. "Uh, no. I was never very coordinated, just like you told me last night."

"Let me teach you one then," he said, the impish twinkle back in his eyes. "First we sway three times--left, right and then left again--and then as we swing back to the right, I'll raise our joined hands thus." he instructed while demonstrating. "You'll duck and twirl around under so that you're at the end of my right hand, but you'll curl in the opposite direction afterwards and throw yourself backwards." He let out a small laugh at her raised eyebrows. "Don't worry; I'll be there to catch you just before you fall."

"Bet you're making this up," Hermione teased.

"Now why would I do that?" James asked. "On the contrary, there is such a thing called the dip." He stretched their arms further. "Ready?"

So they swayed thrice, and Hermione spun away from him. He nodded encouragingly at her, his other arm ready to welcome her back snugly. Hermione, however, whirled back in a little forcefully; startled, James wasn't able to securely hold her around her waist as she dipped, and they both tumbled into the cluster of waiting cushions on the floor, laughing and in a tangle of limbs.

"I thought you said you were more coordinated," Hermione managed to get out between giggles.

"Actually, I did that on purpose," James countered half-jokingly. "This is quite a predicament I'm in now."

Hermione realised just how much of him was touching her, what with almost the entire length of his body covering hers. She could almost feel the heat emanating from him and was pretty sure he could feel hers himself; she self-consciously tried to cajole her hair back into place. "I must look like a mess now."

"Oh, no," James refuted, the tip of his nose nudging hers as he stilled her hands. "You look beautiful." He worshipped every inch of her radiant face with a rainfall of kisses. "You are beautiful."