Once Hermione's tears finally subsided, Lily kissed the side of her head, then left her alone near the pond, telling her to take as much time as she needed before coming back to the tent. Hermione stayed for another thirty minutes, until the sun was at an angle in the sky that made it shine directly in her face, keeping her from opening her eyes. She figured that was as good a sign as any to head back.
She found James in the main room, reading a book, and took a seat on the couch next to him. He lowered his book and when he turned to her, his eyes were swimming with concern.
"I wanted to apologize, James, for making you go through all that yesterday and then not even going to Fall's End."
He clicked his tongue. "Nah. Don't apologize. I'm just glad you're okay. I was worried about you because, well, if you died, who would I spar with?"
She gave him a small smile.
"Plus," he continued, "I don't mind the time to rest up for whatever insane Wonder you have for us next."
"The next one is nice and simple. No puzzles, no emotional upheaval, no retching the contents of your stomach every hour. Just exotic creatures and kindly giants."
James raised an eyebrow. "Interesting mix."
"Yeah."
"When do you want to go? Are we camping there or do we have a reservation we need to meet?"
"Just camping." Hermione couldn't remember what time they were scheduled to leave. They were so far off the plan by now. And it didn't matter, since James could alter the Portkeys.
"I'd like to take some time here before we leave," she said. "To just...relax."
James snorted.
"I can relax," she countered.
"Sure."
Hermione laid her head on the couch and moved her gaze to the bookshelf on her left. "Maybe I'll read for fun. I haven't done that in ages. Go for a hike through the non-misty part of the forest, perhaps swim in one of the lakes. It's gorgeous out there and that's without the fact that at any moment, you can look up and see a breathtaking waterfall on the horizon."
James simply smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, which were scrutinizing her.
"Um, are you really okay to skip Fall's End?" she asked, looking down at her lap. "You can still go. I think you should."
"Perhaps Enlightenment isn't all it's cracked up to be. Wasn't it you who taught us that muggle quote, 'ignorance is bliss?'"
Hermione nodded.
"We'd brought you into an Order meeting, I think that was the first one you'd ever attended. We were wondering when to tell Neville about the horcrux he was carrying inside and what it meant. We were torn, half of us wanting to tell him and half of us wanting to wait so we brought you in, since you knew him better than anyone. You said that quote and urged us to wait."
Hermione nodded again. She made a mental note to tell Harry about this new information later, then wondered if she'd get a chance to. Would they still chat in the dark, just before falling asleep, or hang out in their room alone? Or would they spend the rest of the trip awkwardly avoiding each other?
"It struck me after," James said, focusing on the chair on the opposite side of the room. "It was bliss for him, but not you. You had to keep that from him for months. We shouldn't have burdened you with that knowledge. It was my idea to call you in. I forgot sometimes you were just a kid. Harry's age."
"I'm older than Harry by almost a year," she pointed out.
He smiled. "So I've heard." He turned to her, pulling one of his legs up onto the couch. "Do you forgive me, Hermione? Harry does, or so he says, but I've never asked you. I didn't make you like at Headquarters, but I did pull you into the war. I'm the reason you have that injury and a host of other memories I'm betting you wish you could forget. And I'm sorry for that, Hermione."
She felt hollow as she met James's eyes. He was so different from Lily, a lot less tactful and caring, but no less impressive. He was clever and strong and had a giant heart, though he usually hid it behind jokes and arrogance. Again, Hermione was painfully struck by the fact that he was dead in her world. The thought made her want to curl into a ball and cry.
"There's nothing to forgive, James," she replied, blinking back tears. "We were fighting a war. Hard decisions had to be made and in the end, we won. It's over and now—now, we move on."
He continued to watch her with a shrewd stare that she found slightly unnerving, but she still met his gaze, not wanting to look away and have him think she was lying—which she was.
"Who was it?" he asked eventually. "Who said the quote?"
Hermione wasn't expecting the question. She wondered if he was checking her identity or simply curious. Either way, she knew the answer.
"It was Thomas Gray. A muggle poet."
"Hmm. Smart man." He gave her a small nod, then picked up the book he'd laid on his lap earlier. "How does two sound, for the next Portkey? Does that give you enough time to lounge around?" He said the last part like he doubted she was capable of that sort of activity.
"Let's make it three," she countered.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, his expression a mix of surprise and approval. "Okay. Three it is."
Hermione got the relaxing day she'd been craving. She read curled up in the chair across from James for almost an hour, then went for a swim with Lily while Harry and James returned to the waterfall on their brooms. Harry had been reluctant to go, not wanting to leave Hermione behind, but she'd insisted and promised to use the coin to alert him at the first hint of danger.
When the guys returned from the falls, they ate lunch outside under the warm sun, then took their time packing up the tent. Hermione packed quickly and was able to fit in a few more chapters of reading before their 3 o'clock Portkey to America.
They arrived at an unassuming campsite with a few obviously magical tents spread around. Hermione explained that although this was a Wizarding campsite, here were muggles hiking and camping nearby, so outside the muggle-repelling wards that protected the area, they would need to be discreet.
"Where are we?" Harry asked, looking around at the sparse forest. All Hermione had said about their destination was that it was in America and three hours behind Venezuela, which he knew meant they were somewhere on the Western side of the country.
"I'll show you," Hermione said with a sly smile. She led them to a hiking trail at the entrance to the campsite and after half a mile of walking through the woods, the sky opened up. Harry was taken by how clear it was. There wasn't a single cloud. He was about to say something to Hermione about never seeing the sky this devoid of clouds in Britain, even on clear, sunny days, when she grabbed his arm. "Look, Harry."
Her touch hit him like an electric shock. But almost as suddenly as it had appeared, her hand was gone and Harry was left standing alone on the trail, watching as his parents and Hermione approached a wooden railing at the end of the path. Harry took a deep breath and followed after them. When he finally reached the railing and saw the view up ahead, all thoughts of Hermione, how much he missed being able to reach out and touch her anytime he wanted, and what that meant about his feelings for her and more importantly, his relationship with Ginny, were erased.
"Merlin," James whispered.
"I know," Hermione replied. "I've seen pictures but in person, it's so... so... grand. Which makes sense, I guess." She turned, leaned back against the wooden railing, and said proudly, "I present to you, the Grand Canyon. Ironically, one of the Natural Wonders of the muggle world. Or, I guess I should say 'Nomag' since we're in America."
"It's beautiful," Lily said. "How was it made? It looks Magical but then—how would the muggles explain that?" She grabbed James's arm and placed a quick peck on the underside of his jaw. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and tried not to feel jealous.
"I know what you mean," Hermione said, turning back toward the colorful layers of rock cut into a variety of jagged shapes that stretched for miles in every direction. "But it's not magical. This was created by a river and its tributaries cutting into the rock over the course of several million years. And the layers—they're all different types of rock that were created over two billion years ago, when this canyon was under the ocean and the rocks that makeup the entire planet were still being formed."
"And you're saying that's not magical?" James asked.
Hermione shrugged. "There are incredible powers in this world that have nothing to do with magic, but that doesn't make them any less magnificent." Harry wondered if she was thinking of her job in the Department of Mysteries, studying those "unknowable forces" of the world. Her former job, he corrected, feeling a slight pang in his chest.
Hermione sighed and turned back to them. "Today, I thought we'd explore the canyon from the top, visiting the popular muggle spots. Then, tomorrow, I'll show you the magical parts," she ended with a grin.
"With the friendly giants and exotic animals?" James asked.
"Yes. It's called Giant's Gulch."
Harry frowned. He hadn't heard of the giants and exotic animals. Probably because he'd barely seen Hermione today and hadn't been alone with her since their short talk at the pond this morning. He had a plan to fix this and had been working on something earlier, when he'd been alone in their room, but he was worried he wouldn't be able to execute his plan, since Hermione seemed determined to avoid him.
His attention was drawn back to Hermione when she announced they were moving on and started passing out scraps of paper with coordinates. He knew better than to bother asking if she wanted to Side-Along with him and studied the coordinates she'd handed him, waiting for her signal before turning on his toe.
An hour later, they were standing on a glass bridge that extended in a U-shape over the vast canyon. Hermione was gripping the railing tightly and visibly shaking, but Harry could tell she was trying to hide it. He held a hand out to her and muttered, "Take it. I don't think ten minutes of hand-holding is going to kill us."
She ignored his proffered hand and gripped the top of his arm, then leaned into him. "No," she said softly. "Ten minutes should be fine."
Harry couldn't keep a smile from playing across his lips as he turned back to the majestic view, which seemed more beautiful, for some reason.
Later that night, Harry was sitting next to the fire, eating his fourth s'more as he watched his parents chatting with a friendly American couple they'd met while roasting marshmallows. The Americans, two men of Asian descent around his parents' age, had come over and introduced them to the wonder of s'mores. His dad was overjoyed, then said how annoyed he was that he'd gone his whole life without trying one.
Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from saying how he'd gone his whole life without trying a roasted marshmallow, since the only camping he'd done had been during the war and it certainly hadn't been a 'marshmallow roasting' type of experience. Hermione, who seemed to always know what Harry was thinking, patted his leg comfortingly, then seemed to realize she'd promised not to do that anymore and quickly pulled her hand back into her lap.
Beside those few minutes spent lamenting his marshmallow-free childhood, Harry was having a lot of fun. He loved the chance to watch his parents in this new setting. He liked watching the way his parents' different personalities complimented each other.
How his dad was the garrulous one who had a funny joke or story for every topic and would monopolize the whole conversation, if allowed. How his mum was the polite one who would interrupt his dad and give the other people a chance to talk. His mum was also more private and would give his dad a slightly admonishing look, or place a hand on his arm, when she thought he was giving too much away.
He liked watching his dad try to get his mum to loosen up by coaxing her to share a story or two. And he liked watching his dad's eyes brighten any time she laughed. They were a good pair and Harry thought that this was what love was. Being comfortable with your partner. Filling in their small inadequacies and letting them do the same for you. He wondered if this was a state he'd get to with Ginny.
They were pretty comfortable around each other, at least when they were alone, but there were still awkward moments during times like this, when they were meeting new people or attending a dinner or other public event. They'd talk over each other or say something to embarrass the other, nothing like this easy back and forth.
But they were still a relatively new couple. His parents had been together for over twenty years. Or maybe Harry was the problem. He hadn't grown up seeing this sort of love modeled for him. How would his life have been different if that had been the case?
He knew that answer. According to the facts of this world, he'd have ended up with Hermione. Harry sighed and set down his half-eaten s'more. No matter where his thoughts started, they always ended with her. He focused back on the conversation and a lump appeared in his throat when he realized they were talking about Hermione too.
For the past few minutes, his dad had been doing that thing parents do when they talk about how wonderful their kid is while the kid in question is sitting right there, blushing and waiting for the conversation to move past them. Harry had seen the Weasleys do this several times, but no one had ever done it for him, unless you count that summer before his Fifth Year when Sirius had told anyone who would listen how proud he was of Harry for not being made a Prefect, but Harry wasn't sure it was the same.
He focused on a spot on the ground, a warmth creeping up his neck as he listened to his dad tell the Americans what a brilliant flier he was, how he had a knack for teaching, especially younger kids, and how many N.E.W.T.s he'd earned in school.
The conversation drifted when one of the Americans chimed in to explain their version of N.E.W.T.s, which was very different, but now James was back to bragging, but this time about Hermione.
"His fiancée is a genius. She earned eight N.E.W.T.s in school and is a few months away from finishing her Potions Mastery. If it weren't for having to lose a year of school for the war, she'd be one of the youngest ever."
"When are you going to be married?" the man with a trim beard asked Harry.
"Oh. We haven't set a date. Soon," Harry replied.
He was glad Hermione was gone for this part of the conversation, since it would have made her uncomfortable. In their other lives, they did have wedding dates, for marriages to other people. Though Harry's June wedding seemed farther and farther away the more time he spent in this world.
Hermione had excused herself earlier, saying she was tired and was going to read in her room. Harry had decided to wait an hour before following her, hoping that would give her enough time to read so she wouldn't be annoyed when he interrupted her.
He had to drag himself away from the fire after he told the group he was going to turn in. He could watch his parents like this forever, relaxed and telling little stories about their life, but he needed to talk to Hermione. Making up with her was more important right now.
She was lost in her book when he arrived at their room. He stood in the doorway and watched her for a few seconds. She looked calmer than she had in a long time, close to that photo of the other Hermione brewing Potions. Harry had made the mistake of going through those photos earlier today, hoping to find clarity about these newfound feelings for Hermione. It was a bad idea, as they'd just confused him further.
Harry cleared his throat.
"Oh, hey," she said when she saw him, lowering her book into her lap.
"Sorry to interrupt. Er—you can keep reading to—er—get to a stopping point. I just—uh—wanted to talk to you. If that's okay." Harry wished he could Obliviate her and try that again. Maybe this time without stumbling on every other word. He took a deep breath and watched her mark her place in the book and put it on the table.
"We can talk now." She shifted onto her knees and stretched her arms over her head. Her shirt lifted up slightly, revealing the curve of her waist, and Harry had to force himself to look away. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked when she was finished stretching and her shirt had returned to its proper place. There was a slight edge in her tone and Harry guessed she was worried he was going to press her about their kiss again.
Harry went to his trunk and pulled out a notebook. He turned to the right page before handing it to her, holding his breath as she flipped through the first few pages. When he saw her eyes widen, then turn warm, he exhaled and let himself relax.
"Are these potential jobs for me?" she asked, smiling up at him.
Harry nodded. He laid on his stomach next to her and took his pillow to prop his chest up. "These were all the jobs I could think of," he explained. "And if you flip to the end..." He reached over to flip the pages for her, "...I started listing out different selection criteria. I thought you could go through the list, circle the ones that sound interesting, then assign each job a different score for each category. We can even assign different weights to the categories, if you want. Those are just some ideas. I thought you'd want to come up with the final ones on your own."
Hermione smiled as she read the scoring categories he'd already come up with. Community impact, level of mental stimulation, flexibility… "Why is 'how difficult to qualify for' crossed off?" she asked.
Harry shrugged. "I thought in the end, it didn't matter. Since you can do anything you set your mind to."
Hermione smiled and looked back at the page. "This is brilliant, Harry. And so thorough. When did you do this?"
"Earlier today. While you were reading." "I love it." "Yeah?" She smiled again before flipping back to the first page. "We can go through them together. If you—uh—want," Harry said tentatively. "Of course," she said, shifting so she was on her stomach like Harry. "I want to see what you came up with." She ran her finger down the page of jobs he'd written out, still impressed by how comprehensive the list was. It started with the standard jobs, everything at Hogwarts, all the jobs at the Ministry—minus Unspeakable, of course, though he had included Minister for Magic. She stopped when she reached Cartographer. "I'm not sure this is still a job. I believe everything on this Earth was discovered a few hundred years ago and the maps are finished being made." "Really? Weren't you the one telling me that the melting ice caps were threatening to reshape all the coastlines?" Hermione let out a small laugh. "Okay, fine. But this one—" she pointed at Composer, "was this serious?" "I don't know what sort of musical scores you have floating around in that giant brain of yours." "None," she said with a laugh. When she saw the first job on the next page, she snorted. "Coroner!?" "What? You'd be good at that." "You think I could be one of those muggles who cuts up bodies to try to determine the cause of death?" "Wait, what?" Harry peered at the list. "No. Those are the people who choose what to put in museums." "Curator," she corrected. "Oh, shit. That's right. You know even as I was writing it, I knew it was wrong." Hermione had turned onto her side and was laughing so hard, there were tears in her eyes. "Who mixes up coroners and curators?" "The words are sort of similar, and I was only in the muggle world for ten years—I forgot what coroners did. How brutal, by the way. Too bad they can't use spells, like we can." Hermione shifted back to her stomach, still smiling widely as she returned to the list. She grabbed a pen from the bedside table and started circling a few jobs as she read. She snorted again when she reached the bottom of the page. "What's a 'pasty chef?' Just...a really pale chef? Because I have a sort of olive skin tone. Is that going to work?" Harry stuck his tongue out at her. "That's an 'r' right there," he said, pointing to a very small, almost indistinguishable squiggle between the t and the y. "You're just being difficult now." She smiled and turned the page. "I was stressed while I wrote this," he explained, "as you can probably tell by the messier than normal writing." "Why were you stressed?" she asked, looking up from the page.
He thought that was obvious, but answered the question anyway. "You seemed so down this morning. I was worried about you. But you—you seem better—yeah?"
"Yeah," she said, nodding as she turned back to the list. After scanning the next few jobs (Hairdresser, Makeup artist, Fashion designer, Barmaid, Mum), she smiled and said, "I see we've reached the, 'Oh, right, Hermione's a witch' section."
"I know you're a witch," he said defensively. "I actually figured it out in Fourth Year." That made her laugh. And I wish I could forget you were a witch for a bit as that would certainly help with the inappropriate thoughts that have been running through my head all day.
Harry cleared his throat as he cast around for something else to talk about, besides the fact that he was a wizard and she was a witch, since they seemed to have that topic well-covered. "That one's a real job, by the way" he said, pointing at the Mum entry.
"Oh, I know. It's just not for me. I mean, I want to be a mum...one day...but I want to work too."
"I figured but I still left it on there, not wanting to assume since it's...you know... up to you."
"Thanks," she said, leaning into him. She wished all wizards were so supportive and understanding about the topic.
Her eyes landed on a job near the end of the page and she let out another laugh. "Quidditch player? That has to be a joke."
"I didn't want to leave anything out, in case you wanted to make a serious life change. And I can help you, if you want. I learned recently that in another life, I was a pretty decent flying teacher."
Hermione laughed. "I'm good." She focused back on the list and circled Lobbyist and Something with books. "A little vague, don't you think?"
Harry leaned over to see what she was referring to. "Oh, yeah, sorry. My hand was cramping at the end there. I'm sure you know the jobs in that category better than me, anyway."
Hermione smiled as she returned to the list. She loved that he hadn't considered Something with books until the end. Most people would have put that first, but not Harry. He'd never seen her as a stereotype. When she reached the end of the list, she went back and counted the number of jobs she'd marked, circling a few more during her review. "Okay, I have thirty circled. Now we can pick the categories and assign scores."
She half expected to see his eyes glaze over, but he looked excited. "Let's do it. I'm eager to see what we come up with. Hermione Granger's new job. It's a big deal."
"Yeah, I guess so," she replied, blushing slightly. "Um, maybe we should mark the occasion. I have something."
"What?" he said, watching as she got up and went to her trunk.
"Something left over from France," she said vaguely.
"Wine?"
"Hah! No. I do have wine, but I think I should stay sober while making this big life decision."
"Good call." He also thought it was best they remained sober when they were alone together. At least for the rest of the trip. Or forever. That was probably wise.
After Hermione had been digging in her trunk for a few minutes Harry asked, "What are you looking for?"
"Chocolate. Remember those amazing truffles we got in France? I have a few more in here somewhere."
"You didn't have enough chocolate earlier with all those s'mores?"
She stopped and looked back at him, "Enough chocolate? I'm unfamiliar with this concept."
He just smiled and shifted his gaze to the list of jobs he'd made for her. A few moments later, Hermione said, "Hey, what's wrong?" She was standing at the edge of the bed and had been watching him, her eyes tinged with worry. Harry shook his head. She really did know him better than he knew himself. She seemed to have figured out something was off with him, just as the thought was forming in his mind.
He gave her a dismissive wave. "Tonight is about you and your life crisis. We can discuss mine later."
She took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Or we can discuss both of them. Come on. Tell me."
Harry moved so he was lying on his back. He took his glasses off and draped his arm over his face. "I'm thinking about quitting my job too."
He heard her breath hitch. Then, the bed shifted as she moved closer to him. "Tell me more."
He told her about his conversation with his dad after their trip to Cairo. About what Sirius had told his dad at the Tear in the Veil. He told Hermione he'd been thinking about what his Sirius would say if Harry got a chance to talk to him and that he thought he'd say the same thing he'd said to his dad. That Harry could let the war go. That he didn't have to fight Dark Wizards to avenge Sirius's, his parents', or anyone else's deaths. That he should try to enjoy life as best he could.
"Wow," Hermione whispered when he finished talking. He lifted his arm and peeked over at her. She was lying on her back next to him, looking up at the ceiling.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"I think a lot of things," she said slowly.
"About this," he clarified.
She turned and gave him a small smile. "I was talking about this. I have a lot of thoughts about what you said."
"Care to share?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes. That's why I said, 'What do you think?'"
"You're prickly," she murmured, looking back up at the canvas ceiling.
"This is a big deal!" he said defensively.
"I know." She placed a hand on his arm. "I was kidding." They both looked down at her hand and after a few awkward seconds, she took it back and pulled herself up on the bed. He moved to a sitting position too as he waited for her to speak.
"I have three primary thoughts," she began. "First, I agree with your assessment of what Sirius would say and I agree with the argument whole-heartedly. I never approved of your choice of job; you know that. Second, I'm a little annoyed you had to hear this from your dad for it to really sink in, but I'm glad it did. And finally…" She paused to give him a wicked smile. "I told you so. That's always fun to say."
He shoved her.
"Oh! I have one more!" she exclaimed.
"Fine," he grumbled.
"It's going to be hard—if you go through with it—but I'll support you, just like always."
Harry smiled back at her. He'd been nervous about voicing the idea, but he should have known she'd be supportive. She gave him a pretty smile and a curl fell into her face. He wanted so badly to brush it back and had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out. She got there first and dropped her eyes, blushing slightly. He was staring, and it was making her uncomfortable. But still, he couldn't pull his eyes away from her.
"Oh! I remember where I put the truffles!" She jumped out of the bed. Harry rolled back onto his stomach and dropped his head into his pillow, taking the chance while Hermione was distracted to take several deep breaths. Get a hold of yourself, Harry.
"With Ron always around at my flat, I got in the habit of hiding all my sweets," she was saying as she dug through her trunk. "But I always forget where I put them." She took out a balled up pair of socks, reached into them and pulled out a large rubber ball, then grabbed her wand and Transfigured the ball into a bag of truffles.
"Wow. That was a good hiding spot," Harry forced out, still reeling from his brief freak-out over how pretty she was, followed by her abrupt mention of Ron.
Hermione grabbed a few truffles out of the bag, then tossed the bag to him.
"Ron used to steal my sweets too," Harry said, "but he learned his lesson with the Romilda Vane incident."
"That's right," she said before popping a piece of chocolate into her mouth. When she was finished chewing, she asked, "Did you set up that whole thing to keep him from nicking your sweets in the future?"
"Of course not. I'm not that cunning."
"I don't know. The Sorting Hat thought you'd be pretty great in Slytherin."
Harry threw a piece of chocolate at her and she tried to catch it, but failed miserably, losing her balance and nearly falling over. Harry couldn't help but laugh. "You know what? I think I need to go back through this list and remove every job that requires a modicum of hand/eye coordination."
She scowled at him, but his point was proven when she tripped on the ball of socks she'd dropped earlier on her way to the bed. "Not a word," she said sternly.
He just laughed harder and soon enough, she joined him. As they laid on the bed, laughing together, it almost felt like the kiss from the night before had never happened. But it had happened and even though they were doing a good job of pretending otherwise, it was at the top of both of their minds.
Hermione sat up quickly in bed, breathing heavily as she tried to think calming thoughts and remind herself she was safe. It wasn't real. It was just a nightmare. She opened her eyes but she may as well have kept them closed. The room was pitch black.
She jumped when she felt a hand on her back.
"Sorry, it's just me," Harry whispered.
She nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her and hummed back at him.
"Was it a memory or a nightmare?" he asked, moving his hand up to her shoulder.
"Um… both, sort of. It was one of the scenes from the mist."
"Oh. Which one? You never told me any details of what it made you see."
Hermione bit her lip as she considered whether or not to tell him the truth. She thought of what Lily had said, about confiding in him, and it was so much easier to say things like this in the dark, when you couldn't see the other person. So she told him about the scene at the Department of Mysteries, how he'd left her, and how broken she'd felt.
Harry pulled his hand away from her shoulder. "What else did it make you see?"
"I watched you die," she said. "At every point in our past when you had a close call, instead of escaping with your life, you died. Starting from that first time you met Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, to the Chamber of Secrets, the Triwizard Tournament, the fight at the Ministry, to countless times during the war."
"That was your heart's deepest fear?"
"Yes," she sighed.
He was quiet for a long time, then asked, "Did you see anyone else die?"
"No," she said as a tear fell down her cheek.
He grew silent again. All she could hear was his breathing and after another minute, she could feel it, on her cheek. He had shifted so his face was just inches away from hers. She turned her face until she could feel his warm breath on her lips. He reached for her and buried one hand in her hair, behind her neck, and gripped her waist with the other.
"Do you want me to stop?" he whispered, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.
"No," she breathed.
"Are you sure?"
She leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them. As soon as their lips touched, something instinctive ignited in them. Harry kissed her fiercely as she moved her hands to his shoulders and reached under his shirt, pulling him closer to her.
When he leaned back for air, she bit his lower lip, drawing a low groan from the back of his throat.
He kissed her chin, then started kissing a path along the line of her jaw until he reached the spot just below her ear. He moved her hair back and began peppering kisses on her neck. Every one of his touches sent a shudder down her spine.
She let out a moan when he reached a sensitive spot. He stopped and she could feel him grin against her skin, then he bit the spot he'd found softly before sucking her neck, hard. She let out another moan, louder this time, which was met with a very husky, very sexy, "Hermione."
She'd never heard him say her name like that and desperately wanted to hear it again. She reached down and as soon as her hand touched his cock, which was hard under the thin fabric of his pajamas, she woke up.
"Shit," Hermione whispered as her eyes adjusted to the low light in the room. She turned her head toward the window and saw through the crack in the curtains that the sky was dark blue. She guessed the sunrise wasn't far off. She turned her head the other way and saw Harry was sleeping on his side, facing her. Her heart skipped a beat.
He's asleep. He doesn't know which direction he's facing. Don't overthink it.
She slunk out of bed and sat on the floor, groaning as she laid her head back against the mattress. "Shit," she said again.
The room got a little lighter as she sat there. When she could see well enough to make out the room, she looked around and saw Harry's trunk lying open a few feet away. She saw the box of photos and Summoned it with her wand, then placed it on her lap as she carefully opened the lid. She cast a dim, floating light, turned to make sure Harry was still asleep, then focused back on the box.
The first thing she noticed was that the photos were in a different order than when she'd last checked them. That meant Harry had looked through these since China. Curious to see what he'd been looking at, she reached for a few photos on the top. Hermione leaned forward to see the first photo and almost dropped the pile in her hand.
She was with Harry, Ron, and Hannah Abbott, at what looked like the inside of Florean Fortescue's. The Hermione in the photo was wagging her finger at Harry, wearing a stern expression, then he pushed the hand holding her ice cream cone up, causing her to smear ice cream across her mouth.
Hermione opened her mouth in shock as the rest of the group burst into laughter. Harry leaned forward and ate the largest blob of ice cream off the side of her mouth. Then he proceeded to clean off the rest of the ice cream with open mouth kisses as she laughed and tried to push him away.
Ron bent to whisper something to Hannah just as the camera pulled away and Neville appeared in the frame. He'd been the one taking the picture and was taking a moment to look into the camera and roll his eyes with mock exasperation. Hermione could just make out the hint of a lightning bolt scar under his hair, before the camera focused back on the other Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Hannah.
She watched the scene for longer than was probably prudent. Heat coursed through her, settling between her legs, as she watched the other Harry kiss the other Hermione. She thought of her dream, when he'd been kissing her even more thoroughly than this. What had Harry thought when he'd looked at this photo? Had his body reacted embarrassingly, like hers was, or had he just viewed it with detached curiosity?
She should put the photos away. That was the right thing to do. This would just make her confusing mess of feelings worse. Hermione sighed and lowered the hand holding the photos.
"I set it all on fire, Miller, and now I'm burning," she whispered into the quiet room. "What now?"
She thought of the Unspeakable and imagined how he would respond if he were here. She could almost hear his low, silky voice saying, "Add another log to the fire," as she picked up another photo.
