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Harry sighed, folding over the page. Only one chapter left. It was quiet now. Everyone else had gone to bed. Only the crackling embers spitting from the fireplace lingered, popping and snapping at a relaxing tempo. Hermione sat across from him, surrounded by a wall of books so tall Harry only saw her wavy brown hair, rising and falling steadily with her rhythmic breathing.
He yawned, checking his watch. It was getting rather late. Surely Hermione had done enough studying for one night.
“One more chapter and we’re off to bed.” he said. If he left before her, she’d stay up all night.
Hermione didn’t reply. Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the first time; she loved her work.
“Hermione?”
Still nothing. He peered over her book and- Harry stiffled a chuckle not wanting to wake her. There she lay, using her arms as a pillow, fast asleep. Still open and perched like a shelter around her stood Hogwarts: A History. Obviously, it wasn’t as interesting as she’d always made it out to be…
The edges of his lips curved upwards; he’d never really seen her sleeping before. Of course, he had seen her asleep, but he’d never really looked. There’d always been someone there or something else going on, distracting him. But not this time. Now, he stood rooted to the spot, his mouth open, gaping, as he drank her in.
She looked adorable as ever, and Harry’s heart melted at the sight. And what a sight it was! The thick curly blanket of soft brown hair snuggled across her shoulders. Her cute button nose wrinkled ever so slightly, in a way that made Harry want to reach over and kiss it. Or maybe it was her soft dainty lips parted, allowing for a tiny gap, causing pages to flutter, dancing in time with her slow rhythmic breath.
All Harry could do was stare blankly, mesmerised by the beautiful girl before him. It was an embarrassingly long time before he shook himself out of his stupor, letting out the shaky breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.
She was breath-taking… gorgeous in every single way. Still, his eyes drifted down to her puffy, luscious lips. Harry could almost taste them from here. His brain turned to mush as he stared longingly, drawn closer and closer until…
He shook his head. ‘There’s a time and a place, Harry.’ Hermione’s voice rang inside his head. Even fast asleep, she was his voice of reason.
Harry stepped back, trying to steer his mind away from the mischievous thoughts oozing out. By now the crackling had slowed to a steadier pulse, and although faint, the flickering light from the fire framed her face in such a way that she shimmered, glowing like some ethereal being.
There was something else too… he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. She looked different asleep.
Harry scoffed. Merlin, she really must have done a number on me… of course, people look different when they’re asleep!
But it was true. Harry rarely saw her like this. Often Hermione was… tense… to say the least, but here she was still, relaxed, at peace. Well, except for that faint humming sound she made with each breath. It was the cutest thing he’d ever heard, tickling his insides, like a flutter of bubbly butterflies. If anyone saw him now, he’d never hear the end of it. There he was, stood in the middle of the common room grinning like an idiot at his brilliant girlfriend. And the best part was… he didn’t care.
Then, all at once, the calm broke as Hermione shuffled jerkily, a frown marring her peaceful face, sweeping over her like a dark cloud on a sunny day. Harry searched for the source of discomfort, hoping he could fix it. It was like someone was squeezing his heart.
In hindsight, it was pretty obvious what the problem was. As much as Hermione loved her books, they weren’t great for sleeping on, especially not the thick, rugged hardbacks she carted around with her. Come to think of it, they weren’t easy to carry either. Maybe that was why Hermione’s punches were so hard? Secretly weightlifting all this time… Of course, she had chosen one of the most uncomfortable books she could find. Not that Hermione would choose a book based on comfort… he snorted, Ron probably would.
The book itself was a personalised copy of ‘Hogwarts: A History’ that Harry had bought for her birthday. Their first year was the last time the library copy had actually seen the library, and Harry thought someone else deserved a go.
So, he’d set out to find a copy of the book. Not too difficult considering it was a popular best-seller. Still, after acquiring it, nothing about the book had screamed ‘special’, especially as she had already read it. That’s what’d sparked his new, improved idea, which had turned out brilliantly.
Finally, he’d found some good use for his fame and status in the wizarding world, wrangling a special ‘first edition’ from Flourish and Blots, who were, “overjoyed to help the ‘Chosen One’ in any way they could!”. That was the first part… Determined to get Hermione the best birthday present ever, he reached out to the author, Bathilda Bagshot, who was thrilled to help.
Help… that was an understatement.
The lovely old lady had taken the copy he’d sent her and turned it into a one of kind special edition! Packed with all kinds of notes, extra titbits and entire chapters that never made the final draft, and adorned in a beautiful, ornate, handcrafted cover. Mrs Bagshot had gone above and beyond anything Harry had expected. Inside, at the very beginning, was a special message from Harry. She’d cried reading it, then given him one of the biggest and strongest hugs he’d ever had, making him feel all warm and tingly for the next hour. Whether that was from the emotions bounding around inside him or how hard she’d squeezed, Harry wasn’t sure…
The message read, ‘To Hermione, the most brilliant girl I’ve ever met, my favourite person in the world. It turns out being the boy who lived is good for something, after all. Enjoy your new book, love Harry.’
And she had. Enough to sleep on, apparently…
Still, there was more…
With the personalised message for Hermione, Mrs Bagshot had also sent a lengthy letter, alongside many photos of Harry’s parents and herself. She knew his parents! All this time she’d been living in Godric’s Hollow! While quite a shock at the time, Harry was ecstatic, writing back the instant he finished reading. Desperate, as always, for anything about his family, given he still knew next to nothing. Who was left to tell him? Sirius never had the chance and now… wouldn’t… and Remus was too distant, preferring to stay away from him for whatever reason. Something he was still bitter about.
In any case, Mrs Bagshot had promised she would tell him everything she knew, (and could remember…), even offering to meet him over the holidays. Imagine that! A world-famous historian telling him stories about his parents! He couldn’t believe it… Harry was itching to take her up on that offer but couldn’t risk her safety. Perhaps Hermione knew a way?
Speaking of Hermione, her sleepy face had slumped even lower down the table. Her relaxed, soft expression replaced with tension and irritation, which was understandable given the thick engraved words on the cover, spelling out her name and title of the book.
He sighed, gazing over her still scrunched face, and came up with a plan. He’d move her.
Although… Harry chuckled to himself, it would be rather funny to see Hermione with a bright red imprint of Hogwarts: A History on her cheek. After all, it was her favourite book. He shuddered, wincing as images of Hermione hitting him filled his mind. He shook his head, maybe not… Her posture was atrocious. With arms bunched up, tucked tightly under her head, and balanced on top of the rock-hard book. The way she hunched over the table made Harry cringe. At this rate, dead arms would be the least of her worries.
He couldn’t leave her like that, not that he was planning on leaving, of course. Being Harry Potter’s girlfriend came with a huge target on her back and Sirius had proven that Gryffindor Tower was not impenetrable. They’d argued a lot about it — always ending with Hermione explaining that she was a target anyway, which was true. He couldn’t deny that… she’d be by his side, girlfriend or not.
It made his head spin- to think that someone cared about him that much. That anyone would willingly step inside the chaotic whirlwind of death and destruction that was his life. And not merely step inside it, but fight tooth and nail to stay there, always drawing closer to the eye of the storm. It only made him more determined to protect her at all costs. He wouldn’t lose her, he couldn’t, not like Sirius. Even if it meant battling Voldemort and all his wretched Death Eaters at once. For Hermione, Harry would do anything.
Harry sighed. As Sirius once said, ‘Focus on what’s right in front of you, the rest can wait. Spend too much time dreaming about things that haven’t happened yet and you’ll forget what’s real.’ And he was right. Time to make Hermione more comfortable.
With great care, he picked up Hermione’s weighty tome, saving the page with the beautiful Gryffindor Lion crested, red bookmark lying beside her. Then, with one arm hooked beneath her legs and the other clasped around her shoulders, he scooped her up, heading for the large sofa by the fireplace.
Cradled in his strong, sturdy arms, he couldn’t help but notice how perfectly she fit against him. The smooth scent of vanilla wafted through his nostrils. Where does it come from? Was it her clothes? A perfume? Or maybe she was just naturally sweet smelling? Whatever the case, he couldn’t get enough of it, and took an extra-long breath, just enjoying her sweetness. A soft smile bloomed on his face as he stared at her, committing every detail of that perfect face to memory. All the while, her hot breath tickled his neck, sending goosebumps rippling across his body. Through his fingers, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat pulsed inside him, in sync with his own. Wow.
All that quidditch training was finally paying off. Hermione was a lot heavier than she looked…
Upon reaching the sofa, Harry paused, so comfortable he couldn’t let go. In the end, his aching muscles decided for him and, with great care, he gingerly lowered her onto the sofa, smoothly summoning a pillow for her head. As he let go, however, she shifted, taking a sharp intake of breath.
Did she just —
For a moment, he swore he saw her frown. Harry froze, praying he hadn’t disturbed her. Thankfully, the moment passed as she settled, sinking down into the sofa and he sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Harry thanked his lucky stars every day that he’d drummed up the courage to ask Hermione out, even if it had taken quite a while… Surprisingly enough, Ron was the one who’d convinced him. It was such an odd day.
After months of rampant flirting between him and Hermione, Harry found himself cornered one evening after quidditch practice by both Ron and Ginny, which was even more surprising. The pair had threatened Harry with serious physical harm if he didn’t, in Ron’s own words, ‘Ask that bloody girl out!’ Looking back now, Harry couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked her out sooner!
A cold draft swirled past him, ripping him from his daydreams. He shivered. In the fireplace, only glowing embers remained, dissipating into darkness. It was cold. Freezing… and obviously Hermione thought so too, curling up into a tight ball. Maybe he should wake her up. She’d be more comfortable in her own bed, warmer too.
Or, maybe…
His eyes lit up. Over by the fireplace was a large wicker basket filled with fresh blankets, perfect for snuggling up in. Using his wand, he summoned two of them. How were they still so warm? The fire must’ve been out for almost half an hour. He beamed. Magic truly was the most brilliant thing. Now, blanket in hand, he wrapped Hermione up as snug as he could, tucking her in as tight as he dared without disturbing her.
Then, Harry floated down beside Hermione, eyes wide, doing his best impression of Hedwig watching for any sign of movement. Nothing. Finally relaxed, he settled back, sinking into the comfy chair, simultaneously calling his book to him. By the time she woke up, he’d have it finished. It would give him something to tell her about later. She loved hearing his opinions on books, especially ones she’d recommended.
Without warning, Hermione shuffled and in one swift motion curled around his arm, burrowed her head into his side and snuggled closely, melting into him, her dazzling smile radiating pure joy and happiness. Everywhere she touched sent sparks jolting and bursting across his body as his heart raced. It was truly the best feeling he’d ever felt.
“You were awake the entire time, and I had to carry you?” he whispered, trying to sound annoyed, but couldn’t hide the mirth from his voice, nor his silly smirk.
Through the tiniest crack, her eyelids shifted, revealing warm brown eyes which met his own. Transfixed by the intensity of her stare, the rest of the world just faded away. She smiled, whispering his three favourite words… “I love you.”
That sent the tingling into overdrive! Like a thousand butterflies skittering around inside him, making him feel light and fuzzy. It was like he was floating, as everything else melted away.
Harry wrapped his arms around her, drawing even closer, and said the only words he could say.
“I love you too.” And he meant it, more than anyone could ever know. Immediately he banished any thoughts of reading tonight, curling up beside Hermione and tugging the blankets smoothly over both of them. He smiled, brushing a particularly curly lock of hair away from her face, before placing a soft lingering kiss above her brow. She giggled softly beneath him, her cheeks flushed. It was the most precious thing he’d ever heard.
Wrapped up snugly together, his sleepy eyes drooped shut, and he drifted off into the most peaceful night’s sleep he’d ever had. Harry smiled. Hermione was right, he really was the luckiest wizard alive.