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This whole day Harry noticed that Hermione was acting a little bit different, and what surprised him almost as much, that he didn’t mind it at all. She was always a little bit more further on the “physical affection” scale than he was, with hugs and all, and this year with the tournament it also increased, as she worried about him at every task, and he couldn’t really blame her. Look where this damned thing got them all. And also he couldn’t be more grateful for her being by his side this year.
Which meant these couple of hours he dreaded more than anything in the world right now. Hogwarts Express was on his way to London and at least for a month he would be away from all of his friends. They would write, sure, but it’s not the same. After Cedrick… he tried distancing himself, but selfishly found that he could breathe a little bit better only when he was close to Hermione or Ron.
Maybe it was also the reason, that made Hermione cling to him today at any excuse, but he didn’t let himself thinking too much about it. Just quietly took it in and responded to these little hugs or how she would grab his arm, he would lightly put his palm on hers for couple of seconds, and then let go. For this to repeat because of any reason she could come up with within 15 minutes. Ron would raise a brow here and there, but then would just shrug it off and go on with the day.
That was interrupted for Hermione to reveal Rita’s secret and Malfoy’s visit which ended with him handing the tournament gold to Weasly Twins. ‘Huh, talk about Butterfly’s effect.’ thought Harry to himself. After a bit of a pause, Ron stood up, remembering something.
“Guys, I’ve got to talk to Seamus. I caught it only faintly, but I think his parents didn’t react to 'You-Know-Who’s being back' too good, I want to make sure to know what he’s thinking.” At raised eyebrows he just bashfully smiled and added to explain, “Well, we spent a lot of this year together, kinda friends, so, I don’t want him to make the same mistake I did at the beginning of this year… Sorry ag-”, he began again, but Harry stopped him.
“It’s alright, we’re good, I’ve told you this before. If anything, now is more important for people to believe me than it was at the beginning of the year. Go talk to him.” Said Harry, with a weak smile. Ron nodded and went out of the compartment, leaving only Harry and Hermione there.
“Well, he seems better at handling what he feels, than he was at September, or even December, which says a lot.” Commented Hermione, at Harry couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yeah, some of us went through dark rituals, while the others gained emotional intelligence. Do you think these facts connected?” and despite the seriousness of the topic, Hermione too burst out with laughter, Harry soon following suite.
“Can you imagine?” she said, trying to get a breath between her laughter, “You-Know-Who with Ron’s former capacity to understand feelings? War is going to end in a week, maximum!” And if they thought they were laughing hard before, now it was to a degree that they didn’t even make any sounds, struggling to breathe, or even seat upright, he grabbed onto Hermione to balance himself, and she did the same.
But that moment came to an end, Harry ended up sitting next to Hermione in some half-hug, but they didn’t part. Laughter ended, and thoughts came over them. Harry had no capacity to read Hermione’s mind, but he could guess where they went.
“It really going to be war, right?” she asked quietly, and he just nodded, which she could only sense through their contact, as they didn’t look at each other. ‘My guess about her thoughts was correct though.’ He thought, as she continued. “I can’t really comprehend what this means. My family obviously wasn’t in the magical world when it came here, and the last thing that could touch me in that way was World War II, but it really eluded me and my parents. My mom was three years old when it ended, dad was two. Not the age to understand what was going on, much less it had the chance to impact me.”
Harry remained quiet all as she shared her thoughts, no doubt scared about future, and he wasn’t much different. He thought about this of course, but usually wouldn’t share it, but as Hermione opened up to him, he found himself wanting to do the same. So he began. “Honestly, I wish that we already knew what it meant.” She looked him in the eyes, confused, but he continued. “We always were against it. Even ignoring this ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’, our company somehow always found itself opposing Voldemort.” Hermione never flinched at the name, which always pleased him, and he was glad that his return didn’t really change it, even if she doesn’t say it, “The stone, the diary and the basilisk, Pettigrew, tournament and wizarding world on the whole, which is not as good as people lead to believe, after all of that, I wish that it was the worst of it.” And now it looked like Hermione understood what he was saying, nodding.
Hesitantly, though, she pushed him a little, “But..?” and he complied.
“But it’s going to be worse. Tenfold, easily. Meeting him like that was… terrifying. Tom from our second year, for all his future, was a memory from him at almost our age. A kid with dreams, however horrifying. And first year, it was maybe childish arrogance that ‘Nothing bad will happen to me, because nothing bad have happened yet’ and mixture of him looking rather… pathetic as a wraith that possessed Quirell. It was easy to think of him as a nightmarish monster, that you can chase away by not thinking about it too much. But at the graveyard… it was… a man… that almost put all of Britain at his feet, knew how to do it, and now on the way to repeat just that. No amount of pain or death would stop him and you just need to… stand up to that, no matter the fear, because it will not help you survive, and all you can hear yourself think is yelling ‘MOVE’ to not freeze. Pushing through with no plan, because how can you think of something besides ‘I will not bow to you’ and ‘I want to survive this’? Crucio didn’t help to think either.”
At this point, Hermione was hugging him again, but he could feel her tremble. She wasn’t just supporting him right now. She was scared too and was trying to chase that away by any closeness she could find. Malfoy’s words, recent and not, unfortunately were hitting close right now, even if they have never given him the pleasure of seeing it. “I’m sorry, Hermione, but it will get worse.” And he couldn’t say anything more, because he felt that it was true, even pulling her closer to somehow help, he knew that it didn’t do much, as she was shaking her head, crying too.
Harry didn’t do well with tears, so chose coward’s way – just being quiet, trying to calm her down by light hugging and small pats on the back. Knowing Hermione wouldn’t want anyone seeing her like this, he took out his wand with a free hand, and Accio’ed the curtains on the glass door of the compartment, to close them, and it seemed that she didn’t notice.
Some time passed as Hermione finally calmed down and they were sitting in silence, she was on his right, as she laid herself a little bit more on him and placed her head on his shoulder, and his right hand had no choice, but to remain on her shoulder, as he was patting her back before. Some sights were becoming familiar through the window, you grow to learn it after 4 years of the same course, which meant they had less then hour before they wouldn’t see each other for at least a month. It didn’t seem like Ron was returning anytime soon either. But no words were spoken between them, as they continued to sit in oddly comfortable silence.
Harry could almost feel his eyes close because of it, but he knew he couldn’t let himself fall asleep now, London was close, and he didn’t want to lose any time of being at peace before returning to Dursley’s. He turned his head to Hermione to check if she wasn’t sleeping, and found that she wasn’t. And also, that their faces were incredibly close. He didn’t get to move away as he caught unreadable expression on Hermione’s face, and suddenly she closed her eyes and moved her head even closer, their lips connecting.
Harry found himself not reacting to this whatsoever. He didn’t ‘freeze’, nor ‘answer’ and definitely didn’t ‘tensed’. His brain, as if it was a question “How to cast Expelliarmus?”, he knew exactly how to answer, automatically gave him an explanation to “How to take this?” quietly screaming in his head.
‘She’s obviously distraught, it doesn’t mean anything, she just needs an outlet, and you happened to be here when she needed it. She will pull back in 3 seconds with apologies and saying of how she “didn’t mean it”. You know this, so don’t get excited, nor even let yourself to feel what is going on, you are just going to waste your time later trying to forget. So. No. Don’t record this, and problem will be solved.’
And he did just that. Even though their lips were touching, he would imagine that it just some surface of anything else. Not that hard really. Didn’t really felt any different than when he would put, say, his own hand to his lips.
One.
Hermione was as motionless as him, no breathing took place, her eyes were closed, and his were not, but as the rainy clouds took over, compartment weren’t that bright, so he couldn’t really pick out her features right now. Or chose not to.
Two.
She wasn’t tense either. Nor seemed frozen. Like placing your hand more comfortably when writing, she moved, and left position as it is. ‘Not for long, but anyway.’
Three.
‘And there it is.’ Harry found himself thinking, ‘She will pull back at any moment, and we will go on pretending it didn’t happen.’
Four.
She didn’t. Harry’s first argument found itself falling apart, and version ‘Maybe it means she will do it for 5 seconds, and then pull back?’ didn’t sound believable even to him right now. Was this really happening?
Five.
‘It was. Hermione is kissing me.’ And with that he let himself feel, and found that her lips were unbelievably soft and smooth. He finally closed his eyes and moved, his lips pushing more into hers, and she moved in answer to that too, tightening in his chest grew heavy as he realized that he was afraid and ecstatic at what was going on. ‘Oh my God, this is happening, I need to stay calm! Calm, dammit!’
Six.
He found himself taking the initiative in making this kiss more intense, as after him moving, as though they were on pause on telly, they now resumed. His right hand, which was on her shoulder, came down to her waist, pressing her to be more closer to him, and his left was, as it turns out, on her leg, which he now grasped, fingers closer to inner thigh, and her legs tensed in the way, that was squeezing his fingers on it, but oddly, that sensation was as enjoyable as the kiss.
Seven.
He didn’t know why he continued counting, but it seemed his brain turned on some timer, and didn’t want to turn it off. Her right hand now clasped his other shoulder, turning him more to her, and that’s when he felt the urge to open his, and hers, mouth, which she complied, now tasting her, and he didn’t find usual descriptor of strawberries, or even something silly, but what could be associated with her, as the smell of new opened books. ‘She doesn’t eat her books, after all.’
All he found was softness and passion. And he didn’t even know those things had a taste, but right now it was as if he had access to her way of thought, and it just made sense that he could understand more, that he could feel a lot more. Hermione’s soft moans indicated that she enjoyed the process too, so he continued to lose himself in those feelings.
Eight.
His left hand now not only grasping, but also slightly letting go of her leg, only to grab a little bit harder or lighter, repeating process, found Hermione reacting even more, squeezing his hand harder between her legs, which he found incredibly enjoyable, but she was not protesting to this, she could easily bat that hand away, as her hands were a lot freer than his, but she didn’t, and seeing as Harry didn’t moved his hand anywhere up or down seemed to calmed her down on that front, as almost a fight of tongues was happening meanwhile a little bit higher.
Nine?
And oh what a fight it was. Again with every second he found a new emotion, new concept delivered to him in a way he wouldn’t imagine possible. How can push towards him feel like ‘care’? Or hand on his chest perceived by his head as ‘gentleness’? How can a brief unlocking of their lips, just for Hermione to forceful kiss on the cheek, that sent whirlwind of goosebumps down his whole body, feel like ‘love’, and however briefly this feeling terrified him. For all his life being saved by Love, he rarely has got to… feel it. ‘Isn’t that ironic.’
Ten?
Their lips locked again, and now new emotion was found in her hand, which was placed on his other cheek, ‘confidence’ felt weird, but it almost got him believing that Hermione knew what she was doing. That hand felt like she was thinking of this moment whole day, and lips now tasted as if she achieved victory in the game he didn’t know they were playing, but was stuck in anyway.
Thirteen?
Was he even counting right? He wasn’t sure. Since Eight could’ve passed a second, how many things he felt in a short while, or they could already be in London, just not noticing it, hours of travel lost to this dream.
‘Maybe I did fall asleep? That would explain a lot, from unrealness of this situation, to the amount of joy I feel. Real world rarely feels this good. Last time was when Sirius invited me to live with him.’ And that quickly went away as the smoke of dream too. Even though being a real world, it didn’t like him to have this feeling for long.
And now Harry felt the strongest desire to push her back. Because pain in his fingers between Hermione’s thighs showed him clearly that it wasn’t a dream. And that was worse. If this was real, that’s just another thing to lose, to dream of having, without any chance of keeping. But just as selfishly he stuck around Hermione and Ron to breathe lighter after Cedrick’s death, he chose to let himself feel this desire, this peace and this rightfulness a little bit longer.
Eighteen?
And finally, they pulled away not only their lips from each other, but a faces too, leaving Harry thinking ‘It wasn’t as bad, as I feared it could be.’ And now he looked in Hermione’s eyes and didn’t found any emotions, which he feared that he would. No guilt, no desire to apologize, no disgust, no awkwardness of ‘I-wish-I-could-be-anywhere-but-here’. The same unfamiliar look was on her eyes, that he caught before she started this, and he then found himself again pressing his lips into hers, oblivious to the fact, that he was wearing the exact same expression on his face.
But this time he didn’t just returned to snogging Hermione. No, to his mind risen the conversation between Seamus and Dean, which he pretended he didn’t hear. He was sure as fact, that Hermione didn’t feel as much as he did in however-long-it-lasted kiss. She couldn’t have. If there was a game in here somewhere, he indeed lost it right now, however much he did to make her feel good just wasn’t enough, could never be enough, coming from him. So he would need to make it up to her in any way he could imagine would help. Remembering her forceful kiss on the cheek, he felt confident in his new approach.
‘Not all kisses, that feel good, have to be on the lips. Try moving, and see to what she reacts.’ Was Seamus’ advice to Dean, and Harry intended to use it.
After 5 seconds (or minutes), his lips parted with hers, and he moved a little bit lower, now kissing lower corner of Hermione’s lips, then again a little bit lower, her breath getting faster, a bit confused, and here again Harry was learning a new way to communicate emotions. It ended up on lower part of her chin, but as he moved, her head went up, opening him a way to continue his kiss-line to her neck, and if with every kiss before she just breathed audibly, neck got her being a lot louder. Harry didn’t stop on one kiss to her neck, and none were on the same place, making his kiss-line a travel from her lips to her collarbone, where he stayed more intensely, but careful (he hoped) not to make a hickey. Hermione hitched, this time it was her voice that let Harry know he was doing something right, as it went higher than he ever heard her, she seemed almost impatient, her hands clasping his shirt, not really trying to pull him up to her, but there nonetheless.
And slowly Harry repeated his ‘travel’ back up to her lips, and there she continued with ferocity he didn’t know she had, now also trying to implement hands too, burring in his hair with one, and directing his face with other, placing it on his cheek. Ten more seconds (or minutes) in the kiss he knew he was losing again, and they parted again, now whatever came over them stopped.
Both breathless and incredibly red, got away from each other, not sure how to continue. Hermione was the first to be able make words with her mouth, “What was that?!”
But before he could even comprehend what to say to that, the doors opened with force, Ron again inside, mad, not even looking at them, and Harry feared that he seen what they were doing, that whatever got over Ron to get angry with Hermione and Krum for dancing will let it be known now, but pointed at him now, and usually he had a way with words to defend himself, as rarely it was truly his fault for some situations happening, but after all of that, his head still felt fuzzy, and Harry wasn’t sure he had any defense now. ‘She started it!’ was a kindergarten level, not even Harry would buy it.
“What a bloody jerk! The one time I needed him to listen to me!”
“What?” Harry could only push out of himself.
“Seamus! Eyes wondering, and even though he was nodding and agreeing with my words, I saw that he didn’t care what I had to say! Bloody jerk!”
Even though Harry had no way of knowing what Hermione was thinking or feeling at the moment, but as she evidently didn’t even try to chaste Ron for his use of language, she also didn’t seem to get out of it quite yet. Harry, meanwhile, was just relieved that his first evaluation of Ron’s ire was wrong. It was enough for him to be able to move on for now.
“Well, welcome to my life, mate. These things happen, don’t let it get to you. You have me as an example of what happens when you do.” With a small laugh, Harry was glad that he could act as if nothing happened. Right now it seemed to be the right course of action.
Hermione seemed to agree, letting herself talk now, considering her of best way to approach this problem, throwing glances at her bag with a jar from time to time, Ron seemed calmer, and surprisingly willing to listen to every point that she made, commenting what would and wouldn’t work with average wizard.
In ten minutes time, they were already leaving the train; Harry was aware how neither he, nor Hermione even tried to look each other in the eyes, but right now, as they were leaving to what each could call ‘home’, he knew he had to say goodbye properly to her. Weaslyes already left, Mrs. Weasley already shifted some weight of his shoulders, promising to house him for at least some time this summer.
Finding his Gryffindor courage, he forced his eyes to meet Hermione’s, and looked pretty much as he was feeling, weary, trying to keep it together, but determined. Before he could say anything, she moved, hugging him, and quite easy did what he would never think from her before this day, and kissed him on the cheek. Here it was much less… passion or whatever it was on the train, but yet again he found a new possible way to communicate ‘assuredness’ to him.
“ ’Bye, Harry!” and a lot quieter she added to his ear, “We will talk about this. I promise, I will write to you, whatever it means, we’ll get through it. Don’t hide, deal?”
“Deal.” He answered infinitely quiet, but she still heard him. He stepped back and in normal words said, “Have a nice holiday, Hermione, I’ll write!”
She beamed at him, then turned to her parents, as he went to Uncle Vernon, silently, but happy, following him to his car. Harry could worry about everything later. Hagrid was right, what would come, will come… and he will be ready to meet it whenever it will.