Work Text:
i. He kissed her.
Her body feels anew as his lips come down to cover hers, and the only feeling in the world is him pressed against her, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She responds as he moves his lips over hers, somewhat clumsy, nervous. And then he pulls back, slowly, reluctantly, and she notices that the roar of the common room has stopped, that no one is moving a muscle, and then there are a few whistles. She barely notices that he’s looking over her head; the fabric of his shirt suddenly entrances her. She realizes he’s looking down at her, and as she looks up to see him jerk his head towards the door, a silent invitation, and she lets him slip his hand into hers and pull her out of the portrait hole.
They haven’t walked very far down the hallway before he pushes aside a tapestry and pulls her down a hidden passageway.
“Harry-,” she begins, but is cut off when his lips find hers again, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace that leaves her breathless. She responds to his kiss with equal enthusiasm, giving in to one of her most long resisted urges and burying one of her hands in his messy hair.
He pulls back, but his arms don’t fall from around her. He rests his forehead against hers and she can feel her stomach dancing.
“How was the match?” he asks, breaking their silence. It catches her off guard, and she frowns.
“That’s what you want to talk about?” she responds, and he laughs softly, his breath tickling her chin.
“I mean, you did just in the biggest game of the year, and I am the captain of the team,” he teases, one of his hands moving up her back to her neck, where his fingers push up into her hair.
“It was fine, just what you’d expect. Now, about the celebration,” she begins, and he chuckles, almost awkwardly.
He presses his lips to hers again, softer and more patient this time. She knows what he’s doing, has used the tactic herself, but she loses herself in his sudden confidence.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time,” he says finally, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against hers again. She smiles, trying to contain the excitement in her body, and the urge to kiss him until he falls over.
“Really?” she says, somewhat sarcastically. She’s momentarily stymied by the look in his eyes, the look he’s been giving her for months. It’s as if he is trying to commit her very being to his memory.
“Yes,” he breathes, taking in deep breath, “and I’d like to keep doing it.”
“I can arrange that,” she says, and he laughs, but only for a moment before he kisses her again.
ii. He kissed her.
They are hidden away under the low branches of a tree, the spring sun filtering through the leaves. The blanket he’d conjured up is large enough for them to sit apart, but he’d pulled her to his side as soon as they’d sat down, and kept her there. She has a book in her lap, because even though she’d said she’d come outside with him, she has to revise.
She feels him shift, and she realizes it’s been awhile since he’s said anything. Looking up, she realizes that he’s dozed off, the warmth and calm lulling him into sleep. She smiles at his glasses, slightly crooked on his nose, and the way his mouth hangs open. He’d been so awake, so alert, when he’d found her in the library and convinced her to come outside with him.
She looks down at her book, trying to find her place. As she does, she leans back into him, easily lifting his arm to wrap it back around her shoulders. She’s not surprised to see he’s fallen asleep, and she uses his even breathing to keep her focused as she tries to read her text book.
The words begin to blur together and she sighs as she closes the book, using her wand as a placeholder, and setting it aside on the blanket. Off somewhere in the distance, she can hear others near the lake, the telltale sounds of splashing echoing up under the tree branches. It’s a beautiful spring day, hard to resist, even to the most studious students.
“Wast-“ Harry splutters, shaking himself awake, and she turns to watch him as he reaches up under his glasses to rub his eyes.
“Good morning,” she says jokingly, and he looks at her with mock indignation. He shakes himself and sits up off the tree, stretching his arms above his head.
“I did not fall asleep,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.
“Not sleeping lately?” she asks, and he looks at her for a moment, his eyes boring into her.
“No, I’ve got things on my mind,” he said, his eyes still looking right at her, or through her, she can’t tell. Nevertheless, before she can reply, he leans over and captures her lips in a kiss.
“Now, hold on, I want to talk about these things,” she jokes as she pulls back, and the grin that breaks out on his face makes her stomach flutter.
“We are talking about them,” he says as he kisses her again.
iii. She kissed him.
She knows exactly what she’s doing.
She can hear his words, echoing through her head, as he walks into the room, his body language telling her all she needs to know about how he’s feeling. He’s trying all he can do not to look at her, and she can feel parts of her screaming at him to just relax, but she knows. She understands why he can’t.
As she takes a step closer to him, she recites the line she’s been practicing all day in her head, her eyes looking right at his face. He’s looking more towards the ground, his hands in his front pockets. He says something about dating opportunities being thin to the ground, and she nearly smiles.
“There’s the silver lining I’ve been looking for,” she whispers as she takes the last step towards him and reaches up, her lips coming into contact with his almost on their own accord.
It takes less than a second for him to respond, whatever mental block he’d set up broken as she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down into her embrace. She can’t remember any of their kisses feeling like this, but then again, she hadn’t known any of them would be their last. His hands are in her hair, her tongue is in his mouth, and it’s all so wonderful-
The door bangs open, and Harry jumps back from her like she’s on fire. She can tell her brother knew exactly what he was doing, and as the air in the room grows cold, she feels her chest tighten.
“Well, happy birthday anyway, Harry,” she says, her tone flat, her eyes narrowing at her brother before she turns away. Her throat is closing, she’s mad and slightly embarrassed, and she doesn’t even hear them leave the room.
iv. She kissed him.
He’s exhausted, physically, mentally, magically, and everyone knows it, but not everyone wants to respect it. They all retreat to the Burrow, where the wards are strong, and the endless supply of food Mrs. Weasley is making during her grief feeds all people who wander through.
She makes a plate and heads upstairs to the bedroom he’s occupying. She hears bits and pieces of conversations as she walks up the stairs, knowing that most center on the person she’s going to see. When she walks up to his door, she knocks quietly.
“Come in,” Harry calls, his voice hoarse. She pushes the door open and finds him sitting up on the bed, facing the door. He doesn’t show any surprise at her being the one coming to see him, and as she walks across the room, his eyes follow her.
“I brought you some food, I know you haven’t eaten in awhile,” she says, leaving no room for arguing. He nods, taking the plate she offers him and moving up on the bed so she can sit. She scoots all the way across the bed so she can rest against the wall, and he joins her, leaving ample space between them.
“Thank you,” he says softly, picking up one of the sandwiches and taking a bite. She watches him for a moment, taking in how he moves in his exhaustion. She looks away when he looks up at her, out the window towards the edges of the ward.
“Are they still out there?” he asks, and she nods, her eyes narrowing as she counts the reporters standing outside the impervious wards.
“Yeah; there’s more than earlier,” she says, turning to look at him. His eyes are on the plate, the food seemingly forgotten. She scoots a bit closer.
“Harry, don’t worry about them,” she begins, but he cuts her off.
“I’m not,” he says, picking up some crisps and chewing them slowly.
He continues to eat, and she sits there, as they do most days when she brings him food. She gives him his space mostly, letting him heal in his own way, talking when he wants too, and staying quiet when he doesn’t.
When he places the plate down on the bed, and his shoulders sag a little, she knows he’s finished, and he’s about to fall asleep. Taking her cue, she moves off the bed, taking the plate to let him stretch out, pulling the blanket over his torso.
“Thank you,” he says again, and she smiles.
“You’re welcome,” she replies, and on impulse, she bends down and kisses his forehead.
When she turns around to take one last look before closing the door, he’s gazing at her indescribably.
v. He kissed her.
She wakes herself up, the nightmare so vivid and real she feels the spells on her skin. In the oppressive heat of June, she throws off her blanket and spreads out on the bed, her chest heaving as she tries to relax.
A knock at the door pulls her attention away from breathing, and she bites her bottom lip. Tensing up, she sits up and hopes it’s just her mother, having heard her cry out in her sleep.
“Come in,” she calls softly, and the door opens slowly. A mess of curly black hair tells her it’s definitely not her mother, and she instinctively crosses her arms over her chest as he walks into the room, hesitantly.
“Are- I heard you yelling,” Harry says, shutting the door softly. With a wave of his wand, the room cools significantly, and she sighs out in relief.
“I’m fine,” she says, grabbing the blanket from where she’s thrown it and wrapping it around her shoulders. He narrows his eyes at her as he walks across the room and sits down on the end of her bed.
“You don’t look fine,” he says, looking at her critically in the darkness, the almost full moon the only source of light.
“Who are you to judge?” she snaps back, feeling defensive and somewhat cornered. He holds up his hands in defeat, closing his eyes as he thinks.
“I’m not, but I wanted to make sure…” he trails off, as he looks back up at her, his eyes bright behind his glasses. She sighs, knowing how much he must care to have he left his room.
“It was just a nightmare,” she practically whispers, noticing how his hand twitches at her words.
“You get them too,” he mumbles, leaving the statement open-ended. This time her hand twitches.
“Is that why you’re awake to hear me?” she asks, and he sucks air in through his teeth.
“Sleep… isn’t easy,” he struggles with his words, and this time when her hand twitches, she follows through on the thought.
Reaching for his arm, she pulls him towards her, and he follows, entirely willing, up to where she sits. He settles down next to her, taking the section of blanket she offers him, smiling when he realizes this forces them to sit right next to each other. She’s always been a source of warmth, and now he’s reminded of that more than ever, as his cool skin comes into contact with hers.
“Sleep is essential to recovery,” she says, and he turns to look at her. Sitting as they are, he isn’t much taller than her, and she’s very aware of how close their faces are.
“Yet, here we are.”
His words hang over them, and she shuts her eyes as she lets them sink into her mind. With a sigh, she leans her head against his shoulder. They’re quiet for a moment, in which they can hear someone else moving around the house.
“Here we are,” she breathes, and she’s sure he hadn’t heard her, until he wiggles his shoulder, forcing her to look up at him. He offers her a weak smile before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
vi. He kissed her.
It’s mid-July when she finds him sitting outside in the sun, his shirt clinging to him in strange spots from sweat. She’s carrying two glasses of iced tea, and she sets them down on the ground carefully. He looks up at her as she settles next to him, her hair moving in the slight breeze. She’s aware of his eyes, moving across her bare shoulders, so she hands him a glass.
“Thanks,” Harry says, leaning back as he takes a sip. She watches him, taking in how much weight he’s gained, how some of the color has returned to his skin.
“Mum was surprised to learn you’d gone outside,” she says, and he chuckles lowly. He places the glass in the grass near him and sits back on his hands, bending his head up towards the sky.
“Hermione mentioned something about sunlight really helping,” he says vaguely, and she nods. She had heard the conversation between her mother and best friend.
“She said the Australian sun had helped,” she jokes, and he laughs.
“Well, I’m shit out of luck then,” he replies, looking over at her and grinning. Her stomach does some acrobatics.
“I think all suns the same,” she mumbles, and he raises an eyebrow at her. He lifts his bottom off the ground and swings over towards her, ending up right next to her in the grass.
“I think you’re right,” he replies, tilting his head back up towards the sky, his hips now right next to hers. She smiles at him and copies his position, letting her hair hang over the grass. She’s glad they’re mostly hidden from anyone at the wards edge, and that this moment in time is between her and Harry alone.
“I’ve missed you,” he says after some time, and she turns her head to look at him. His eyes are open, and he’s looking at her shoulders, and her hair, and she sits up. He follows her, turning his body so their knees are touching.
“I’ve been here this whole time,” she says, and he shakes his head.
“I’ve missed… being… with you,” he clarifies, ducking his head slightly, his eyes staring intently at the ground.
“I’ve been right here,” she moves then, moves so she’s right against his side, “this whole time.”
He looks down at her, and she sees his nerves, his anxiety, the awkwardness melt away as he bends down and kisses her for the first time in almost a year. He brings his hands up, one to cup her face and the other to tangle in her hair, and she grips his shirt tightly as his lips move over hers. Something in her stomach bursts, and she feels like laughing and crying at the same time.
“I’ve missed you too,” she whispers when he pulls back, and she almost does cry at the look in his eyes, the look he gave her so long ago in a passageway at Hogwarts. It’s like he’s trying to commit her very bring to memory, though she’s sure she’s never left.
And she’s sure she never will.