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Knock, knock, knock.
“I got it, Mum!” Hermione called.
Hermione ran down the stairs, her kitten heels clacking on each step. Taking a quick breath, she threw the door open. A familiar smile and unfamiliar blush graced her face at the sight of Harry, disheveled as always, standing on her porch. He was wearing a Weasley jumper and jeans, hands thrust into his pockets. She thought it a bit casual when she looked down at her red velvet dress, but that was one of the things she loved about him. Her blush deepened as the phrase repeated over and over in her head.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
He’d only said it once, during their last night together in the woods. He’d whispered it into her skin like a prayer.
Then everything went to shit the next day. They couldn’t talk about it. Hadn’t been alone together since. She wished she'd said it back to him then.
But the war was over. The trials were done. They’d gotten through the worst of the mourning. She’d restored her parents’ memories and was working on fixing their relationship.
Things were good, and now, eight months later, they were finally going on a proper date. She’d finally get her opportunity.
“You’re right on time. Mum and Dad are excited to see you again. She’s pulling the cookies out now, then we’ll head out. I think you’re going to love The Nutcracker.” Feeling bold, she gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I’m just so glad you could make it. It’s been a long time since it’s been just us.”
She took his hand, trying to pull him inside, but he stood rooted to the spot. “Hermione,” Harry started, his voice cracking.
She cupped his face, concerned. “What’s wrong, Harry? Is everyone okay?”
“Yeah,” he assured, squeezing her hand before straightening his back and breaking her heart. “Gin owled me. She invited me over to decorate the tree tonight.”
That was another thing she loved about him. He was honest with her, even when it hurt.
“So, you’re not coming to the play?” A stupid question, but she was having trouble believing this was happening.
Harry clasped her other hand in his, gently moving it away from his cheek. “I… this is all moving so fast, and I’m not sure what to think. I mean, I don’t think either of us thought we’d get together in the tent. Do you think it would’ve happened if Ron hadn’t left?”
Hermione’s ears started ringing. “No,” she whispered. It was the truth, but things changed. She changed. She thought he had, too.
“This isn’t about you, Mione. God, it’s not you. You’re perfect.” She couldn’t look at him as he tried to let her down easily. Instead, she stared unseeingly at the Christmas lights across the street. “But that first time, we were just both so angry at Ron. And then I was scared, and I thought I was going to die, even before Dumbledore told me I was a Horcrux. I think you already knew by then, too. Didn’t you?”
“I suspected.” She had suspected, but that wasn’t why she’d slept with him. It wasn’t what made her feelings grow.
“But I didn’t die. We didn’t die. Ron came back. We bloody won. And now, it’s like we’ve got this second chance at life.” He stopped talking then, but she didn’t try to fill the empty space.
He sighed. “Ginny’s come around. Wants to give us a real go now that I don’t have anything hanging over me. I think Ron’ll forgive us, too. He’s not there yet, but I know he still cares about you a lot, and I came in and fucked that up for you two.”
Hermione still couldn’t say anything, her hands going slack in his as the ringing in her ears reached its peak. “Hermione, please don’t hate me. I never meant for things to get so complicated, but they don’t have to be. Things can go back to the way they were.”
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Had it all been a lie? How could she have been so stupid?
“I don’t hate you, Harry. I understand.” She chuckled, but it came out shrill.
“I still love you, Hermione, so much. I meant that.” That was another thing she loved about him. He always knew what she was thinking. “You’re my best friend, my family, and I’m so sorry I dragged you down with me while I was drowning.”
She’d been hoping to hear him say it again, but now she just felt hollow.
Hermione pulled her hand away, turning to open the door so Harry didn’t see the tears forming in her eyes. “I love you, too, Harry. Happy Christmas.”
Walking inside alone, she realized she got her wish. She’d finally said it back.