A/N: I need more Harmony in my life. So, here's a quick one-shot about them! Just a bit of background for this story: I'm setting it around the year 2005, seven years after the war. Epilogue does not exist, and Ginny's not in the picture. That said, please enjoy!

"Say something."

Hermione waited, anxiously, for a response from her fiancé. It didn't seem like much to ask, just a simple acknowledgment of what she'd said. You'd think he'd have something to add to her whispered, "This just isn't working anymore, is it?" After all, they'd been together for seven years, and engaged for almost two of those years. She'd expected him to be furious with her. Instead, he was stoic, silent. She waited, still, preparing herself for an explosion, just in case.

Ron merely shrugged. "What's left to say?"

Sweet relief flooded her entire being at his words. She was undeniably grateful he wasn't throwing a tantrum or accusing her of being unfaithful, like he had before. Hermione felt slightly ashamed at the memory of this instance. To be fair, she had never actually cheated on Ron. She'd never acted on any feelings or attraction she might have had for another man (and, if she were to be honest, feeling she still had for another specific man). But he hadn't been wrong when he'd accused her of not giving all she had to the relationship. She'd tried to amend that, and had succeeded at first, but now…

Biting back tears, Hermione stepped forward and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. "I'm sorry," she said, voice trembling. Part of her wanted to ask that they remain friends, but she knew better; even if it were possible, it would take a great deal of time and healing for them to reach that point. They would both need complete separation in order to move on completely.

Ron didn't meet her eyes, but gave a small grin. "Be safe, yeah?"

She smiled in return, her eyes misting. She took Ron's question for what it was: his forgiveness, and his assurance that, eventually, they could be friends again. With a nod in response to him, she turned and left, her heart considerably lighter.

Harry didn't bother knocking as he entered Hermione's flat. She'd told him several times to feel free to come on in, but he rarely did. Now, though, he supposed the situation warranted it. She'd sent him a text message about her breakup about an hour ago, with no indication of how she was doing, or how Ron had taken it. Just a vague, "We broke up," no elaboration whatsoever. Who sends a message like that, and doesn't give any more details? He forced his irritation down, however, upon entering. Right now, Hermione's well-being was more important.

"Hermione?" he asked.

She appeared a moment later, and Harry's eyes widened. She looked… well, she looked happy. Dressed in jeans and a loose jumper, her hair tumbling down it its usual bushy waves, she seemed like she always did, but with a genuine smile on her face. He hadn't seen a smile like that in almost a year.

"Harry!" she cried excitedly. "What brings you here?"

He blinked twice, then lifted his mobile to show her the text—from her—that he had yet to close. "You sent me this."

Frowning, Hermione glanced down at her own mobile. Then, her eyes widened, and her mouth formed an "o," as she seemed to realize something. "Oh, bugger! My second message didn't send!" She sighed as she met his eyes again. "I'm sorry. I tried to send another one, saying I was fine, and we parted on good terms. But somehow…" She trailed off, shaking her head in dismay. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Harry finally let himself relax. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're not crying into your pillow or something."

"That makes two of us," she laughed. "Well, I'm just about to watch a movie. You're welcome to join me, if you like."

He grinned. "Might as well. Got nothing better to do."

They relocated to the living room, situating themselves on Hermione's sofa. Crookshanks immediately leapt into his mistress's lap, and she wasted no time in stroking his ears. She turned on the telly and DVD player, and pulled up the menu for The Princess Bride. As both of them had seen the movie more times than they could count, they spent most of their time either commenting or quoting. The pair were in stitches at the rhyming scene, and all through Miracle Max's appearance. They laughed so hard, they frightened poor Crookshanks, who promptly scurried off to his warm bed in the kitchen.

Somewhere in the midst of the movie's climax, Hermione felt eyes grow heavy, and she struggled to stay awake. She jumped in surprise as Harry's arm wound around her shoulders, and his hand guided her head to his shoulder. "Go to sleep, 'Mione," he whispered. Smiling, she eagerly acquiesced. Harry barely paid attention to the remainder of the movie, as he began feeling sleepy himself. Before long, he joined Hermione in blissful slumber.

Harry awoke to the sensation of a weight on the outside of his left leg. He frowned in his sleep, but didn't open his eyes just yet, trying to make sense of his surroundings by feel alone. Obviously, he was lying down, on his right side. The thing on top of him was not very large, and he thought he could feel claws—not sharp, but unmistakable—through the fabric of his trousers. Crookshanks, he realized, and as more of his senses became alert, his eyes snapped open.

Not only was he still in Hermione's flat, lying on her sofa, but… so was she. Her back was pressed against him, and his arms had somehow found their way around her waist. She didn't stir as Crookshanks lightly stepped along her frame; obviously, she was used to this, and could sleep through it. Meanwhile, Harry was silently cursing the feline for interrupting his sleep. Stupid cat.

Harry bit his lip as he deliberated. It certainly wouldn't be awkward if he were to stay. Truth be told, he and Hermione had fallen asleep together like this a number of times. He had a sneaking suspicion that Ron may have seen them once, soliciting one of his tirades on her "faithlessness." Really, he shouldn't have been so presumptuous. Hermione would never cheat on him, and if she'd felt anything for another man, she would have immediately discussed it with Ron. To Harry's knowledge, no such discussion had taken place. Therefore, one could surmise that this situation, cuddling with her best mate, didn't mean a thing to her.

What it meant to him wasn't important.

Still, Harry felt somewhat embarrassed and uneasy, and decided, perhaps it would be best for him to leave. She would understand, certainly. Slowly, cautiously, Harry extracted his arms from around her, and with practiced agility, removed himself from the sofa. His joints ached from the awkward position, but he ignored it, heading for the door.

He stopped before he opened it, though, turning back to look at Hermione. Surely he shouldn't leave her there, on that uncomfortable sofa. She'd feel worse than he did if he left her there. Resolved, he walked back over to her, first removing Crookshanks—who, surprisingly, didn't so much as mew in protest—then scooping Hermione into his arms. She moaned in her sleep, and Harry worried she would wake. His worries proved unfounded, as she merely curled against him, and was still once more. With a whispered spell, her bedroom door quietly swung open. He deposited her on the bed, brushing a few stray curls from her face, before turning, again, to leave.

"Stay."

A chill ran down his spine at the sound of Hermione's voice, then another as it dawned on him what she had said. Looking over his shoulder at her, he saw she hadn't moved, hadn't even opened her eyes. In all probability, she was still asleep. He was about to make another attempt to leave, when she spoke again.

"Stay with me," she murmured. This time, one eye opened, watching him groggily. Harry's heart thudded in his chest as he tried to make a decision. If he agreed to stay, he had the distinct feeling that whatever was between them would change from nothing, to something. It may not be the something he hoped for, but it would be different. Whereas, were he to say no and walk away, it would remain nothing. Safe, but distanced. Friends, and nothing more.

At his continued silence, she propped herself up on one elbow, both eyes opening, her expression taking on a hint of pleading. "Please?" she asked.

Oh, Merlin, how can I say no to that? Decision made, Harry stepped off the precipice between nothing and something, taking a leap of faith. He walked slowly toward her, smiling gently as he approached. Her eyes gleamed with hope, and Harry felt his smile grow. Stopping as he reached the bed, Harry reached out a hand, tracing the curve of Hermione's cheek with the pads of his fingers. Her breath hitched, and he took this reaction as encouragement to continue. He leaned down toward her, cupping her face with both hands, and pressed a gentle, tentative kiss to her brow. He'd opted to avoid her lips for the time being, wanting to save that for a time when they were both more awake.

As he pulled back, Hermione peered up at him, eyes wide and hopeful. "So, you're staying?"

Harry smiled again, knowing beyond any doubt what he would say. "As you wish."

A/N: The Princess Bride is probably my all-time favorite movie. Harry and Hermione were the first ship I shipped. Combining the two came as easily as combining bread and butter. It just works. At least, that's my opinion. What's yours? Please review!