Disclaimer: Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, and all the rest of the characters here belong to JKR. No infringement intended.

Author's Note: This story will take an unusual tack in DH-epilogue compliance (mostly) for an H/Hr story. Aside from the prologue, the remaining chapters will show the characters reacting to sudden changes in canon that occurred in the real world, tracing the path of H/Hr from 1997 to 2017. The release of books and movies, interviews with JKR and actors, etc. suddenly shifted elements of the Potterverse over time, and now we get to witness poor Harry and Hermione attempt to deal with such ramifications in real time, as it were.

The overall tone is a knowing reflection on H/Hr tropes, though definitely angsty for quite a while. There will also be significant mystery to puzzle out. Be forewarned. Chapters may make homages to various fic genres. No smut. (Sorry.) But definitely suggestiveness, some adult situations, and occasional adult language. Pervasive allusions, periodic fluff, and a good helping of (occasionally OOC) silliness in some chapters. Very little bashing, though. Ron and Ginny are good people whom H/Hr truly do love. Maybe something original will happen here, but this will ultimately be Harmony in the end, through and through.

Twelve chapters of grossly varying lengths, including prologue and epilogue. The final chapter of this fic will be released, with an appropriate "harmonious" addendum to the DH epilogue, on Epilogue Day, September 1, 2017.

AUTHOR'S WARNING: After several chapters have been published, there have now been a few reader reactions that are upset about H/G and R/Hr being in this story. Please read the note above. This story is DH-EPILOGUE COMPLIANT. (Well, sort of; I can't explain that more.) That means the H/Hr path is not going to be easy or straightforward, though it will (and must) happen.

Those who don't want to read an angst-filled fic that unfolds over decades and will have to get messy at some point should consider themselves warned. You might like the prologue, but it's going to be tough for a while after that.

Fundamental Compatibility

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

– A Midsummer Night's Dream

Prologue: Surprises

The Wilderness, sometime before Christmas 1997

She had cried herself to sleep last night. Again.

Harry didn't know how much longer he could take it, abandoned by one best friend and forced to view the other grieving day and night. As he walked through the brisk morning air, he could feel the weight upon his chest even without the locket. We're out of supplies. We need some proper food. His hunger temporarily drew his thoughts away from their situation, away from her.

A branch broke under his foot and startled him. He stopped for a second and watched his breath fog out in front of his mouth. Merlin's beard, it was cold.

He had held her last night through her sobs, for the first time comforting her private grief in the days since Ron left. He knew she had been trying to hide it from him, to be strong for him, but he couldn't stand by anymore. They had perhaps both found a little solace in that closeness.

Harry was at first proud that she had chosen to stay with him, but they needed to move past this phase, to move on. To what? An unbidden thought threatened to break through and was rapidly suppressed. He didn't know. But he was constantly aware of the woods around them, silently watching them. Someone, he thought, was surely out there. He never found any evidence. We need to move on.

The small Muggle village arose in front of him as he crested the hill. A part of him knew it was risky to come out from his cloak, but they were nearly starving now. His desperation drove him forward. With his wand, Harry transfigured a few galleons into Muggle money before descending to the local pub. The sky was gray and foreboding, but he guessed it must be nearly noon.

"What can I get fer ya?" the barman asked with a small smile, though Harry could sense a bit of wariness. They must not see many strangers here. Two men sat by themselves farther down the bar, each nursing a dark beer.

"Ploughman's lunch. And some chips." He felt ravenous and didn't think he'd do well on the hike back without eating something first.

"Be out in a minute." The barkeep disappeared, and Harry could hear shouting coming from the kitchen. He was a bit surprised when he made out what sounded like an American accent.

As he glanced toward the kitchen door, Harry also eyed the man closest to him. Dressed in a long leather coat, he had a slight bulge on his back near the waistline. Harry didn't want to think what that might be or what type of characters patronized this pub in the middle of the day.

The food arrived swiftly: first the cold lunch, and an enormous basket of chips two minutes later. Harry gobbled everything down greedily, enjoying the warm chips even though they were a bit too greasy for his liking. After the bitter cold on his walk, he was finally starting to feel alive again.

"Out here alone?" the man asked from a few seats down.

"Uh, no," Harry replied uncomfortably. "I'm, uh, camping with a friend." What was the chance that a wizard would be in a Muggle pub like this, in the middle of nowhere? Probably near zero. Harry relaxed slightly. "She... wasn't awake yet, so I came here for a bit of lunch."

"Oh, I see..." The man's eyes brightened.

"No," Harry clarified, "it's not like that. We're just friends... very good friends." But to be honest, that wasn't really true anymore, was it? His mind raced. Holding her last night, he couldn't stop looking at her. His eyes had fallen to her lips too many times as he brushed away her tears. Why couldn't he stop? She was Ron's. Even though Harry had pulled away from Ginny recently for the War, they hadn't officially ended it for good. Obviously he cared deeply for her, but he didn't know what to think of that now. Hermione, though? She was with Ron. That much was clear to him. And he could never do anything to hurt Ron so much, even after he had abandoned them.

The man sidled down the bar, dragging his beer with him. He sat next to Harry. "I can see there's something else in your eyes, though. It's okay to admit it."

Harry couldn't believe he was confiding to a random Muggle at a bar. "I just... she's..." Finally, he just blurted out, "Well, she's everything to me. She's my best friend, and right now..." She stayed with me. With me.

"The desserts are really good here. Homemade."

"What?" Harry was startled from his thoughts. He stared at the man in utter confusion.

The man chuckled. "I'm only saying – If she's as hungry as you clearly are, don't forget to bring her something lovely as a treat. She'll thank you for it. Believe me." He gave Harry a nod, though something seemed off. The man reminded him of someone, and he had a bearing that didn't fit his appearance. More mannered, more regal.

"Erm, thanks," Harry muttered. The barman appeared and cleared his plates. "What do you have in the way of desserts that I could take with me?" A list was recited for him, and Harry decided he'd just take an entire pie. They could use a treat. The barman frowned at Harry's request, but said nothing.

After a few minutes he returned and placed the pie beside the register. "Don't get much call for this sort o' thing 'round here. Don't know why Chad there in the kitchen keeps making 'em, somethin' about his dear mother's recipe. Just give me a moment, and I'll wrap it up fer ya." He turned to go into the back again.

At that moment, a soft jingle magnified into a loud clang as a metal object hit the floor beside Harry. He dropped to one knee to retrieve a pair of handcuffs, briefly staring at them in wonder before rising and handing them back to his lunch companion. The man nodded in awkward gratitude. That was it, thought Harry. The bulge, the handcuffs, the slightly strange demeanor. He must be a law enforcement officer under cover. It seemed unusual for him to be carrying a gun, though. Perhaps he was part of some special unit. Harry didn't really know much about the organization of Muggle law enforcement agencies, aside from what he had gleaned from a few stolen moments of old movies Uncle Vernon used to watch.

"All set," the barman announced. Harry settled the bill for his lunch and took the dessert with him. Before leaving, he asked the barman for a shop that might carry a larger stock of supplies and was directed down the street. As he headed to the door of the pub, he turned once more to his lunch companion and nodded, holding up the pie in gratitude. The man smiled wanly, and Harry detected the slight trace of a sneer, but immediately dismissed it as he entered the frigid air once more.

"Don't ever do that again, Harry Potter!" Hermione smacked him on the head with a small book, accentuating every word. "I had no idea where you were! You could've been killed."

"I left a note."

"'OUT TO LUNCH'?!" she roared. "Yes, Harry, that's a perfect description of what's transpired here."

"I'm sorry."

"I just... I just..." I just thought I was all alone, she thought.

He could see the water pooling in her eyes. Oh, please no, Harry thought mournfully. He had not wanted to upset her. Anything but that. "Hermione. I'm really, truly sorry. I... well, we haven't eaten properly in a few days. You haven't been sleeping, and when you finally were, I just couldn't stand to disturb you. Look, I've brought back loads of food to keep us supplied for weeks."

Hermione finally calmed down enough to look over the items Harry had started to remove from her magical bag before she had attacked him. Hunger got the best of her too, and she began nibbling on some fruit as she tore open a large package of wrapped cheese. Harry couldn't help noticing the tiny bit of juice on her mouth as she chewed, before her tongue emerged to lightly lick her lips. Delightfully licking them, Harry thought. Stop it! Thank god I didn't bring back bananas. Oh Merlin.

She had stopped chewing. "What?"

Harry was driven from his thoughts. "Umm, er, what?" he echoed.

"You had this funny look on your face." He was staring at me. At my mouth. Was he disgusted by my eating habits?

"Sorry. I just was thinking..." About last night. About you in my arms. "We need to move on. It's not safe here."

Tears welled up in her eyes again. He knew this would happen. Moving on again meant that there was even less of a chance that Ron would ever be able to find them. He walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered a bit at the contact as her breath caught in her throat. "I know, Hermione. We'll figure this out. It's us, right? Together. Always?"

She met his eyes. Always. Please Harry, mean that the way it sounds. Just take me in your arms again and hold me. But he looked confused. She bowed her head down, while raising her hand and placing it upon the one already on her shoulder. "You know I will never leave you, Harry." I can't hurt Ron, but something had changed in the past days between us, hadn't it? She had caught him staring at her a few times before they changed watch. At first, she saw concern in his eyes, but something different was there now. Something darker. It wasn't until just now that she had allowed thoughts about it to surface.

Harry pulled his hand away and walked toward the door of the tent. "I'll keep watch. You have a decent meal for once, okay?" He turned his head, and a smirk crossed his lips. "And if you're good, I have a surprise for you later..." he chuckled as he exited the flap.

She couldn't help smiling in return. What did that mean?

Hermione spent the next couple of hours organizing the supplies Harry had brought, then resuming her constant research on Horcruxes. It was twilight before he again entered the tent.

She was sitting alone beside the bed, pensive and sad, her knees drawn up almost in a fetal position. Despite the book open beside her, it was obvious she had stopped reading long ago, unable to concentrate, unable to focus. She's thinking of him again, Harry opined to himself. Please, please don't let her cry again. If Ron only knew what it would do, he would never have left her like this.

He walked from the door, listening to the soft sound of the wireless. A melancholy song began to play. Great. Can this get more depressing? He sat down and stared, lost in thought. She looked cold and so alone. Her dark plaid shirt and jeans were a rather boyish ensemble, but all he could think about was how much she had turned into a woman before him in the past few days. Ashamed at himself for leering at her body, his gaze shifted upward to her brown hair, gathered loosely together on the back of her head. Yet that only exposed the silken skin of her neck that his hand had grazed the previous night.

I can't keep gawking at her forever. He knew she'd catch him again, and he was running out of excuses. But he also couldn't look away from the sorrow on her face; at that moment, he'd do anything just to break the cycle of hopelessness that had infected both of them.

And then he surprised himself by rising from his chair. Hesitating only a moment, Harry drew on his Gryffindor courage and walked up to her. He offered a hand. She stared at him, baffled by his gesture. What does he want?

Harry looked down at his hand, then put it forward again. He wants to... dance? Now? She half-rolled her eyes.

She rose slowly and took his hand, eyeing him carefully. His hands dipped inside the front of her shirt. Harry? He reached around and pulled off the necklace that had been burdening them both and tossed it aside. Was he staring at my mouth again?

He began to rock back and forth, pulling her hands with his. Yes, Harry, let's forget this sadness. Let's forget the War. Let's forget Voldemort, if only for tonight. She couldn't help it as the corners of her mouth turned up.

Emboldened by her closed-mouth smile, he threw her back and put her into a spin under his arm. It wasn't the smoothest of dance moves, but the execution didn't seem to matter. She let out a very un-Hermione-like giggle in delight. Please make that sound again, he pleaded silently. It's been so long since we laughed together. And then she was in his arms, clutched tighter than before. He flung her again, and they moved on to silly dance moves, challenging each other, heedless of how ridiculous it might look to outsiders. After they spun once more, without warning they were pressed close again, his head on her shoulder, as she wrapped an arm snugly around him. "Is this my surprise?" she laughed.

He couldn't help but laugh too. "Actually, no. That comes later. This surprised me too, 'Mione."

She laughed again as they continued to sway. He felt so warm, so safe. "What did you call me?"

"I don't know, 'Mione. Do you like it?"

"Not really. I mean, it's sweet," and sounds weirdly intimate, she thought, "but I like my whole name."

"Okay." He pulled away to look into her eyes. Her smile dropped, as dark, chocolate orbs with a burning fire in them gazed back. He had always thought her pretty, but this was entirely new, entirely raw. Her eyes dropped to his lips, then quickly darted up again.

Oh Merlin, Hermione. Do you know what you're doing to me right now?

But she had glanced down at her feet and was pulling away as the song died. He can't feel that way toward me. He's Harry. He's my best friend. She started to walk back toward her bed.

His hand caught hers once more.

She turned her head and stared at their contact for what felt like an eternity. Not certain what to expect, Hermione dared to look up again and saw it in his green eyes, too. Is he angry with me? No, she had never seen him like this; it scared her. And then, the revelation dawned: it was burning, raw desire. For her.

He took a step forward, and then another. Their faces were only inches apart now as those emerald eyes bored into her soul. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to be closer, had to...

Their lips brushed, just a tiny bit. The softest caress, as one might touch a newborn baby's cheek. But in an instant, that was gone. In place of that innocent touch was a jolt of electricity, a magnetic pull unlike either had ever felt, urging them to close the gap once more.

Their mouths now crashed into each other hungrily, as they yearned to be closer. Lips parted, tongues were rapidly admitted entrance, and limbs flailed frantically as they collapsed together on Hermione's bed. Sweet Merlin, she barely registered in conscious thought. I could never imagine anything like this with Ron. What was she doing? But then his mouth was on hers again, and she couldn't remember what she had been thinking. It was only Harry, enveloping her entire world.

Harry had never kissed anyone like this, either. He wasn't quite sure what his body was even doing. His lips and tongue and hands were moving of their own volition, grasping for closeness, grasping to be one with her. The smell of her hair, like the forest and clean soap intermingled. The sounds she was making. Good lord. He could feel both their hearts pounding fast, joining in this frenzied chorus of ecstatic delight. But after a few minutes, he felt her pull away, slowly but firmly. He opened his eyes.

He didn't know her eyes could be any darker than before, but her pupils were dilated so far she looked like a drug addict. They were both panting, heaving hot air in and out between them, sharing their breath.

"Harry?" she broke the silence. If she was scared by his look earlier, now she was positively terrified. Her fingers were caught in his wild hair, and he looked like an animal ready to pounce.

"Umm..." he managed to grunt, still breathing fast.

"Harry, what are we doing?"

He blinked. Then blinked again. And again. His look finally softened, as his mouth turned into a smirk just like the one he wore as he exited the tent earlier. "Well, it seems we are snogging each other senseless."

Now it was her turn to blink at him. And then a tiny giggle emerged, turning into a chortle, then a laugh, and finally a full-blown guffaw.

He didn't know what to do, but her laughter was infectious. He hadn't seen her laugh like this in years, and he loved her for it. What was that? I love her? Of course he did, he always did, but this... this...

He rolled off of her a bit, but they still clung with arms around each other as they laughed side by side. All the tension of Voldemort, the War, the Horcrux hunt, the drama with Ron—it was all left behind. It was just the two of them, enjoying a perfect moment of absolute bliss. It was a release unlike either of them had ever known.

The laughter finally died away, and they were left gazing at each other again. "Well," Hermione said, a bit breathlessly, "was that my surprise?"

Harry couldn't help as a fit of laughter began again. "Actually, no," he finally got out. "This one also surprised me." He brought his face closer again, touching his forehead to hers.

"Then, uh... what are we doing, Harry?" At this point, she really didn't care what his answer was. Whatever just happened was so goddamn wonderful that she could live off the memory of it for the rest of her days.

"I thought we already established that." She punched him lightly on the arm.

"No, you git. Why did this happen? What is happening? What are we doing?" The tripartite question accentuated the fact that she had now broached the question thrice.

"Well, you kissed me," he said softly.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER," she cried in mock anger, "I did not! Er... I did, but you started it."

"Yeah, with my awesome dance moves?" They both laughed aloud again. "Actually, Miss Granger, I'm pretty sure you kissed me first. I just walked up to you." The smirk was there again.

"Oh, so I guess I misinterpreted the gesture? You were just going to help me into bed and tuck me in?" As the banter went on, two sets of hands were idly exploring each other's arms, hair, necks, and faces.

"I still could." His eyes were suddenly dark again, and his mouth became serious.

"Harry," she sighed. Then, as if hit by a bolt of lightning, she sat straight up. "Ron!" Harry looked away. He dreaded what was about to happen. "I forgot about him," she muttered, her hand leaving his body to clutch the back of her neck. What were we doing!? And then, slowly, she realized the answer. She wasn't thinking of Ron, because Ron had never made her feel anything like this. Ron had never been able to sever her link to reality so completely. Not that she didn't care for him: of course, she loved Ron. But this, this...

"Erm, Hermione..." Harry pulled her out of her internal monologue.

"Mm?"

"The tent's on fire."

"WHAT?!"

Harry nonchalantly pointed down past their feet. Smoke was indeed rising from the corner of the tent, and she could see tiny flames flickering even on the fire-retardant material. She then came to her senses enough to glance around and saw that wasn't the only thing burning. Her eyes grew wide as she noticed flames were coming up from a blanket on the ground that they had tossed aside, and the wooden table beside the bed... simply wasn't there anymore. Only a pile of ashes remained. Thank Merlin she had moved her books earlier.

With great reluctance, Harry extricated himself from the bed and found his wand, stamping out a few flames and casting an Aguamenti to finally extinguish the blanket before it caught other things on fire. The spell sputtered forth a small shower of water, and Harry had difficulty focusing to sustain it, though he admittedly was having trouble focusing on anything at the moment.

Hermione's brow was furrowed as she sat up and gawked open-mouthed at the scene. "What the hell happened?"

"Surprise!?" Harry offered cheerily, somewhat shocked at her profanity.

But she was deep in thought. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Really?

A few moments passed. "Penny for your thoughts," Harry chirped, as he sat back down on the bed.

"Umm, Harry... do you know what happened?"

"Stuff caught fire. I put it out." She punched his arm again.

"NO. Why was it on fire?"

"Well, what we just did. It was... er, really hot."

She blushed. "Harry, you don't understand. I mean, accidental spontaneous magic can sometimes happen to children and even rarely to adults. But it almost always happens for a valid, conscious reason, generally in moments of great emotional stress. You're in fear and you summon magic to protect you..."

"Or you want your cousin to get bitten by a giant snake," Harry chuckled.

A smile again crossed her lips. "Yes. But we are mature wizards, and this fire was not conjured for protection or any other conscious reason. And we certainly weren't under stress."

"Not any more..." Another smirk.

"Frankly, Harry, the only known occurrence of such accidental magic I can think of involving an, er, romantic encounter was between Peter Abélard and Héloïse in the twelfth century. They were known to set several fires unknowingly, almost burning down a good portion of medieval Paris on one occasion. Eventually, fearing for everyone's safety, others drove them apart."

"But, they couldn't stop them from being together, could they?" Harry was now intrigued.

"Not at first. The fires still happened, sometimes even when they had the slightest contact with each other."

"What finally stopped the accidental magic?"

"Umm..." Hermione looked grave. "He was... castrated."

Harry's eyes grew wide, and then his face fell into his hands. "You have got to be kidding me."

She moved next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist, pulling him close in a manner that just an hour ago would have been an innocent embrace between friends, but now carried infinitely more meaning. "Harry, stop. Hold on. You don't understand. That was centuries ago. They didn't understand magic like we do now. And the whole situation between Abélard and Héloïse was incredibly complicated by religious and social mores of the time."

"Huh?"

"What I mean is: current theories suggest that they didn't have a chance to learn to control their magic together. They probably didn't even realize it was happening. Accidental magic in those days was often assumed to be some sort of divine intervention rather than an uncontrolled outburst. In fact," she paused, unsure whether to bring this up, "some scholars think that such magic can be channeled together, in a manner some couples can already do to a limited extent with normal magic."

Harry was stunned. "You mean this could actually make us both more powerful? More prepared to fight Voldemort?"

Hermione sighed. "No, Harry. Er, I don't know. This is all speculation. But I suppose it's possible, if it could be channeled correctly."

"So let me get this straight," Harry looked very serious. "I've been with Ginny for a while. Nothing like this ever happened. Nothing like this ever was..." He suddenly blushed and felt incredibly shy. "And now half the bloody tent is on fire here. And you're telling me that if I just focus my love for you, I could vanquish Voldemort for good?"

Her eyes dropped. Had he really just said that? Did she dare? "Harry?"

He grunted, lost in thought.

"Harry!"

"Umm, yeah?"

"Love..." she paused, her voice unsteady, "... for me?"

Shit, shit, shit! I said that aloud? "Hermione," he implored as he tried desperately to put the genie back into the bottle. "You know I've always loved you. You're my best friend in the world."

"Yes, and I love your friendship too, but that isn't what it sounded like there." Both of them stared downward. The whole world seemed frozen in time.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you in love with me?"

A full minute passed. He didn't speak, because no matter what he felt, he couldn't betray Ron. And, frankly, he still wasn't sure what had happened just now. Was this only a passing feeling between two teenagers left alone with their hormones in a forest together? No, it was definitely more. Whatever this was, it ran deeper than anything he knew. She was now with Ron, though. Harry had and would always love Hermione, but the trio had been divided, and that was that. On the other hand, he also couldn't lie to her. He could never deceive her. She'd know.

As the seconds ticked on, Hermione's face grew darker and darker. She had pushed him too far. He didn't care for her that way. Of course not. How could she ever think that? This was just his bizarre way of cheering her up somehow, and it had bloody well worked. If that's all we ever have, I'll be grate—

"Yes."

"What?" she whimpered, refusing to believe she heard it.

He turned, and his hand lifted her face to his. "Surprise." Her eyes went wider than he'd ever seen them. And then her lips were back on his, arms flailing around him, pulling him closer. He was overwhelmed by the vigor of her reply, but again found himself responding instinctively. Merlin, how could I have waited so long to do this? The softness of her lips and tongue and those sounds she was making again; he just wanted more and more of that. A couple of minutes later, he managed to pull away, eyes darting around for any signs of flames. Two of the chairs were smoldering, but the tent wasn't in danger of imminent combustion.

"Merlin, Harry," she said, still gasping for breath. Her eyes remained shut for a moment before fluttering open.

"So I, uh... guess the feeling is mutual?"

A giant smile beamed across her face. "Of course, Harry. In some ways, it's always been you. I can't remember when I didn't love you. I mean, as a friend at first, then something much deeper. But I just..."

"What about Ron?"

"I never thought you and I could be like that, I mean, like... this. We were friends. I love Ron, I really, truly do. And he makes me happy. But with you..." her voice trailed off as she bit her lip. "This is all so new. I'm still not quite sure how this happened. I didn't think you ever saw me that way."

"Well, after the Yule Ball fourth year, I certainly did."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I noticed you were a girl. And that I could be interested that way. But I just thought we never, you know, would—because I'd never give up our friendship. Never. So I didn't allow myself to dwell on it."

Hermione suddenly looked glum. "We've wasted so much time."

"Hermione." Harry was quite serious. "We're still very young. We have so much of our lives in front of us. We'll figure this out. Well, first, we'll need to sort out how to stop causing things to spontaneously combust..."

They shared a soft laugh, and he hugged her close. She buried her face in his chest, again feeling the new meaning of a position which was so much more intimate than it was the previous night.

"So, this sort of thing hasn't happened in over 800 years?"

"That we know of, Harry."

"Wow."

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly." She was perfectly content. A minute passed as they lingered in the feeling of closeness, before she sighed happily and looked up at him. "What do we do now?"

"I could put you to bed and tuck you in as we discussed earlier." His eyes had a mischievous look that caused her to raise an eyebrow. "Or, I suppose I could give you your actual surprise."

"Wait, there's more?" Her smile turned devilish. "Potter, this isn't just some euphemism for your penis, is it?"

His eyebrows raised, as he was taken aback by her bluntness. Hermione wasn't quite sure if he were going to turn crimson or as white as a sheet. "No, erm... I thought we could take our time with this, I mean... well, we don't want to burn the entire forest to a crisp, right?"

She giggled. "I suppose not. And there's no reason to rush things now."

"So, then I guess it's option number two." Harry leapt up and headed for the area of the tent that functioned as their makeshift kitchen and dining area.

"Umm, what's going on?"

Harry pulled out two bags that he had hidden earlier. He transfigured a pan into a stovetop espresso pot, dumped some powder in, and set it on one of the still-smoldering chairs. The smell of brewing coffee soon filled the tent.

Hermione watched in awe. "Harry, what have you done?"

"I know you have this thing for Muggle coffee sometimes. Frankly, I remember it from the Dursleys too."

"I never knew you noticed. It actually," her eyes watered slightly, "reminds me of my parents. They'd have a cup together almost every morning, with a pot almost just like that. Sometimes for an after-dinner dessert too."

"I saw it." He didn't need to say another word. Hermione was dumbfounded. How well did he really know her? Harry had only seen her parents a few times, and Ron would never have picked up on a detail like that. "So, uh, I got this too." He pulled his hand from behind his back in a sort of ta-da! motion, revealing the pumpkin pie he had acquired at the pub.

She couldn't help letting out a little squeal of delight. "Pumpkin? Oh Harry, it's been a long time since I've had it. You know Ron doesn't like it."

"Neither does Ginny. She's into some sort of orange soda thing. I could never quite figure out how that makes a proper dessert."

Hermione bent down and sniffed, hints of cinnamon and nutmeg bringing a small grin to her face. "It looks wonderful. Where on earth did you find it?"

"I was kind of shocked that they had it at a Muggle pub. I think the cook must be American or something." He chuckled to himself. "The barman nearly fell over when I said I wanted the whole pie."

As Harry sliced up the pie, Hermione set about bringing order to the scorched tent. She kept stealing glances at Harry, still not quite believing what had happened between them. Struggling to concentrate as she smiled to herself, she was finally able to repair the fire damage on almost everything. The table beside the bed was a lost cause, though. She shrugged and whisked the ashes out the tent door. Settling down to face a steaming cup of coffee, she patiently awaited her surprise treat.

But Harry wasn't quite finished. He had somehow managed to create a bowl and whisk from their smattering of random kitchen equipment. A couple of minutes later, he was ready to fling a generous dollop of whipped cream on each of two large slices of pumpkin pie.

As they tasted it, neither spoke for a while, aside from a few involuntary moans of delight. "This," Hermione struggled to not talk with her mouth full even as she took another bite, "is really good." He gazed at her in outright adoration. "Potter?"

"Huh?"

"You're doing it again. You did the same thing earlier today. If you don't stop, I'll start thinking you have some weird fetish for watching people eat."

"Hermione, I could watch you do nothing at all... for hours," he said dreamily.

"Okay, okay. Let's not get too sappy here." She said it with a tone of derision, though Harry could tell she privately loved the sentiment.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just really enjoying our break from, well, everything right now." He took a forkful of his pie, reached across the table, and offered it to her lips.

"Harry?"

"Humor me."

"Okay." She took the bite from his fork, knowing that this was quite simply the most saccharine romantic scene she could ever imagine. But she was wrong, for a moment later she saw his eyes shining brightly at her. She didn't get the joke until he reached across the table and cupped her face with his hand. As she leaned into the soft gesture, he smiled and wiped a drop of whipped cream off of her nose with his thumb, before shrugging and licking his hand clean.

She had to roll her eyes at that.

"I really do love you, Hermione."

She looked down, taking in the perfection of all that had transpired. "I... I love you so much. And I hate this War so much. Oh, it's a crazy world." She didn't want to go back to it, didn't want to leave this moment. The melancholy came into her voice again. "Maybe we should just stay here, Harry... grow old."

"Let's not think about—" Harry started, also not wanting to leave the moment.

But she interrupted. "Anything can happen. I mean, if something should keep us apart, wherever they put you and wherever I'll be, I want you to know that..." she stopped, unsure how to even convey the depth of her emotion right now. Finally, she looked up and met his eyes with a plea, "Kiss me." Surprised at herself, she grew bolder. "Kiss me as if it were the last time."

Harry was shocked by her words, but needed no further invitation. He took her hand again as they stood together, then literally swept her off her feet and laid her gently upon the bed, their bed. They kissed for a long while, now more gently than before, savoring the new love between them. This time, no sparks erupted around them, just the subtle fires in their eyes and the warmth of their bodies. But they grew tired quickly; there would be other days to explore further. Harry and Hermione hadn't slept well in ages, and they slowly drifted off, spooned together, arms wrapped as tightly as they could be around each other. Harry's last thought was a repudiation of that morning's gloom: I'll never feel cold like that again.

It was very dark. A couple of hours after they had fallen asleep, near the stroke of midnight—had there been a clock around to sound it—a distinct flare and pop sputtered on the table. Little did they know that Hermione's final statement might become more true than they could ever imagine, as the remainder of the pie magically vanished into thin air.