Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

Something Just Like This

"Don't take advice from me. You'll just end up drunk."

If Harry Potter was amused, he didn't say so. He merely glanced at his best friend, who was getting closer and closer to that drunk state of which he seemed so fond, with every sip of his drink.

"Okay, okay," Ronald Weasley said, sighing. "Talk to me about your problems."

"Hermione would listen to me without making it sound like torture," Harry pointed out, smirking slightly. "Do better."

"Shut up, you git," he said, nudging his friend with his elbow. "Tell me your problems. I'm listening."

Harry sighed. "We've been doing this thing for more than two years now and I suppose I'm just wondering if she's taking it as seriously as I am," he said.

"And how does that make you feel?" Ron asked, risking a smile.

"I knew it was a bad idea to get you into Muggle television," Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes in a way Hermione was wont to doing. "I'm trying to be serious here, you know? And I don't really need a shrink; I need my best mate."

"Okay, okay," he said, faking innocence. "So you're having trouble with your lady?"

Harry glared at him this time, and Ron guffawed at the sight.

"Seriously, I don't know what the problem is," Ron said, shaking his head. "I'd kill for Luna to not want commitment right now," he added. "All she's talking about these days is wedding this, wedding that... And need I remind you that I'm not even the one who proposed?"

Harry downed his whiskey in one go and set his glass down hard, getting the bartender's attention. They were currently in Muggle London, and Harry quite appreciated that nobody seemed to recognise him as the Boy-Who-Lived, or the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord.

He could actually drink in peace.

"Look," Ron said, sensing his friend's severity. "Have you spoken to her about it?"

"She's really good at deflecting when I try to bring up the future," he said. "She's got this face that she pulls whenever I get remotely close to the topic, and I'm the one who was supposed to have died before my future could even happen. Do you think that it's me that she has the problem with?"

"I doubt that."

Harry looked at him. "Why do you say that?"

Ron turned his body to face him, his grim expression matching Harry's. "From where I'm sitting, the two of you are already spending your lives together, so I don't see what the problem is... I mean, it isn't as if you're going to break up, right?"

Harry dropped his gaze.

"Harry?"

"I love her, Ron," he said, glancing at the bartender as he refilled Harry's glass. "Honestly, I didn't even know this much love could exist. I am absolutely certain that I want to spend the rest of my life with her, but how do I do that when every step I want to take forward results in her taking a step back."

"So it's like you're dancing?"

"Except her steps are bigger than mine, and it's like she keeps getting further and further away from me," he said sadly. "I don't know if it's something I'm doing wrong, or if it's some underlying problem with just who we are as a couple."

Ron let out a breath. "Merlin, this is more serious than I thought." He ran a rough hand through his hair. "You have to talk to her about this. You have to talk to her right now."

Harry's eyes widened. "What? No, I can't do that," he said. "She's got so much going on right now, and talking about our relationship is so..." he trailed off.

"So what?"

"What does it say about me that I'm so hung up on all of this?"

"It says that you've never really had a real family and, now that you're this close to having what you've always wanted; the fact that she seems reluctant is making you think that she's never actually really wanted all of it with you."

Harry just stared at him, his mouth hanging open as he tried and failed to figure out where that bit of insight came from.

Ron merely shrugged. "Luna and I talk," he offered as explanation. "We discuss things. I'm a grownup now, you know?"

Harry was still a little too shocked to respond to his friend.

"So just talk to her, okay?" Ron concluded. "I know for a fact that she wants the same things that you do, so just talk to her. Especially if you're this unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy," he said quickly. "I just, well, I wonder if she is."

Ron sat up straighter, almost snapping to attention. "Go. Now. Talk to her." He practically shoved Harry off his stool and the raven-haired wizard had to put a hand on the counter to steady himself.

"Easy," he complained.

Ron just shoved him again, trying to get him moving.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Harry said, stepping away from Ron and straightening out his clothes. Without a word more, he gulped down the remainder of his drink, punched Ron's arm hard and then left the bar in quite a hurry. He wasn't nearly drunk enough to struggle with getting back to the flat he shared with Hermione, but he did feel a little too inebriated to have the sort of conversation he intended to have with her.

When he arrived in his flat, he quickly cast a Sobering Charm on himself, and he revelled in the feeling of the pleasant haze being removed from his vision. After a quick search through all the rooms, Harry was able to determine that he was alone. She wasn't here, and he was almost glad for that.

Perhaps he'd killed the buzz a little too early then.

Harry checked the clock for the time. It was just after nine o'clock, and the fact that she wasn't back yet wasn't all that surprising to him. He'd told the truth when he informed Ron that she had a lot going on right now, and one of those things was why she was still out and about at this time of night.

With a sigh, Harry headed to their bedroom, carefully throwing off his clothes. He stepped into their bathroom, had a quick shower, and then crawled into bed. Being an active Auror tended to leave him feeling physically exhausted more often than not, and tonight was no different. The week really took it out of him and he was lights out barely a minute after his head hit the pillow, but he was woken only by the sound of incessant scratching on wood.

Harry would know that sound just about anywhere, and he groaned internally as he rolled out of bed, not sure where he left his wand. He stumbled towards his closed door and opened it to reveal an angry-looking ball of fur.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, watching as the half-kneazle shot through Harry's legs and up onto the bed. A bed that was now empty. Harry frowned at that. Where was she? The look he was now receiving from the four-legged creature told Harry that he wasn't the only one asking that question.

Even though he had no idea what the time was, Harry started to get dressed. It wasn't like her to stay out this late, and Harry was doing his best to keep a check on his panic. It wouldn't do well to jump to conclusions. There was a perfectly good explanation for the fact that she wasn't back yet.

It just went to show, in Harry Potter's life, that the first thing he thought of was that someone had possibly killed or kidnapped her; whereas other significant others would have jumped to cheating. It was an option that had never once occurred to him until he arrived at the Ministry.

The Welcome Witch's voice practically sang to him when he arrived and the night guards greeted him with exaggerated nods and quick words, before Harry made his way towards the elevator. His heart was beating against his ribcage, and his mind was taking him to dark places. Was this why she'd been so reluctant to talk about the future? Was there someone else?

Harry's breathing became more erratic as he headed towards the offices of the Counsellors of Magical Law Enforcement. Her office was one of the biggest, seeing as she was just promoted to Senior Counsel and he made his way straight towards it, only he stopped before he knocked.

In fact, he froze.

Behind the door, Harry could hear what could only be described as the sound of sex.

For a moment, Harry tried to convince himself that he was imagining it, but he knew he wasn't. He definitely wasn't. Before he could feel the hurt and the anguish, he threw up his Occlumency shields to stop all emotion. As a result, it was an incredibly stoic Harry Potter who flung open the door without so much as a knock.

What he saw was surprising, to say the least.

"Harry!" the witch shrieked when she spotted him, which merely added to his confusion.

The wizard's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Harry!"

"Ginny?" he asked, scratching the top of his head, as he stared at the redhead in disbelief. She was pushing the man with her away from her, and trying to cover herself up.

Harry was in too much shock to look away.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Ginny asked, scrambling to right her clothing as she managed to get to her feet.

"I could ask you the same question," he said sheepishly. "And with Zabini, too?"

"We're on a work break," Zabini muttered as he zipped up his trousers.

"So you just decided to have sex on your boss' desk," Harry said, his voice void of all emotion owing to his still-in-place shields. "Real classy."

Zabini's face fell. "You won't tell her, will you?"

"You want me to keep secrets from her?" he asked incredulously. Were they insane? "Get this place and yourselves cleaned up," he said simply as he started to turn and leave the office but he stopped to add: "And plus, the couch is so much more comfortable. Believe me."

Harry hurriedly closed the door and started to walk away, debating with himself whether it was a good idea to drop his shields while he was still in the Ministry. There was no telling what his reaction would be once he allowed himself to feel the relief from not walking in and finding her with another man.

But if she wasn't in her office, then where was she?

Thankfully, Harry didn't have to look too far, because he was rewarded with the sight of her rounding the corner and heading straight towards him. Her face literally lit up at the sight of him and it momentarily dispelled every doubt he ever had. He even felt quite silly for ever worrying that she wasn't completely in this with him.

"Hey, you," she said, a certain glint in her eye.

"Hey," he returned, forcing himself not to break into a run to close the distance between them much quicker.

"What are you doing here?" she asked once she was close enough, pulling him into a hug and kissing his lips tenderly.

"You weren't in bed when I woke up," he said, suddenly aware that he sounded like a four-year-old. "I got worried."

"But I sent an Owl," she informed him, her fingers absently dancing along his upper arms. It was so good to see him. It felt like eons since she'd spent any meaningful time with him, given the mountain of work she was hidden behind.

His eyes widened at that. "You did? When?"

"Umm, it was quite late, I suppose," she said thoughtfully. "I didn't intend to stay this long, as I'm sure you know," she said, looking pensive. "We got thrown a bit of a hiccup when it comes to the Defence, and we needed to stay to work on a new strategy," she explained to him. "It should have arrived around the time you got back from the bar. Maybe eleven o'clock."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

He looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Umm, well, I was probably already asleep by then. I got home a little after nine."

"After nine?" she asked, her own eyes widening on disbelief. "But why? That's incredibly early, even for you, Harry Potter."

Harry determined early on that if something didn't happen or even if it did; the girl would always find out. Which was why Harry was determined never to lie to her. But that didn't stop him from keeping secrets.

"Did something happen?" she asked quickly. "Did you get into a fight?

"What? No! Nothing like that."

"Then why do you look like the explanation for why you decided to end your evening so early is causing you physical pain?"

Harry had to smile at that. Wow, he loved this woman more than he could ever tell her.

"Tell me," she pleaded, batting her eyelashes at him. She didn't even play fair.

"We just started talking about a sensitive topic, and then Ron suggested that I go home and talk to you about it, so I did. But you weren't back yet, so I just went to sleep. Then, when I woke up to the sounds of your excuse for a pet, I was given such a death stare that I had to locate you immediately, to make sure that you weren't dead or kidnapped. So I arrived at your office, and opened the door to reveal Ginny and Zabini having sex on your desk."

The horrified look on her face would have been priceless if Harry wasn't sure that she had filed away everything else he said to be discussed at a later time.

"On my desk?" she squeaked.

"It was awful," he deadpanned.

She eyed him quizzically. "You thought it was me at first, didn't you?"

He looked down, unable to answer. Suddenly, he felt ashamed of his own insecurities.

"Oh, Harry," she said, taking hold of his head in her hands and making him look at her. "I'm sorry. God, that must have been awful."

He blinked rapidly. "Are you done now? Can we go home?" he asked quietly, not willing to look her in the eye. What could he even say right now?

"I can't, no," she said, glancing at her watch. "When we present to the Wizengamot tomorrow, we have to be prepared, and we aren't nearly there yet."

He just nodded his understanding.

"But what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"It can wait."

"Clearly it can't," she said, dropping her hands. "I have a few minutes of my break left. Come, sit with me for a while."

Harry allowed her to lead him to a bench under a painting of an Irish homestead. He would have liked to be there right now. Once they were settled, Hermione took hold of his hands and pulled them into her lap, squeezing gently.

"What is bothering my handsome man?" she asked, looking at him seriously.

He took a deep breath. "I don't know if we can tackle it in a few minutes," he admitted. "I've been worrying about this for quite some time now."

Her face instantly turned to concern, her heart rate rising. "Harry?"

"It's nothing bad," he assured her, needing her to know. "At least, I hope not."

Her eyes widened. "Harry?"

"Do you ever think about the future?" he asked suddenly, practically blurting it out. "I mean, is it something that you want?"

"Want what?"

"A future?"

As if on cue, her facial expression turned to one he knew a little too well, and he couldn't stop himself from pointing it out. It was why he was here, wasn't it?

"There it is again," he said, leaning back slightly.

"What?"

"Why do you always pull that face whenever I bring up the future?" he asked, sighing. "It's like the entire subject is taboo to you. I don't understand why you never want to talk about it."

She leaned back as well, placing substantial distance between them. "It's not that I don't want to talk about it, Harry," she began.

"Then what is it?" he pressed.

"Whenever you bring it up, I admit that I do get uncomfortable, but it's not because I don't think about it. I think about it a lot."

Harry frowned, clearly not understanding. "Then what? What is the problem, Hermione?"

"It's just, well, that you never really make it sound like you want this future you so badly want, with me."

Harry gaped at her. "What?"

"I mean, I get it," she continued. "A family, a happy life; it's what you want, and of course I want that for you, but I'm not quite ready to let go of you yet."

"Wait, wait," he said, shaking his head, a heavy-set frown on his face. "Stop right there. Just stop talking. Jesus, Hermione."

She bit her bottom lip to stop herself from saying another word. Or possibly crying.

"Hermione, this future that I want; I want it with you," he said clearly. "Merlin only knows why you would think I would be happy with anyone else."

She just blinked.

"I love you," he said. "I love only you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you; just you. Nobody else. How could you not know that?"

"Because you've never told me."

"But I love you, Hermione," he pressed, slightly stricken that she even entertained the idea of his ever not being with her. "What do you think that means? Do you think I was in this relationship for fun?"

She let out a tired breath. "Maybe we should have this conversation another time," she suggested.

"No," he said, almost snapping. "This was never about wasting time, waiting for someone else. It's you, Hermione. It's always been you, and it always will be. You're the one I want, for now and for always."

She just continued to stare at him.

"Just answer me this then: do you ever think about it?" he pressed. "Do you think about the future?"

"Of course I do."

"Am I in it?"

She looked at him as if he'd just sprouted wings. "Harry, honey, don't you see - you are it. You're it for me. You were always going to be."

He breathed out a sigh of relief. "I'm glad we're on the same page about this," he told her. "How did we get our lines so crossed?"

She blinked. "Does it matter?"

He nodded. "It does, because I don't want it to happen ever again. These are things we have to talk about, Hermione Granger."

"And so we will."

"We will," he echoed, before he grinned at her. "Granger."

"What?"

"One of these days, I'm going to ask you to marry me."

Her grin matched his. "And, when you do, I'm going to say yes."

"I can't wait."

"Neither can I."

His smile was wonderfully stupid by now.

Hermione placed a hand on his chest, selfishly wanting to feel the beating of his heart. "I love you, Harry," she whispered. "And, as wonderful and enlightening as this conversation has been; I really do have to get back to work."

He nodded in understanding.

"Walk with me?"

Harry placed a hand over hers on his chest, and stood up, dragging her up with him. He didn't release her hand, and rather just let them both hang down at their sides, fingers entwined. He started to walk, gently tugging her along. They managed to get only a few metres before Hermione spoke again.

"On my desk?"

Harry let out a laugh. "Oh yeah," he said; "I'm officially scarred for life, Granger."

"But, on my desk? I mean, did they at least move my papers out of the way? That's so unhygienic." She shook her head. Then: "Also, don't they know that the couch is so much better?"

"That's what I said," he was quick to say, laughing.

"Amateurs," she huffed, leaning in to him as they continued their walk in silence.

When they reached her office, he pulled her to a stop and turned to look at her. "Think they're going at it again?" he whispered.

"I'll fire the both of them," she said, only slightly kidding.

"Only one way to find out," she said, placing her hand on the handle and pushing the door open.

They walked in to find two Junior Counsel members sitting completely rigid on opposite sides of Hermione's couch, each of them sporting blank expressions.

"Well well well," Harry said coyly; "what do we have here?"

"Shut up, Harry," Ginny muttered, and he and Hermione shared a significant chuckle that merely made the two sitting witch and wizard that bit more uncomfortable.

Hermione turned to look at Harry. "We should get back to work," she said to him, absently patting his chest. "I'll see you at home."

He smiled at her. "I'll be the hunk in your bed," he said cheekily, winking at her. He kissed her cheek, and she absently breathed him in. Just the scent of him had the power to soothe her; calm her, and she was going to need all the good energy she could get to get through the rest of the night.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she said, her voice soft, but still loud enough for her colleagues to hear. She didn't care. Not even a little bit.

With that, Harry started for the door, and Hermione forced herself not to reach out for him again. She watched as he threw her one last mischievous look, and then closed her office door behind him.

Hermione let out a content sigh, and just caught Ginny rolling her eyes.

"Oh, hush, you," Hermione said.

"I didn't even say anything."

"Well, you're not saying anything very loudly."

Ginny just grinned at her. "Let's get back to work, shall we?"

"We shall."

And so they did. They worked for a further four hours, running over their prepared statements and preparing for any and all curveballs the Defence and probably the Wizengamot would surely try to throw their way. Hermione Granger might have been a rising star in the Ministry, but there were still many who were opposed to her slightly more modern ways.

It was just after five o'clock in the morning when Hermione finally left the Ministry and headed home. She could probably fit in a quick nap, a shower and breakfast if she was economical about it. She had a plan set out, that just fell to pieces the moment she spotted the hunk that was a sleeping Harry Potter curled up in their bed, looking adorable enough to make her teeth hurt.

She couldn't resist crawling straight into bed with him, easily fitting into the curve of his body as if the two of them were born to fit together, her back against his front.

He stirred at the contact, his arms automatically tightening around her as he pulled her tight against his chest. "Mmm," he sounded, sleepily.

"Mmm, to you too," she whispered, her amusement clear in her tone.

"Hi," he breathed, hot against the skin of her neck.

"Hi."

"Just getting in?"

"Mm hmm."

"Time?"

"Late," she said softly. "Or early."

He shifted closer, their bodies pressed so tightly together that she could practically feel his hip bones. "How are you feeling?" he asked, still half-asleep.

"Better prepared," she confessed, knowing that he asked the question expecting an honest answer. "And a little more settled."

"That's good," he murmured.

"About the case," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "And about you and me."

"You and me," he echoed, half-asleep.

"About us, Harry."

"Us," he repeated.

"And I want this," she said, her eyes closing as she relaxed further into him. "I want all of this."

"Want what?"

She placed her hands over his, entwining their fingers and sighing contently. "This, Harry," she said. "With you. All of this."

"This," he murmured.

"This," she repeated, drifting to sleep as well. "Something just like this."

Fin