Middle of the Night.

One moment he was bathing in the glorious felicitations of the entire Gryffindor house and in the next, he was holding Ginny Weasley in his arms and then, kissing her. And then it had all come crashing down.

Hermione didn't know what had changed so suddenly. The raging music that had made her want to sway in happiness a second ago now made her insides hurt from the painful ricocheting of each melody. Looking at the muffin in her hand that she had barely eaten while waiting for Harry to return, made her want to throw up. The air suddenly felt too heavy to breathe in and the wall she was leaning against felt too cold to offer her back any relief. A wave of despair washed over her, taking her by shock, and her hands absently went to the hem of her jacket wanting to pull them closer, but it was only so much a piece of fabric could do against the daunting grief that had taken its shelter in her heart.

The one thing that Hermione Granger always prided in herself was that she was always sure of herself. There hadn't been a time when she didn't know what to do, what to feel and what to expect. But now she felt helpless and numb that her heart was breaking and she could do nothing about it. And the worst thing was, she couldn't find it in her to ask herself why.

She had it all planned in her mind beforehand. The celebration would begin as soon as they won the Cup and she would have to at least pretend to exert her power as a prefect to abstain the celebration from getting way too out of hand, the courtesy of the redhead twin brothers. And then, Harry would come back from his detention and it would be a chance for her drop that pretense altogether and help him cheer up. She'd even thought about what they would be likely to talk about, how much he would love to hear what the twins had been up to. She had imagined the smile that would play on his lips when she would tell him about the throne that had been set up for Katie in the common room and how she had barely been able to convince them all to keep the ruckus to a minimum. She had imagined the sparkle in his eyes that would have made her day, listening to Ron give second by second account of every move in the winning game. But none of it had come true.

Instead, each catcall and whistle that echoed in the common room tore a new hole in her heart, making her vision swim with tears. She scrunched her eyes close to contain them within her eyes, not wanting to project it anyone. However, the next time she opened them, her blurry eyes locked with his emerald ones, and she felt his strange pull on her, making her desperately want for the proximity her heart was so undeniably seeking. His still, stoic eyes observed her from the other corner of the common room, and just like that, without her permission, her eyes travelled to his hand which was still resting on waist of the red-headed girl. And then, even the tiniest spark of hope that she thought had remained, was brutally extinguished.

Keeping her hands deliberately at her sides, though they itched to move and wipe the tears that were now flowing freely down her cheeks, Hermione rose from the steps of the stairway that led to the girl's dormitory. She deliberately tore her gaze away, and as she turned, every inch of her body could feel his gaze still resting on her, watching her with an emotionless stance, the reason for which she could not comprehend. Keeping her legs steady as they climbed one step at a time proved to be annoyingly insurmountable, and yet for the life of her, she couldn't understand when it had happened.

When had she stopped preening for the boy who was so different from her that it always made her heart ache? When had she stopped looking for hidden endearments in the arguments they had, all of which inevitably resulted in bringing tears to her eyes? When had her heart ceased to crave for the boy whose gigantic sense of insecurity and midget stature of emotional availability had time after time, lashed out at her, hurt her and even scarred her?

And most importantly, when had she fallen in love with Harry Potter?

But Hermione was too afraid to ask herself that question. The last question bore an answer which she was too afraid to know. She feared that if she let herself answer it, it would mean freeing herself from all the reins that she had years ago, chained her heart with. It would mean breaking every promise she had made to herself, the only objective of which was to see Harry, her best friend, happy. And in the process, if sacrificing her compelling desire to be with him in the way that she had dreamed of long ago could fulfill it, then so be it. She had chosen to go with wherever he went, she had swore to herself to give him her full support in whatever decision he chose to make. She had decided to be with him through every ill-fated path that his destiny might lead him too. And, she had promised herself to keep her heart disguised throughout the course of their relationship and still support him, even when Harry inevitably chose to decide who he wanted to be with for the rest of his life.

When the first sob escaped her throat, her trance broke, and she tried hard to stifle the next one. Regaining control of her senses, she realised that she was sitting on her bed with her wand in hand, pointing towards the curtains which were fully draped and secured with innumerable privacy charms that she thought she might have done over the past…. twenty minutes.

The purple curse had hurt less than this.

Now she knew how she had survived so long despite her fears. She had always held on to a small, thin, but firm thread of hope over the years that Harry might choose to be with her in the end. It was not impossible to admit to herself that what she was thinking was largely delusional, but inspite of every counter argument, her heart had always found a way to put her fears to temporary rest by holding on to that thread of hope.

But that was all it was, temporary. Last year, when Harry had told her that he couldn't be with Cho because she expected him to be someone he wasn't, and that she didn't really know him like the way he wanted, Hermione had felt her heart swell with hope. She had planned to reveal what dwelled in every fibre of her being out for him to see. She was ready to lay her heart bare and open her soul to express every bit of love that she felt for him. And then the Department of Mysteries had happened, and the last remaining member of his family had been murdered, and seeing him drown in grief for something that wasn't his fault had made her heart ache for him. She had lost her chance then.

At the Burrow in the summer, she had begun to notice the way Harry seemed to look at Ron's younger sister. Still, he hadn't tried to get her to notice him, which in her mind was….a good thing. When the year started, Hermione begun to see him be more and more drawn to his best-friend's sister, and she had begun to suspect deep inside that maybe, this might be the time when she would have to make the hardest choice, place his happiness above her heart. And it made her remember the time she had begun to delude herself that she could have a future with her other best friend.

Months passed and then she began to see that she and Ron may have that bit of a spark after all. Maybe he really could see them both going somewhere. But how wrong she had been! He had never even looked at her twice when the Gryffindor slut had thrown herself at him after the first Quidditch match. And while she was weeping at her own failure, her heart breaking at the thought of being the least desirable witch in the entire school, Harry had been there for her, silently offering her his shoulder to cry on, without even knowing that her tears were actually for him, and not for his emotionally stunted best friend. Here she was, seemingly crying her eyes out for his best friend, while in reality she was feeling her heart bleeding at the thought of him wanting someone else, still completely unaware that he was the one who made her heart beat in the first place.

*hiccup*

Her tears had finally run dry. She got up and sat against the headboard, drawing her folded knees as close as possible to her body, and holding them tightly against each other with her arms. It was not the first time she had spent a night like this, and she knew, now that the reality had come and destroyed what remained of her life, it won't be the last.

She was so engrossed in staring a hole in her sheet while her mind conjured all different ways she was going to suffer even more, that she almost missed the light knock that came from somewhere near the wall. Rubbing her eyes automatically, Hermione grabbed her wand and pointed it towards the direction from which she tried to decipher the sound seemed to be coming from.

"Hermione!" a small whisper suddenly cut her off from frantically searching every corner of her sleeping space.

Her eyes found something moving outside her window, and reaching out with her wand, with some effort, she managed to pushed the frosty, cold double-glass panes open.

"Hermione."

She could not believe her eyes. There was he, Harry Potter on his beloved Firebolt, hovering outside her dorm window at two a.m. in the morning. Hermione blinked.

"Hermione," he said her name like a promise, like there were lots of things he wanted to say to her, but couldn't say enough. How she wished she had said something before.

However, the next sentence that came out of his mouth made her mind crash back to the present.

"Come fly with me."

She could've shouted at him at the stupidity of the situation. He was asking her for sneaking out in the middle of the night, out of her dorm window, with him, on his broomstick.

"What is the matter with you, Harry?" she managed to form her first coherent sentence, after a pause, her voice coming out like a tiny, breathless whisper she didn't count on him hearing.

But he heard it anyway. "I said, come fly with me Hermione. Please," Harry repeated. Till now she had managed to successfully avoid meeting his gaze, exercising her self-restraint to the maximum. What he was asking of her, she could never do. And not because it was breaking the many rules that could land them both in so much trouble, she had gotten past it long ago. It's because she was deathly scared of heights. She is deathly scared of heights. And presently, she also didn't consider herself to be emotionally capable of doing a stunt like that.

But when her mind registered the small, undeniably meagre but not absent, quiver in his voice, all her self-control was swept away. Chocolate brown met emerald and she felt the same pull she had felt hours ago, only this time, it seemed to really bridge the cavern that seemed to have formed between them.

"Hermione, please." His voice was shaking. Now, she was scared, not for herself, but for him. What had happened in these few hours that had made him do-

"Hermione."

"Okay, Harry. How do I get on?" she said without thinking, and then with bated breath, she waited for a few seconds for her phobia to overwhelm her, but it didn't even touch her. All that mattered now, was him.

"Just put your left foot on the ledge, and give me your hand."

"Okay," she said. "But why my left foot?"

"Because it's your more stable one?" he answered, and then as promised, he grabbed her hand in his, and told her to open her eyes. Hermione refused.

"Hermione, you're gonna have to climb behind my back. You need to open your eyes to see how and where."

"I can't."

"Yes Hermione, you ca-"

"No, I can't. It's too high, I'll fall."

"I won't let you. Just open your eyes and see where to put your foot now, alright?"

"Can I sit in front of you?"

"Ah-y-yes you can, but wouldn't it be good if you-"

"I know Harry, but I can only do this if you hold me and not the other way around. Can you?"

"Okay." This time a firm affirmation reached her ears, making her instinctively open her eyes. "Okay?" she asked again, only this time, her voice was shaking.

"Okay." Harry answered again, and deftly maneuvered himself as close as possible to the ledge for Hermione to get on. "Yeah, come on, put your right foot on this side, and I've got you, Hermione."

And just like that, two seconds later, Hermione was riding the fastest broom in the world, her eyes scrunched tightly shut, her hands gripping the handle so rigidly that her knuckles were white. The only thing that kept her from having a full-blown panic attack was that Harry Potter, the champion Quidditch player was sitting behind her with Hermione safely nestled in his arms. She felt the cool air welting against her face which made her realise that they were moving, but with a far lesser pace than she had imagined they would be. The warmth of his embrace was so comforting, she wanted to be tucked in his arms forever. She couldn't believe it, he was so graceful. It was like they were moving on their own accord, as she never felt even a tiniest bit of movement in his arms, unlike she had read that the players needed to do to maneuver their brooms. It was scintillating and electrifying, her heart swelled in silent gratitude for him, she didn't think it would be possible to love him even more, but in that moment, she swore her heart would burst out of giddiness of experiencing such a private moment with him, alone, and just the two of them.

"Hermione, I um….I wanted to say something to you," her eyes flew open in alarm and she stiffened against him. So, this was it, wasn't it? The point when he tells her how happy he was to have found Ginny and that how he wanted to be with her. Her heart constricted painfully at the thought that Harry might have brought her here to know what she thought about the girl. He wanted to know from her, and Hermione was so tempted to speak every vile thing she knew about the girl. But she knew, she could do no such thing, and even if she did, it would only push him further away, and every fibre of her being knew she wouldn't be able to tolerate even an inch more of distance between her and Harry.

"What is it, Harry?" she tried hard to be as comfortable as possible, but she couldn't make herself to be as relaxed as she had felt before he had initiated the conversation.

"I've made a mistake, Hermione."

Mistake? What was he talking about?

"What mistake Harry? The last time I saw, you were-"

"I was kissing Ginny. I know. That is what I wanted to talk to you about, actually." he admitted.

Hermione cringed inwardly. She held her breath resolutely, desperately trying to prepare her heart to be stabbed in the same wound, once again. Well, the perks of being a best friend. she thought bitterly.

"I felt like I was cheating on you."

Hermione couldn't speak. It was one thing to have heard what she had heard, and a completely another thing to know what it meant. She couldn't give herself false hopes again. It would be the death of her. She had to know what he meant. She just had to.

"Harry, I don't under-"

"Hermione, please. Just let me say it," his voice was thick and completely unlike him, "After I kissed her, I looked at you. You were standing there, with tears in your eyes, and I felt….I felt ashamed and guilty for having done that to you, I couldn't believe I didn't realise it all these years, Hermione. But standing there, looking at you, all I could think of was..." he paused. Hermione knew he was crying, but she needed him to say it. Just once, but she needed to hear it, otherwise she will never be able to make herself believe any of it.

"Of what Harry?"

"All I could think of was that I am in love with you. I've been in love with you forever and….I was too stupid to realise it. I'm so sorry, Hermione….I'm so sorry to have put you through all of it today, and last year and...all these times, but I had to say it. I just had to. And I couldn't live with myself if I didn't."

Hermione was breathless. She couldn't find her voice, her mind was conjuring a million different ways in which this might not be real at all. Hot tears found their way down the corner of her eyes and down her ice-cold cheeks. Her heart was beating so fast, she thought it would leap out of her chest any second, and all of a sudden she felt too lightheaded to even speak, let alone hold a grip on the broomstick handle. Her right hand swept off the handle and her fear of heights came crashing back, but only for a split-second, as Harry's arms encircled her waist even more tightly.

"Hermione say something, please."

"I love you too Harry," her faint whisper was thick with so many bubbling emotions that she didn't know how to handle them all at once. She felt herself lean flush against him, a giant smile erupting through her tears. She felt him drop his head in the crook of her neck and take a deep breath against her exposed, cold skin, causing pleasure to spike through her body, making her spasm in delight against his warmth.

"Harry," she breathed as he took a deft turn near the astronomy tower and headed straight for where she thought they might be heading.

"This is so much better than buckbeak."

An involuntary giggle erupted out of her throat. As she leaned against him while they flew over the Black lake, Hermione couldn't believe that the worst day of her life had so swiftly transformed into the best day. Nothing, she believed could be more magical than knowing that the person you are in love with, also loves you back.

"So, we still have a few hours before dawn. Do you want to go somewhere, Hermione?"

A sudden idea had popped into her head. "That depends, how fast can this broom go?"

She could feel him grinning behind her. "Pretty fast I can say, from my personal experience."

"Then, can we go to London and come back before the sun comes up?"

"Yes, we can."

"I want to see my parents."

"Off we go then, hold on tight."

"What? Are you serious?"

"No, I'm Harry," he replied as he suddenly accelerated the fastest broom in the world to it's top speed, making whatever retort she had, die in her throat.

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