RUNE LORE! (also Runes are had to describe so Archive of Our Own will also have pictures)

Also we dive a little deeper into the plot, and finally FINALLY this relationship tag comes to some fruition.

August 8th 1943

Hermione layered the last line of a common house-mark with a shaved pencil, and released the steady flow of magic she'd been feeding into the protection sigil as she drew. The relief was instantaneous. Her magic pooled back into her own body, her shoulders dropped, her ears rang, and she had a sudden need for a tall glass of water.

Peggy peered over the folder of reports and recent intelligence that had been occupying her attention for the past few hours. Her eyes cast down at the simple marking on the page. She raised an eyebrow and leaned forwards, an interested light behind her usually guarded eyes. "What's this?"

Hermione rubbed the graphite from her fingers and looked down at her work. It was larger than usually allowed at school, in total the sigil could have covered the entirety of her palm instead of the neat thumb sized markings of her past, but she had wanted to get the strokes, the direction, the feeling right as she relearned her old lessons. "It's a house-mark," Hermione answered. "A very basic protection, usually placed inside a new home for prosperity, good health and favor."

"Favor from what?"

Hermione shrugged. "Anyone you believed in I suppose. For most, it was the old Gods. Odin, Thor," she said, "and any others that one found true divine inspiration in."

Peggy nodded along and gazed over the very simple sigil. "And what does it mean?"

Hermione pointed to the 'X' mark that had two little triangles pointed away from the top of the two lines. "If you were to break this 'X' apart like a left flag pole and a right, you would have the the two Horns of both Life," she pointed to the right triangle, "and then Death," she pointed to the left. "They are the inverted representation of the other, crossing over to meaning the fullness of life, or a life span. They both stand above Thor's hammer here at the bottom, which can mean any number of things literally, but the feeling and intention given when casting may give it a different outcome. For me just now, Thor's hammer could represent home or fortress of hearth, and its' meaning would be, "Between Life and Death may my estate increase and prosper," Hermione explained. "This is a general marking, and had popularity in the Middle Ages. Very simple. It's when you start specifying specific outcomes does rune-work become problematic." She pushed her paper over to Peggy with a smile.

The other woman accepted the document and studied the runes with an appreciative eye. "Sounds tricky," she said. "That there could be any number of meanings for this marking with intention?"

Hermione nodded. "Focused thought and feeling. A Want." She pointed to the Horn of Death. "However, no matter how powerful the intention may be, runes can not be transformed entirely into something else. It can't be wanted into another idea that directly opposes it's form or symbol, as it already is something," Hermione frowned, "If that makes any sense. That's why a symbol for the truly opposite can be translated as the inverted rune of the first." She nodded to the house-mark. "Life and Death each its' own form."

"Makes sense," Peggy traced a finger over the mark.

Hermione smiled. "We'll be Rune Masters yet."

Peggy smiled and gave her rune work back. "And could you create this over and over without consequence?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, as I've only a limited amount of magic within myself," she answered. "It takes concentration, intention, and my own magic to operate. I have to feed it with my Want, so it's draining to the castor." She laid the rune down on her desk. "Another reason Rune work can be tricky. If one were to create something with the correct intention but incorrect power, it could kill them. Or take away their magic permanently."

"Hm," Peggy answered, biting the inside of her lip. "And how long does it last usually?"

Hermione frowned. "A rune? It depends. On faith of the castor, the strength of intention, the magic, the medium itself. It could last five minutes or thousands of years, like the Egyptian tombs. From there, you'd probably want a to find yourself a curse-breaker."

"A curse-breaker?"

"Don't laugh." Hermione could see the incredulous look over her friend's face. "It's a very respectable field. A lot of training, very hard to be good at." She thought of Bill from her old home, and nearly smiled at the memory of the oldest Weasley.

To her credit, Peggy didn't laugh. "And how are you in that? The curse-breaking field."

Hermione frowned again. "Not the best, however I've had my fair share of run-ins from my old work."

Peggy's gaze settled on her file of documents from earlier. "Do you think you'd be able to use that against Hydra?"

Hermione blinked. "If it was necessary yes," Hermione answered, and Peggy nodded with relief. "But it's very unlikely that I'd have to. Without magic, runes are just highly symbolic markings. Even with an immense amount of belief from a muggle, it couldn't power-"

"Intention," Peggy said. "Belief and intention by Hydra's millions might be able to do something," she countered. "And if it's not belief or intention that does the powering, it might be... something else."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Normal electricity wouldn't be able to initiate the power of a rune."

"Not electricity no," Peggy said, dropping Hermione's searching eyes and pulling her packet of documents open. She flipped through a couple of reports before revealing a decrypted telegram. "Obviously, this is Top-Secret," she started.

"Obviously," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

Peggy didn't pay her sass any mind. "We've recently received a report about Hydra's new manufactured weapons."

Peggy passed her a black and white photo of a close-up on a Luger P08 pistol. The standard weapon of Nazi's armed forces, and a piece of machinery Hermione had recently learned how to take apart and reassemble blindfolded now that she worked to deconstruct and learn Hydra's weapons on her daily schedule. However, as she took in the familiar lines of the weapon, her eyebrows drew together. The wooden grip of the gun had been exchanged for a metal one, not all that uncommon, but it had holes on the side of the grip that revealed sections of illumination inside where the magazine usually held the bullets. "Is that-?" Hermione pulled the photograph closer. "I mean it looks like-"

"Light coming out of the magazine?" Peggy asked. "Yes, that's because it is. In reality it's blue in color and as bright as a flame, at least according to our reports."

Hermione's mind was already running through every chemical compound that could feasibly give off that kind of light for an innumerable amount of time, and was also not a safety hazard in a pressurized weapon that wouldn't explode at the trigger pull. Her mind came up with nothing. Nothing could do that. It shouldn't be possible. "What is it?" Hermione asked, her mind fumbling for answers.

"We have no idea," Peggy answered. "Some sort of powered bullets?" She pulled several other photos of the same looking gun from her folder and spread them across Hermione's table. "There have been very few found, and not every gun of Hydra's has the blue power- yet. We haven't gotten any to study as Hydra seems to like either stealing evidence back, or making it explode on the way to a research lab. But the reports also suggest that they hold more ammunition than the weapons should be physically capable of, and the bullets shoot out blue in color too."

Hermione had no idea what to do with that information. She needed to find these weapons and study them. "But what could-"

"That's not the worst of it," Peggy said, and Hermione raised her eyebrows higher on her head. "This was also found on the side of every strange new weapon they found." She laid out one last photo to the table and Hermione's breath stopped in her chest. Her hands hovered over the edges of the black and white photograph, unwilling to touch the evidence of what it meant. Etched into the rear sight of the Luger were familiar and terrifying markings.

An inverted Thurisaz, the Horn of Death rune, an inverted Ehwaz rune, and a small Inguz rune were visible in the metal. Death and Disharmony, Hermione could translate the first two easily. The last rune had many meanings including process, or power of suggestion, but with the inverted addition of the prior runes, Hermione guessed it most likely meant Production.

Death, Disharmony, Production.

Hermione sat down hard in her seat, staring at the photograph. She could feel the blood leaving her face. Her hands were shaking, and her breathing was shallow. Good Merlin. They enchanted a weapon, her mind screamed at her. With Runes. With RUNES.

Runes that shouldn't have been able to work. Shouldn't have been able to mesh with Muggle technology. Never. There had never ever been a living case of a Muggle being able to consciously wield and create a magical item. A runic inscribed item that needed magic to operate. Never Ever. Not once.

"That's impossible," Hermione heard herself say.

"You recognise the markings?" Peggy asked neutrally.

Hermione shakily dropped the photograph into her lap and met her friend's eyes. "You know I do."

Peggy sighed, and despite her own numbness, Hermione could see fear creep into the corners of Peggy's eyes. "I had to be sure," her friend said. "I only had suspicions after I'd seen your work with Howard the last time, but I didn't want it to be true."

Hermione's head was still spinning. "It shouldn't be able to be," she answered. "Nothing should be able to do something like this."

"Well whatever Johann found in Norway, it's helped him to achieve the impossible. I think it's the runes that are stabilizing whatever energy is in those new weapons," Peggy said.

"We have to destroy them," Hermione whispered.

Peggy grimaced, but leaned forwards in her chair. "What do they mean?"

"Death, Disharmony, and possibly, Production," Hermione answered. "Separately, they could be used for good or evil purposes, but somehow, somehow they have it written in the correct formation that allows transference of energy. For magic," Hermione said and Peggy watched silently. "I've never seen this formation on a muggle gun before, but it could mean any number of things."

"Do the meanings of the runes create something more than just easy energy conduction?"

"It- well using runes makes the gun more than charmed. The magic's intention will last last longer for one-." She bit the inside of her lip. "They've created a basic magical weapon. Something inanimate imbued with a specific purpose, or goal," Hermione answered. She pointed to the inverted Thurisaz again. "This symbol, Death, is obviously it's own intention as etched into the instrument that plays a part." She pointed to the next rune, the inverted Ehwaz. "Then Disharmony for- what?" She asked, going over every Runes text she'd ever read furiously in her mind. "The energy in the gun? The bullets? A way of chaotic transformation? Breaking the physical limitations of a magazine, and the structural integrity of an un-magical weapon?" Hermione grimaced. "But that would being chaos. It would destroy the mechanism before it was used, never mind stable."

"The last rune, Production," Peggy suggested.

Hermione thought hard. "It could mean many things by itself. Process. Planning. Power of suggestion," Hermione said, standing up from her chair and walking a path to and from her desk across her small office. "The Inguz rune could act as a stabilizing medium between the inverted runes. It's known more for planning and process, but with the right intention to complete a suggestion- by completing a magic number of three no less, it could create its' own balanced loop. A Production, perhaps to then offer the endless account of bullets in a single gun?" She shook her head. "I haven't a clue. But that could be a theory."

"It makes sense."

"Only because I haven't seen their weapons yet. The energy." Hermione shook her head again and put her hands behind her back. "If the runes work for a muggle weapon, it could do all kinds of things. Never mind it being applied to anything else." Her mind jumped to all the other Nazi weapons she and Howard had been dismantling and studying together. "A grenade. Rocket launchers. Tanks. Field Artillery. Planes." A shiver ran down her back. "The application..." She breathed out with a horrible sigh. "... it would be beyond devastating."

Peggy sighed with her. "So then it's only a matter of time."

Hermione nodded. "However he's doing this, we need to make sure he can't mass produce. We'll have to stop it. Destroy the production."

Peggy nodded along. "Level the manufacturing bases he created."

"Before it's too late, and he-"

There was a sharp, short knock on Hermione's office door, and then someone was stepping into her office without announcement.

Hermione whirled to the newcomer and Peggy stood up hastily from her seat across Hermione's desk. The entryway was then filled with a pair of tall, broad shoulders attached to an equally muscled man with military cropped blonde hair. Hermione recognized him instantly, and her indignation dispersed away as quickly as it had built. "Steve!" she said.

The soldier in question had a small smile on his face as he entered, but quickly fell away as he located and studied the photographs on display across Hermione's desk. He took in Peggy's stance, the atmosphere in the room, and quietly closed her office door behind him. "I'm sorry for barging in. I didn't realize you were in a meeting Agent Granger."

Peggy raised an eyebrow at Steve's even tone. "Do you always enter an office before waiting for permission Private- or should I say Captain Rogers now?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Captain?" she asked. "When did that happen?"

Embarrassment flushed Steve's face. Hermione found it very difficult to not think it adorable.

"Senator Bradt and team made an executive decision while he was on tour last week- shooting a film if I recall correctly," Peggy answered for him.

Hermione's surprise rose further. "You were in a film?"

"Several," Peggy answered again.

"But-" Hermione felt further confusion rise up. "What about training? I had Sergeant Duffy on a strict guideline."

Peggy cocked her head to the side, amusement faint in her eyes as she let Steve take over.

He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "Well we finished training early."

She studied him skeptically. "Early enough to finish several films?"

"Early enough for Senator Brandt to start his filming and touring before we began Specialty Training. Then I did all of that mostly on camera."

Hermione thought her jaw would drop to the floor. "You- when you hadn't finished-" anger drowned the incredulous reaction bubbling in her chest. "-why the nerve of that man, I swear-"

Peggy hid a small smile behind a cough. "To be fair, Captain Rogers had already exceeded administered training demands, and the Senator did have an agreement to his time."

Hermione withheld the desire to shoot her friend a dirty look. Instead, she breathed deeply and make her way back to her desk. "I want a report of your progress Captain Rogers. Immediately on my desk tomorrow morning. Everything. And a list of every film you've been in as well."

"Perhaps a message to the senator's assistant for further scheduling?" Peggy suggested.

Hermione bit back her immediate reply and nodded sagely. "An excellent suggest Agent Carter, as always."

Peggy turned around to gather her service hat, but Hermione caught the trembling of her lips as she held back a laugh. When she had righted herself, and placed her hat back on, her amusement was gone. "I'm going to inform the Colonel of our discussion Agent Granger." She nodded to Hermione and then Steve. "I'll leave you to it."

As Peggy began to move, Hermione noticed the folder she'd been reading through all day untouched on her desk. "Would you like me to have your folder on your desk later tonight?" Hermione asked.

Peggy looked back once at the forgotten document, and then shook her head. "I no longer need them. You hold on to them for me."

Confusion and shock ran through Hermione. To touch secret files, let alone hold onto them was apart of a higher clearance than Hermione currently held. It was against regulation. "But-"

"Congratulations Agent Granger, the Senator and Colonel send their compliments as well."

Hermione blinked several times as her friend walked out of the entryway.

Before she closed the door behind her, Peggy turned back around and said, "Oh, and you've been given permission to relate your origins to the Captain. The Colonel expects a full briefing."

If Hermione thought she was in shock before, it was nowhere close to the tidal wave of rolling surprise that she was now drowning in. "But-"

"Good day Agent Granger," she smiled briefly with a shine in her eye. She nodded to Steve once. "Captain." And then she was gone.

Only Hermione's self preservation prevented her from collapsing in her chair as her friend left. So many new things to consider in such a small amount of time.

Steve's eyebrows came together. "Did you just get promoted?"

Hermione let the shock take her to her seat and she sat down heavily. She nodded.

Steve took a seat across from her at the desk and smiled lopsidedly at her, causing Hermione's stomach to flip. He leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. "Congratulations Hermione," he said softly.

She smiled back, hoping it wasn't as shaky as she felt. She glanced to the documents still scattered over her desk.

Steve followed her eyes and his frown came back at the close-up of the runes etched into the gun. "What is this?"

Hermione wanted to sigh. This was it. She'd have to explain it all to him, every gritty detail, and a stubbornly small part of her wondered if he'd dismiss whatever they had as soon as he understood what she was and where she was from. It left her scared.

She fingered the edges of one of the black and white photos. She swallowed back her fear as best as she could. She was an Agent dam it all. And the first witch of her family. She was the youngest witch in all of Europe, maybe even the America's to have accomplished as much as she had in her own world. She was a time traveler. She had crossed dimensions unharmed and was thriving. She could do this.

"You've been given permission to know the next steps of the SSR," Hermione started, "And what it has to do with me. With my past."

Steve looked up from the photograph. "I thought you said you were from England?" he asked.

"I am, but it's not that simple," she answered. She pulled out her wand.

Steve tracked her movements and he looked between her and her wand with rising confusion.

"Don't panic," Hermione said without thought, unwise as it only made Steve's eyebrows raise higher on his forehead.

Hermione removed her gaze from Steve and focused on one of the photos on the desk. She flicked her wand once, focused her intent, and the photograph turned into an owl.

Steve stood up from his chair quickly, the metal legs scraping back and falling over at the sudden movement. Steve took a half step back, his arms up at his sides like he expected the animal to attack, and then he froze. He stared.

The owl turned its head to Steve comically slow, as if it was just waking up.

"It won't hurt you," Hermione said softly, and Steve's eyes jumped from the owl, whose eyes blinked widely at him, to Hermione. She raised her hands slowly in surrender, her wand between two fingers. "I'm not going to hurt you," she said even softer.

Steve blinked at her like her words had thrown cold water over his head, and he stood straight. His shoulders lowered. His eyes became less intense. They were still confused, but less like he was strategizing for an attack. Steve didn't say anything back to her, but returned his attention to the owl, and took a small step forwards. He studied the animal closely, watching as it breathed, blinked, and then stretched it's wings like it was yawning. He swallowed.

Hermione's breath was stuck in her chest.

"Is that-" he asked, "what you did- magic?" He finally met her eyes, and Hermione couldn't pin point a feeling behind them.

She nodded. "I've always had it, even as a child," she answered softly. "I learned how to control it as I got older. I'm what you'd call a witch."

His eyebrows rose. "A witch?"

"Cauldrons, flying broomsticks, and all."

He tried to sit down, but remembered his chair had been knocked over, so he righted it and then heavily lowered himself. His uniform rumpled at his bent position. His elbows rested on his knees again, and his attention settled over Hermione completely.

She could practically see the jumble of thoughts in his head as he studied her. She let him have his silence, she could vaguely remember what it had been like when she'd first found out magic was real as a child, and leaned back into her own chair with fake calmness.

Steve didn't wait long to break their silence. "What else can you-" Steve started, before trailing off like he wasn't sure he was allowed to ask.

"Do?" Hermione finished for him. He smiled with a small nod. Hermione's insides lit up at the look on his face. There wasn't anger, or malice, or Merline forbid disgust, just honest confusion and some blatant curiosity. "Well I can do alot of things. When I was younger, everything I could do was instinctual, its called accidental magic, but when a witch or wizard turns 11-" And Hermione told him about Hogwarts. She told him about the classes she took, the Middle Ages environment that the Wizarding World seemed to be stuck in, the Ministry, the Magical Animals, the Sports teams, she told him everything she could, without mentioning anything at all about the actual decade she'd grown up in, or about Voldemort and his War.

Steve, bless his heart, took it all rather well. He asked questions for some of the details in her world like, "Goblins? Actual Goblins are bankers?" or about the specifics of the Ministry departments, but he never once seemed to doubt her word.

When they'd reached a lull in the conversation, Hermione voiced her observations of him. Steve grinned and leaned back in his chair comfortably, barely glancing over at the perched owl on the desk. "Well, it makes a little bit of sense," Steve admitted.

Hermione blinked in shock. "What does?"

"You sayin Merlin all the time. 'Course me and Buck just thought it was an English thing or somethin, maybe from your city, but we always thought it was a little strange," he smiled. "Now I know it's about an actual guy." He shook his head. "Crazy."

Hermione sighed. "Yes well-"

"Peggy knows. Colonel Phillips must too."

Hermione sidetracked from furthering the conversation about her dimension jumping story, and nodded. "They do."

"Does anyone-" He stopped himself with a frown.

"Howard knows," Hermione said, knowing his thoughts. "Abraham did. But that's it. No one else is allowed, it wouldn't be safe for me if they all knew."

"Alamogordo," Steve said, understanding washing over his face.

She nodded. "I'd be a science experiment." She twisted her wand in her hands. "Well, for being a witch and for other things."

"What could possibly be more than a witch?" Steve asked with a smile, shaking his head. "I mean that's- Everythin you said, it sounds amazing."

Warmth filled Hermione from the tips of her toes, to the crown of her head. "Magic can be amazing," Hermione agreed. "It can be the most marvelous thing in the world, the best tool, create the most beautiful wonders, but it can also be dark." She looked down at the other photographs over her desk, the twisted Runes that were being held by an organization of a mad man. "It can create pain, and death, and hurt. It can be unpredictable, and do something that can't be ever undone."

Steve picked up the photo that clearly showed the etched Runes in the Nazi weapon. "Is that what this is about?"

Hermione shook her head. "We'll get to that," she said. "But I have a story to tell you first that's even more crazy than me being a witch."

Steve put the photograph back down. His eyes studied her, and then he frowned at her. "You're scared."

"It's going to be alot to understand."

He reached across her desk and took one of her hands into his. They dwarfed her's now, unlike how they'd been before the serum, but they were warmer now too. He radiated safety, and Hermione felt her fingers linking through his. "I believe you," Steve said, looking deeply at her.

She swallowed. "I think I'd be - well, I ought to start at the beginning I suppose," she said, lightly squeezing his hand. He reciprocated the action, and more of Hermione's nerves settled. "To start, I was born in England. September 19th, 1979."

And then Hermione told him the rest of her story. She spoke of her parents, of Hogwarts, her two closest friends, the prejudice she endured, the teachers she had through the years, Voldemort's War, the Battle of Hogwarts, the many years after she spent forgetting her trauma and trying to learn everything she could get her hands on. Then she spoke of the blue cube, the 'tesseract', meeting Johann and then Abraham and Peggy. Figuring out she was not only decades in the past, but also from an entirely new world because of a foreign object that was never even identified as magical. Peggy's recruitment for her into the SSR, and then her life in New York.

She told him everything. Right up through the Runes now found on some of Hydra's new guns.

"Which is why I've most likely been promoted," Hermione said. "I'm the only one in probably the whole of the world who understands this, other than Hydra right now. If it's not magic, it's something."

Steve had never let go of Hermione's hand. Throughout her tale, he had held on and comforted her when the sharp edges of her past slid too deep. His thumb, occasionally, would lightly trace the back of her hand when she re-lived through the loss of something that wasn't as forgotten as she'd hoped. It anchored her, a warm presence as her mind slid to the past, and as the sun went down outside her office window, she realized that they'd been connected for several hours.

"You've got a big part to play in the War now," Steve said, looking up from their hands and into her eyes.

"We both do," Hermione agreed. "You'll be needed now more than ever."

Steve shook his head and lowered his eyes to their hands again. "A dancing monkey," he said. "You oughta see the costume they have me in. America's New Hope."

"Name of your film?"

"Name of the Tour that Senator Brandts got me on."

Hermione felt for him. Truly, she did. "It was either help him with that or be stuck in a lab in New Mexico," she reminded him.

He nodded. "I know, but for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country. I finally get everythin I wanted, and I'm wearin tights."

"Not for much longer," Hermione said. "Maybe two more months or three- do a quick dash to New York, Philadelphia, and DC for the Senator's press tour, and then you're the SSRs. We're going to need every soldier we have," she nodded to the photos between them. "Especially when it comes to this."

Steve's eyes lingered on their hands. "I'm glad you told me," he said after a pregnant pause. He looked up. "About you, and your magic, your old world. All of it. I always thought there was something off with- us. And for the longest time I thought it was me-"

Hermione put her other hand over their joined one, and squeezed. "No Steve! It was never that-"

"-but I'm glad you could trust me with this. Your story. I know it's not easy to share-"

"-and Top-Secret," Hermione added.

He stopped like the thought hadn't occurred to him. "Would you have told me without Colonel Phillips ordering you to?" he asked, looking between her eyes.

Hermione nodded without hesitation. "Eventually," she said. "I would have had to pluck up the courage before we- " she bit her lip. "Well before we got in too deep, but you would have known."

She stared into the blues of his eyes. "Does it change things?" she asked. "Between us now?"

Steve smiled and shook his head. A weight Hermione hadn't known she'd been carrying lifted from her shoulders. His smile, a beautifully uneven grin that melted straight through her chest, grew wider and he squeezed her hand once more. "Not at all. I'm stuck on ya doll."

Her heart began to beat wildly. They were both leaning over the hard wooden top of her desk at this point, and she was close enough to smell the shoe shine from his uniform, the Royal Crown pomade from his hair, and something deeper, richer, that was all male and 100% Steve. She breathed it in deeply. It made her feel light headed, and she leaned forwards closer to him, stopping a couple of inches away from his face.

Steve stared down at her, and his eyes dropped farther down to her mouth.

Hermione tipped her head up. She used their joined hands to push herself forwards off the desk, and she closed the distance between them, kissing Steve gently on the lips.

It was warm, dry, and soft. Hermione savored the feeling, letting the warmth travel down from the flush of her face, to the arch of her back, and then down to her toes; cherishing the feeling of being so close.

After a moment, Hermione realized Steve wasn't responding. His lips were frozen, and she broke away with a horrible fear that maybe she'd read all of this all wrong. "Steve, I-"

Steve's hand slid out from under Hermione's hold on the desk. Both palms came down to the sides of her arms, fingers wrapping wholly around her flesh, and he tugged her upwards.

Hermione barely had time to feel the lift of her upper body before Steve's face was pressing downwards and he was kissing her back thoroughly. There was no gentleness in the kiss this time as he bore down on her. It was a hard press of his lips, over and over as he broke through the line of her mouth and his teeth scraped the edges of her lips. His tongue found the inside of her mouth, and she accepted it with a frantic taste of her own. His breath filled her lungs and the heat of his own hunger consumed her.

Hermione kissed him back just as desperately, keeping up with the fire that was rising from her lower parts and spreading across her skin.

One of his hands traveled from her arm, and slid upwards into the curls of her hair. The pads of his fingers grasped the back of her neck and held her more securely against his lips.

Hermione let her arms fall to the circle of his waist as she tried to just hold on.

She wasn't sure who ended the kiss first, but they both broke away and breathed heavily against each other, their breath mingling in the close proximity.

"That was-" Steve said hoarsely. He swallowed.

"Yes," Hermione agreed with a whisper.

He looked down at their precarious situation, Hermione pulled forwards so far over that her shoes nearly left the ground, and his upper body stretched far over the wood while his thighs were nearly ingrained against the oak of her desk. The photographs between them had scattered. He gently released his hold on Hermione, and she felt her feet touch the ground. She unwound her arms from his waist. They made eye contact over her desk, and neither let it go.

"You've no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he said. He smiled and pushed an errant curl behind her ear. A flush crossed over his face.

"It won't be the last," she smiled, unabashed at the heat over her own skin.

Steve moved around her desk and planted himself in front of her, close enough that Hermione had to look nearly straight up to see his small smile. Gently, he took the sides of her face in his hands and leaned forwards. He kissed her again then, slow and sweet. The press of his lips tender against her, like he was memorizing the feeling. Hermione didn't think too much on it, as she was doing the same.

When they broke apart again, Hermione opened her eyes to see Steve's brilliant smile shining down at her. "So if I asked you to go steady with me?" he said, his eyes trapping hers.

"I'm yours." And she didn't have to think too hard about how easy her answer was afterwards, as Steve bent down once more to claim her lips.

A very slow burn indeed, but we got there!

Thank you all so much for your support!