Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor am I an AFI band member.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: This story was inspired by AFI's "Love Like Winter". I actually wrote this last summer, but I lost it. However, since I didn't go to school today, I decided to give it a go and try to remember. It's sort of like the first draft I wrote, but it has changed. I think this one is better.

Thanks to my Beta, Rachel. She's awesomeness.

Love Like Winter

She was dancing for him. Her hips swayed at the bit of the melody. Her scarf remained forgotten on the floor. She moved her hand to her stomach and started to lift her sweater slowly and sensually. He thought he was losing all of his blood, going to areas which he would have to deal with later, unless she did it for him.

"Harry."

It was barely a whisper.

"Harry!"

He woke up. Dammit. It had happened again. Those dreams that always came to him. The dreams that never showed their conclusion. The dreams that always left him aroused. He didn't dare look downwards. "Hermione?"

"It's time to wake up," she blushed, trying to avoid his eyes.

Had she seen it?

"I-uhm-ok, thanks." He took his glasses from the nightstand and put them on. "I'll be down there in a few. I just need to-"

"Oh, right. Well, I'll go wake Ron up, you know how he is." She literally ran away from the room.

He got up and walked to the bathroom, wanting to get rid of any evidence from his dream.

He was walking down the stairs, when he brushed against Hermione.

Warn your warmth to turn away.

"Sorry," her shows seem to be far more interesting than looking at him. "You know how clumsy I can get."

"Yeah- I mean, no, it's okay. I was- I'm cold." He wanted to smack himself on the head for being so stupid. Where did the temperature of his body come into the conversation?

But she laughed, it was a beautiful laugh, he noticed.

"Well, Harry, it is the middle of winter and we are in a cabin, with hardly any heat," she rolled her eyes.

Here is December, everyday.

To anyone, it would seem that she was making fun of him or probably making him look absurd, that he was a child. But to him, she was being his Hermione. She always gave the facts and wasn't afraid of her knowledge. She wasn't afraid to tell him when he needed to get his feet back on the earth.

At that instant, when she was being frank and truthful to him, he started wondering if maybe his eyes had been cheated by some spell because in front of him stood a goddess. She looked like the perfect replica of a sculpture he used to hear about in Professor Binn's class. He wanted to press his lips to hers. To never move and just kiss her.

Press your lips to the sculptures and surely you'll stay (love like winter).

He wondered what she would taste like. Probably something sweet. Like Pumpkin Pie? That was her favorite, after all. It didn't matter to him because he knew it would calm the coldness in him. It would make him complete.

For of sugar and ice I am made, I am made.

It was a sudden wave through all of his body that made him realize what was going on. All those dreams, touches, feelings, whispers. Maybe it had taken him forever to learn the truth because it had always been there. He was just too daft to notice what this new feeling was. Harry was in love with Hermione.

It's in the blood

I met my love before I was born.

And he wanted to hold her then. He was closing the little space that was between them. Two forces of attraction coming together. Attraction is magnetic, she had once said on one of her episodes where she could not resist herself and had to tell someone about the knowledge she held.

"Oy! Get off me!"

They both turned to the sound of their mutual best friend.

"Hermione!"

"We better see what he wants," Hermione didn't wait for him as she was soon on Ron's door, scolding him for whatever mess he had done this time.

He didn't go to them as he would usually do. Instead, he kept walking down the stairs to the kitchen. Maybe some hot chocolate would help him clear his mind.

Oo

"Ron, what in Merlin's beard did you do this time?"

"I was trying to turn this thing on," he motion to the television. "This tavee it's not working."

"First, it's a telly or television and second, how could it work when you just kicked it?"

"But I wasn't kicking it before!"

"And pray tell, what did you do before?"

"I was pushing this button," he had the remote control in hand and showed her the power button. She was surprised he actually knew what to press.

"Well, hand it to me," she tried turning the telly with the remote, but it still did not work. She turned it around and opened the little opening it had, where it kept the batteries. She looked inside and there were none there. "Of course, it needs some batteries."

"Batty-what? Do vampires know about this?"

She shook her head. "Never you mind, now let's go to the kitchen and have some breakfast."

"You're bleeding."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your lip, it's bleeding."

It was then that she realized she tasted a warm metallic liquid. Blood. She had been biting her lip when she and Harry were on the middle of the stairs. It had been his piercing eyes that had made her tremble inside and make her feel dizzy and nervous at the same time. For a moment, she had actually thought that she was going to kiss her best friend. That the look that he was giving her was of pure wanton, need, and lust. Maybe love? No, it was too much to hope for.

But, she had desired him then. She hadn't acted rational and was about to act on impulses rather than reason. Yet, it hadn't matter to her then because she had desired to have him kiss her senseless and make her forget about the world.

He wanted love, I taste of blood.

He bit my lip and drank my war

From years before, from years before.

"Let's go downstairs."

This time, Ron and his stomach listened to her.

Oo

Hermione was avoiding him. It was a fact; he had fucked up. He shouldn't have scared her. Now, she probably thought he was playing with her. But nothing had happened and that bit of information was the one thing that annoyed him the most. Nothing had happened.

"I'm done for the night. G'night."

She stood up to do her usual routine before bed where she kissed both Ron and him on the cheek. When it was his turn, however, she was hesitant, but kissed him nonetheless. He caught her aroma and closed his eyes, maybe this way he could remember it forever. She smelled sweet, just as she most likely tasted, he thought.

She exhales vanilla lace.

He went to bed not so long after her. When he lay on his bed, he remembered the dream he had had the night before. It had been too short. But, more pleasurable than the other dreams he had. This time, he had been able to see the face of her seducer. He always noticed the hair, but never saw the face. When he had seen her, however, he wasn't surprised. Maybe he had been expecting it all along.

I barely dreamt her, yesterday.

Harry got up from bed and opened his closet. It was too early in the morning (or very late at night), but he reckoned he wouldn't get much sleep anyway. Something was written on the inside mirror. He traced the word with his forefinger Forever. He knew that handwriting. It was Hermione's.

Read the lines in the mirror, through the lipstick trace, "Por Siempre."

"I had to see you."

He turned around, alarm that someone else was in his room. She was standing by the door.

"I- This morning, well, yesterday, really," she began, "I think something happened. Well, at least I want to believe that. I really wanted—I really wanted to be with you Harry. There, I said it," she started playing with her hair and he wished that was his finger instead of her. She smiled and moved forward, gaining more confidence in this new territory. "I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to hold you. I wanted to love you."

He stayed quiet. He was dumbstruck! How could it be this easy? Maybe he was having another dream. It shouldn't be this easy. It was too wonderful to think this was really happening. It had to be another dream.

"Harry, are you even listening to me?"

She said, "It seems you're somewhere, far away," to his face.

Her eyes became heavy. Suddenly, she realized that she wasn't meant to be there. Hermione made a move to the door, but a strong hold held her back. But he didn't say a word. Hermione looked up at his flaming green eyes and she suppressed a sigh as he traced her face.

"You're really here."

With those words said, he finally kissed her.

It's in the blood, it's in the blood

I met my love, before I was born

---

I was actually thinking if I should write the love scene for some of you. I wasn't sure. So I guess it is up to you. I hope you guys enjoyed it.

Authors love reviews.

/noise and kisses/