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He Could Always Read Her

by: atruwriter

2/2

It was nearly dinner time when Hermione arrived via Floo. He could hear her in the den, muttering per usual about the downside to the Floo system and gathered his nervous self to go and retrieve her. Like in the past, he had told her that he was asking her over to meet his new girlfriend, only this time he had stated that she was a "potential girlfriend." Walking into the den, he found her dressed in a pair of loose fitting jeans that still managed to show off her long slim legs and curved around her arse in a flattering manner. She was wearing a light blue sweater that clung to her curves comfortably without being an attention drawer though Harry couldn't seem to stop his eyes from taking her all in. She had cut her hair a few months prior, explaining that it was just too heavy around her head. It reached her chin after the cut, curls a little more manageable and a lot softer looking. He missed running his hands through her hair though and told her so, and couldn't help but feel a little bit of triumph when she didn't chop it back down to her chin when it grew over the months, instead letting it rest longer against her neck. Hermione's hair naturally grew quite quickly and he estimated it wouldn't be too long before he he could run his fingers through her long, curly locks once more.

"Harry," she said, sounding rather amused. "Are you going to stand there all night, or will you be introducing me to this 'potential' Mrs. Potter any time soon?" she teased, smiling lightly at him.

He found his attention brought up to her mouth, a beautiful curve of plump pink lips that made him swallow thickly when her perfect white teeth peeked out to press into them enticingly. She was within arms reach but she felt miles away, so unknowing of all that he was thinking, all that he was wanting. What if his plan totally botched their friendship? What if all she saw in him was her best mate Harry and not the potential husband he hopes she sees? He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and burning. He couldn't lose her, but he couldn't go on not having her wholly either. "Uh, dinner first, then I'll introduce you," he managed, feeling his hands shaking by his sides.

Her brow furrowed in confusion and her head tipped an inch to the side. "But... I thought... Won't she be here for dinner?" she asked, slipping her hands into the front pockets of her pants.

Yes, actually, he thought, but she won't know it. "I thought just you and I could have dinner. It's been awhile," he told her, shrugging.

She smiled lightly, her eyes brightening as she looked up at him. For a moment he was lost. Her eyes were a swirl of dark and light browns, so warm and intoxicating that he can't help but wonder how he managed any real thought in the last fourteen years. The tiny freckles that pass over the bridge of her nose, between those beautiful eyes caught his attention then and he couldn't help but wonder how many were close enough to count the seventeen light brown spots that touch her soft, pale skin. He knew from memory that there are five on one cheek, eight on the other, and four on her nose. Her cute, pert, small nose that leads down to that perfect, rosy mouth of hers. He shakes his head, trying to remind himself that all of his staring was likely to get him in trouble. He can't help it though. It had been like this for months. He started really looking at her and seeing what was there all along. The soft curves that his hands naturally wrapped around, the feminine voice that washed over him like hot chocolate on a snowy day, the sweet laughter that always made his chest swell. Before he knew it, he could hardly remember to breathe in her presence, let alone speak.

"It has been awhile," she admitted, shrugging. "If we exclude last Friday's lazy night or Sunday brunch," she teased.

Harry licked his lips, "Ron crashed lazy Friday and Sunday brunch was spent with your parents. I meant just you and me," he told her softly, and he wondered if she noticed just how much longing seemed to reflect in his voice.

"Harry," she said quietly, stepping closer to him and reaching out to cup his face. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "No, I'm hoping that after tonight things will be great. Wonderful. Amazing. Better than ever," he told her, his nervousness rising up inside him again.

She gave him a wane smile and a short nod. "So tell me about her then," she said, her hand slowly falling from his face.

Harry nodded, before moving to her side and settling a hand on the small of her back to walk her out of the den. He had made them dinner, her favorite, and set it all up on the table in the kitchen. A heating charm kept it ready and waiting, and he felt a swell of pride when he heard her intake of breath, quickly forgetting all about Harry's mystery girl. He'd set the table up with candles and pulled out his best dinner ware, reminded of when Hermione took him shopping for dishes and cutlery galore. In fact, the majority of his house was fashioned by Hermione, which furthered his comfort really. She helped him pick out colours for paint and furniture. Coordinating everything in a very Hermione way. His house had a very homey and friendly atmosphere to it and he'd never felt more like he belonged somewhere than the day he and Hermione had finished putting his house together.

Everything reflected on him and his lifestyle. He had thick, dark couches that one could melt into they were so comfortable. His carpets were crème and his walls were done in various colors to match each furniture decor. His kitchen was large and spacey, leaving him lots of room while he was cooking. And his bedroom, one of his favorite places, was large and spacious, with a huge four poster bed that screamed lazy mornings and cuddling in the earlier rays of morning sunlight. Hermione had helped pick out linens and furniture, pictures and knick knacks and before Harry knew it he had a real home all to himself. Sometimes it was little overwhelming. He had a four bedroom, two story house all to himself, but Hermione visited often and back when he had girlfriends they spent a good amount of time over. Ron enjoyed popping in randomly, especially when he knew Harry would be cooking, so he spent a hefty amount of time in the dining room. It was only when Hermione was out of town working, Ron was busy with Luna, and Harry wasn't seeing anyone that he was reminded of how empty and lonely his house could be. But he was aiming to change that, hoping that Hermione would see just how clearly they were meant to be together.

Harry held her chair out for her and she slumped into it still looking rather shocked. Despite that fact, she still managed to take the ring off of her napkin and place it daintily in her lap. Harry's mouth curved up in a smile as he took his seat across from her and held out a bottle of wine, pouring it into the tall clear glass in front of her. She watched the red liquid fill half of it before motioning it was enough and then looked around at the tasty dinner he'd put together. Hermione was a sucker for anything pasta, so Harry had put together chicken fettuccine, garlic bread, and a Caesar salad. They didn't speak. He preferred it that way. He could watch her eat, watch her savor each bite, witness the flutter of her eyes in ecstasy and her mouth wrap around the lucky, blasted fork. His eyes were keen on the tip of her pink tongue when it exited her mouth to lick her lips of the remnants of sauce and dressing. Somehow watching her eat was both innocent and erotic and he quickly reminded himself that he had better ease back or he'd give away the grand finale by kissing her senseless.

He finished eating before her, mostly because he needed to fill his mouth for fear of moaning or saying something too early. He was able to sit back and watch her after that anyway, which is what he had been wanting to do in the first place. When she put her fork down, Harry finally spoke, "I've pinpointed the exact reason, or I guess I should say person, which caused the end of every one of my break ups," he told her, straight to the point.

Hermione lifted a brow inquisitively, her mouth pursed slightly. "Oh?"

"Yes," he told her, nodding slowly. He took a long gulp of his wine and then sighed. "It's you."

"Me?" she said, her voice both incredulous and rather offended. "I'm the reason your relationships haven't worked out, Harry? Is that what you're telling me?" she asked, now sounding shocked.

"Precisely," he told her simply, nodding.

"Well, I never..." She shook her head, her expression turning stony. "And how do you suppose I managed that?" she asked, her voice rather annoyed.

"Your expressions," he told her, his brow furrowing and his mouth frowning. "It was all in your face, you see. The furrowed brow meant you didn't quite approve, but you weren't so much against them. The wrinkled nose meant you really weren't sure about her, but you were willing to give her another try. But the pursed mouth..." He shook his head, sighing slowly, "that one meant she was a sure goner."

"What?" she asked, her eyes thinning in confusion.

"I could always tell," he told her, shaking his head. "It was always in your face whether you thought they were good enough or if I should keep them. You probably weren't consciously doing it and I obviously shouldn't have been basing my relationships off whether your wrinkled your nose or not," he admitted with a snort. "But I did. And your every thought and opinion of them was written clearly in your face for only me to see."

"So..." Hermione shook her head slowly, not quite sure if she was hearing him right. "You're telling me that I caused the end of your relationships because I... pursed my lips?" she asked, her mouth pursing.

"Yes," he replied, nodding shortly.

Hermione clasped her hands together, her eyes thinning in thought. "Did it ever occur to you, Harry, that you broke up with them not because I pursed my lips but because you were looking for a reason to?" she asked him after a long moment of silence. "That it wasn't my opinion that mattered really, but that I gave you a reason to finally end it." She nodded, tapping her chin and resting her elbows on the table top. "Yes, it makes complete sense. See, you needed an excuse, so you used me. I'm your best friend, you trust my judgment, and so you used me as a sort of... scapegoat," she explained, her face losing its irritation to be replaced with new understanding.

"Nope," he replied easily, shaking his head. "I'm telling you, Ron and I discussed it. Right before I ended things with Emilia that night you met her, Ron admitted what he'd noticed. I watch you. Every time I introduce a girlfriend to you I watch for your reaction. I study your face, the way you scrunch your nose and what that means, the way your eyes thin when you don't appreciate a comment. And then, after reading your analysis of her, I decide whether or not I believe I should keep them. In the end, if you've pursed your lips or made any indication that they're wrong for me, I break up with them. Simple as that." He shrugged, taking another drink of his wine.

Hermione sat back, her arms falling to her sides while her eyes widened. "So, my face has single handedly destroyed five relationships," she said, her voice rather awed.

"Mm hmm," he replied, nodding.

Hermione sighed, her brow furrowing and her mouth sticking out in a bit of a pout. "Well, I suppose I'll have to be more careful then," she decided.

"No," Harry told her, shaking his head. "Because I've figured it out. I've finally found the one girl that both you and I will quite obviously have to admit is perfect for me," he told her, nodding.

Hermione's eyes widened and then her mouth turned down. "Really, Harry, I hadn't even known you were dating," she said rather lowly.

"I'm not," he told her, shaking his head. "But I've found the perfect woman, 'Mione. She's incredibly brilliant, beautiful, fun to be with, and the best friend I could ask for. You'll love her," he told her, nodding with a sage smile. "It took me awhile to figure out. It was one of those right-in-front-of-you-the-whole-time moments, right?" He smiled, his eyes falling for a moment before he lifted them to look at her. "But this one's really it. I've never quite felt this way before. I mean... It's like I've suddenly been shown a reality that's more than just possible, it's meant to be. It's something I've always wanted without actually acknowledging it. Not all of it anyway. I wanted the family, the wife and the children and the perfection of being truly whole, but I never quite figured out who the woman was beside me. And then it struck me. It was so completely obvious the entire time. I mean she was right there, 'Mione. Staring right at me. And she was beautiful," he said, his voice becoming soft and whispery. "So incredibly beautiful. I had no idea. Not really. I don't think anybody did. But she is, she really is. Her hair, her eyes, her sweet, lovely mouth. And it was like that future I wanted suddenly became clear, I could see it in its completed form." He smiled, his face lighting up. Hermione was staring at him, her mouth shaking slightly and he wondered if she'd figured it out. Harry rose from his chair, moving around the table to pull her out from the table. He reached down, taking her delicate hand in his own and coaxing her from her seat.

"D-Does she know, Harry?" she asked, clearing her throat and looking from him to the floor.

"I'm not sure," he replied honestly, wrapping his arm in hers and walking her out of the kitchen. "I'm not even sure if she feels the same," he admitted sheepishly. "I want her to. I want her to look back at me with the same passion I know is reflected in my eyes. But... we've known each other a long time. If it took me this long, it might take her awhile too, right?" he asked, suddenly losing the confidence he'd had earlier.

She turned to him, a shaky smile on her mouth. "I'm sure whoever she is, Harry, she'll love you back. You..." She shook her head. "And if they don't, then there's somebody else out there. Remember that. There's somebody who will love you, all of you, and they won't ever let you doubt it. You're so very special, Harry," she told him, her voice shivering with emotion.

Harry squeezed her arm. "Will you meet her, Hermione?" he asked, his voice serious and hopeful. "Will you let me see whether she's the one? Whether she's who I'm supposed to have forever?"

"I can't make that decision for you, Harry," she told him, softly, reaching out to cup his cheek. "That's up to you. I can't decide whether somebody is or isn't good enough for you." Her eyes fell and she sighed resignedly. "Truth is, I'm not sure I think anybody is really good enough for you."

Harry frowned, "Why's that?"

Hermione lifted her eyes to his, "You have no idea just how unbelievably wonderful you are, do you? You don't know how smart or talented or loving you are, not really." Hermione shook her head, "If this woman doesn't love you, then she's a fool. Any woman would be the luckiest alive to have you, Harry James, don't you doubt that."

Harry swallowed thickly and couldn't reply. He nodded jerkily before beginning to walk again. "I still want you to meet her and I want you to tell me honestly if you think she's it." Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Harry cut her off, "Just one last time, Hermione. Please. And then I'll know. Once and for all if my future is what I think it is, what I hope it is." Hermione stared at him hesitantly but then nodded. Harry gave a quick smile before he reached out and pressed his fingers tips to the tops of her eyelashes, "Close your eyes for me," he whispered. Hermione complied, her mocha eyes falling shut before him.

Harry walked her down the hall and then up the stairs, bringing her to his bedroom and walking across it to settle in the place he needed her to be. "She's very special to me, 'Mione. The most special woman in my life. She knows it. Everybody knows it. There's no questioning it, really. I think, over the years, it was simply leading up to this. This one moment where clarity rather beat me over the head like a Quaffle," he said, chuckling lightly. "She's been there through a lot of tough times, moments where things just didn't feel worth going on." The room automatically lit up with faint candles when they walked through, surrounding them in a romantic and soft light. Her hair glinted softly, making it appear soft and almost untouchable. Shadows fell across her face, enhancing the curve of her cheeks and the dark brush of her lashes against her pale skin. She was exquisite.

Harry reached out, his hands settling on her shoulders, which quaked lightly beneath his palms. Her hair brushed against his skin, soft and smelling of vanilla. He massaged her shoulders, his fingers tingling as they slowly moved toward the curve of her throat, his mouth begging to lean in and taste her creamy skin. "I've always loved her, but I only recently realized how very much in love with her I am," he whispered against her ear. "I don't just want her to love me, Hermione, I need her to." Turning his hand up, Harry lightly grazed the line of Hermione's jaw with the pad of his thumb, trailing it down to her chin. "See, I'm quite sure that my future will only be complete with her. That she is simply the one women who could love me unconditionally the way I've been seeking for so long. She's the only one who I could have children with, raising them to love life and live it to the fullest, while still, of course, following certain rules. She's the only one I see myself living with and loving until my dying day, 'Mione," he breathed against the side of her throat.

"I need you to tell me if that's going to happen. I need you to look at her, like you have every other girlfriend of mine you've met, and I need you to tell me with that beautiful face of yours whether she's it." He inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly, feeling quite nervous and uncertain. "I'll understand if she's not. I'll still love her, still be by her every day of her life. I'll support her decisions and accept whoever it is she chooses to love instead of me. But, for right now, for this one moment, I need you to look at her objectively and tell me in all honesty if she loves me too." Harry's hand slipped down from Hermione's chin to splay out over her skin, palm against her heart, feeling it beat furiously. "Open your eyes," he told her.

Hermione's teeth bit deeply into her lip and she shivered back against him. Her eyes slowly fluttered open only to widen in shock. In front of her stood a full length mirror and Hermione could clearly see only her and Harry. Harry stood behind her, an arm wrapped loosely around her waist while his chin was cradled on her shoulder, face pressed against hers. He stared at the mirror too, looking into her eyes with an obvious sense of uncertainty and fear. Hermione had been expecting some spectacular beauty, somebody she hadn't met before. Somebody who was exceptionally intelligent, easily surpassing her, with a great figure and an obvious equality to Harry. But she found only herself staring back. Mildly boring, quite honestly not the most ravishing, Hermione Granger. What did she have that enticed him so? she wondered. She wasn't anything special. She didn't have the beauty so many of his exes had, she didn't possess the career mindedness that Emilia had. She was plain, rather boring in her quest for more knowledge, and she nagged far too often. He must be mental, she decided. He'd obviously been working too hard. Maybe he wasn't getting enough sleep. Had he been eating properly? Perhaps he was just upset about the lack of dating he'd been doing, so he gave up and went for the closest woman to him.

She chastised herself for being so utterly pitying. There was nothing wrong with her. She wasn't hideous or downright stupid. She was smart and she liked to think she was pretty enough. But she wasn't sure she was quite good enough for Harry. She had known him since she was eleven. Knew what he was capable of and quite honestly understood him better than anybody ever could. She had fourteen years of Harry, and nobody but Ron could say he had seen their best friend in the situations she had. It was true that he relied on her quite a bit, too. She cleaned up after him every once in awhile, reminded of how often he was forced into cleaning up after the Dursleys. She cooked dinner for him a few nights of the week and she went out of her way to keep her friendship with him strong and thriving. It wasn't long after graduation and Voldemorts defeat that Hermione began inviting Harry along to Sunday brunch and before long he was a regular. Then Friday's became their official Hermione and Harry day, enjoying pizza and junk food while watching action and comedy movies, every once in a while sneaking in a romance, but never anything gory and horrific, they'd had enough of that. Their friendship had thrived, becoming much more for her and before she knew it, Harry was the completion of Hermione Granger. She'd never said anything, believing that he was quite happy with just a friendship with her and enjoyed other women in the position Hermione so often wanted to be in.

Harry watched her face, examining the way her eyes flickered with confusion and her teeth bit into her lip in disbelief. He could clearly see her doubt and hesitation and then her outright suspicion at why he would want her. It hurt to think that she could possibly contemplate why he liked her as if it were an impossibility. Did that mean that it was impossible for her to think of him in a way other than platonic? His stomach tightened at the thought and he considered pulling back, but then he saw the warmth fill her eyes and a small smile appear on her face and he wondered if maybe... just maybe...

"How certain are you that she's the one, Harry?" she asked quietly, her voice soft and hesitant.

He smiled shakily, hopeful. "Completely certain," he replied breathily.

"And if it doesn't work out, what then?" she wondered, lifting a dark brow.

His mouth curled in a smile. "I don't believe that's a possibility," he told her, shaking his head.

Her mouth appeared stuck between a frown and a smile. "Why's that?" she queried softly.

He smiled, his heart becoming a little more light. He licked his lips, readying himself. "I have a best friend, see, and she's never wrong," he told her. "If she says it'll work then... it will." He shrugged, his arm tightening around her waist. "And if for some reason the whole world turns inside out and she's wrong, then... I'll always love her. I'll always be her best friend," he told her, his eyes falling shut for a moment. "I'll never let her go."

She softened against him, as if she were melting against his arms, his heart, and freeing his hope to meet her soul. "She doesn't want you to," Hermione replied softly, causing Harry's eyes to open.

He let out a shaky breath, hesitant to believe what he wanted to happen actually was. "Never?" he asked, lifting a brow.

Hermione shook her head, smiling, "Never."

Harry grinned slowly, "D'you think I should kiss her then?" he wondered rather cheekily.

She licked her smiling lips. "Definitely," Hermione replied, nodding shortly with a no-nonsense expression thinly veiling her anticipation.

Harry leaned in, his arm turning her slowly so she was pressed up against him, her back arched and her mouth mere centimeters from his. "Does she love me?" he asked, his voice shaky and rather uncertain about the reply he'd receive.

"Unequivocally," she replied, her eyes gleaming.

"Big word," Harry teased, his smile twitching.

Hermione chortled, "She loves you." Her hand reached up, cupping Harry's cheek. "I love you," she told him, her mouth brushing against his as she said it.

Harry let out a shaky sigh of content. Pressing closer, he slid his lips over hers, soft and sweet. His tongue peeked out to taste her, laving at red wine and a very faint hint of strawberry lip balm. He felt her fingers creep up into his hair, tangling in the unkempt raven locks and tickling his skin. He melted against her, loving the feel of her every curve pressed against his. Her lips parted, letting his tongue into explore and taste, needing to lap every flavor of her up. Her tongue teased his lips and tangled with his, soft and warm. The kiss was gentle but heated, coursing through him so quickly and so completely that he wasn't certain he wanted to return to a time where he wasn't kissing her. One of Harry's hand wrapped around the back of her neck, her hair swished against his skin, satin soft and sweet smelling. His other hand was curved against the small of her back, pulling her closer, trying to melt into her, wanting all of her against him, needing to feel every part of her to remind him just how real she was. They broke apart in need of air, their mouths still close, their eyes burning into each other, their bodies molded to one another.

"So, what did your best friend think of me?" she wondered, lifting a brow as she tried to control her panting.

"I believe she thinks you're a keeper," he told her, his mouth curving into a grin.

"Yeah? How can you be sure?" she asked, nudging his nose with hers.

"I can read her like a book," he replied, nodding slowly.

"Oh, what is she saying right now?" she asked, a devilish gleam in her warm mocha eyes.

"She's telling me that she's in desperate need of a kiss," he replied, smirking as he licked his lips.

"I don't know how I feel about that," she replied, mockingly pursing her lips.

"Don't worry," he whispered, "I think I can balance both of you."

Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes before laughingly kissing him. Her arms slipped around his neck, holding him close to her. "As long as I take top priority," she told him breathlessly as he trailed down her neck, his mouth lavishing her skin with sweet memories of love and promises.

"Always," he told her, rising up to meet her mouth again. He lifted his brow, "But, which one are you again?" he teased.

"I'm the one you see yourself with in fifty years," she told him, her voice softening.

"The mother of my little girl with her messy hair and my green eyes," he replied, tipping his chin to kiss the tip of her nose.

Hermione smiled, her eyes filling, "We've wasted a lot of time," she told him, shaking her head. "If you can read me so well, you should have figured out I loved you ages ago."

Harry grinned, shrugging his shoulders, "I don't care how long we've wasted, I've got you now."

"Are you going to keep me then?" she asked, her eyes brightening with amusement.

"Forever," he told her, seriously. "I don't plan on giving you up."

Hermione pressed a short kiss against his lips. "Good. Because I wasn't going to let you anyway." She ran her hand over his cheek, her finger tips playing with his hair.

Harry could always read her, like a story being plainly written for only his eyes to capture. There was something about him and Hermione that made perfect sense, that felt as if it were destined to happen. The world was finicky, his future was always uncertain, but he knew, whether he and Hermione were dating, married or simply friends, she would be there next to him. He was content just to hold her, to have her in his life. He was done reading her face for the approval of a girlfriend, now he'd read it just to know she was his and he was hers. She was happy, he could tell by the way her eyes were half lidded and her mouth was relaxed in a soft smile. She was in love, he could feel it in her hands, the way they lightly touched him, as if afraid he'd disappear from beneath her fingers. She was content, he could tell by the way her body pressed into his, all soft curves and passionate embraces. She was his, he could see it in her eyes and feel it in how her mouth fit against his like a long lost puzzle piece. Yes, he could always read her.

End