Not J.K. Rowling, so I do not own these characters, just pushing them in a different direction than she intended. Hope you like it!

The night was bitter cold and black, no stars. Harry slung his arms around himself, tucking his hands close to his chest to warm them. It was just another night, another night of camping out in the middle of nowhere, no leads, no Ron. Sighing, he gave up staring into nothing and made his way back into the tent.

From the outside, it looked small. A two person, run-of-the-mill canvas tent with a pitched roof, but once inside, the magic behind it was revealed in the form of a cozy, a multi-room living space, a table in one area, bedrooms in another. It was comfortable with the three of them, but, now that it was just him and Hermione, Harry felt the oddness of it. Suddenly there was more space. It felt emptier. But entering it now, stepping into the soft, golden light that issued from the one lantern they had, Harry saw the comfort in it. It felt almost natural, and that seemed somehow wrong.

But Ron had been gone enough that it was almost as if he had never been there. The only reminder was the look on Hermione's face as she went about the tent, went about life, now. It made Harry want to hug her, tight to his chest, reassure her that it was going to be alright – but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Hermione sat, knees to her chest, closest to the light, staring into space, the faint crackle of sound from the radio making no impression on her. It was just the two of them, alone, existing in a small globe of light in all that darkness. She made no movement that suggested she recognized his presence. He knew she was thinking of him.

Quietly, Harry made his way to a wooden chair across from her, hearing the creak of it as it took his weight. Sighing, he crossed his fingers in his lap, ears picking up on the musical tune issuing from the radio, unrecognizable, but melodious, voices gathering with the tune to heights that only songs could reach. It seemed to come from a different world than the one they occupied, one where evil wasn't lurking in every shadow, a world without people living in fear. Somehow, Harry didn't know for sure, it carried a sense of hope with it, another layer of light filling the room, coloring their bubble more separate from the darkness.

Listening to it, Harry gaze across the room at Hermione. She looked so small, sitting there, huddled as if from cold, on the steps by the lamp, gazing into the light as if it held some secret to it. The warm light flamed against her face, casting shadow, outlining her profile. The picture was warm and comforting, like Harry had never noticed before. Looking at her, Harry realized how central she was to his life, even from the beginning.

She was like an anchor, a beacon that he could always find to orient himself. Whenever he needed help, whenever he was unsure, all he'd need to do was turn and she'd be there, a guiding light, especially now. It was even more apparent without Ron there. He knew, the moment Ron had posed the question, the moment she had stayed silent and let him leave, that she would never leave him, no matter how what the difficulties were that he faced. She was that sure of him. And that was comforting, it was overwhelming, it was wonderful.

And sitting there, looking at her, Harry knew that she was the closest person to him, knew him like no one else, maybe even Ron, because she understood him, listened to him. She never gave up on him, never doubted. And as he gazed, Harry felt something in him shift, something that made him set aside all the worries, all the fears and anxieties that plagued him that moment. Instead, he focused his sole attention on the girl with him right at that moment, her fears visibly weighing her shoulder down.

He was moving before he realized what he was doing, just acting on instinct. It took him seconds to reach her, to stand in front of her and offer his hand. She looked up when she felt his proximity, stared, almost angrily, at his proffered hand, as if it were an offense. But, whatever it was she was thinking, she pushed it aside and took his hand, sighing and rolling her eyes to the floor. She didn't understand him.

But he persisted with his idea. He was following feeling, letting the music fuel this fire that was burning inside him. He wanted her to be with him in this, to share this moment with him, to understand – they were partners.

Helping her up, Harry watched as she straightened to her full height, eye to eye with him. Harry's eyes followed to curve of her neck till they rested on the locket, slung heavily around her neck, like a lead weight. It didn't belong. Carefully, his hands came up to grasp the chain, lifting it lightly above her head and setting it aside, useless, on the table. Now nothing was separating them.

Reaching down, Harry grabbed her hands again, leading her to the center of the room, keeping their eyes locked. Her face was drawn, the shadow of fear and hurt still haunting her features. She looked breathtaking and beautiful, fragile and sad all at once. He wanted to ease the pain and worry from her face, and he was doing it in the only way he knew how.

Swaying his hips gently, he pulled her arms with his: back went one and forward the other, then switch, a slow sashay of limbs. He felt her resistance lessening, the clouds parting, the furrows leaving her brows as she began to move with him, the music building them up, all around. She smiled half-heartedly, and he reciprocated, coaxing her. They shifted, rotating around the room. He lifted his arm to twirl her, watching her lips loosen as she orbited around him, her body finally following his lead, moving with him. He knew he was close, she was opening up, a flower budding beneath his sunlight, understanding, shedding those fears as he had done, moments ago.

They twirled and swayed, feet moving lightly against the floor, unsure of the dance, but uncaring. She twirled him, she twirled, they smiled together in the silliness, reveling in this moment, in the glory of a normalcy they hadn't felt in years. Right now, they were just a boy and a girl, dancing, having fun and it didn't matter what else was happening, didn't matter what the world did because theirs had narrowed down to a point, the forest, the tent, the halo of light that fell on them.

Clasping hands, they rocked back and forth. Harry felt the warmth of her palm against his, their fingers intertwined, the curve of her waist where his arm pressed softly, curling her to him, the curve of hers around his shoulders. Her face was lit by the smile that was spreading, her eyes crinkling in delight and giddiness, a feeling he was sure was mirrored in his own face. Their giggles bubbled in their chests, a feeling that ran through them both from the closeness.

The smiles were infectious, their legs sporadic. Harry bent and wobbled, twisted his torso as Hermione twisted hers, their hands never leaving each other. Their bodies flowed from each other, like waves lapping the beach, in and out, closer and farther, following the beat of the music that was resonating in their ears, in their hearts.

Harry didn't know when it happened – maybe it was the progression of the song, maybe it was just the natural order of things, it didn't matter – but he felt himself getting close to her. They were chest to chest, their curves molding, arms encircling one another. He let his chin rest gently on her shoulder, she doing the same, bringing her arm around him. They had hugged before. Harry knew what it was like to hug Hermione, feel her against him, brief and warm, emotional, the hug of a friend. He knew what it felt to be hugged by someone he cared about – Ginny had hugged him – his chest got tight and his heart sped up, that lightness gripping him. He hadn't felt that feeling for so long that it was almost a shock when it sprang on him again, now, in this moment, with Hermione. His heart was hammering, his breath was short, he was almost delirious with the lightness in his chest, almost felt like he could float. Now he knew what it felt like to hug Hermione like a lover. He closed his eyes and let the feeling sweep through him, let her scent fill his nose and lungs. He wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating, did she feel it too?

And as the music continued to waltz around them their faces drifted to gaze at each other. Harry stared at Hermione like he'd never seen her before. Was she the girl he'd always admired as a friend? This was the girl who continued to stun him with her brilliance – and in that moment he saw her in a thousand images: laughing with him and Ron as they made fun of Malfoy, running to hug him after so much time spent apart, so much danger, clutching onto him as they faced Lupin the werewolf in the dark of the Forbidden Forest, stepping graceful, elegant, down the stairs, her Yule Ball dress swirling around her legs, beautiful. How did it take him this long to realize the love he felt for her was stronger than that of friendship? How did he not see how much she meant to him until now?

After all those years they spent together, as friends, alone – Ron off on some rant or grudge against him – how had he not come to see her in this light? A true beauty, a girl. And here they were, alone again. So close. Harry saw something flicker in Hermione's eyes, a recognition. Their faces drifted slowly, closer and closer together, like magnets – she was so close to him now, he could feel her breath on his face – and then their lips were touching, a gentle kiss.

Hermione's lips were not like Ginny's. They were softer, fuller. They parted, and then came together, their lips enfolding each other's lightly, again and again, everything else fading softly into the background. Harry pulled her tighter to him and lifted his hand to cup her cheek gently, feeling Hermione's fingers clutch his shirt. They built to a momentum, emotions pouring out, leaving them clutching each other in desperation.

The music was fading, leaving the pair trembling, their foreheads pressed against each other, eyes closed.

"Hermione…" Harry's voice was soft, uncertain. Hermione opened her eyes to him, reflecting his uncertainty. She pulled away slightly, leaving the cavern of safety that their arms had created for each other. The shadows were threatening to creep back into her face.

"I'm not sorry about what happened," he spoke suddenly, his voice deep, "I know I'm not – I haven't felt that way, every, that was –"

"I-it was wrong, we shouldn't have done that, Harry! Ron –" Hermione's voice cracked and trembled, her eyes were darting about the room, as if she were afraid to look at him.

"No, no it wasn't. Hermione, you can't seriously tell me that that kiss meant nothing to you, that you didn't feel anything!" Harry nearly shouted. She was retreating and he was afraid he'd lose this feeling if she did, that he would never be able to get it back, and he wasn't done discovering it yet.

"I-I –" Hermione stilled, clasping her hands and bringing them to her chin, then raised her eyes to his. "Yes, I did. I did. Oh God, I did! I'm a horrible person! I'm betraying Ron, you're betraying him! We're terrible friends!"

Harry shook his head. She couldn't use that against them, he wouldn't let her.

"Hermione, no, don't you see? How can you call this a betrayal? We have feelings, we have feelings for each other and we just expressed them. How many times has Ron walked out on me? On you? Honestly, how the bloody hell can he expect this not to happen? We spend so much time together, we're so close! And what, how many times has he insulted you? Made fun of you? Picked fights with you!"

"Harry, that's not fair –" Hermione tried to interject, but Harry didn't let her.

"No, don't try to defend him, it's the truth! He treats you like dirt because he knows you'll always forgive him – you have always forgiven him, after a time. Can you honestly tell me right now that you would go back to him, forget that this," here he pointed back and forth between them, "didn't happen?"

She stared at him, her eyes beginning to water, trembling.

"Harry, I don't know what to do – I – I read books, I study, I do homework, research, I always knew what to do, but I don't, now, I – I'm so confused!"

Harry closed the space between them, wrapped his arms around her and let her bury her head in his chest. Her shoulders shook as she cried lightly, and Harry felt his heart wrench. He didn't know what to do either, but he knew what he didn't want to do. He didn't want to let her go back to Ron. He didn't want to go back to Ginny.

The radio crackled with voices, unintelligible words spilling forth, white noise. The two were in a tight embrace, swaying, emotional to the point of breaking. After what felt like hours, Hermione lifted her head. Harry took in her tear streaked face, her flushed cheeks and watery eyes. He felt his own eyes soften. He brought his hand back to her face, gently wiping at the tears.

"Hermione," he began again, finding courage, "I know we're both in the middle of a war, that bad things are going to happen, that we won't have moments like these in for a while, but I know that when all this is over, I don't want to go back to the way things were – I want to be with you." Hermione's lip trembled.

"Harry, I don't know if that's going to happen." Harry shook his head.

"I don't want to waste time thinking about scenarios of what could happen, I just want to know that you're with me in this. Do you want to be with me too?" And he'd done it. He had laid it on the line. Hermione's answer could break this moment, completely shatter it into un-repairable pieces. Her answer could mean giving him a lasting feeling of hope, of love, that he could carry with him for the rest of this journey. He held his breath, his eyes searching hers. He felt like he could see the battle going on inside her, through her eyes. And then her lips parted.

"I do." Harry felt his lips widen in a smile, a smile she hesitantly reciprocated.

"I love you, you know," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes crinkling with his smile. Hermione giggled softly, a hiccupping sound after all her tears.

"Yes, I know," she answered. But her smile faded slowly. "What are we going to do, Harry?" Harry sighed, closing his eyes, the better to gather his thoughts.

It was a problem. They both had other attachments, albeit less than fully formed ones, but still, they were attachments that involved close friends, members of the same family. Ron was like a brother to him. Harry felt his gut wrench when he thought about how Ron might take this. It was something he'd already accused them of. And his sister – Ginny, what would she think, him leaving her for the friend that had encouraged her to wait, to let things progress, for him, Harry, to come to her! And she was Ron's sister! Ron would kill him for hurting her! It was definitely a mess, so complicated it made his head spin. And, if he were true to himself, he'd admit that he had absolutely no idea what to do. So he, opened his eyes, looked at her face, answered Hermione in the only way he could.

"I don't know, Hermione." She sighed, closing her eyes, now. "But I do know this – we're in the middle of a war, and it's not going to be getting any better anytime soon. We don't have time to do anything about this, so we might as well not tell Ron or Ginny or anyone, at least, not now. We'll figure this out when everything's over, when we're free to think about our normal lives." It was all he could think of, all he could do. He didn't want to let go of this moment, but he knew that this was no time to lose focus on the task at hand. Sure, it was nice to have a moment, just a moment, free from the stress and danger, but this moment couldn't last forever. Hermione and he could only exist in this way, in this space for just this moment, and then they'd have to face their reality, get back to the task at hand.

He felt Hermione let out a long, cool breath, felt it rush past his face. Then she opened her eyes to look at him, reached her hands around to find his, and threaded their fingers together.

"I understand, Harry. You're right. We can't think too closely about this, now, it's too much. Let's just, let's just stay like this a little longer," she squeezed his hands, "then we just have to, have to let it go, for a while." Her voice was sad, strained. Harry worried about whether this was the right thing to do, he worried about Ron, Ginny, there were so many bloody things to worry about! Why couldn't things be simpler! Why couldn't he have realized how much he loved her sooner, he could have avoided all this pain!

"Harry, what are you thinking?"

Harry shook his head. "I just wish – I wish I'd know sooner. I wish I'd realized how much –"

"Shh," Hermione hushed him, shaking her head. "Don't do that, it's the past, we can't change it, no matter how much we want to."

"I know," he sighed, tightening his grip on her hands, swaying them slightly. "Hermione," he began, letting himself smile a little, coaxing her back into that light, playful mood that had been burst just moments ago.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked slowly, the corner of her lip pulling up slightly, in anticipation.

"Can I kiss you again?" Hermione burst out giggling at Harry's ridiculousness.

"Harry, you just kissed me minutes ago, you didn't ask then!" He was being foolish and silly on purpose – she knew what he was doing, and, though she could see he was only trying to lighten the mood, knew that they didn't have much left of this moment, that soon they'd have to turn away, get back to business as usual, she wanted to play along, wanted to stretch this out as long as she could.

"I know, but, I thought I'd be the gentleman, this time. You know, give you, my lady, a choice." He was grinning now and Hermione couldn't help but grin back.

"Well then, as a lady, I accept your request and bid you kiss me on the cheek!" She laughed a little at his crestfallen face.

"Your cheek? I was thinking –"

"I know what you were thinking, Harry," Hermione interrupted, putting on a face of seriousness – hard to do when she was so close to busting up laughing, "but that is not so gentlemanly. Why, we've only just confessed our feelings! It was quite shocking and a bit uncouth of you to take advantage of my surprise and kiss me earlier." Harry shook his head, chuckling slightly to himself, dropping her one hand and bringing her other up to his lips.

"Well, then, my lady, I'll kiss your hand," here he placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand, "and your cheek." Harry moved forward, off to the side, slightly, his left shoulder just behind her so that he was in her peripheral, and leaned in, placing another kiss on her cheek, which was warm from her blush.

"And are you satisfied, sir?" Hermione's voice quivered, her blood racing. This wasn't a game anymore, all the silliness gone, leaving only desire and desperation. Hermione felt the moment closing, knew that Harry felt it too. Soon this night would be over and they'd have to leave, get back to hiding and searching. They just wanted a little longer, one last memento of this epiphany, here, together.

"Not in the least, but, as a gentleman, I wouldn't want to push my luck. I'm at your mercy here, Hermione." She knew what she wanted, then, and she wasn't going to wait any longer.

"Then kiss me, Harry." She felt him sigh beside her.

"Where?" he breathed, waiting for her say. His voice was so dark and deep, Hermione wanted to hear it surround her, flow over her skin forever.

"My lips, then." She didn't have to prompt him twice. He was in front of her in a beat, leaning forward, hands cupping her neck and bringing her face to his. Their lips met softly, Hermione letting out a soft breath before wrapping her arms around his neck and deepening the kiss, making it last, making it strong enough to hold through all the days ahead. Who knew when they'd be like this again?

Harry put all he had into the kiss, letting the wantonness surround them. He knew that letting go meant the end of this moment and they wouldn't have a chance to say anything else on the matter, it would break their resolve. All they had was this kiss and he was going to make damn sure it was a kiss worth remembering.

After what felt like minutes, but was only seconds, the kiss came to its natural end. They parted, the longing still in their eyes.

Harry looked at Hermione, trying to give her one last smile, a reassurance. It was halfhearted.

Hermione looked at Harry and shook her head, eye tearing a little, before letting go of him and stepping back. She turned away, back to her perch on the stair, back to the radio. Harry watched as she settled back into place, as if nothing had happened. It was clean, a slam back to reality. Harry felt his legs shake a little. Clenching his fingers into fists and releasing, Harry made his way back to the chair, set himself down, and clasped his fingers in his lap, just as before.

No matter what happened, he thought, he knew that this moment with Hermione was more than he could ever have hoped for. It was filling and heartening, giving him hope and strength, a will power to fight through anything. He hated having to keep this a secret, hated having to force that on Hermione, but he knew there was no other way, not without complications, and this was no time for such trivialities of normalcy. He had a task, a weight that was pulling him down. Voldemort was out there, wreaking havoc, killing – it was necessary that he stay focused. He was the chosen one, and with such a responsibility on his shoulders he couldn't be a normal guy anymore. He couldn't be normal guy who was in love with his best friend's girl, worrying about how to make his move. If only things were that easy.

One thought, though, kept his spirits up. It didn't matter that dangers lurked around every corner, that his best friend had deserted them. He owed Ron a great deal for giving him this moment, for giving him this night to realize what Hermione meant to him. This thought made him all the more grateful for his friend's most recent betrayal. Without Ron's distrust and faithlessness, he and Hermione might not have been.

"Thanks, Ron, I owe you one," Harry whispered, closing his eyes and smiling contentedly to himself.

Well, if you like it, you like it, if you don't, well I'm sorry for you. This place is strictly for those who have an open mind and can see the reasons for choosing to put these two characters together.

Please review, and not just to say you liked it or hated it. I want real feedback if you can manage.

Thank you again for reading,

theD'Urberville