What's Best For Her

The Wrong Confession

Saturday morning couldn't have come quicker for Harry as he bounded down the stairs like the devil was at his heels to leave the house and head to Hogsmeade. He came to a halt when Molly stood in front of him and eyed him appraisingly. Before he could react, she conjured a scarf and wrapped it around his neck tightly.

"Don't want you to catch a cold, now," she patted his collar and adjusted the scarf quickly while he shuffled his feet, "and be safe, Harry. Don't forget to tell her we said hello and that we miss her too."

After she was done, she patted his cheek softly and stepped aside to let him out. In a flash, he was racing along the snow laden path like a giddy child. Once he reached the end of it, he took a breath to calm himself before concentrating on his destination. He vanished with a sharp crack afterwards, Molly watching the whole thing fondly.

As soon as Harry landed in the middle of a Hogsmeade that was completely covered in white, his eyes searched for Hermione. His gaze traveled far and wide in search of her before he finally found her standing in front of The Three Broomsticks looking around nervously. She hadn't noticed him yet as he began walking to her.

The world stopped in its place for him as it seemed like everyone else was frozen in their place. He crossed the street in what felt like slow motion with his hands stuffed in his pocket. He only had eyes for her and he could swear up and down that he had never seen a sight more beautiful. She was dressed in a thick knitted sweater with a burgundy scarf around her neck while her amazingly wild hair rolled smoothly like a waterfall down her head. Her cheeks were tinted pink from the cold, giving her the look of one of those women from those famous paintings he heard about. She was art.

When she finally noticed him, her luminous chocolate eyes widened in recognition before he became star struck at the radiant smile she wore for him. He didn't think it was possible for her to get any more stunning from when he last saw her but, here he was, proven totally wrong.

"Hi," Hermione cheerily greeted.

He thought her voice sounded breathless but it didn't make it any less wonderful. He missed everything about her, don't get him wrong, but her voice was almot always heard in his head and it was the most powerful sound in the world to him.

"Hey," he responded back, sounding hoarse as his throat suddenly felt devoid of moisture. He didn't trust himself to speak in front of her without mucking things up by yelling out an 'I love you' for the world to hear. "I missed you," he blurted out and then winced at his lack of subtlety.

"Oh, Harry, I missed you so much too." She hugged him securely at her declaration and he took the chance to smell her hair and savor the feeling of her body in his arms. He wanted to have her glued to his person permanently, irrational as it was.

Harry didn't know long they stayed like that but it still felt much too soon when she let go of him, her warmth leaving his body immediately. He shivered reflexively as the wave of cold hit him but instantly warmed up again when she locked their hands together and led him inside the tavern.

"I missed you." Didn't he already say that?

Hermione just giggled at him as she sat across from him in their booth. The sound of it was music to his ears but he faintly wondered why she couldn't have sat next to him instead of across. He pushed it away and decided to stop thinking, instead choosing to just bask in the presence of her.

"What have you been up to, Harry?" She started up a conversation with him as they sat amiably amongst the crowd.

"Nothing much, I've spent a lot of time with the Weasley's," he admitted bashfully. Somehow, he didn't want her to think he was just lazing around after the war.