Unlike a Sister (Harmione)

Chapter 12: Attraction

Harry stared at himself in the mirror. He was not a vain person, but tonight his appearance warranted extra attention. Or, more accurately, his lips did.

They seemed normal. Nothing outwardly different about them. Not too thick or too thin. A pale pink color. Average male lips, really.

But they were not normal. Minutes ago, they had been pressed against Hermione's lips. Her tongue had slipped past them. And he had done the same to her. These lips had touched her neck, the hollow of her throat.

He had felt her shiver.

Harry sighed. He had replayed what happened in the foyer upwards of fifty times and each time it seemed equally unbelievable.

They had kissed. Again.

And, this time, they couldn't cast it off as stress or a lapse in judgment. True, they'd both been drinking, but neither had been close to drunk. He had asked to kiss her and she had consented. It was a choice they made together.

"What're you doing?" said Ginny.

Harry spun around, lowering his fingers from his lips.

"Nothing," he said quickly.

She gave him a strange look but moved towards the sink. Turning on the taps, she started rinsing her face.

Harry glanced at his wife.

Not for the first time, a voice very much like Hermione's whispered in his ear: coward.

Harry grimaced and paced into the bedroom.

Cowards. That's what Hermione said they were if they didn't ask themselves what they were doing. So what were they doing? And why had he done that? Again.

He thought of that dark pulse of warmth. That overpowering need to be close to her. He thought of his body's reaction to her. The way he came alive under her touch with a forcefulness and desperation he'd never experienced before.

It was intoxicating. He wanted more of it. Since that moment in the forest, he'd wanted more but hadn't been able to admit it to himself. Until tonight.

He was attracted to her. Deeply.

The truth of this thought hit Harry hard in his chest. He had to sit down.

He was attracted to his best friend. He was attracted to his sister-in-law. His other best friend's wife. A married woman.

Oh, this is bad, he thought. This is really bad.

He undressed in a daze, absently placing his glasses on the side table before getting into bed.

Perhaps due to sheer exhaustion, Harry couldn't dwell on the rising panic in the back of his mind.

He thought instead of the kiss. How overwhelmingly right it had felt. Like two massive tectonic plates suddenly snapping into alignment.

He could not think of what that meant and, in the next moment, he thought nothing at all.

Harry charged into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at nine the next morning. He ignored the waves and greetings from Hermione's colleagues, making a beeline for her office.

He still wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say. He'd been awake since six and the intervening hours had provided no further clarity on how to manage the maelstrom of thoughts and emotions in his head.

A part of him just wanted to see her. Then, he would know what to do.

"Chief Potter!" said Rochelle, Hermione's assistant. "So wonderful to see you, sir!"