Harmione One Shots

After

Summary: Five months after Ron left, they stole a couple of bottles of Muggle wine and whiskey, and got drunk celebrating Harry's twentieth birthday.

Ship: HarryPotterxHermioneGranger

All credit goes to IfBrainsWereGold on Ao3

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Two weeks after Ron left, they downsized the tent. It was way too big for the two of them and felt uncomfortably empty.

As the emptiness expanded, Hermione started sleeping in Harry's arms while he kept watch. He'd wrap his arms around her, tracing invisible patterns into her skin.

Two months after Ron left, Hermione felt Harry sneak into her sleeping bag for the first time, while his Patronus kept watch for him outside. He snuggled up against her, his hand resting lightly on her waist, his breath warm against her neck. Hermione was too tired to push him away, too lonely to want to.

Three months after Ron left, she woke one night to find Harry's hand on hers, their fingers interlaced. He was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily against her back. She let him sleep, staring at their entwined fingers in the dimly lit tent. Carefully, she manoeuvred herself to face him, studying his peaceful features. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, and Hermione found herself reaching up to push it back. She traced the contours of his face with her fingers, from the scar that marked his forehead to the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.

Four months after Ron left, Harry kissed her for the first time. It was a mere brushing of lips at first. Hermione hadn't pushed him away; instead, she found herself responding to his touch, her hands tangling in his unruly black hair, pulling him closer. His hand came up, cradling her face, thumb brushing across her lower lip when they parted for a moment, and coming back for more.

They didn't talk about it; they went on as if it never happened. Harry still would sneak into her sleeping bag, hold her hand as he fell asleep. He still was Harry, though she couldn't help but notice the way he looked at her now.

Five months after Ron left, they stole a couple of bottles of Muggle wine and whiskey, and got drunk celebrating Harry's twentieth birthday.

Hermione swatted his hand away as he tried to steal the bottle from her hand. "Let me drink in peace, Potter," she laughed.

"Share Granger," he teased, tugging on the bottle gently.

"Or?"

He smirked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her against him. "Or I'll just take it," Harry whispered into her ear as he leaned in, the smell of cheap whiskey clinging heavily to his breath. Hermione's heart pounded against her rib cage as his arm slipped around her waist, pulling her in even closer against him. His lips brushed against the side of her neck, causing her to shudder slightly and release a soft gasp.

He pressed a gentle kiss against her pulse, feeling it flutter frantically. His stubble grazed against her soft skin as he trailed a path of kisses up her neck. "Still won't give me the bottle?" Harry asked, his voice a throaty whisper, his breath brushing her earlobe. Hermione, her eyes fluttering shut, shook her head weakly and clung to the bottle tighter. "Okay then..."

She could feel him smile against her skin as he returned to her neck. Harry's hand traced up her side, ghosting over her ribs and up to her shoulder before tugging her hair aside, exposing the long column of her neck to him. He left a trail of warm, wet kisses from her collarbone all the way to her ear, his hand finally prying the bottle from her unresisting fingers and setting it aside.