Harmione One Shots

Dancing on the Edge of the World

Summary: When hope seems lost and all you have is him, an unsated curiosity and and unknown amount of time left to live, what else should you do except dance until your legs give out?

Ship: HarryPotterxHermioneGranger

All credit goes to Ivy_and_right on Ao3

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"What is one thing you'd do, or do again, if we weren't here right now?"

It's a somber question for a somber day. One that has consisted of rainfalls of tears, a complete lack of progress in finding any more horcruxes and moping around the tent. It has been deemed a 'research day' which, by all accounts, is an excuse because neither of them have even opened up a book. She and Harry alike have been watching the canvas door of the tent like a pot that won't boil, hoping to see Ron's charming face once more.

It doesn't come and now another evening has passed since he left. The stars are awake and cast shadows over Harry's bed frame. Hermione shouldn't be there, tucked into his side in his simple single bottom bunk. But he'd offered to talk her into sleep after rousing a smile during an impromptu dance.

She couldn't refuse. He wraps her in his arms as though he needs somebody to hold just as much as she needs to feel like she isn't alone. They're sharing mixed emotions; feeling like the final person on earth except for the other. And each is inexpressibly grateful that a heart beats beside their own.

Hermione twists her lips in thought as Harry lies on his back, his hand resting on the side of her face which has settled over his thumping heart. Being together like this is nothing new. Cuddling on the settee in the Gryffindor Common Room used to be an everyday occurrence. Exam stress, boy trouble and the lingering scent of war brewing throughout the castle had always made Hermione's head turn toward Harry at the end of the day.

It should have been Ron but he lacked the patience to just softly exhale beside her, to smooth his palm over her curls and tell her to close her eyes like Harry did. With him, it was always easy and he never refused her. Not once.

"I think I would like to learn another language," she answers him after some thought. Harry snorts and his laughter is contagious despite the misery that the last few months have brought. "What is so funny about that?"

"Just typical of you, Mione, that's all. I was thinking that I'd like to have eaten just one more chocolate frog. Or a box of blueberry bon-bons I once shared with Mrs Figg when she babysat me."

"It's the end of the world and you're concerned with your stomach?" She asks, lifting her head to peer up into his eyes.

Harry shuffles beneath her and slides his fingers over her head, gently resettling her cheek against his shoulder.

"It's not the food itself. It's the memories attached to them that I would want to relive. What's so important about learning another language when you already know two?"

"It doesn't hurt to be accomplished, Harry. Give me another example if my answer wasn't good enough."

"I didn't say it wasn't good enough–"

"No, no. I'll abide by your rules since it's your game."

Harry groans in mock frustration but the upturn of his lips is telling. "Alright. Uhh... Well, if we didn't have horcruxes to hunt then I would want to train to be an Auror. I had hoped I'd join the academy after Hogwarts."

She takes his hand into hers, giving it a squeeze. "You can still do that."

A rush of air blows through his nose. Incredulous. "If I survive the next few months. If the battle on the horizon doesn't end with me lying dead instead of Tom."