Mine Forever ( a Harmione fanfic )

Chapter 14

The late afternoon sun bathed the Burrow's garden in a soft golden glow as Harry and Hermione strolled hand-in-hand, stealing quiet moments away from the bustle inside the house. The teasing from the others had been relentless throughout the afternoon, Mrs. Weasley eventually swatting George and Ron on the heads when their quips became too much.

"You'd think after these couple of weeks, they'd have gotten used to us," Harry muttered, grinning as he intertwined his fingers with Hermione's.

Hermione smirked, leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked further from the house. "I don't think they ever will," she said. "But maybe that's a good thing. Means they care."

The two wandered down the path towards the meadows, where the tall grass danced in the soft breeze, offering them a secluded sanctuary from the world. Harry glanced around to make sure they were truly alone before pulling Hermione closer, his green eyes darkening with something deeper than his usual playful expression.

"Finally," he murmured, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "No more interruptions."

Hermione smiled, her heart skipping a beat as his gaze lingered on her. The way he looked at her made her feel like the only person in the world. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken beneath her touch.

"Harry..." she whispered, her voice soft yet heavy with unspoken emotion.

He didn't respond with words, only actions. His lips descended toward hers, pausing just before they touched, as if savoring the anticipation of the kiss. Hermione felt her breath hitch, her entire body reacting to the electric charge between them. Without hesitation, she closed the gap, their lips meeting in a kiss that was soft and slow at first—like every kiss between them that built something larger, something that stirred beneath the surface.

But this kiss was different. The heat between them grew, the emotions pent up from months of longing and love deepened with every passing second. Harry's hands, which had been resting lightly on her waist, began to explore, moving up her sides, feeling the soft fabric of her shirt until his fingertips brushed the bare skin beneath. Hermione shivered at his touch, her own hands instinctively traveling up under Harry's shirt, grazing the toned muscles of his abdomen.

Harry groaned softly against her lips, and the kiss deepened, becoming more intense, more urgent. His hands, still exploring, wandered further up until his palm just lightly brushed against her breast. Hermione gasped into the kiss, her breath catching in her throat. The sensation sent a shockwave of desire through her, but just as quickly as it happened, Harry slowed down, his hand retreating. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers, breathing heavily.

"I—sorry..." he whispered, his voice husky with restraint. "I don't want to rush things, 'Mione."

Hermione blinked up at him, a little dazed from the intensity of the kiss. A part of her felt a twinge of disappointment, but she understood—Harry was always gentle, always respectful of her boundaries, and that was one of the things she loved most about him.

Still, she couldn't help the playful smirk that tugged at her lips as she leaned closer, kissing him once more, this time softer, more tender. "You don't have to be sorry, Darling," she murmured, her hands sliding down from his abs. "I'm not going anywhere."

He smiled at her words, kissing her forehead softly before pulling her into a tight embrace. They stood like that for a few moments, holding each other under the waning light of the evening, lost in the comfort of each other's arms. The world outside seemed far away, and in this moment, it was just the two of them.

As they pulled apart, the weight of the day began to settle in. They both knew it was time to part, even if neither wanted to.

"Promise me you'll call as soon as you get home?" Harry asked, his thumb tracing slow circles on the back of her hand.

"I promise," Hermione smiled. "And you'll call too. I'll be waiting."

They made their way back toward the house, walking side by side, the quiet companionship of the afternoon stretching out in the fading light. When they reached the fireplace, Hermione turned to him one last time, a soft smile on her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"See you tomorrow," she whispered, leaning up to press one last, lingering kiss to his lips. It was a goodbye kiss, filled with the warmth of knowing they'd see each other again, but it was still reluctant, as if neither of them really wanted to let go.

"I'll miss you until then," Harry whispered back, his forehead resting against hers. "Be safe, 'Mione."

With one final glance, Hermione stepped into the fireplace, the green flames of the Floo network engulfing her as she disappeared, leaving Harry standing there, a small smile playing on his lips.

But just as he was about to turn away, the fireplace roared to life again, and George's head popped into view, his expression serious, but still carrying the mischievous glint that was never far behind.

"Oi, Harry! Got a minute?"

George's warning hung heavy in the air as Harry returned to Grimmauld Place, Kreacher greeting him with a bow and a request for dinner preferences.

"Master Harry, I have prepared your favorite treacle tart for dessert. Shall I serve it?"

Harry nodded absently, still thinking about the next day. The first time in public since the war. The reopening of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. And the inevitable media frenzy that would follow them. He thought of George's words—the paparazzi, the journalists—and more importantly, what they'd say about Hermione once their relationship was revealed.

But then he thought of Ginny, Ron, and Hermione—how they reassured him that they'd face it together. The Weasleys had been with him through worse, and Hermione...she was everything. They'd handle it together.

After dinner, Harry sent a Floo message to Hermione. Her face appeared in the fire, her expression warm as always, but a hint of concern creased her brow.

"George warned me about tomorrow," Harry said, his voice low. "The press is going to be everywhere. I just wanted to tell you...no matter what happens, I'll always protect you. We'll get through this together."

Hermione's expression softened, a smile tugging at her lips. "I know, Harry. We'll face it together. I'll see you tomorrow at Grimmauld Place after breakfast."

"Sleep well," Harry said softly. "I love you, 'Mione."

"I love you too," she replied, her voice filled with warmth.

When the fire flickered out and Harry was left alone again, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow would be chaotic, no doubt, but he wasn't afraid. He had the Weasleys, he had his friends—and more than anything, he had Hermione.

Her words from earlier echoed in his mind, her promise that she wasn't going anywhere. With thoughts of her smile, her laugh, and the warmth of her touch, Harry finally drifted off to sleep, thinking of the one person who had his heart completely—his 'Mione.