Harry Potter One Shots

Hermione's Secret

Hermione Granger stood on the shore of the Black Lake, the icy wind of the Scottish winter biting at her skin and whipping her thick hair about her face. Waves of feeling were washing up inside her, not gentle, clear waves lapping at the shore of a sandy beach, but rough waves crashing into jagged rocks far out at sea. Feelings for Harry. Worry for Harry, who was currently still in bed after hours of worrying about his new Occlumency lessons, anger at Harry for being the Chosen One, for always being in danger, sympathy for Harry, who she doubted would ever truly realise all the people who were there for him, and that he wasn't alone. And love for Harry. The protective, supportive, accepting love of friendship. But also another kind of love, a love no one knew about. A love that ate at her from the inside and made her whole body ache with longing whenever he laughed with her, smiled at her, hugged her.
"Hermione?" A voice said. Harry. Of course, Harry. It was always Harry.
"Hi, Harry," squeaked Hermione, blushing wildly at the fact she'd just been thinking about him, paranoia filling her as she thought he'd be able to tell how she felt immediately. Which was stupid, she thought bitterly. Why would he realise now, when he had had almost six years to work it out.
"You weren't-" he cleared his throat and looked down at the ground, and she remembered belatedly that she was dressed in only a thin white nightdress that didn't quite reach her knee with skinny straps and a low neckline. "You weren't in the common room when I came down to say goodnight, and then someone told me you'd gone down to the lake," Harry finished.
Hermione stared at him for a moment; at the way the wind ruffled his already messy black hair, at the curve of his eyelashes that brushed his cheeks, which were pink from the cold, at his arms, which she knew were strong from years of Quidditch, their shape hidden beneath the jacket he was wearing, at his-
"Who told you?" She said, shaking her head to clear her scattered thoughts.
"Parvati, I think. Or maybe it was Lavender. Anyway, I just wanted to check you were alright?" He looked up at her then, his emerald green eyes darker than usual in the dim light.
I'm not alright, she wanted to say. I'm not alright and I never will be until I can feel your arms around me and your lips pressed to mine. Okay, perhaps that was a touch dramatic, reminiscent of the romance novels she'd recently started reading. It also wasn't entirely true. Or course she wanted to kiss Harry, be held by Harry, but what she wanted more than that was to tell him the truth about how she felt. She hated keeping secrets from him.
"I'm fine," she said instead. Maybe he would see through the statement that everyone said but never meant.
"Okay," he said, rather awkwardly. She didn't know why. It was never awkward between her and Harry. "You're shivering," he said after a moment, and stepped forward, shrugging his jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. His fingers brushed the nape of her neck and she shivered again, but not from the cold this time.
"I need to tell you something." She didn't know what made her say it, just that if she didn't tell him soon, it would drive her mad.
His eyes widened and he stiffened slightly, waiting for her to continue.
"I- I um. I'm just going to come right out and say it because otherwise it's going to be too hard. It will probably change everything but I have to tell you, I can't keep hiding it." Hermione was babbling. She never babbled. Everything she said was always clear and direct. But the way Harry was looking at her seemed to undo her and she blurted out,"I'm in love with you."
He stood there silently for several seconds, and she told herself it was just because he was a boy, and boys were about the most awkward creatures on earth, and not because he was disgusted, or because he never wanted to speak to her again.

And then he stepped forward and drew her into his arms, one of his hands warm on her back, pressing against the space between her shoulder blades, the other lost amongst her great mane of hair. She was frozen in his arms. Was this a hug of apology, because he didn't love her, at least not in that way? Or was it a hug that meant he loved her in return? And then he pulled back, moving the hand on her back to cup her face, stroking his thumb across her cheekbone. And he leaned in and kissed her. That pretty much answered her question. The ice that had settled inside her at his hug melted instantaneously; her whole body was liquid beneath his lips, and she wound her arms around his neck, pushing her fingers up the nape of his neck and into the strands of dark hair there, winding them around her index finger. Kissing Harry was like- she couldn't even explain it, but if she had to- it was like reading a book for the first time and getting to the end and realising it had a better story than she'd expected. He made a noise in the back of his throat as she bit down on his lip ever so slightly, and pulled her tighter against him, so her body was a white line against his dark jeans and shirt.
A sudden gust of wind blew her hair into both of their faces and they pulled apart, spluttering. Harry's cheeks were bright red, as she could feel hers were, and when he reached across to brush her hair back from her face, his touch was hesitant, almost as though he was asking for permission. She brought her hand up to press his against her cheek, her slender fingers sliding between the gaps of his, and he closed his eyes, his lips parted.
"You're shivering," she repeated his earlier words, and taking both his hands, pulled him towards her and slid them around her waist, beneath the fabric of his jacket she was wearing. She buried her face in his chest as he ran a hand up her back to rest on the bare skin above the line of her dress, right between her shoulder blades as it had been before, but this time there was no jacket between his touch and her skin and she felt a tingle spread from where his palm lay.
"Did I mention I'm in love with you?" He murmured into her hair, and she shook her head, her lips curving upwards into a smile.
"I sort of figured it out myself, after that kiss and all," she replied, her lips moving against his chest.
"When did you get so clever?" He mumbled, and she squeezed him tightly, wanting reassurance that he was here, right in front of her, her best friend, the boy she had just kissed. Harry Potter. Her Chosen One.

A/N

I don't actually ship Harmione AT ALL but I figured I'd have a go at writing a one shot for them anyway. Please leave a comment!

Cate xx