More Than Enough

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rowling owns them all. I merely play with her characters.

Tomorrow, everything changes.

She knows he’s scared. He becomes more withdrawn as the hours slowly tick by and she can only watch him try to push them away. Ron gives her a helpless look and she shrugs. What can they do? Harry always gets like this when he thinks he’s going to protect them. He’ll try to leave before dawn breaks, while they’re still asleep, stubborn and determined to do this on his own.

She and Ron know they’ll need to be up early, need to be ready to go with him because they’re just as stubborn and refuse to allow him to do this on his own. If they die, they die together. It’s a fact and Harry needs to acknowledge it because it’s not changing. He tried the very same thing after Bill’s wedding, after the first Horcrux was destroyed during their hunt, after the second. He knows they’ll be there waiting to accompany him down whatever road their path leads but still he gets these ideas he can save them. She and Ron don’t want to be saved, not when Harry needs them.

Hermione watches Harry for the rest of the night. Watching Harry has become comforting sometime during the past nine months. She’s not sure when she stopped watching Ron and started watching Harry. Well, she’s always somewhat watched Harry but not like this. She looks away before he notices and busies herself with the socks she’s knitting for Dobby. Small things, routine within the chaos, make it seem like there is a future ahead of them. She’ll have to survive the confrontation with Voldemort because she has to give Dobby his socks. It’s silly, perhaps, but hope is a remarkable thing.

Ron knows her feelings have changed during their adventure. Perhaps he realizes that she’s always put Harry first, even before herself, and understands things that confuse even her. People say Ron is foul-tempered and oblivious but he’s smarter about some things than people give him credit. She loves him and wonders if they might not have worked if things had been different but not for long because life is too short for ‘what if’ and regret.

They kissed once, beneath a fading summer sun near the sea, and they both acknowledged with sighs and gentle caresses that it wasn’t right. No words are ever spoken between them about this, but he becomes more protective as she becomes something other than an elusive dream and possible romantic partner.

Now she is simply Hermione, best friend, and the awkward nervousness that has always seemed to exist between them becomes something beautiful and strong and real. She would die for him and he for her. Romance is nothing compared to real love, real friendship, and she is glad they’ve figured this out before a mistake is made that might have ruined what they have.

It is Ron who nudges her after Harry leaves the room they’re sharing. He gives her a look and nods once before he brushes a kiss against her forehead. He smiles a crooked smile and lies down to read a Quidditch magazine. Their last night before everything changes and he is content with his love for them and his Cannons. A photo of his family rests beside his makeshift bed and she knows he is ready for tomorrow, as ready as any of them could ever be.

Hermione is nervous when she stands to follow Harry. This has been building for months, the tension between them growing until even he notices. She is not the only one who looks. His gaze follows her constantly and there is an awareness between them that is almost palpable. She walks through the dark hallways of the abandoned house they’ve chosen as theirs for the evening, every step taking her closer to him. If she were the type to believe in such things, she might believe this is a walk she’s been meant to take since they first met on the train so many years ago. She doesn’t believe in that sort of tripe, though, and leaves fate and destiny to the dreamers who think everything always ends with happily ever after.

He is standing by the window when she enters the room. Candles are lit and floating around, bathing him in their soft glow. He tenses when she steps inside and she hears him inhale sharply as the air seems to crackle between them. She is uncertain what to do and doesn’t know what to say for the first time in her life. Her fingers nervously pull at a string on the hem of her shirt and she wonders idly as her gaze moves over his back why they still wear their uniforms as though this is simply an adventure during a normal day at Hogwarts. It’s something she’s not thought about and it intrigues her.

The carpet on the floor is worn and threadbare. She can see wood beneath some spots but it’s relatively clean in comparison to some places they’ve stayed during their hunt for horcrux. She walks closer to him, unable to stop even had she wanted. He pulls her to him in the way he always has and she finally understands that there are some things that just are. She and Harry, they’re one of those things. They just are.

When she is an arm’s length away from him, he finally turns. Hermione meets his gaze and she tells him things she can’t put into words. Harry is usually pretty clueless about these things but he understands her in a way that no one else ever has or ever will. He steps forward and touches her face hesitantly, as if he’s uncertain of what she silently told him. It would be easy to speak and tell him what she feels, but they seem to stumble over words and can’t say how they feel and she doesn’t want to ruin this.

Instead, she leans up and brushes a kiss against his lips.

Everything happens so fast after that. He growls softly and he pulls her against him, the kiss deepening as her hands move over his back. When he raises his head, he stares at her and she can feel that her lips are swollen and wet. They need more. She pulls at his tie and kisses him again, finally letting go of the tenuous hold she’s managed to keep on her desire for him.

The floor is hard beneath her back and it’s not very comfortable but he’s kissing her and his hands are moving shyly over her body so she doesn’t mind so much. He’s above her and she shifts until she feels him press against her damp knickers. He gasps into her mouth as she moves and his hips buck forward unexpectedly. It makes her moan so she does it again.

His glasses are getting in the way and scrape against her cheek when he buries his face in her hair as he rocks against her. She pulls them off and holds them as she kisses him again. Kissing Harry is something she wants to do more often. Simply lie for hours kissing him will go on her list of goals for the future, rating higher than giving Dobby his socks. She slides her hand down his back and lets it drift beneath the waist of his trousers.

He learns quickly and his hand moves beneath her shirt, calloused fingers are warm against her heated skin as he finally touches her breast. Her bra is in the way but he shoves it up and is soon squeezing her, a bit too hard but she doesn’t complain. She’s surprised when his body stiffens and his hips jerk as they grind against her. He grunts against her lips and his body spasms before he collapses against her. He blushes when he releases her mouth and she realizes what happened.

She smiles so he knows it’s okay and grips his arse as she rocks against the front of his wet trousers, letting him know she still needs. He kisses her jaw, her cheeks, her nose, and she feels his fingers brushing through her hair gently as he continues to explore her breasts beneath her shirt, his fingers tugging at her nipple experimentally until he learns what makes her moan the loudest. His lips are broken from the cold, chapped and rough against her skin, and he kisses and licks as he begins to move again.

She needs more friction and shifts beneath him until he’s rubbing her where she needs. He pushes forward as her legs spread wider and she arches up. So close. It’s not what she expected, clothes in the way and the touches frantic yet shy, but it’s perfect. She can feel his breath against her ear as he whispers in a language she doesn’t understand and she moans as she realizes she finds it arousing to hear the unknown words spill from his tongue as he lets go and becomes hers.

Her knickers are soaking wet and she knows a simple rub of her clit would end it all but she can’t reach and he doesn’t know to touch so she makes do with the friction of his wet trousers against her. She grinds against him and feels the tension build, her clothes sticking to her sweaty skin as she wraps her legs around him and finally lets go.

He kisses her neck as she whimpers and finds release, holding her against him as she trembles and shudders. She blushes when she realizes he’s watching her and tries to glare at him but instead smiles shyly. He touches her face, his fingers gently caressing her check and tracing her lips.

When their eyes meet, she knows he’s scared. He lowers his head and rolls onto his side, pulling her against him as he holds her tightly, hot tears spilling on her neck as she hugs him. He lets it all out as she drops his glasses to the floor and brushes her fingers through his hair. Soft kisses against his cheek and neck, soothing stroke of her hand down his back, she offers comfort, love, a future. His tears stop and he simply holds her tight, his breath a soft sigh as he nuzzles her neck.

They don’t have to say I love you. It’s in every look, every touch, every silent word. This is their hope, what they can think about when they’re facing Voldemort, another reason to survive. There are no words of eternal devotion, no promises made for after the war, no whispers of forever or happily ever after. They don’t need those things. They have everything they need as he kisses her gently and she hugs him against her.

He pulls back and looks at her, smiling as he brushes her hair away from her face. Harry lowers his forehead to rest against hers and cradles her body against his. They rub noses and she smiles as they lie there together on the faded carpet in an abandoned house. Tomorrow, everything changes and they may not survive to see another day. But tonight, they have this, they have each other. And that’s more than enough.

The End