Title: Maybe Forever
Ships: Harry/Hermione
Rating: PG13/R
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own. Quote from Dave Matthews. ♥
Spoliers: None - written pre-DH
Summary: A guy and a girl can be just friends, but at one point or another, they will fall for each other ... maybe temporarily, maybe at the wrong time, maybe too late, or maybe forever.
Notes: I have to say I think this is my best Harry/Hermione fic so far - at any rate its my favourite. Written for the hghpficexchange exchange. Enjoy!



Maybe Forever

A guy and a girl can be just friends, but at one point or another, they will fall for each other...
maybe temporarily, maybe at the wrong time, maybe too late, or maybe forever.


i.

She uses her key and walks in without knocking, dumping her bag, shedding her jacket and toeing off her shoes by the door before joining me on the couch. I lean over and kiss her cheek in greeting before we settle together comfortably. We watch a movie, I let her choose, and we eat junky food. Most of the time the movie is merely background noise for our conversation and laughter. The time flies by without our notice and we fall asleep together on my couch, her feet in my lap.

*

He is already up and making breakfast when I wake. The appetizing scent of bacon and eggs fills my nostrils as I lazily get up off his couch, running my hands through my bed hair. He knows I don’t have time to stay – I’m due at work soon and I still have to go home and change, obviously not having anticipated falling asleep on his couch and therefore being without any clean clothes. He offers me food but I decline, picking up his mug of steaming coffee and finishing it off, laughing at his indignant expression. I hurry to the door, pick up my things, and with a wave of my hand, I walk out the door.

ii.

She owls me early in the morning, asking if I want to catch up for lunch. There is something in the letter that unsettles me. I don’t know whether it’s the language she uses or the way her handwriting seems a bit messier than usual, but something is wrong. I write back immediately with an affirmative reply. We meet at our favourite restaurant - one I had been to many times but only started to appreciate when she started joining me there - located halfway between our two work buildings. She takes her time but finally confesses that her research has exhausted her and she needs a break. I smile, saying that all she need do is name anywhere in the world she wants to go and we can leave as soon as she wants.

*

I normally hate it when he pays for me or is overly generous with his money. But in this instance the need to get away from work and everything is so great that all I can do is smile and say thankyou. He is my best friend and he knows me so well. Though it wasn’t my design to get him to offer a holiday when I said I needed a break, I won’t deny his offer has relieved me. It’s time to get back to work and as he withdraws his wallet I tell him that if he is offering to go away with me the least I could do was pay for lunch. I open my purse and pay the waitress. He looks at me curiously and grabs my purse, smiling at the picture he sees there, the two of us in Hogsmeade after leaving Hogwarts for the final time, five years previous.

iii.

Clear, bright sunlight comes streaming through my window, the sound of the ocean a calming presence. We arrived at this beautiful flat on the Côte d’Azur yesterday and already I am enchanted by this place. I know this is somewhere where we can find peace and freedom and relaxation. I slowly climb out of bed and stumble to the bathroom, turning on the shower and stripping before stepping under the warm spray. When I emerge I wrap myself in a large, fluffy robe I normally wouldn’t be caught dead in, but I didn’t have the presence of mind to bring clean clothes in here and I don’t want to run the risk of terrifying her should she see me sneak back to my room in a towel. As I see her toiletries lined up on the bench I realise I forgot my toothbrush. With a shrug I reach out and grab her toothbrush and use it. There is a knock on the door so I automatically open it and whatever she was going to say dies on her lips when she sees me using her toothbrush. I tell her I forgot mine and she laughs and I smile.

*

Leave it to him to forget his toothbrush. He remembered to bring games and books and food and music but he forgot his toothbrush. I take him shopping, insisting he cannot use my toothbrush for the next twenty days. We wander down the main shopping street, ducking into shops that sell anything you can imagine, always with a touristy slant. The air outside is cool, so I drag him into more warm shops than I probably should. We browse through a department store and I see a shirt that matches the colour of his eyes so well I almost start. I make him try it on and he, grudgingly, complies. He looks good, and so when he comes out of the changing room I take the shirt from his hands and reach into his pocket to grab his wallet and take them both to the check-out, buying him the shirt with his own money. He laughs at my smug expression, coming to my side and kissing my temple. After that, I don’t make him do any more shopping and we wander down to the beach.

iv.

We have a light dinner on the balcony, enjoying the view of the ocean as the sun slowly sets. We drink delicious red wine and talk for hours. I wonder how it is that we always have something to say to each other. True, she probably knows something on every topic in creation and as such will always have something to say. But for me, someone who with everyone else is shy and quiet, being in her company makes me loud and verbose. And it is not just the decade of friendship we have shared. There is something else. Hours pass in conversation and it grows cool; she slips inside, returning a few moments later wearing one of my jumpers. I smile, looking at it pointedly, and she says I left it at her place once and so she has claimed it as her own. I laugh, saying how well it looks on her.

*

I can’t sleep. The hour is past two and I am still tossing and turning. I fling the covers aside and head to the kitchen, taking a small sip of water, wondering if the wine from dinner has anything to do with my current insomnia. Instead of heading back to my room I creep into his. I regard his sleeping form for a moment before lifting the cover and slipping into the bed beside him. He stirs, asking if everything is okay. I know he is half asleep still and I grin at him in the dark. I reassure him I am fine and he nods, already falling back asleep. Sleep still eludes me, even with the comforting presence of him beside me. He is a restless sleeper and I have not been in his bed above half an hour before he steals the blankets from me. Luckily I’m still wearing his jumper and I am not cold.

v.

I don’t think I have ever seen her this peaceful. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest is strangely comforting to me. I lay beside her and examine her features; the mouth that teaches me so much, the nose that wrinkles when she is bored, the forehead that I have too often seen furrowed in concentration, the eyes that, while now are closed, are usually so bright and unflinching. I rarely have a chance to observe her for so long without her detection and I relish the opportunity while I still have it. There is no one in the world I know better, no one with whom I would rather spend my time. She is the most amazing person I have ever beheld and I am in love with her. The realisation, so sudden, startles me. How could I have not realised before now? My hearts beats hard in my chest as I lean over and, after one last glance at her eyes to make sure she still sleeps, gently press my lips to the corner of her mouth.

*

I’m on the bridge between asleep and awake, conscious of the warmth and comfort that envelopes me. I never want to open my eyes and get up because I feel so at peace. But I know I must so I slowly open my eyes, awakening to an empty bed. I stretch my body and turn over and see him sitting on a seat by the window. I sit up and the noise the movement causes gets his attention. He turns to me and there is an expression on his face I have never seen. I don’t know how to describe it – it’s like he has never seen me before and this new person before him both terrifies and enthralls him. We stare at each other; I don’t know what has caused him to look at me this way but for some reason it makes me powerless to say anything or even move. My heart races. In the end, I have to break the silence, for fear of this being something it’s not. I ask him how he slept and he tells me he slept fine before standing up and walking out of the room, leaving me confused and alone.

vi.

For the first time in my life, I feel uncomfortable around her. I am suddenly unsure how to act around her, she who has been my best friend for half of my life, who has been by my side through thick and thin. I don’t know how I didn’t realise before now that I was in love with her. My whole life she has been the only female whose opinion truly mattered to me. She was the only one I ever trusted. Really, I suppose it should have been more of a shock had I not fallen in love with her. But that thought doesn’t help me now. It doesn’t help me know how to behave around her. In truth, nothing has changed between now and yesterday. Except that everything has changed. The innocent touch of her hand when she wants to draw my attention from my book feels like so much more than it actually is. Her laugh, which before was music to my ears, is now like a life force to my heart.

*

He is acting weird. Nothing overt or anything, but there is something different about him. He seems listless, restless. I wonder if he is homesick or worrying about work, if there is something drawing his mind away from this small piece of paradise we have found on the coast of the Mediterranean. I try to draw him into conversation, try reading between the lines of our dialogue and his body language to decipher what he is really trying to tell me. When that doesn’t work, I just dismiss it as his being tired. My late night intrusion on his sleep … maybe he didn’t sleep as well as he told me and is just tired. But that doesn’t explain the few moments I catch him looking at me. There is something in his eyes I have never before seen, and it makes my stomach tighten.

vii.

Our time together becomes torturous for me. There is nothing I want more than to spend all my time with her; relaxing, talking, laughing. But every moment in her presence reminds me that I’m in love with her, of why I’m in love with her, and the crushing probability that she doesn’t feel the same way about me. She has never treated me in any way other than platonic. Granted, we are closer than most normal best friends are, we are more tactile and affectionate, but after all that we have lost and all we have been through, how could we not be? She has said or done nothing that makes me think there is a chance of returning my feelings for her. So all I can do is take a deep breath, smile at her, and continue on as before.

*

Even after over a week the beauty of this place still amazes me. And there is a strange kind of freedom in being alone with your best friend in a country in which you can barely speak the language. It leaves less room for other people, any strangers you might happen to encounter, and the sole focus of your world becomes you and this person, this person you have known for forever. I don’t think I have ever been happier. And yet I can’t deny that something is different, something is changing, even in the few days since we have arrived. On the surface everything looks fine and normal, just as it has always been. But there is an undercurrent of tension between us. I can feel it flowing back and forth between us, my pulse quickening when he looks at me a certain way or I make him laugh or he casually throws his arm around my shoulders as we stroll along the beach.

viii.

I am captivated by her. She thinks I am still out, having gone down to the shop to buy a bottle of wine, but she doesn’t realise I have snuck back into our flat and am silently watching her. She is in the kitchen preparing dinner. The CD player is on and she sways around the kitchen to the beautifully haunting music, occasionally singing along for a few lyrics. I can’t help but smile at her. I quietly step into the kitchen and take her into my arms, dancing her around the kitchen. She laughs, smiles at me, allows me to guide her in our dance. Being this close to her is intoxicating. Desire overtakes me, slows my movements until we are barely swaying on the spot, staring into each others eyes. My hand on the small of her back tightens and before I know it I lean down and press my lips to hers, lingering long enough to push it past the few brief, platonic, hello/goodbye kisses we have shared. And then, remembering myself, I pull back, anxiously looking at her face to see her reaction.

*

His eyes are so green. I have seen them every day for so long and yet never until this moment did I appreciate how green his eyes truly are. He is looking at me so intently, anxiously. My lips feel tingly, warm from his kiss. Our bodies are pressed so tightly to one another and I know in my rapidly beating heart that this is a moment that will stay with me until the end of my days. This moment, in which everything changed. And suddenly everything becomes clear. The tension of the last few days, our close friendship before that, every moment since we first met all those years ago, all of it was simply a prelude to this moment. I am overwhelmed. He is still looking at me. I am still looking at him. He looks absolutely terrified and I smile shyly at him, removing my hand from his grasp and gently touching his cheek. Rather than soothing him, as was my intent, my actions seem to have intensified his anxiety. The only thing I can think of, the only thing I want to do in this moment, is to lean up and kiss him. So I do.

ix.

The touch of her lips to mine is electric. Her arms wrap around my neck and my hands find her back, our bodies pressing together as our mouths open to one another. Our tongues touch, caress, less of a battle and more of a dance. I moan, backing her up until I have her trapped between the kitchen bench and my body, all dinner plans and preparations forgotten. The air between us becomes charged as our kissing intensifies, our hands start roaming. Her hands glide over my chest. My palm alights on her cheek, her skin soft beneath mine. Her hand slips under my jumper, startling me enough that I break the kiss. We look at each other, breathless and intense, and she grasps the bottom of my jumper and pulls it over my head, dropping it on the floor before removing her own. She looks at me a moment, her eyes bright and beautiful, and following her lead, I divest myself of my t-shirt before gingerly placing my hands on her hips. She smiles at me, nods, and I grasp the material of her top and remove it, letting it join the pile of clothes pooled on the kitchen floor.

*

We kiss again, the feel of skin on skin more powerful than I had anticipated. I can’t get close enough to him, and he seems to feel the same way. His hands run down my back, making me shiver with anticipation. As though we were of one mind he puts his hand to my hips and I jump, wrapping my legs around him as his hands support my weight. His strength, both physical and mental, is one of the things I love most about him, and I could ask for no better demonstration of it than by him carrying me to his bedroom, his mouth never parting from mine. We collapse onto the soft bed, our bodies automatically wrapping around each other, legs and arms and mouths doing all they can to get us as close as possible. His mouth leaves mine and trails kisses down my neck, chest, stomach. My hands fist in his hair as his mouth and hands explore my body, my back arching up under his touch. He says my name, over and over, in such a way as I have never heard, and I want to cry.

x.

I wish I could say we are romantic, that the act is filled with loving words and meaningful looks. But in truth it is nothing like that. Desire has washed over us with such intensity that all we can do is cling to each other and ride the wave. We remove each others clothes, quite often in haste. We cannot bear to stop touching, feeling, kissing. When we are naked, I lean over and grab my wand from the bedside table to cast the appropriate spells on us, and even that short amount of time is too much, she grabbing my face and pulling it to hers before I even have time to toss the wand aside. We can’t stop kissing, not even when I enter her for the first time. We both moan. I feel incredible, empowered, like anything and everything is possible. She wraps her legs around my hips and we instinctively move together. Our breathing becomes laboured as we move together, so much so that we are forced to stop kissing, our heads still pressed together as we breathe the same breath. She climaxes, taking me with her, and we cry each others names.

*

He collapses atop me, our warm and damp skin sliding together. After taking a few moments to regain his breath he remembers himself and rolls off me, allowing me to take a large lungful of air. We lay side by side for a few moments, not touching, the truth and intensity of the moment filling our souls as our breathing regulates. I turn to look at him and when, a few moments later he turns his attention to me, he has that look once more, like he is both terrified and enthralled. My heart nearly bursts for him, my best friend, my soul mate, for all that we have shared and all that is yet to come. I want to tell him how much he means to me, how much I love him, how long I have been waiting for this moment. But words aren’t enough for what I want to say, so I bridge the gap between us, resting my palm on his chest and pressing my lips to his. It is such a simple and innocent gesture. He tells me he loves me, his voice full of emotion, and in a quivering declaration I tell him that I love him too. We smile. We kiss. We love.