Disclaimer: Belongs to JK Rowling
Hermione wasn't sure how it had happened, it seemed to have happened very quickly. One moment, she had been sitting in a nice respectable restaurant, with Ron and Susan, on what had seemed remarkably like a set-up. Now here she was, pressed up against the wall outside Harry's flat, while he was doing rather remarkable things with his lips, his tongue. Gods, she must remember to breathe.
He made a noise of some kind, as he fumbled for the door.
"I should go."
He pulled his head away sharply. "No."
"Stay," he whispered, brushing his lips against her cheek. "I want you to stay."
"We can't," she said, closing her eyes. "It's late, we have to get up early tomorrow. Besides, it would change more than I'd want it to."
"Hermione, it wouldn't change anything. We'll wake up together, happier than we've been in a long time." He opened the door. "I've wanted this for too bloody long to let you get away now."
She tried to think of another reason why she shouldn't; she wanted to; she really wanted to. For months, this had been all she had wanted. Harry. She had convinced herself that he didn't feel the same way. It had made it easier somewhat. It wasn't so easy, with him standing right there, his eyes shining, the hopeful expression on his face, and underneath it all, she saw it, his uncertainty that she wouldn't want to, that she didn't want him like he did her. The exact reason she had never done anything about how she felt.
"Are you drunk? How much did you drink at dinner?" she asked quickly.
"I had one glass of wine at dinner. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Oh," he said, a smile growing. "I wanted this before dinner, Hermione. Yesterday as well, and every single day before that for a bloody long time."
"Yes." He laughed. "Now can we go inside? It's freezing out here."
A deep breath later, "Okay."
He laughed, a deep throaty laugh. Picking her up, he carried her into his flat, slamming the door behind him.
The first sign that it wasn't her bed that she awoke in, the pillow was decidedly more lumpy than her own. That and the very male body pressed against her, that was the clincher. This was different, she quickly realised who it was. Dinner with Ron and Susan last night, at one of the fancier restaurants in Diagon Alley. She had rapidly deduced that it had all been a set-up. For once, they hadn't hassled her silly to bring a date. When Harry had arrived she had known for sure. One evening, when she had drunk too much, she had told Susan about her feelings for Harry, and ever since, Susan had been telling Hermione to either go for it or get over it. Last night must have been a not so subtle hint to make a decision, and it seemed she had.
She had gone for it, and it seemed the gamble had paid off. She rolled over onto her back, and just caught him closing his eyes.
"Good morning, Harry."
"Is it?" He asked wearily, cracking one eye open to peek at her.
"Well, I think it is. What do you think?"
He grinned, pulling her close. "I think it's a bloody brilliant morning, Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas." She leaned over and kissed him. "Oh no, your present is at my place, and oh God, we are supposed to be at the Burrow-" She looked at the clock on the table. "-half an hour ago."
"Don't worry, I can get it later, and they will carry on without us."
"They will all know."
"Of course they will," he said. "I don't care."
"Really? Ron is going to be insufferable."
"Well, that's going to be a pain." He laughed. "I, however, have years of blackmail material on him. If he knows what's good for him, he'll leave well enough alone."
"No. He won't."
Harry sighed. "No. He won't. Enough talk of him, I do believe someone hasn't given me a Christmas present."
"I told you, it's over at my place."
"Oh, that's right." He ran his hands over her back, pulling her closer. "But I'm sure there's something you can give me in the meantime..."