Who says Hermione can't draw?

EDIT: THE FANFIC IS NOW IN THE DESCRIPTION!!!!!!!!!! ♥

♪♫ Hermione can't draw
Hermione can't draw
Hermione cannot draw ♪♫
*dances around in her Harry Quidditch T-Shirt with a guitar*


[link]

Set in Deathly Hallows after Ron leaves, and there’s the dance scene from the movie in here, because you KNOW they put that in there for the H/Hr shippers who were dreading the canon ending. XD
OMGFANFICTIONOMGFANFICTIONOMGFANFICTION!
--Hermione’s POV--

It was devastating when Ron left.

For both of us.

If one of us was to leave Harry, I would have thought it would be… No, I didn’t think either of us would ever leave him.

Ron always did have a temper though. The locket wasn’t helping at all.

With him gone, things were a lot quieter. Almost eerily so. Harry was still moping and I just couldn’t get over the fact that something I’d always admired like the friendship the three of us shared… could fall apart. If that could fall apart, why couldn’t the other two thirds of the triangle? If the bottom of the triangle disappears, the two remaining sides fall flat on their faces. Or sides, as it were….

I’d taken to my journal again, soon after we’d started our journey. After Ron left, the entries became less detailed and more speculative. What if?

One night, I was supposed to be standing watch, but it was so cold outside, I sat by the door of the tent to keep an ear out while remaining inside where it was warm. Harry was sound asleep.

The poor boy—no, man—was knocked out, completely knackered. We both were. I liked to watch him sleep. It made the time go by faster. He looked exceptionally normal that way. His glasses lay on the cot next to his pillow and his face was half hidden, his scar no longer visible. His hair was a mess, as always, and his shirt had even started to ride up.

I twisted my pencil between my fingers as I felt that urge to draw. I hadn’t felt it since Dumbledore died and I felt like it was a good thing that I could want to draw again. No one but Mum and Dad knew that I liked to draw. That meant that no one knew now. I’d been teased in first year about not being able to draw. That hurt more than they’ll ever know. But it was all behind us now. Even Harry and Ron had been in on the teasing, but I knew they never meant to be mean. But drawing is a sensitive topic with me. It’s the one thing I love to do more than studying and problem-solving.

Before I knew it, I had a relatively good sketch of Harry sleeping in my journal. I smiled at it fondly and soon the tug of exhaustion pulled me to sleep.

--Harry’s POV—

I woke up to the sound of something small and wooden hitting the floor and rolling. I put on my glasses and blinked a few times and saw Hermione sitting by the door asleep, her journal open on her lap and the pencil she’d been using dropped to the floor. That must have been what woke me up.

I sat up and stretched before picking the pencil up off of the floor and gently taking her journal from her hands.

I wouldn’t have read it, but something caught my eye that couldn’t be ignored. I looked at it for a few moments, soaking in every pencil stroke and every curve that had been drawn by her overworked hands. It was almost odd to me that her writing was very precise and neat while her drawing was sketchy and not exactly sloppy, but… soft and… delicate.

I set her journal on my cot then gently picked her up from the chair to put her on her own cot. She was surprisingly easy for me to carry. It felt odd holding her like that, but it wasn’t bad. Just new. I pulled the blanket up to her shoulders and brushed her hair from her face before I returned to my own cot and her journal.

I couldn’t help but read it.

The whole thing.

--Hermione’s POV—

A couple days had passed since I started drawing Harry. I’d woken up the next morning in my cot, my journal and pencil resting next to me. For a moment, I’d feared that Harry had seen, but he made no change in his behavior and I assumed he hadn’t gone snooping. He had always been respectful to other people’s privacy.

I was sitting on the steps in our tent, listening to the radio. One of my favorite songs came on and I let my chin rest on my knees. Harry was sitting in the chair I’d fallen asleep in a few days ago, just watching me. We hadn’t spoken in at least a week. Not a single word.

I heard him move and looked up when I saw him extend his hand to me out of my peripheral vision. I reluctantly moved and let him pull me to my feet. I tried to hide my surprise when his hands reached behind my neck. He took the locket off of me and tossed it onto the nearest cot, which happened to be mine. I gave him a questioning look as he led me out into the middle of the main room of the tent.

It dawned on me when he started to sway to the beat of the song. I rolled my eyes and sent him a small pleading look asking him what the hell he thought he was doing. He countered with a smile of his own and I resigned myself to just go with it.

We danced rather foolishly for most of the song, with spins and twirls, him twirling under my arm once or twice. And we laughed. It felt good to laugh. By the end of it, we were just rotating in place with our chins resting on each other’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear. I pulled back to look him in the eye.

“What for?” I asked just as quietly.

“A few days ago,” he began, looking hesitant to admit something to me. “I read your journal. When you fell asleep by the door.” I took another step back.

“How much did you read?” I asked. “Just that entry?” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I read all of it,” he confessed. “And I’m really sorry I invaded your privacy like that. I shouldn’t have done it.”

I sighed and pulled him into a hug.

“It’s all right,” I said. “I don’t mind.”

“And I’m sorry for teasing you about not being able to draw in first year,” he added. I smiled. “You’re actually really good.” I buried my face in his shoulder a little

“You’re not weirded out by the fact that I draw you while you sleep?” I asked only half teasing.

“No, because I’m afraid I have a similar problem,” he said. “I watch you in your sleep too.”

“Really?” I whispered against his neck.

“I do,” he said. “And I wanted to thank you for staying by my side all these years. Even when we weren’t speaking to each other, it was because you were trying to take care of me.”

“I can’t deny that,” I said with a small chuckle. “You’re important to me, Harry.”

“And you,” he leaned back, locking eyes with me, “are the single most important person to me.” My eyebrows shot up my forehead.

“That’s a bit steep, don’t you think?” I asked. “Surely there’s someone else who you value more than me. Ginny?” He shook his head.

“I told her before we left that I couldn’t be with her,” he said. “And the more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that it was because you’re the only one who has never let me down. And I’d been taking you for granted, Hermione. I really had. I needed some time away from Ginny to think properly about what I feel and what I want. Plus, she looks nearly dead ringer my mother and it was starting to freak me out.” We both laughed a little at that. “And besides. I think she can get any man she wants and be perfectly happy. But there’s only one girl I trust enough to want me for me, not because I’m the Boy who Lived or the Chosen One.” He rested his forehead against mine. I hadn’t noticed he was leaning in closer and I blinked a few times. “I love you, Hermione.”

I closed my eyes and smiled like I’d never smiled since we started this search.

“Oh say it again, Harry,” I whispered. He chuckled.

“I love you,” he said again, sounding even more sure of himself this time.

“Oh I love you too, Harry,” I said, looking into his eyes that were green as emeralds. “I really do.” He smiled widely at me. “Are you going to kiss me or not?” He blinked, then laughed. It had been so long since I’d heard him laugh so freely. “I wasn’t kidding.” I put my hands on either side of his face and slowly lowered it closer to mine so our lips could finally meet.

He still chuckled into my lips and I smiled against his, wrapping my arms around his neck as I felt his hands go to my waist.

When we parted for air, he tugged on my bottom lip a little with his teeth. We both gave a contented sigh as we rested our foreheads together again.

“What do we do now?” he asked. I smirked.

“Harry,” I said like I was explaining something simple to a child. “We’re wildly deprived, hormonal teenagers in the middle of the woods with a guarantee of absolutely no interruption. What do you think we’re going to do?”

I guess when you take away one of the sides of the triangle, the other side falls on the base and they become one line.

--END—

A/N: haha that last bit that Hermione says is just supposed to be funny. I don’t really think someone as responsible as Hermione would have sex when she’s only eighteen…. Maybe. Harry is exceptionally hot. :3

I like the traingle analogy.