Keeping with the Company

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Keeping With the Company

by coven

Rated PG-13

Hermione offers her best friend Harry a place to stay after a girl discards him. Harry accepts, knowing that the arrangement is indefinite until he finds a suitable place for himself. But things take a strange turn when they both find out that keeping each other company is turning out to be a permanent thing after all.

Disclaimer: This is a Harry Potter fan fiction. Standard disclaimers apply.

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Thank you to all those who reviewed! I really appreciate them, keeps the drive going :) And yes, I have this fic posted at other sites so you may have read this somewhere else.

Chapter 2: Morning Menace

Due to the lateness of the hour that Hermione was able to sleep, and the fact that there was a deliciously warm body snuggling her, it was quite understandable that she was still dead to the world, and had completely forgotten that she had a sort-of appointment at ten o' clock.

At a quarter after ten, another muffled “poof” resounded in Hermione's flat, this time more specifically coming from her fireplace. Of course, Hermione and her bed partner were still in the land of nod when this happened. Alas, this nice state of oblivion would soon be interrupted by a dreaded menace.

“Hermione! Hermione!” an excited high-pitched voice broke through the morning stillness.

“Shh…” This time a deep male voice followed.

“Where is Hermione?” the squeaky voice asked.

“Not too loud,” the amused deep voice said. “I suppose she's still sleeping.”

“But she shouldn't be! She knows I'm coming. I'm waking her up!”

“No… wait…”

It was too late. Squeaky Voice eagerly ran towards the door of Hermione's room and opened it, not knowing that what he'd be seeing would cause him anguish for the next twenty minutes of his life.

“Hermione!”

Arthur Weasley II felt his nine-year old world crumble at his feet. After all the preparation he painstakingly did just so Hermione would be proud of him! He seethed as he remembered that for the first time he had taken a bath without being told to. He had even washed behind his ears! And all of these wasted down the proverbial drain.

He had refused to call Hermione `Aunt' ever since he decided that he wanted to marry her when he grew up. He knew it would still take years before he could actually ask her, and he wasn't expecting much from her either. However, he never thought he would see his `girlfriend' in bed with a man cuddling her. Artie didn't like the way that masculine arm was placed intimately on top of her. He was holding her in his sleep just like the way Artie would sometimes see his Dad cuddle his Mum, whenever he would sneak into their room to wake them up in the morning.

But it was not just any man. It was his Godfather-slash-Uncle Harry. The Harry Potter who was the Great Wizard who defeated Voldie-Moldy in the bedtime stories his Mum would read him. The Harry Potter who signed and personally dedicated a quidditch poster to `the Great Artie Weasley, Future Quidditch Star' that hung on his bedroom wall. The Harry Potter who was his next hero after his Dad. The Harry Potter who was now awake and blindly reaching for his glasses on the side table.

If there were things that Artie Weasley got from his father, aside from the red hair and freckles, they were the jealousy and the quick temper. Without any warning, Artie exhibited these traits well as he jumped on Hermione's bed, and attacked a very much-disorientated Harry.

“Why Hermione? Why Hermione?”

“What the…” Harry, who was awakened by the shrill `Hermione' earlier, was surprised as a small bundle of clothes and skin charged at him, ridding the wind off his body by landing on his stomach, and started kicking and punching whatever part of him was defenceless.

Hermione, who was also startled awake by Artie's screaming, was surprised to see her godson trying to kill Harry.

“What's happening…” Ron appeared at the door. “Artie!”

And the assault ended with the father of the offender plucking his small body from the poor unsuspecting victim.

“Let go of me Dad!” Artie screamed, surprisingly articulate for his age. “He was with Hermione!”

Ron, torn between amusement and love for his son, assumed his role as father and cast a wry grin at his two friends who were still too perplexed to move from their petrified state.

“Ron…” Hermione started, as she regained sense of what was going on. But she stopped when she saw the `later' look on Ron's face.

“We'll just be in the kitchen,” Ron said, trying to pacify the still squirming Artie. “Give you some time…”

The air was tense until Harry let out a slow whistle after Ron and Artie were out of the room.

“That kid's got it bad for you,” he said with a smile. “Better me than Draco though, otherwise he'd be scarred for life.”

“Will you stop winding me up with that Malfoy bit?” Hermione glowered at him. “This is no laughing matter,” she continued, really worried about the child. “For Artie it is serious!”

Harry knew this, and he too was concerned for his godson. That was why he made his resolve to talk with the boy, how exactly? That one he still needed to find out.

He sighed and looked at Hermione, who was now standing beside the bed by the window, biting her nails anxiously. She was wearing a red pyjama top that hung loose on her slight frame, and a pair of black drawstring shorts. Her hair, which she had learned to tame, was definitely untamed at the moment from sleep. Harry shook his head, confused at why he found this picture endearing.

Hermione continued nibbling on her nails, aware that Harry was looking at her strangely. Quickly becoming conscious of her appearance, and thus becoming more distressed because of this, she blurted out an irritated, “What?”

“Nothing,” Harry shrugged, and before he could stop himself said, “Can't really blame the kid for his taste you know?

With that, he jumped off the bed and exited the room leaving a blushing Hermione behind.

XXX

“Where is he?” Harry asked as he entered the kitchen.

Ron looked up from his paper and motioned at the adjoining dining room where Artie was sulking on a plush chair. The boy turned his head and caught his Uncle Harry looking at him. Harry gave him a tentative smile but was greeted by a murderous glare instead.

Harry sighed and turned to the father for backup.

“You aren't going to help me, are you?” he asked.

Ron shook his head, still engrossed with his paper.

“You're on your own on this one,” he said. “After all, you were indeed caught in bed with Hermione. Bear the consequences.”

“He's his father's son alright,” he said, sitting down.

`What can I say?” Ron shrugged, turning pages. “You stole his girl, mate.”

Harry snorted at this, looking at Artie thoughtfully, planning how he'd alleviate the situation.

“Luvvly,” Harry griped. “I'm glad you're not asking questions. You won't believe why I ended up here anyway…”

“Yup I will,” Ron answered. “You were here for what we mere men-folk know as rebound shag.”

Harry was gob smacked.

“Are you even supposed to talk like that with a minor in the vicinity?” he hissed. “And to contradict that, no! No rebound shag or any kind of shagging happened between Hermione and I.”

Ron laughed at Harry's discomfort. His friend had no idea that he was just trying to get back at him for the six months Harry neglected to give quality time to his godson.

“Besides,” Harry rambled on, obviously a bit bothered by the idea, he just didn't know why. “We're only friends and you know we've been doing platonic-sleeping ever since our Hogwarts days. Wait…” Harry's voice trailed off. “Rebound shag? Rebound? You knew Bianca and I are over?”

Ron flipped the paper to the `Entertainment' section and landed it in front of the other chap. Harry looked down and saw a picture of him and Bianca with a jagged line in the middle. The caption read, `Who will be the next future Mrs. Potter? Boy-Who-Lived and girlfriend Bianca Simmons call it quits.' This was followed by an interview of his now ex-girlfriend.

Harry groaned. “That girl is amazing…”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “So amazing that you aren't with her now.”

“Haha, very funny Ron.”

Ron smiled. “Glad to oblige!”

“What's funny?”

Both men turned as Hermione stepped in the room. She was now wearing her dressing gown over her sleeping attire, but her hair was pulled in a hastily tied ponytail.

“Nice,” Ron teased. “Haute couture?”

Hermione gave him a bland look.

“Artie?” she asked, as she proceeded to go to the dining room “I'll talk to him…”

Harry clamped a hand on her arm. “No, I'll do it.”

Ron and Hermione watched as Harry walked towards the refrigerator door to get two cans of manufactured pumpkin juice.

“Wish me luck,” he said, and strode off, closing the door behind him.

“Pumpkin juice,” Ron muttered. “Is he going to bribe Artie with that? What does he think of my son?”

Hermione heaved a sigh. She went to Ron and embraced him.

“Your son is so cute,” she said simply and gave the man a kiss on the cheek. “And I don't think he'll buy it, which makes him smart to boot.”

“Takes after his father,” Ron said cheekily and winked at Hermione, then added, “Good that Harry's diverted his attention from us. Otherwise, I have a lot of explaining to do about receiving a kiss from my son's girlfriend.”

Hermione chuckled at that, and proceeded to make some tea, this time she didn't bother with manual labour. With her wand, she directed ingredients and utensils to do their job. Within minutes a pot of steaming coffee and a plateful of bagels appeared on the table, much to the delight of Ron's stomach.

“Sorry about this,” she said, watching amusedly as Ron attacked the grub. “Harry came last night. He and…”

“The scarlet woman broke up, I know.”

She arched an eyebrow at that.

“Honestly, Ron. You still use that word?” she said and handed Ron a napkin.

“Thanks…” Ron swallowed then said, tapping a finger at his temple, “Got it ingrained here, what with fourth year and all. Anyway, the break-up's in the papers.”

Hermione took the copy of `The Daily Prophet' lying on the kitchen counter and skimmed through the article.

“That woman is amazing!”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Same thing our Romeo said. I, for one, am glad that this pseudo-relationship is over.”

“Hmm, and Harry said I'm the catty one,” Hermione muttered sipping at her coffee. “I wasn't aware that we shared the same opinion.”

Ron sniggered, contemplating on getting a third bagel.

“I was counting days. That girl was a bad influence on our chap. Remember that he only stayed at Artie's birthday party for a full bloody thirty minutes because Bianca didn't like children much less noisy children's parties. He owes my son much more than a can of pumpkin juice.”

Hermione laughed softly.

“Harry heard an earful from me last night,” she said.

“Oh?” Ron snickered. “You screamed in the throes of passion?”

She made a face and threw her table napkin at him.

“You're despicable. I don't know how Luna puts up with you!” she ribbed.

Ron smiled proudly at this, putting on a smile that was the evidence of a happy and contented life as both husband and father.

“That is because she loves me,” he said.

“And how is she by the way?” Hermione said, not contesting what Ron had said. It was true in all the simplicity of the statement. “Is she coming home as scheduled?”

“Yeah,” Ron answered. “She said that covering the World-Wizarding Conference was a dream-come-true, and that Switzerland is a wonderful place. But yeah she misses her handsome husband and wonderful son.”

“Oh yes on the part about the `son,' but the one about the `husband?' Well, we all know the truth!”

Hermione chuckled and ignored Ron's protests as she glanced at the closed door and wondered if Harry was indeed making progress with Artie.

XXX

Artie knew the exact moment Uncle Harry stepped inside the room. Like his Mom, he was very intuitive and sensitive to his surroundings. He had felt Uncle Harry's presence because he also felt the sudden shift in the air. This didn't really surprise him much because after all, Uncle Harry was a very powerful wizard. Artie grunted. Yes, powerful he might be, but he still stole HIS Hermione.

Another trait he inherited from his Mom was his intelligence. After all, Luna was in Ravenclaw. Artie started talking even before he was a year old. He also started reading when he was only two, much to his parents, and specially Hermione's delight. But it was neither the eloquence nor the early development that stood out among his many wonderful traits. Artie may be only nine years old but his logic was exemplary. And for the past ten minutes, just before his Uncle Harry joined him in the dining room, he was processing the scenario he saw earlier in his mind.

Artie frowned. Why did HE have to go after her? The last time he saw Uncle Harry was at his birthday party a month ago. Although he didn't like his Uncle Harry's taste in women, the `Bianca' he came with was really beautiful.

`Well, in a scary sort of way,' Artie decided. She wasn't anything like Hermione who was sweet, and funny, and really kind. The `Bianca' didn't like children. She looked disgustingly at Artie when Uncle Harry introduced her to him. She also didn't participate in the games. Besides, she was always stuck at Uncle Harry's side. She also didn't laugh much, and when she did it was a whiny one that made him think of nails scratching on a blackboard. She also smelled strongly like those perfume counters his Mum went to in Muggle department stores. On the other hand, Hermione smelled like sunshine and spring. If Uncle Harry liked beautiful but scary women, then why was he in bed with Hermione?

Artie then thought of Hermione. He suddenly remembered something he overheard the night after his party. He was on his way to the kitchen to salvage what was left of the yummy chocolate cake that Aunt Ginny baked for him, when he heard voices.

“I hate that bitch!”

“My, I never knew how colourful your vocabulary is, Hermione.”

“Oh shut it Ron. Did you see the way she was clinging to Harry? Her claws were practically attached to his arm!”

“And she missed the fact that Harry didn't mind that Bianca was clinging to him.”

“She must have brainwashed Harry, after all he really did look dopey every time she flashes that irksome smile of hers. Luna, do you think people or even wizards are born like that?”

“Like they're perfect?”

“Ron, why do you keep answering for Luna? Luna, can you tell your husband that he's not helping any?”

“What would you need help for?”

“We should help Harry see the truth!”

“And that blinding truth is…”

“That Bianca is Voldemort incarnate! And as members of the Order, it is our job to eradicate her from the face of the earth”

“Hermione dear, are you still aware of what you're saying? Ron, can you get that bottle of fire whiskey away from your friend?”

“Blimey, do I have too? I'm still enjoying the full mon- alright then...”

It wasn't only from replaying those voices in his head that Artie found his answer. There were also the telltale smiles and the glow in Hermione's eyes…

Suddenly, the answer dawned on Artie. How couldn't he know of it, having lived with it all of his nine-year existence? Well, if Hermione wanted THAT, then he wouldn't stand in her way, but that didn't mean he'd have to take it easy on Uncle Harry.

“Hey,” Uncle Harry said as he sat down beside Artie.

Artie didn't answer.

“Want some?” Uncle Harry offered one of the cans of pumpkin juice.

Now, pumpkin juice was Artie's favourite. He looked furtively at the cold container his Uncle was offering to him, but he strengthened his resolve. He wasn't going to be swayed just by a can of pumpkin juice.

“I don't want your pumpkin juice,” Artie said.

Uncle Harry nevertheless set the can on the arm of the chair, just in case Artie would change his mind. He pulled the tab of his own, and downed a huge gulp of the liquid.

“I'm sorry about earlier,” he said, after awhile. “I didn't know…”

“Then you have lots of things that you don't know.”

Artie almost smiled at the shocked look on Uncle Harry's face.

“I don't understand…”

“Then you have lots of things that you don't understand.”

Artie bit his lip. There went that look again. Hilarious!

“I'm sorry son,” Uncle Harry shook his head. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Artie shrugged.

“What colour are Aunt Hermione's eyes?”

Harry was growing more confused as the conversation went on. Trust Ron and Luna's kid to be as trivial as a Picasso painting. Though he noted his use of `Aunt,' there was something here that he wasn't getting. He didn't bother with the thought though. Instead, he answered Artie's question. Harry thought it was the easier way to do so. But boy was he wrong.

“It depends,” he answered truthfully. “When she's happy, they're molten chocolate. When she's sad, they're a wet forest, when she's angry, then they're almost black like coal.”

“What does she smell like?”

Harry was finding the boy's questions really absurd, but decided to play along if this interrogation will put everything to right. He had thought at first that pumpkin juice would do the trick. He knew it was the boy's favourite, but apparently it wasn't appealing to Artie at the moment.

“She smells like early morning, when everything is fresh and wet with dew.”

“What is the thing she does that you like the least?”

“When she says `honestly.'”

“What is the thing she does that you like the most?”

“When she says `honestly.'”

Harry was surprised at his answer. But he knew it was true. There were many things about Hermione that were all endearing. But when Hermione would say `honestly,' he gets annoyed that he sometimes wanted to kiss her just to shut her mouth.

`Wait,' Harry thought, swallowing hard on his pumpkin drink. `Kiss? Where did that come from?”

Artie delighted in the sudden paling of Uncle Harry's face.

“Say what comes first in your mind,” Artie said with an authority that could rival Professor McGonagall's. “If Aunt Hermione was an object from the wizarding world what would she be?”

“What…”

“Just answer it!”

“A snitch?”

Artie nodded at that. He was satisfied with his Uncle Harry's answers, specially the last one. After all, his Uncle Harry was the best seeker in the whole of England. With a 360-degree turn of mood, he got the can from the armrest and pulled the tab.

“Come on Uncle Harry,” Artie smilingly said after taking a gulp from the can. “I'm sure Dad and Aunt Hermione are waiting for us.”

“What was that all about?” Harry asked incredulously. “Weren't you just angry a while ago?”

“Yup,” Artie nodded.

“But you're not angry anymore?”

“Nope,” the young boy shook his head, eyes sparkling.

Harry frowned. He had a feeling he was sorely missing something here. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Artie replied innocently, let Uncle Harry think what he wanted to think. “I just love pumpkin juice!”

XXX

Turning to Ron, Hermione announced, “I have a theory…”

“Oh no, you can't let a day pass without making theories huh?”

“Seriously Ron, hear me out on this.”

“Okay, I'm listening,” Ron said, having no choice on the matter. Hermione would make herself be listened to whether he liked it or not.

“I think Harry's tired.”

“Huh?” Ron was perplexed. “I've never seen anyone with that kind of energy on the quidditch field. You should see his…”

“No,” Hermione threw her hands up. “Honestly! I'm talking about him being knackered about the direction his life is going on.”

“Oh!”

“I mean, he hasn't really gotten it easy- having the worst childhood, having such a great responsibility growing up, having been pressured in doing his best at anything. He's tired of it, Ron!”

Ron understood it, but he was actually realizing something more, and he doubted Hermione knew about it. He saw the pain in Hermione's eyes, and heard it in her voice too as she spoke of Harry.

“That's why I can't really blame him for hooking up with Bianca,” she continued wistfully. “He wanted someone to be with him for just being him- no pressure, no anything.”

Yes, Ron knew what this was all about.

“You're saying luv, that Harry needs someone to love who will love him back unconditionally.”

Hermione looked at Ron strangely. If she said this six years ago, he would have answered, “Bloody hell, Hermione! Don't go mushy on me.” Ron- family man, her best friend, had matured a lot and she was so happy about it that she wanted to cry.

“Woah, luv!” Ron said, noticing the sparkly eyes. “Don't go mushy on me!”

Hermione doubled up at that. Sometimes, there were some things that weren't really bound to change.

“Seriously Hermione. Don't worry about Harry too much,” Ron declared matter-of-factly then mumbled to himself, “Besides, Ms. Right is just probably right under his nose…”

“Hmm?”

And before Ron could change his mind about not meddling in his friends' love lives or lack thereof, the dining room door opened revealing a bewildered Harry. Beside him was a smiling Artie, holding a can of pumpkin juice.