Chapter 14 Worth the Wait
Hermione couldn't recall ever feeling quite this way.
In a futile effort to understand what was happening to her, and to occupy her mind, she began an inventory of her symptoms as if her emotions were a sickness to cure or a problem to solve.
A warm, stinging sensation was creeping across her features. Her hands were weak, rubbery, and shaking uncontrollably, in perfect sync with her racing heart. So busy was she detailing her physical reactions, she noticed, almost too late, that she wasn't breathing. The gulps of air she swallowed to cleanse her mind and calm her nerves had the opposite effect.
She was going to be sick.
She bolted up from the sofa, stumbling across the deserted room and ran to the toilet, her hand clamped over her mouth. She slapped the wall in the vicinity of the light switch, stinging her hand and missing the switch entirely. She lunged for the toilet, closing her eyes tightly, trying to forget she was on the floor in Harry's bathroom, fighting the urge to throw up.
Slowly, her shallow breaths deepened and her heart resumed its vital but unobtrusive job. She opened her eyes and watched millions of little dots chase each other around frantically, before slowing and disappearing entirely, restoring focus to the edges of the bathroom again.
Gingerly, she rose from the floor, testing the strength of her legs, which she still couldn't entirely feel. She stood in the darkened bathroom, collecting herself, enjoying the quiet. Reaching out with a trembling hand, she turned on the light and faced the mirror.
The reflection that greeted her bore little resemblance to herself. Her face was a pasty white, her glassy brown eyes rimmed with black circles. The hair around her face was damp with perspiration. Gasping at her appearance, the sweat pooled precariously on the hollow of her throat spilled out in rivulets down her chest
Anger welled up inside her as she reached forward to turn on the tap. Frigid water ran into her cupped hands as she stared malevolently at herself in the mirror.
"You are the only person in the world who would have a panic attack about making love to a good looking man! But, if you look like this when he gets here, you won't have a thing to worry about."
She bent over and rested her face in her water filled hands, letting the cool water return her equilibrium. She splashed water on her face a few times, finally rinsing her mouth out, and turned off the tap, reaching for the hand towel hanging on the wall nearby. She buried her head in the towel and took a deep breath. This breath achieved what the others before it could not do, calming her nerves and relieving her anxiety. She inhaled deeply again, the towel still pressed to her face.
It smelled like Harry.
She lowered the towel a bit, revealing her eyes in the mirror, eyes though still rimmed in black circles, had resumed their normal appearance, even sparkling somewhat beneath her crinkling brows. Relief flooded through her as Harry's scent chased away the doubts that resided in her brain.
Keeping the towel with her, she walked back into the parlor to retrieve her bag; thinking about the kiss she shared with Harry this morning. She shook her head in disbelief that it had been less than 12 hours since then. It seemed like an eternity had passed. So many other more pressing issues regarding a relationship with Harry had been on her mind that she never stopped to consider how difficult keeping their relationship under wraps would be once her feelings had been released. She couldn't bear to be in the same room with him and not be near him. She was constantly smiling, an involuntary reaction, when hearing his deep voice or laugh. Not trusting herself to be near Harry, she had studiously avoided him the entire day.
She wasn't sure if Harry noticed her evasion or not, until alone in the kitchen, he cornered her.
"Are you avoiding me?" Harry whispered in her ear, standing close behind her.
Hermione jumped at his voice and proximity, juggling the glass she had been filling with water. Composing herself, she looked over her shoulder to see him grinning mischievously. "Yes, I am avoiding you."
"Why?" he whispered, looking at her lips.
"You know very well, why."
"You're right, I do. But, I'd like to hear you say it."
"Harry! The mistletoe is over here, mate!" George called cheerily as he breezed through the kitchen on his way up the stairs.
Keeping his eyes on Hermione, but grinning from ear to ear, Harry replied, "I know, George, but she is avoiding me!"
"Come on, Hermione!" George called as he climbed the stairs. "Put the poor chap out of his misery!"
Hermione and Harry dissolved into a fit of laughter. Hermione looked at Harry and said, "Are you in misery, Harry?"
"Yes, I am. But, I'm afraid it isn't the kind the mistletoe will cure." He sighed dramatically and pushed away from the counter as more people entered the kitchen and its bustling activity resumed.
Now, Hermione was again standing in front of a sink. Only this time, she was undoubtedly alone, waiting eagerly for Harry to arrive. She looked at her watch and was surprised to see that she had only been at Harry's house for half an hour. Time was moving interminably slow, prolonging her agony, and allowing her mind too much opportunity to return to its hovel of anxiety. So, she did what any self-respecting, intelligent witch would do in a similar situation.
She buried her face in Harry's towel and took another deep breath.
Sighing contentedly, she reluctantly lowered the towel to the sink, and began to reapply her makeup that she had ruined earlier. She caught a glimpse of her watch in the mirror and wondered aloud if time was standing still.
To say that she wanted to get it over with was too negative, but it was exactly how she felt. If for no other reason than to alleviate the fantasies she had been having about him since their first kiss. She desperately wanted to make love to Harry. She wanted it in a way that challenged the limits of an English woman's propriety.
She felt herself blush at her own thoughts. This passion was so unlike her she was embarrassed, despite the fact that no one could possibly know what was in her mind right now. To add to her embarrassment, there was nervousness underlying this desire.
But, it was the nervousness of the unknown, of the consequences of making love to Harry. What if afterwards, they were both unimpressed with the other. What if he was disappointed in her lack of experience? Although not a virgin, skillful is probably not a word to describe her sexual abilities. Any excitement she had quickly drained from her as she continued to obsess about everything that could go wrong.
She zipped her make-up bag closed and threw it into her duffle. She debated briefly as to where to put her duffle, before deciding to leave it where it lay. Frankly, that was the least of her worries. She needed some air.
Hermione jotted a quick note on a spare piece of parchment before donning her cloak and wrapping the pashmina Harry had given her around her neck. She was walking to the door, pulling her gloves on when the door flew open and Harry walked in, bag thrown over his shoulder, snowflakes in his hair.
""I'm sorry I'm late. Bill decided he wanted to take me on in wizard chess. It took me longer than I expected to lose." He stopped abruptly, taking in the sight of Hermione standing in front of the door, dressed for the cold. He turned and closed the door, tossing his bag in the corner out of the way.
"Are you going somewhere?" he asked nonchalantly.
"What?" Hermione said, distracted by the jolt of relief that hit her when Harry walked through the door. He looked down, nodding at her cloak and gloves.
"Oh! I was going for a walk."
"Anywhere in particular?"
Hermione furrowed her brow, wondering for the first time where she had intended to go. "No."
"Why were you going for a walk?"
Hermione cleared her throat, debating how many, if any, of her insecurities she should tell Harry. She looked him straight in the eye and replied. "I was restless."
Harry unbuttoned his cloak and removed it, tossing it onto a nearby wingchair. "Do you still want to go for a walk? I can join you."
Hermione watched Harry move closer to her, taking in, not for the first time today, how good he looked wearing the simplest clothes; khaki trousers and a black v-neck jumper with just a hint of an undershirt showing.
"No, I don't want to go for a walk."
"Maybe later," he whispered, removing a glove from her hand.
"Sure," Hermione replied as he removed the second glove.
He unbuttoned her cloak and slid it off her shoulders. "You don't need this," he said, tossing it on top of his.
Hermione couldn't take her eyes off Harry. He seemed so confident and relaxed; while she felt as if she were about to take a test she was ill prepared for. Harry ran his hands down her arms, and gently rested his hands on her waist, looking at her body. Hermione felt her heartbeat increase, and heard the pounding of her heart in her ears. She saw Harry take a deep breath and look up at her, a tentative smile on his face, revealing a fissure in his confidence.
"Are you still restless?" he asked, hooking a finger under her scarf and slowly pulling it down from her neck.
Hermione shook her head in response. "No. Just nervous."
"Me, too," he whispered, pulling her scarf down from around her neck and dropping it to the floor. "But, I have a theory."
"Really? What's your theory?"
"That my nerves will vanish when I kiss you."
"You think so?"
"It's a theory. There is on…"
"Harry," Hermione interrupted. "Now is not the time…"
"…for playful banter."
Hesitantly, he raised his hand to her cheek, gently running the back of his fingers across her jaw line. "Hermione, you have no idea how long I have wanted this," he said hoarsely. He brushed her hair out of her face. "Are you sure?"
Rubbing her hands up and down his back, she nodded. "I'm sure."
Cupping her face in his hands, he pulled her slowly forward until their lips touched. He kissed her softly, tenderly, telling her without words that she could trust him, that he understood what this meant to her and that he felt the same way. As this realization hit her, she melted into a puddle at his feet. He could have asked her to do anything and she would have complied without reservation.
That was the moment she knew she was in love.
Harry pulled away from her and gazed down into her eyes. As his eyes bored into hers, she was startled to realize that Harry's eyes were the reason green was her favorite color. She didn't have long to wonder about the deep-seeded meaning of this revelation when Harry, slowly beginning to unbutton her top, distracted her. She looked down and watched as his trembling hands fumbled with the small buttons of her blouse. She placed her hands on his and looked up into his eyes. Gently moving his hands out of the way, she began to unbutton her shirt. When the last button was undone, she opened her shirt and let it slide off her shoulders onto the floor.
Harry traced his fingers lightly up her bare arms, sending shivers down her spine and setting off a tingling sensation in her stomach. She raised the sides of his jumper and undershirt and pulled them over his head. Her breath caught as she saw his bare chest for the first time Smooth and toned, it was remarkably hairless, with only a spattering of hair in the center of his chest and around his nipples. She reached out tentatively to touch his chest and felt him tense at her touch. Leaning forward, Hermione brushed her lips across his chest, moving unhurriedly from one side to the other while her hands wrapped around his waist and caressed his back. She heard his breathing deepen as she kissed his nipple. She raised her eyes to his and ran her hands back around his waist to his abdomen, stopping at his belt. Moments later, his belt discarded, she ran her fingers lightly over the front of his trousers, which were being strained by Harry's erection. A thrill of satisfaction ran through Hermione's body: she was the cause of his excitement.
The button of his trousers undone, Harry grabbed Hermione's wrists as she reached for his zipper. "Not yet," he whispered.
Harry ran his hands down Hermione's arms and legs as he knelt down in front of her. Looking up at her, he lifted her right foot and removed her shoe and sock, tossing them carelessly to the side. Hermione ran her hands through his hair and smiled down at him as he repeated the procedure on the left side. His task completed, his hands ran up her legs and around to her arse, pulling her closer as he buried his face in her belly.
Hermione felt his lips roam along her skin, his warm tongue flicking inside her belly button. Before she knew it had happened, her trousers were pooled around her feet and Harry's lips were traveling southward down to the silky fabric of her knickers. She could feel his warm breath sneak through the thin, smooth material and tickle her skin. Goosebumps sprang up on every inch of her body and she shivered as she felt his hands underneath her silk knickers, cupping and squeezing her bare arse. Hermione gasped and pulled Harry's head back from her abdomen, looking into his eyes that were hooded with desire. She leaned down and captured his mouth with hers. He stood up, kicking his shoes off as she fumbled for his zipper. She pushed his trousers down as he hastily unlatched her bra. For a brief second they did not touch - Hermione tossing her bra to the side, Harry marching in place to remove his trousers and socks. Finally free from the restraints of clothing, they collapsed into each other's arms, kissing each other with a fervor that could only come from years of pent up passion.
Hermione wrapped her legs around Harry's waist as he picked her up, pulling him as close to her as possible. She moaned in anticipation as she felt him through their final layer of clothing. He leaned his face down and began kissing her chest, pushing her breast up to meet his mouth with one hand while the other arm held her to him tightly. Hermione's legs wrapped around him tighter and she crushed her pelvis to his, increasing the pressure between their bodies and sending each over the edge of reason.
"This is amazing," Harry croaked, as he kissed his way back up Hermione's neck to her mouth.
Hermione felt Harry walk her backwards and lower her to the sofa as he continued to kiss her hungrily. He inched down her body and kissed the tops of her breasts, running his tongue along her skin as he did. She shuddered with pleasure as the now familiar tingling sensation began to course through her abdomen. He looked up into her eyes again as his thumbs gently stroked her hardened nipples and slowly traced the small circles of her areolae. She felt her eyes droop closed as the tingling sensation built in tandem with the movement and pressure of Harry's thumbs.
She arched her back, thrusting her chest into Harry's hands, encouraging the contact. Harry replaced his thumb with his mouth and lovingly caressed her nipple with his warm tongue. She moaned as the tingling in her abdomen began to burn with pleasure. She felt Harry suck her breast almost completely into his mouth, his tongue continuing its ministrations. He released the pressure and grazed his teeth down her breast until he was gently biting her nipple. Suddenly, the burning sensation erupted inside her, warmth flowing like lava outward from her center to every pore of her body. She gasped in shock and cried out Harry's name as this new, incredible sensation coursed through her.
Emboldened by the release, she pulled Harry's head away from her breast and crushed her mouth to his, frenzied in her desire. Hermione scratched her fingernails across Harry's broad back and down, sliding her hands beneath the waistband of his boxers until she was cupping in her hands what she had admired so many times before. She pulled him towards her until she felt his erection against her, and the tingling sensation began again. She brought her hands to his sides and began to lower his boxers, all the while wildly kissing him. In one swift movement, Harry stood up and pulled Hermione's knickers off of her, kicking off his own shorts in the process. He then lowered himself back down onto the sofa, but not before Hermione was able to fully admire the man she loved.
This confirms it; I waited entirely too long.
They both stopped and peered into each other's eyes for a prolonged moment, each acutely aware that there was no turning back. Neither wanted to. A questioning look crossed Harry's features, reminding Hermione of the insecure boy she first met 12 years ago. Tears welled in her eyes as she cupped his face, wanting to reassure him of his worthiness of love.
"Harry," she said softly, her gaze drinking in his startling green eyes and feasting on his handsome face. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life." She reached up and kissed him lovingly on the lips. "Make love to me."
Harry dropped his head onto her shoulder, his body shaking. Hermione felt his warm tears on her shoulder as she wrapped her legs around his waist and arched up to meet him. Harry lifted his head, revealing his tear-stained face as he slowly entered her. Then he stopped.
"Oh my God," he breathed, resting his forehead on hers.
Hermione closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to capture this moment, this feeling for all time. She caressed his face and kissed him, wanting desperately to tell him that she loved him, but something held her back.
"You are amazing, Harry. Please, don't stop." She wrapped her legs tighter around him, pushing him further inside her. He began to move, leisurely sliding in and out, his eyes never leaving hers. Volumes were spoken to each other wordlessly, as they continued to stare directly into each other's eyes. Hermione knew in that instant that she would never be with another man besides Harry.
The intensity of the feelings pulsing through her body was indescribable. For someone who prided herself on her ability to pontificate at will on any given subject, this failure of words was monumental. Later, void of distractions, with time and space separating her intellect from these events, she would be able to concisely describe what she was currently feeling. She was sure of it. At the moment, Hermione Granger - first in her class at Hogwarts, the youngest Transfiguration Professor in Hogwarts' history, regarded by and large as one of the most intelligent witches of her time - was reduced to indistinct noises, guttural groans and the periodic gasp of her lover's name.
Harry, she thought. Or did she say it out loud?
She opened her eyes and looked up at Harry, who was moving agonizingly slow inside her. A tiny part of her brain, the part that refused to accept their evolved relationship, was shocked and amazed that Harry was making love to her. As good as it felt -(and God, it felt good!), as right as it felt, a tiny part of her still held onto the idea that this was somehow wrong - that they would be caught and punished for breaking the cardinal rule of friendship. As the tingling sensation traveled down her legs making her toes curl, the idea crept into her mind that this sense of sinning against their friendship was partially responsible for making this feel so incredibly good.
He reached down between their bodies and began to caress her clit while continuing to move inside her. Hermione's eyes widened and she released a hum of pleasure. Harry smiled and stopped moving, continuing to stroke her. "Does that feel good?"
Unable to form words, she nodded her head vigorously, a squeak escaping her throat as he massaged her with more pressure. Her eyes rolled back and fluttered closed as a long, low moan flowed from somewhere deep inside her.
"Or do you like this better?" he asked as he began to move again while continuing to fondle her.
Between gasps, Hermione managed to squeak out a response. "All…good."
He bent down to kiss her, leisurely running his tongue around the inside of her mouth. She felt him slide out of her slowly and pause, before pushing himself deep into her core. His slow, methodical tantalization of her senses made her groan in frustration. Before he could re-enter her again, she reached down and seized him, wanting to feel him in her hand. Harry groaned at her touch as she began to slowly stroke him. The remnants of her desire aiding her, she let the feel of him, long and hard in her hand, arouse her. Hermione watched as his eyes rolled back and closed, his mouth opened in a silent scream. She smiled as the silence was broken by a guttural moan followed by the sound of him choking out her name as she increased the tempo.
He opened his eyes and looked down at her and she felt his fingers begin to fondle her again, in tandem with her tempo. He bent down to crush his mouth on hers, running his guilty fingers down her wetness until one finger plunged inside her, sending her over the edge again. She heard her muffled cry and felt the vibrations of his groan as if it was coming from inside her.
"Harry," she panted, feeling him stroke her slowly, in and out, in and out. "I need you inside me, please," she begged. She raised her hips and wrapped her legs around him, guiding him to her. He slowly removed his finger, and with a thrust, she surrounded him again.
He paused, breathing heavily, and rested his forehead on hers. Lifting his gaze to meet hers, he stared into her eyes for a long moment. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world." He intertwined his fingers with hers, pulling her arms up above her head and holding them there. He traced kisses down the inside of her arm and onto her shoulder, murmuring endearments along the way. Hermione closed her eyes and arched her back, wanting to take Harry still deeper inside her. Leisurely, he began to move as his warm breath tickled her ear.
"Hermione." Her name floated from his mouth on a wisp of air. "You are the one for me. You have always been the one for me."
Hermione turned her head to his and captured his lips with hers, trying to convey to him that, although it had taken her years to realize it, she felt the same way.
They began to move together in perfect rhythm, faster and faster, gripping each other's hands for support. They crept closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. He locked his eyes on hers and growled her name, plunging himself deep into her core. She cried out as another orgasm washed over her. Through her fog of desire, she watched Harry's face tense up as he entered her again and again, finally crying out her name. She felt his body shudder as he drove inside her a final time before collapsing on top of her in a heap.
Breathless, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, trying in vain to fuse their bodies together. She heard his ragged breathing and felt him kiss her shoulder, then her neck. She had never felt closer to anyone than she felt to Harry at that moment. But suddenly, it didn't seem close enough. She wanted to share his body, to be inside him. She knew now that any break in contact from him from now on would be physically painful. He began to move, to withdraw from her. "No, don't move," she whispered, wrapping her arms and legs more tightly around him.
He lifted his head and smiled at her. "Anything for you," he whispered before giving her the most tender kiss she had ever received.
"That was amazing," Hermione said.
Harry smiled. "You were amazing."
She gave him a puzzled look. "I was talking about that kiss. What were you on about?"
Harry stopped smiling, a look of complete shock falling on his face.
Hermione smiled at him and said playfully, "I'm just teasing!"
Relief flooded Harry's face as he kissed the tip of her nose and rolled off of her onto his side, their bodies connected and intertwined. He draped his arm across her waist and pulled her closer to him.
Hermione reached up to caress Harry's face, unable to keep the satisfied smile from hers.
Finally.
"Finally?" Harry asked.
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "Did I say that out loud?"
"Yes, you did."
"Oops."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "What exactly does, 'finally' mean?"
Hermione cleared her throat and looked down at Harry's chest. "Well, you know me, and my tendency to over analyze things."
"No! You don't do that."
Hermione playfully poked Harry in the ribs. "I know that is a shocking revelation." She looked up at him, relieved to see an understanding smile in his eyes. "I have a confession. I had a slight panic attack before you got here."
"A panic attack? About us making love?"
Hermione nodded her head. "I know it was ridiculous. But, I was here, alone, and my insecurities got the better of me." Her face lit up with understanding. "It was a lot like right before taking a test. You are ready for it, you are 100% prepared, but there is still that anxiety of the unknown. You know what I mean?"
Harry looked at her skeptically. "I don't know if I like the comparison of making love to me with taking a test or not. But, I can tell you that I liked the results."
"Did you?"
"Would you be reassured if I gave you a grade?"
"As a matter of fact…"
"I was joking! I'm not going to give you a grade!"
"Why not?" Hermione said with a trace of panic in her voice. "I was awful, wasn't I?"
"What? You're kidding me, right? Weren't we just doing this together? Geez, woman, if that is your idea of awful, then I'm guessing spectacular is going to render me unconscious for months."
Hermione looked down and back up at him shyly. "It was amazing, wasn't it?"
"Absolutely amazing. Much better even than my fantasies."
"You've had fantasies about me?"
"Merlin, yes. I've been dreaming about you for months."
"You told me those were nightmares."
"Not anymore."
"That's good. I would hate to be the cause of your sleepless nights."
"Actually, I would love for you to be the cause of my sleepless nights." He drew her closer and nuzzled her neck, kissing around her jaw to her mouth. "Mmmmm," Harry hummed in Hermione's mouth. "Your lips should be illegal." He continued to kiss her, interspersing words between each kiss. "I couldn't stop looking at your lips today. All I wanted to do was to lay you across the kitchen table and kiss you senseless."
"Why don't you do it now?" Hermione asked.
"Okay, I think I will."
Harry ran his tongue teasingly across her lips, pulling back when she opened her mouth to him, then returning to tease her again. She grabbed his head and pulled him to her, taking control of the situation and running her tongue along the warm, sweet cavern of his mouth. She felt his warm, velvety hand slide down her bare hip to her thigh, pulling her knee up to rest on his hip. She felt the burning sensation ignite inside her again as Harry moved his hand along the back of her thigh. His fingers were lightly touching her, stroking her. She groaned in pleasure and felt one or two of Harry's fingers enter her. She opened her eyes to find Harry watching her with a look of self-satisfaction on his face.
"Is thi…ssss," she hissed, "part of snogging me senseless?"
"No, but it was part of the fantasy."
"O…ohhh…kay." Hermione chewed on the corner of her lip and closed her eyes as a wave of pleasure shot through her body, originating from the vicinity of Harry's hand. "I…ahhh…think I like your fantasies."
"Want me to show you the next part of it?"
"AHHHhhhh…I'm guessing I do."
"I was hoping you would say that," Harry replied, as he rolled her onto her back and began moving his lips down her body.
"What was that?" Hermione yawned.
"I think it was my stomach," Harry's muffled voice replied.
"Are you hungry?"
"I guess so."
"Do you have the energy to get up?"
"No."
"Me either."
Harry lifted his head, which had been buried in the nook where Hermione's shoulder met her neck. "I would summon a snack for us, but honestly, there is nothing to eat in this house."
"Surely there's something."
Harry returned his head to its resting place. "I wouldn't count on it." He kissed her neck, and rooted his nose in her hair. "Does your hair really smell like apples or am I just hungry?"
"It's my shampoo."
"Ah." He looked up at her again, as his stomach gave a healthy rumble. "Well, it is making me hungry."
"Sorry."
Harry sighed heavily. "I don't really want to get up, but I'm starving. What time is it anyway?"
Hermione looked at her left wrist, and then looked around on the floor. "I would tell you, but I have no idea where my watch is."
Harry looked up at the clock on the bookshelf. "It is 7:15. What time does the grocer's close, eight?"
Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "No idea."
"I think that's right. How about that walk?"
"Sure." Hermione disentangled herself from Harry and tugged at the blanket as she moved to rise from the sofa.
"Oi! Where are you going with my blanket?" Harry asked, pulling the blanket back.
"To find my clothes," she replied, tugging harder.
"You don't need the blanket!"
"Yes I do. It's cold!"
Harry swung his legs off the sofa, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. "Tell you what, we'll share the blanket." He stood up, and opened the blanket, beckoning Hermione to come closer. She smiled at him and stepped closer as he folded his arms around her, encircling them both in the soft material. "This is my kind of compromise," he said as he felt her smooth skin against his. "Turn around."
Hermione gave him a knowing look and complied. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. "Look around. Do you see your clothes?"
"Mmm-hmm. Over there, there, there and there," she said, pointing to all areas of the room.
"A bit scattered, aren't they?"
They went around the room picking up their discarded clothes and returned to stand before the fire. Remaining wrapped in the blanket for warmth, Hermione dressed herself. She turned to face Harry, holding the blanket around him. As he bent down to put on his boxers, Hermione caught his mouth, kissing him haphazardly - his upper lip, the corners of his mouth, his lower lip - all were fair game. She drew her head back and Harry slowly opened his eyes, his lips still puckered for the next kiss. She glanced down and back up with a mischievous smile on her face.
"Why do you do this to me?" Harry said in frustration.
"Because I can."
"Demented Hermione, not my favorite person." Harry pulled his clothes on quickly and reached for their cloaks, still lying across the wingchair. He draped Hermione's cloak over her shoulders before picking up her scarf and wrapping it around her neck for her. Flinging his cloak over his shoulders and latching it quickly, he held out his hand to Hermione. "Ready?"
Placing her hand in his she replied, "Lead the way."
They walked out into the crisp night air, each instinctively raising their palms to capture the large white snowflakes that were drifting down from the darkened sky. Harry steered Hermione down a side street filled with quaint cottages, the snow covered roofs and multi-colored Christmas lights adorning the eaves giving them the distinct look of gingerbread houses. Warm yellow light shone through the windows, illuminating idyllic family Christmas scenes in many of the houses.
"I would imagine that your Christmas's were like this, weren't they?" Harry asked.
"I'm sure from the outside looking in, they did seem a bit picture perfect."
Harry continued to watch the scenes play out in the windows as they passed. He looked down at Hermione to find her staring up at him. "What?"
"Yours were awful, weren't they?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders, looking away. He had forgiven the Dursleys years ago for his mistreatment, but, during the holidays, the small seed of resentment at what he had missed out on as a child germinated and began to grow.
"Seeing this," he said nodding in the direction of a family sitting around a dinner table, "and remembering my Christmas's past, just makes me want a family even more. A bunch of children running around a huge tree, opening presents, drinking hot chocolate, you know, the Weasleys without the red hair."
"A bunch of children? How many are you talking about?"
"I don't know. Enough for a Quidditch team I guess."
Hermione's mouth gaped open. "Seven?"
"Well, five I guess, if you and I play."
Harry squinted his face up, realizing what he said. He looked over at Hermione to see if she caught the implication that she would be the one having five children with him. If she did, she wasn't bothered by it.
"Well, five is still quite a large number."
"Did you like being an only child?"
"It had its perks. But, all in all, I would say, no. I would have rather had a sibling."
They turned onto the main thoroughfare and walked in the direction of the grocer's, only to be greeted by a darkened door with a sign saying, "Closed Christmas Day."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other in shock. "Did you forget it was Christmas, too?" he asked.
"Yes, I did. Is it just me, or does it seem like an eternity ago that we went for our run?"
"It isn't just you. We have had quite an eventful day, haven't we?"
"That's an understatement."
Harry looked up and down the street, the prospects for abating his hunger waning. He snapped his fingers. "The Three Broomsticks. It will be open for sure. I remember seeing a notice on the door advertising it. Let's go."
He draped his arm across her shoulders and kissed her temple. He was rewarded with a radiant smile from Hermione, something he would never tire of seeing.
"I feel so…" he paused, trying to find the right word. "Normal."
"Normal? Whatever does that mean?"
"I'm walking down the street, on a date with my beautiful girlfriend. I can call you that right?" he asked. She nodded with a smile and he continued. "Good. There is no evil dark lord wanting to kill me, I've just had the best sex known to man, twice, and I'm about to eat. It doesn't get much better than that."
Harry pulled open the door to the Three Broomsticks and stepped back allowing Hermione to enter before him.
"Wow," Hermione said a bit nervously. "I didn't expect it to be this crowded."
"Me, either."
They stood at the door of the almost full pub, looking around for a vacant table. Harry caught Madam Rosmerta's eye and returned her wave with a smile. She pointed toward the far back corner of the room, and Harry saw, following her outstretched finger, a vacant table, partially hidden by a gaudily decorated Christmas tree. He nodded his head and waved in acknowledgement.
"This way," he said, grabbing Hermione's hand.
They weaved through the crowd of mostly men, Harry shaking hands and greeting people along the way. Once relieved of their coats and scarves, they settled down at the table and were promptly greeted by the proprietor.
"Hi, Harry. Hermione."
"Hi, Rosmerta," they said in unison.
"You're busy tonight!" Harry said.
"I know. It is like this every year. You'll notice that it is mostly men. Trying to get away from all the noise at their own houses they come here to make more noise."
"Please tell me the kitchen is open," Harry said in a pleading voice.
"If it wasn't it would be for you. You want your usual?"
"Your usual?" Hermione said, lifting her eyebrows.
Harry glanced at Hermione a bit sheepishly, and reached under the table to rub her leg. "I might come in here every so often."
He looked up at Rosmerta, who was eyeing the two of them with a shrewd smile on her face. "Sure, I'll have my usual."
"Okay. What about you Hermione?"
"Do you have any soup or stew?"
"We have Leek and Potato Soup."
"That sounds good."
"And, two ales," Harry added, looking questioningly at Hermione, who nodded in assent.
"Got it," Rosmerta replied. "Nice scarf, Hermione," she said turning with a wink at Harry and walking away.
"Thanks," Hermione replied, nonplussed. "What was the wink all about?" Hermione asked turning to Harry.
Harry looked at her sheepishly. ""I may have asked from some advice from a woman's point of view on an occasion or two."
"Mmm-hmm," Hermione said grinning, squeezing his leg under the table.
Harry pulled out his wand, pointing it at the Christmas tree. "I think we need a bit more privacy." With a swish of his wand, the tree lifted slightly from the ground and settled in front of the table, obscuring them from the majority of the crowded bar. He grabbed her chair and pulled her closer to him, draping his arm across the back of her chair, his other hand rubbing her leg lightly.
"I am not going to snog you in the Three Broomsticks, Harry."
"Why not?"
"Well, for one thing, it will end up in the Daily Prophet."
"That's a good point."
Hermione's eyes widened and she gasped.
"What? What's wrong?"
"I just realized that I slept with you before our first date!"
Harry's worried expression broke into a mischievous grin. "You are a scarlet woman!"
Hermione playfully jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, smiling at him. "I guess Ron was right about that after all."
"I'm glad I was the beneficiary of your indiscretion."
"I bet you are." She leaned over slightly, looking around the Christmas tree, before turning to Harry and giving him a quick kiss.
"I thought you said you weren't going to kiss me."
"I'm a scarlet woman, we do that sort of stuff all the time."
"Nice," Harry said slowly, as Rosmerta returned with their ales.
"Well, don't you two look cozy," she said with a warm smile. "Hagrid just walked in, but didn't see you for the tree. Do you want me to tell him you're here, or do you want some privacy."
Harry looked at Hermione who shrugged. "We do want privacy, but not from Hagrid."
"Send him over, if you don't mind," Hermione added.
"Sure," Rosmerta said. Before she walked away, she turned and said, "You don't have to worry about your privacy with me. I've kept many secrets for many people for many years." She winked and walked off.
They both straightened up in the chairs, putting a bit more distance between them. Harry kept his arm draped across Hermione's chair, a small gesture of possession he was not willing to surrender, regardless of the potential gossip.
"'lo, you two. Rosmerta told me you were over here."
"Hello, Hagrid," Hermione said, getting up and placing a small kiss on Hagrid's cheek. "Happy Christmas."
Hagrid blushed slightly, pulling a chair up. "Happy Christmas to you, too."
"Hi, Hagrid."
"Harry. Have a good Christmas?"
Harry looked quickly at Hermione, who was taking a sip of her ale and replied, "My best so far," causing Hermione to blush slightly.
Looking back at Hagrid, Harry noticed a small smile buried underneath the mass of hair covering his face, Hagrid's eyes moving suspiciously between the two of them. Harry grinned and rubbed Hermione's shoulder with the hand draped across the back of her chair. Comprehension dawned on Hagrid and he cleared his throat.
"Have you had dinner, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.
"I just ate, thanks," Hagrid replied. "I just stopped in for a tankard and some company."
"We are glad you did," Harry said.
Rosmerta returned with their food, placing a steaming bowl of soup in front of Hermione and an enormous portion of Steak and Ale Pie in front of Harry. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, before picking up his fork and tucking in.
"You hungry?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raised.
"Starving."
They ate and chatted with Hagrid about Ginny and Neville's wedding, telling him all about Neville's present to Molly, Harry recruiting Hagrid to permanently de-gnome Molly's garden. They were laughing at a story Harry was telling about his housemates in San Diego when Rosmerta returned, a disgusted look on her face.
"Rita Skeeter just walked in," she said without preamble.
The smiles evaporated from the table, replaced with looks ranging from exasperation, anger and irritation.
"I guess someone told her you were here. Together." She looked around the tree.
Harry wiped his hands on his napkin and threw it on his plate, leaning back in his chair. Hermione sighed and folded her, placing it next to her now empty bowl.
Rosmerta continued, "Do you want to leave out the back door? Hagrid and I can distract her to give you time."
Elation at being with Hermione had consumed Harry entirely; he hadn't given a moment's pause to consider what they would do when something like this happened, although he knew subconsciously that it would happen. In truth, he hadn't expected it to happen so soon.
He leaned close to Hermione and said in a low voice. "What do you want to do?"
"I don't care, Harry. You know people are going to find out eventually."
"It isn't people finding out that bothers me. It is Rita Skeeter being the person to tell them. She will distort everything."
"I can't argue with that." Hermione looked thoughtfully at Hagrid. "Hagrid, would you mind leaving with us?"
"No, not at all."
"We'll walk out the front door with Hagrid. There is no story in three friends having ale together. Rosmerta, can you keep Rita occupied until we get home so she can't follow us?"
"I'm sure I can think of something," Rosmerta replied a wicked gleam in her eye.
Hermione turned to Harry, who had been watching her with a smile on his face. "Is that okay?"
He kissed her temple and whispered in her ear. "You are amazing. Let's go home."
Hermione hesitated before replying with a smile. "Right. Let's go home."
They rose from the table and walked toward the door, Hermione in the lead, with Hagrid and Harry behind.
"Well, well, well," Rita said in a sickly sweet voice. "Look who we have here."
"Hello, Rita. Fancy seeing you buzzing around here," she said, brushing past her.
Harry saw Rita's smirk turn to a scowl as her glare followed Hermione out the door. Hagrid stopped suddenly and turned toward the bar.
"I almost walked out with my tankard," he said, reaching across Rita to place it on the counter, purposely spilling the contents down the front of Rita's robes.
"Ah, sorry about that," Harry heard Hagrid say as he continued out the door. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Rita pulling her wet robes away from her body, fanning them in a futile attempt to dry them. The last thing Harry saw before the door closed behind him was Rita grabbing her wand, shrieking insults at Hagrid.
Harry grabbed Hermione's hand. "Come on," he said, smiling and pulling her down the street.
"What happened?" Hermione asked, running to keep up with him.
"Hagrid spilled an almost full tankard of ale on her. She was pulling her wand out when we left, whether to dry her robes or hex Hagrid, I'm not sure. Here, down this way." Harry guided Hermione into an alley and pulled out his wand. He tapped her head, and saw her slowly disappear from view, before performing the charm on himself.
"Why didn't we think of a Disillusionment Charm inside?" he heard Hermione's voice ask.
"No idea." Harry looked around. The combination of the darkened alley and the blending effect of the Disillusionment Charm made them seem entirely invisible. "Where are you?"
"Right here. Where are you?"
"I think I'm in front of you. Shhh, I hear someone coming."
Rita walked to the mouth of the alley and stopped. She glanced up and down the street, and back down the alley, clearly frustrated, before returning to the pub. Harry walked to the street and peeked around the corner, confirming that Rita had indeed entered the bar. The only person he saw was Hagrid's massive retreating back.
"Coast is clear." He turned around and felt Hermione run into him.
"There you are."
"Here I am," he replied, wrapping his arms around what felt like her waist. "This might be kind of fun, he said playfully, dipping his head down and bonking his nose on her forehead. "Or not," he laughed. He patted his hand up her arm and to the top of her head, and tapped his wand, and repeated the charm for himself.
"Let's go home."
Harry kicked the front door closed with his foot, his arms wrapped around Hermione, his lips kissing her neck. He walked her slowly back towards the hallway leading to the bedroom. "What side of the bed do you sleep on?" he asked, between kisses.
"I don't think I have a side. My bed is a single. What about you?"
"I sleep wherever I land."
Harry cut off Hermione's response with a seductive kiss. "I'm so glad you are here. I can't wait to wake up with you in my arms tomorrow morning." He leaned down and stopped, his lips a hair's breadth away from hers. "Uh-oh."
"What?"
Putting his hands out in front he said, "Wait right here. I'll be right back." He walked down the hallway and Hermione heard the door to his room open, followed by a mild oath.
"What's wrong?" she called.
"Nothing, nothing at all. Be there in a minute!" Harry called with false enthusiasm.
Puzzled, Hermione quietly followed Harry to his room. She stifled a laugh at the scene she saw as she peeked around the door. Harry, wand out, was frantically trying to clean the mess that was his room. At least a week's worth of clothes were strewn on the floor. Three of the five drawers in his dresser were partly open with clothes hanging out in various degrees. His bed sheets were a tangled mess and chances are, she reasoned from the state of his room, not very clean. Harry who either didn't know any household cleaning charms or was woefully out of practice using them, had resorted to cleaning the Muggle way, grabbing as much as he could in his arms and throwing it in the tiny closet. It really was a funny sight. With her hand over her mouth in amusement she walked into the bathroom before calling out, "I'm just going to brush my teeth."
"Okay, I'll be there in a minute!"
Hermione shook her head and smiled, rummaging in her bag for her toothbrush. She pulled out her pajamas, before deciding that she probably wouldn't need them and tossing them to the side, continuing her search for her toothbrush. Finally found, she stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror, thinking back on the night.
"I guess we never made it back to the bedroom. Hmm," she said to herself in the mirror, allowing a smirk of satisfaction to cross her features.
"What are you smiling about?" Harry said, reaching over and opening the medicine cabinet.
"Nothing. What were you doing in there?"
"Just tidying up a bit. Hey, look," he said, holding his toothbrush next to hers. "Same toothbrush."
"And toothpaste," Hermione said, waving hers for him to see.
"That confirms it. We are made for each other."
"I guess so," Hermione replied, squirting toothpaste on each of their brushes.
"So, have any brushing tips for me, daughter of two dentists?"
"You should brush each tooth individually for one minute, three times a day."
Harry stopped his vigorous brushing and frowned, toothpaste oozing out the corner of his mouth. "You're kidding, right?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and began to vigorously brush her teeth.
Minutes later, Harry was tossing Hermione's bag into the corner of his room and Hermione was marveling at the cleanliness. He had done wonders for the room, but she knew without a doubt that if she were to open the closet door she would be buried beneath an avalanche of clothes.
"Well," Harry started, clapping his hands together, looking around the room awkwardly. "Want to put on your pajamas?"
"Do I need to?"
Harry smiled and relaxed a bit. "I hope not."
"What's wrong? You seem a bit nervous."
"I don't know. I guess it just seems a bit more… official, you know, in a bed."
"Appropriate, though since we just had our first date, don't you think?"
"We are making progress."
Hermione stepped close to him and raised his jumper over his head, stroking her hands down his chest. "I have to admit," she whispered, kissing his chest. "I felt a bit like we were in the common room, any second away from getting caught."
"Another one of my fantasies," he replied, starting to unbutton her top. "Hermione, can I ask a favor?"
"What?"
"Will you stop wearing shirts with such small buttons?"
Hermione laughed as she reached down and lifted the shirt over her head, buttons still securely fastened.
"Now, why didn't I think of that?" he asked, removing her bra.
"Not seeing the forest for the trees, I think."
"Or, the buttons for the breasts?" he asked, kneading her breasts with his hands.
"Something like that."
He leaned down and gently kissed her. "Have I told you how happy you make me?"
"Show me."