Yeah, it's Chapter 8-only three months after I finished Ch. 7. I hope you all like this chapter. It starts to answer some of the questions that I'm sure some of you have been asking while reading the previous chapters. Enjoy.
********
Harry woke up the next morning lying on his side with his arm around Hermione's waist. She was still asleep as far as he could tell and didn't want to wake her. He started to move away from her and get up from bed when he heard her mumbling.
"Don't go," she said, and he stopped mid-step before walking over to her side of the bed and sitting down next to her. She smiled sleepily and entwined their fingers. "I sure hope you were planning on coming back from wherever it was you were going."
He looked back at her with a regretful smile. "Sorry Mione, I didn't mean to wake you up, but I have some work to do. The grass needs to be cut, and if I don't start now, I'll be doing it all day." Hermione began to speak, but Harry guessed what she was about to say and cut her off. "Yes, I could use magic, but I like doing this the Muggle way. I won't tell the Dursleys, but I actually enjoy doing yard work. It always felt good to be outside after being locked up in your room."
Hermione sat up and smiled as she laid a hand on Harry's cheek. "Do the Chocolate Frog people know this? They've been hounding Ron and I for tid-bits to put on your card. I can see it now: '…learned love of yard work from Muggle aunt and uncle, who worked his bleeding arse off for seventeen years.'" Harry smiled brightly and kissed Hermione, catching her off guard. She quickly reciprocated, and when they broke away a few minutes later, she stared up at him, breathless. "What…was that for?"
"Because I don't think I've ever heard you swear like that before, and I suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to kiss you. I do believe I'm having a bad influence on you."
"I think the library downstairs makes us even. Now you'd better get out of here before I change my mind about letting you go."
"Yes, dear," Harry said mockingly as he kissed her quickly and walked out the door.
Hermione watched him leave, wondering how much longer she could handle taking it slow.
*************
An hour later Hermione was dressed and peeking out the door to the backyard. She watched as he finished cutting the grass and proceeded to take off his shirt and wipe his face with it before slinging it over his shoulder and getting down on his knees to pull weeds near the back of the house.
Hermione also couldn't help but marvel at the fact that Harry was doing these chores voluntarily, especially since his aunt and uncle had forced him to do them for so many years. Harry didn't speak of them often, but he made it count when he did. The comments were always quick and to the point, and made her afraid to have him elaborate in fear of what might transpire.
It was actually smart of Harry to play Muggle from time to time. Godric's Hollow did have residents that belonged to the wizarding world, but it was still mostly Muggle. The back yard was fenced in, but sometimes neighbors can be nosy, and that was the last thing Harry needed in his life. He came here to escape and live a quiet life; nosy neighbors wondering how he got the grass to look perfect weren't in the plans.
She stood and watched him for minutes, unable to take her eyes away. True, this wasn't the first time she had seen him without his shirt, but this was the first time he was unaware of her presence and she was able to enjoy the view without him playing shy. It was these moments when Hermione waited for her eyes to open as if she were dreaming. The sweaty man pulling weeds was her Harry, and she never thought she would find the act of yard work more sexy and appealing than she did at this very moment.
It was still hard for her to think of Harry in that way…sexy. He had been her best friend for five years before she fell in love with the person he'd become, and now she was falling in love with the rest of him. She was surprised at the direction her mind was taking, but decided it was only natural to be having these feelings. She wanted him, plain and simple.
Hermione got an idea and walked back into the kitchen. She searched the cupboards for a moment until she found a couple of glasses, and then proceeded to magically fill them with icy lemonade. She took the glasses outside, set one on the table and walked over toward Harry, whose back was to her and had been oblivious to her presence the whole time.
Harry jumped when Hermione came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. He grinned when he saw her, and looked up at the glass in her hand. "Is that for me?"
Hermione smiled back at him as she sat down beside him on the ground. "It depends on how much you think you need it. I'm personally very thirsty and could drink the whole glass myself."
"You wouldn't dare."
"I wouldn't?"
"Not if you know what's good for you." He was smiling back at her devilishly, and his fingers were slowly tracing circles on her leg. The action was distracting to Hermione, whose breathing had started to become more labored, and what was it they were talking about? All her attention was focused on Harry and the way he was looking at her; it was a look that could make her care less about the sweaty glass of magically conjured lemonade she was still holding in her hand.
"You're good for me," was all she could get out before Harry leaned in and kissed her. Her arms would have immediately gone around his neck, but that damned glass of lemonade was preventing it. She quickly set it down next to them and gave Harry her full attention. Hermione leaned back onto the grass with Harry following her, all while never breaking the kiss that had become very deep and full of desire.
Harry pulled away when the need for air had become desperate. It was only then that he noticed how close together they were. He was leaning over her, his arms holding him up, and their legs were tangled together. Hermione was staring up at him, her hands still wandering over his chest and stomach.
"What's wrong, Harry?" She was still running her hands along his chest and occasionally up and down his back; he really wished she would stop so he could think straight.
"I…" He stopped because he didn't know what to say. He had started to say 'I need a shower,' but then changed to "I think we should stop." He sat up and looked away, afraid of what he would see if he looked in her eyes.
Hermione was beside herself. Her mind and heart were finally in agreement, and now she was having a hard time convincing Harry to just let it happen. She was staring at him, trying to get him to look at her and tell her what was wrong. When that didn't work, she reached out and took his hand in hers; he looked at her instantly and her heart skipped a beat at the look on his face. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
"I promised you that we could take this slow, and I wasn't exactly following through with my promise just then." He was still having a hard time looking her in the eye, so Hermione moved over in front of him so he had no choice but to look at her.
"Harry, don't get mad at me for asking this, but who exactly did you promise?"
He gave her a questioning look. "Well, I promised you."
"Did I ask you to promise me?"
"No, but…I," he started. Hermione had put her index finger on his lips to silence him. She had moved closer to him as they talked, and her face was now just inches from his.
"What are you afraid of, Harry?"
He immediately looked down to avoid her gaze, but she pulled his face back up and waited for his answer. "Everything. I'm afraid of losing you, of not being there when you need me, of not having the kind of life I've always dreamed of having with you. But most of all, more than anything, I'm afraid of how much I love you."
They stared at each other for a few long moments, trying to read the other's thoughts. Hermione made the first move, her hands moving to lightly cup his face as she kissed him slowly. When she pulled back, a single tear was falling down her face, but she had a wide smile. "Make me a deal?" she asked. Harry nodded. "No more worrying about the future. Neither one of us can predict what will happen, so it doesn't do any good. And when it comes to taking the next step, we'll both know when the moment's right. So can you promise me that you'll stop worrying and trust that I love you just as much as you love me?"
Harry smiled. "I think I can do that."
"Good, now go inside and take a shower. I'll fix lunch."
Harry kissed her full on the lips once again before standing up and walking to the door. On the way he picked up the extra glass of lemonade Hermione left for him earlier.
******************
Harry came into the kitchen twenty minutes later after his shower. As he stood in the doorway and watched Hermione prepare lunch with her back to him, he couldn't help but smile. She was right, as usual. She had managed to change his state of mind drastically in the few days she had been there with him, and now he couldn't help but wonder if he'd made the wrong decision to cut her out of his life for a year. No, it was the wrong thing to do. He knew that now.
He continued to stand there and watch her, and for a moment he saw a glimpse of the smile on her face when she turned slightly. It gave his heart a jolt to think that he was even partly responsible for that happiness. He could look at her smile constantly; it spread from ear to ear and lit up her face, making her more beautiful.
Hermione suddenly turned around and saw him standing there. If possible, her smile brightened even more as she walked over to him. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to realize how beautiful your smile is," he replied as smiled back at her and took her in his arms. Hermione immediately rose up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss.
"You put it there, you know." She lifted her hand and gently brushed it through his hair before running her finger along his jaw line and resting it on his lips. "I wouldn't mind seeing yours more often."
"You're in luck, then. I think this smile is plastered to my face right now." Harry looked over and saw the lunch Hermione had prepared for the two of them. He had been expecting a sandwich and a cold glass of pumpkin juice. Instead there was an immaculate looking meal. He looked at her in surprise. "Wow, Hermione. I didn't expect this. It looks great."
Hermione took his hand and walked him over to the table. "I thought it would be good to have a nice meal and talk."
Harry gave her a questioning look. "What do you want to talk about? Is something the matter?"
Hermione remained quiet for a moment while they got settled at the table and started eating. After taking a drink of pumpkin juice, she got his attention. "I wouldn't say anything is the matter, Harry. I just have a few questions about us." Harry had a look that said he didn't quite understand what she meant, so she continued. "This week has been better than I ever could have imagined. Last week I was so worried about what your state of mind would be and how awkward it would be for us after how we left things between us. After I went for so long without hearing from you, I almost had myself convinced that it was all some kind of twisted dream and that the next time I saw you we would be best friends again. But then every day I woke up and the pain that you were gone was so real, and the memory of us kissing was so real. I was afraid my forwardness scared you away." She gave a heavy sigh, happy to finally have voiced her thoughts to Harry.
"Your forwardness?" His eyes were wide, but had a twinkle in them. "I wouldn't say you scared me away. If anything, you were doing your best to keep me from going. And believe me, Mione, you almost succeeded."
Hermione, who had been playing with her food while he spoke, looked up immediately. "I did?" She was stunned he said that, even after all the moments they had shared over the last couple of days proved just how much he loved her.
"You did." It was a simple statement, but one that Harry delivered with sincerity as he stared at her.
Harry was happy that they were still able to talk openly to each other after everything that had happened. He sensed she was questioning herself and if Harry could ever really see her as more than a best friend. After staring at each other silently for a few minutes, he moved over from the end of the table to sit next to her. He turned her so she was facing him and took her hands in his. She looked about ready to cry. "Hermione, believe me when I say that I love you more than anything in this world. Your mere presence makes my heart beat faster than when I'm diving head first to the ground on my Firebolt. You'll always be my best friend, but I want you to be so much more." He paused for a moment to let the information sink in. "Can I tell you something?" Hermione nodded.
"I've never told anyone the real story about this. The only other person who knew promised not to say anything. Do you remember the night Ginny and I broke up in fifth year?" Hermione nodded once again. "Well, we didn't exactly lie when we said that it was mutual, but there was more behind it. That night Ginny and I had gone up to the Astronomy Tower, and I'm sure you can guess what we were doing. Well, to make a long story short, I forgot where I was and whom I was with and said your name while kissing her. That was the end of it, right then and there. We modified the reasons for our break-up to spare Ginny the embarrassment."
Hermione was staring at him in shock. She vaguely remembered the discussion she had with Ginny about her and Harry's break-up. It all made perfect sense now. "I can't believe you did that, Harry." She was trying hard not to laugh. On one hand it had been embarrassing for Ginny; however, she was also amazed that Harry was capable of such a thing. When it became too much for her, she broke into a fit of giggles.
He sat and stared at her for a few moments, content to let her have her fun, but also because he loved to see her like this. He finally got her attention, trying his best to look serious. "I didn't exactly intend for you to react that way."
Hermione sobered. "I'm sorry, Harry. It really isn't funny. It's just…"
"That I was thinking of you even when I wasn't with you," Harry finished. He knew that wasn't what she was going to say, but he wanted to make sure he got his point across. He sat and stared at her for a moment, her eyes staring right back. When Harry spoke again, they were sitting much closer than they started. "It's always been you, Hermione. I don't know why I tried to convince myself otherwise."
"Harry…" she started. A tear began to run down her cheek, and his thumb moved up to brush it away. She looked at him longingly, realizing that she would be completely happy to stay here forever. It seemed like her to be the natural thing to do-just looking into his eyes, knowing that he loved her as much as she loved him. Out of nowhere, a thought occurred to her. "Harry?"
"Yes, love?"
She got up and sat in his lap, marveling at how she could have been apprehensive to do such a thing a few days ago. "I don't want this to end."
His eyes got wide and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist. "What do you mean, Mione? This doesn't have to end." He was getting worried that he wasn't getting through to her, but then she smiled and leisurely ran her hand through his hair before leaning her head against his. He could get used to her doing that.
"What I meant is that in a few days I have to go back to London and the Ministry. I've gotten used to spending all this time with you and I love it. I don't want it to end. I'm afraid of going through Harry withdrawal." She paused at the smile that spread across his face before continuing. "I guess I'm curious about where we go from here. The last thing I want is for us to drift apart when we've just found each other."
"I wouldn't worry about that; I simply won't let it happen. You should go back to London and work, and you can come here on the weekends."
Hermione sat up in his embrace and studied him. "What about you, Harry? I hate to think of you sitting in this big house alone most of the time."
Harry brushed some loose hair behind her ear and kissed her gently. "Again, don't worry about it. I think it's time I decide what to do with my life. I just don't know how I'm going to find something I'm good at that isn't life threatening. I've had enough of that kind of life. And I don't know that I'd want to play Quidditch either. You know how much I love it, but I also know how the media treats them. For once in my life I want to be normal."
"Maybe you should talk to Professor Dumbledore and ask his advice. I know how close the two of you have always been, and I'm sure he'd have some suggestions for you. Not to mention he would be happy to see you."
Harry smiled back at her. "Good idea, Mione. I'll send him a letter and try to meet with him sometime next week if he's not too busy getting ready for the new term."
For a long while they sat silently, their meal forgotten. They were too caught up in each other to care. Hermione was still seated on his lap in one of the kitchen chairs, and they were leisurely kissing each other breathless. It was Hermione who finally spoke between kisses. "Are we…going to…stay here all day? Or do you…have something else…planned?"
"You don't think this is a great plan?"
"Nonsense, Harry. You know what I meant."
"Well, since you're objecting to spending the rest of the day here, then I'm sure I could find a way to pass the time. Do I dare ask how you feel about putting away books in the library?"
Hermione began to laugh when he said this. Harry looked back at her incredulously. "Oh come on, Harry. I find it very laughable that you of all people have a library in your house. I thought for sure you would be first in line after Ron to toss your books into the lake after exams. You can imagine my surprise that you didn't only keep them but made a room for them."
"I didn't get the chance to put them in the lake. I had Professor Dumbledore put my belongings in my vault at Gringotts until I got back. I'm glad I kept them, though. They could come in handy someday."
Hermione stood up and took his hand as she began to lead him out of the kitchen and into the library. "So why don't you show me all these books that have to be put away. Last I looked the shelves looked almost full." They were full, but Hermione noticed that about seven or eight boxes still lay in various places around the room. She began to wonder why Harry hadn't used magic to put them all away; it would have only taken seconds. "You do remember that you're a wizard, don't you Harry? I could easily have this done in a minute," she said as she whipped out her wand and the words of the proper spell began to escape her lips. Harry grabbed her wand though, and she stood and looked at him unbelievingly.
"Now where would the fun be in that?" He walked her over to the sofa and sat down at looked at her, a serious look on his face. "When I first moved in, and was preparing for you and Ron to come, the Muggle way of doing things probably kept me sane more than anything. It wasn't only that it kept my mind busy, but also that I was reminded of all the good times we had together as I put things away. It gave me faith that we good be happy again, like when we were younger. Only in a different way."
"Different in a good way, of course," she said, running her fingers through her hair. She suddenly realized how much she loved to do it, and how much he enjoyed the gesture.
"Of course." He teased her with another kiss before standing up, making her moan with disappointment. "Why don't you get started with these books and I'll go clean up the kitchen? Remember what I said though…no magic," he instructed as he walked out the room pointing his finger at her and smiling.
When he left Hermione stood from the sofa and went to the first pile of boxes that sat in one corner. She couldn't help but think about what Harry said as she pulled out books from their first year at Hogwarts. The visions flew through her head, especially the one of eleven-year-old Harry, his broken glasses, and second-hand clothing. The Harry that lived in her memories got older as the books found their way to the shelves, and she paused as she came upon their Defense book from fifth year. It was a particularly rough year for all of them, but also served to make her conscious of how deep her feelings ran for Harry.
When she opened the box on the bottom of the pile, she expected the contents to follow the natural progression this job had taken on. Instead, she found a book she had seen the cover of many times but never the contents. It was the photo album Hagrid had given Harry at the end of their first year, and the other books in the box also looked as if they were albums or journals of some kind. She pulled out the familiar album and once again walked over to the sofa to have a look.
The first picture made her smile. His parents, who were happy and seemingly carefree, were holding Harry. As she watched Harry's parents wave back at her in a continuous loop, she couldn't help wonder how much they knew about their son's destiny. They must have known, she thought, or they wouldn't have been in hiding trying to protect him.
She sat there staring at the picture for what seemed like forever before turning the page. She flipped mindlessly through the many pictures of her, Ron, and Harry together at Hogwarts before the last picture made her breathe catch in her throat. She remembered the picture immediately. It was their seventh year at Hogwarts, and they were outside having a snowball fight just after returning from the Christmas holidays. She had a pile of snow in her hand ready to fling it at him, but he had grabbed her and wrestled with her until the snow ended up in her hair. She sat there remembering that exact moment, but the picture revealed to her something that escaped her until now. Looking at the Harry in the picture, she saw an unmistakable look of love in his eyes. At the time, she thought he was just being an insufferable git.
********
After Harry finished cleaning the kitchen, he returned to the library to help Hermione put away the books. What he wasn't prepared for was her sleeping peacefully on the sofa with his photo album open in her lap.
He quietly walked over to where she was laying and peeked at the picture the book was open to. The snowball fight-it was his favorite picture. He sat down on the floor next to the sofa, and watched Hermione sleep while recalling that day in the snow. He wanted to kiss her so bad that day. In fact, he almost did…a couple of times. Looking at her and then the album, his heart twitched at the thought that this picture of them made her feel content enough to fall asleep looking at it.
Harry suddenly had a thought. He summoned his quill from the desk and gently removed the album from her lap. Underneath the picture, he repeated something he had said to her earlier. It's always been you, Mione…always. Love, Harry. He then set the album gently on her lap and kissed her forehead, not wanting to wake her. She was too peaceful and too beautiful.