Chapter 4: Tuesday
The morning broke, yet Harry and Hermione still slept. Their inert bodies shifted during the night, bothering the bed sheets. Harry's pillow found its way to Hermione's feet; the comforter became a crumpled pile under Harry's head; and the sheets gathered round Hermione's body, which was still wrapped in just a bikini. Yet her head remained on Harry's chest and his arm held faithfully to her shoulder. It wasn't until noon that the two finally woke.
Fully rested, Harry was stirred from his sleep by a warm weight on his chest. Opening his eyes slowly, he saw Hermione's matted brown hair laid out under his neck and her deep peach-colored body resting comfortably alongside his. His heart caught in his throat. Harry was torn between wanting to get up before Hermione woke to avoid an awkward situation, and relaxing, enjoying the touch of Hermione's warm body against his. He had never held anyone so close before. It excited within him an intense desire to protect her, to save her from the world, to kiss her. A flood of more thoughts followed quickly and Harry began feeling dizzy, like when he would fly too high on his broomstick.
Mentally shaking away the tendrils of such thoughts from his mind, Harry nervously and slowly tried to ease his arm out from under Hermione's bare shoulders. It did no good, for with the slightest movement Hermione's eyelids fluttered open, and soon a look of confusion found its way to her face. Puzzled, she looked up and her eyes widened as she looked into Harry's face. Her cheeks turned red and Harry, transfixed, knew that she realized they were both still in his bed.
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, getting up quickly and folding her arms across her chest. She cleared her throat and said "I'm sorry" again, this time more controlled.
Harry got up after her as she walked down the hall to the bathroom. "No wait," he called. "Hermione, it's okay." He reached her and they stopped. Feeling more comfortable, he placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. "It's okay. We were both tired and you were upset. You worried me."
Hermione looked sadly into Harry's eyes. What was she thinking?
"Hermione," Harry said, but paused, trying to decide what to say and how to say it. "I care about you, and it hurts me when you're hurt," Harry stumbled through the words, hoping they sounded platonic enough. "I want you to know that I'm here for you. That it's okay to cry and to be upset around me." Hermione's eyes still looked sad, but a hint of a smile worked through the corners of her lips. "It's okay."
With a sigh and a more prominent smile, Hermione leaned forward and hugged Harry. As they pulled away she kissed him on the cheek and said, "Thank you." Harry's cheeks flushed with color.
Hermione turned and, stepping lighter, made her way to her parent's bathroom, no doubt to change. Harry stood in the hall with the specter of Hermione's lips still clinging to his cheek. Feeling giddy and lighter himself, he went into the hall bathroom to take a shower while still entertaining thoughts of magically healing Hermione's grandfather. It was doubtful. After all, magic couldn't fix everything--why else would wizards still walk around missing a leg or a finger, or die from very common ailments like heart attacks?--but still it nagged him. At the very least, it was worth hoping.
After showering, Harry put on his boxers and jeans, and opened the bathroom door to air out the residual steam as he prepared to shave. It had been a few days and he was getting scruffy. He took the bottle of shaving cream from his toiletry kit and sprayed a good-sized dollop of the white fluff into his hand. As he finished lathering up his jaw, Hermione shocked him by coming around the corner with a smile. She was fully dressed now, wearing a tight pair of blue jeans and a maroon halter top. Harry was beginning to realize that no matter what Hermione wore, she looked good. The sight of her was beginning to make his heart ache.
"You're shaving!" Hermione said, a giggle flitting around the back of her throat. She certainly had her spirits back. In an ocean of dark tidings, there were still small moments of happiness that stayed afloat.
"Um, yeah," Harry replied, still startled and a little embarrassed. "I need to. How are you feeling?" He felt weird talking to Hermione with a white beard of shaving cream on his face and neck.
"Much better, thank you. Can I watch?" Hermione rang with glee. "In elementary school I got up early enough to see Daddy do it and it always just amazed me."
"Um, okay, sure," Harry said with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Even though he was just missing a shirt--and wore even less when they swam--, he felt like he was exposed for some reason, the way he would probably feel if his swimming trunks accidentally came off while jumping in the pool. He discarded the anxiety though, and was simply glad that Hermione was feeling better.
"You're certainly brighter," he said with a smile.
"Yeah, while you were in the shower my parents called. They say Grandpa is actually doing better. Can you believe it?" Relief lingered in her throat.
"Wow!" Harry couldn't believe it. "That's fantastic!" How did that happen? He didn't even send an owl out to Dumbledore in desperation. Whatever good fortune it was, Harry just hoped it would last.
"Yeah, I said the same thing," Hermione continued. "The doctors still don't want to get our hopes up, though."
Harry wished he could hug her again, if only his face wasn't covered in cream.
"No come on, shave!" Hermione ordered, laughing.
Feeling suddenly flirtatious, Harry replied with, "Okay, but I get to watch you shave next."
"Ew, no!" Hermione cried, suppressing a smile. "I keep my hairy legs to myself. Besides, I can only do that in the shower."
At that Harry turned his head, looked Hermione straight in the eyes, and grinned. Hermione's eyes widened and pinkness crept into her ears.
"Uh, and any . . ." she stammered. "I--I already shaved."
"Aww," Harry said in exaggerated disappointment as he picked up his razor. Seeing Hermione's reflection in the mirror, she was still blushing. Maybe he went too far with that? He kept a calm demeanor while going through the motions with his razor, deftly gliding the blade down his jaw, around his cheeks, and along his neck. Hermione hung in the doorway all the while.
After Harry finished shaving, he cleaned off his jaw with water, showing a nice smooth face. Hermione came up to him and without warning placed her hand on his cheek, rubbing it softy.
"Good job," she said, but she didn't pull her hand away. Instead she slid it down Harry's jaw line and neck, fingering gently at Harry's throat. That light-headed feeling struck Harry again and his knees felt weak; he started to sway. He looked into Hermione's brown eyes, eyes that he'd never really looked into before, not like he did now. She returned the gaze, looking just as focused, just as entranced.
Harry lost his balance and fell backwards, but caught himself on the bathroom sink in time. It was enough to bring them both out of their daze, though. Hermione started clearing her throat as she helped Harry straighten.
"Good job," Hermione said again, fumbling. "S--so, what do you want to do today?" She put on a smile too wide to be naturally.
"Um," Harry decided to glance at the floor. "We can continue reading our new school books." Did he just suggest that? What was wrong with him!
"Oh that's right!" Hermione said with renewed vigor. "I think they're all still spread out on my bed." Harry wondered if his subconscious was starting to sneak out. Though, he admitted to himself that this felt like more than just indiscriminate attraction.
With more on his mind than just studying--no matter how hard he tried to ignore it--Harry followed Hermione through the hall and into her bedroom. Keeping knees on the carpet and heads propped over wizarding books and manuals on the bed, the two read. Harry couldn't help but throw a few furtive glances at Hermione now and then. Hermione did the same, and when their eyes would meet, they would turn away blushing.
Taking liberal breaks in-between studying to eat, watch TV, and even have a tickle fight that end awkwardly, Harry and Hermione passed the time. The two were getting somewhat used to being alone in the house most of the day, having a summer long to practice, but when the evening came it grew uncomfortable again.
They occupied themselves with making dinner. Harry put some green beans in a pan on the stove with a healthy blot of butter while he helped Hermione thaw and season a couple of steaks. Hermione was impressed with Harry's cooking skills.
"It's nothing," Harry said, after smiling at Hermione's praise. "When I lived with my aunt and uncle, they had me do quite a bit of cooking. It made me sort of a perfectionist really. If I did the slightest thing wrong, 'whap!'"
Getting out clean plates and silverware, Harry fixed two plates of food and set them on the dining room table. The two made glasses of water for themselves, and as an added gesture Harry pulled out Hermione's chair for her to sit in.
"Quite the gentleman!" She said, laughing.
Amid talks about the school books, both agreed to actually get out of the house tomorrow and go out on the town. They'd go to the cinema, or the video store, even the mall, wherever they felt like. Harry felt content, realizing that he was enjoying Hermione's company more and more, and thankful that they would return to Hogwarts together.
When they finished their meal, they cleaned their plates and headed back to Hermione's room to continue their readings. Sprawled out on the bed, books surrounding their bodies and stacked in front of their eyes, Harry and Hermione read into the night. They read to each other until their voices became sore, until their eyelids grew heavy and stiff, until their heads nodded lower and finally rested on the piles of books beneath them. With the light still on and the sheets turned up, the two feel asleep, dog-eared pages mingling with long brown hair mingling with wild black hair.