Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 8: Saturday

"Sweetie, we're home!" Harry heard the strong, deep voice of Hermione's father. "Honey?"

"Hermione, are you awake dear?" her mother chimed in.

Harry had just enough time to register that he was lying next to Hermione in her bed, both naked and barely covered by the disarray of her bed sheets, when panic filled him. He jolted out of bed, startling Hermione awake. Standing naked he scanned the floor for his clothes. He found them cluttered along the edge of the carpet amid the crash of books and trinkets still dashed against the wall from the mysterious burst they must have emitted the day before. Already the sound of shoes clopping down the hallway could be heard and Hermione scrambled for her own discarded garments. Neither of them had time to put on anything before a tall figure loomed in the doorway. Hermione's father looked at the rawness of what stood before him.

Her mother followed quickly on his heals and let out a scream of shock and no doubt dismay when she registered the scene. "Oh My Gooooood!"

Harry didn't shoot up in bed, but his eyes split open and his heart was racing. He was beginning to really hate dreams like that. He was lying in bed with Hermione still asleep and wrapped around his right side. She was breathing steadily, softly. They were both still naked and barely covered by the disarray of her bed sheets. The room was dark but sunlight filtered in through Hermione's window blinds. Goodness knows how many hours they slept. They must have finally passed out from the exhaustion of constant, wonderful sex sometime in the middle of yesterday. Somehow, Harry was pretty sure it was Saturday now, sometime in the morning, and he moved his body gently to search out Hermione's alarm clock. He spotted it still overturned on Hermione's nightstand and crammed against the wall corner with her lamp and some framed photographs, all gathered and bunched together. Trying not to wake her, Harry slowly rose and stretched to reach it. When he did, and saw that it was indeed a little after seven in the morning--they must have slept something like sixteen hours!--, Hermione began to stir. It wasn't long before her eyelids parted and fluttered open, showing the beautiful liquid crystal consciousness of her eyes beneath.

A smile spread on her cheeks, now pale from sleep, "Morning, sexy."

The way she said it made Harry grin, and made his heart skip a little. It was so adult, so familiar now. They were so comfortable with each other in a deep way Harry never fathomed was possible. He leaned down to kiss her quickly but with care and feeling, and absently stroked her shoulder and stray tresses of her hair.

He pulled back, smiling openly to her, "Morning yourself, beautiful. Cor, I'm thirsty!"

"Me too!" Hermione nodded sleepily then yawned. "We had quite a work out yesterday!"

Harry kissed her again, he couldn't stop doing it! "Care for a repeat performance? Once we drink a gallon of water first, of course."

Hermione grinned devilishly and a deep, throaty laugh escaped her throat. But before she could answer, the sound of a car engine was rising up the street and came to a quick humming stall most definitely in the Granger driveway. The two looked at each other wide-eyed. If Harry's dream was a possible premonition, it was a thankful one. They burst off from the bed and gathered their respective garments before Harry ran naked out of Hermione's room.

Hermione followed shortly after. "I'll run into their bathroom, you run into the hall bathroom! Start the shower and everything will look normal! I hope."

Harry nodded wordlessly, and as he made it into the hall bathroom he heard the clanky key-in-lock sound and closed and locked the bathroom door. He turned the shower on just as he heard the front door open. Thankfully, he was now hidden by the timeless anonymity and privacy of the loud shower spray. Harry relaxed and placed his clothes on the laundry basket by the toilet before stepping into the shower and cleaning himself in earnest. While he washed his body, Harry went through the previous day and checked off any possible signs of suggestion they may have left behind in the house and was pretty sure they took care and cleaned up after themselves. He reminisced pleasantly at their frantic day-long lovemaking, remembering every detail to further impress it all into his mind. He entertained a moment of panic at the blasted mess in Hermione's room, but felt that they could sufficiently chalk it up to Harry's weird and spontaneous emotionally-triggered magical outbursts. In a way, that's probably what it was. He marveled over the previous day and got lost again in the pleasant and unique memories of the excitement they felt when they fell into each other. When he started contemplating again how he seemed to have felt Hermione when she climaxed, how he found himself in her head at those moments, Harry was pretty certain it happened to Hermione too. No doubt she fell into his head as well, the connection was just that close, and he would be sure to ask her about it when next they had a private moment.

As he was finishing up, Harry spent the last moments of his shower calming his mind. When he got out of the shower and toweled himself dry, he worked on putting on a veneer of genial humor and simple surprise. Once he was dry and dressed he did what he could with the black mess of his hair--as always--and stepped outside the still steamy bathroom.

When he walked out into the hallway and shortly through the kitchen threshold, he was greeted by three smiling faces, two adults and one Hermione. Hermione obviously finished her shower first and was dressed comfortably with her hair still wet. They all three were sitting placidly at the kitchen table, chatting idly. Harry greeted them with a genuine smile.

"Morning!" he said.

"Morning!" All three returned. When Hermione's parents were looking right at Harry, Hermione snuck a wink at him, which he wished he could have returned inconspicuously.

"Sleep well, Harry?" Mr. Granger asked cheerfully. "You two are up awfully early."

"Yes," Mrs. Granger spoke up. "We were hoping to sneak in and catch a few winks of sleep, but both of you were in the shower when we got in. Come join us. Now you kids didn't do anything you weren't supposed to do while we were gone, did you?" She grinned.

Harry and Hermione both laughed a little too loudly. "Oh, Mother, please. What kind of irresponsible teenagers do you take us for?"

Harry grabbed a seat next to Hermione, who spoke again to swiftly change the subject. "I was just telling Mum and Dad about our rather harrowing week. About Ron's safety and Voldemort. They were telling me about Grandfather's improved condition. I'm so relieved!"

"So are we, we can tell you," said Mr. Granger. "But I am concerned about all this business here. Harry how are you feeling?"

How to answer that question. The truth was infinitely more complex considering the deep personal connection he had made with Hermione over the past week, and especially the day before--the fruit of years of silent longing, Harry now realized. But he responded with the dark cloud that had been tainting his mind over most of the summer. Yet now…it was lighter. It wasn't so much that he had forgotten the bad feelings and the tightness in his chest that he was so used to by now. It seemed rather that a good amount of it had lifted. Something else was taking up its place, he didn't quite know what though, and would have to examine it further.

In the mean time. "I'm feeling alright, I suppose. It's stressful, but now that I know Ron and his family are safe, I can rest easier." And this was true.

"Voldemort is out there still," Harry continued. "But I guess…I feel brighter knowing that I don't have to face him or these feelings.....alone." He finished then glanced at Hermione. Could that have been it?

"Smart lad," Mr. Granger replied. "Yes, I imagine with Dumbledore around and the Ministry of Magic--indeed the entire Wizarding world--against Voldemort and looking for him, you're safer than you think. Especially with your return to Hogwarts and under Dumbledore's watchful eye."

"Speaking of Hogwarts," Mrs. Granger interrupted. "You two better get packing. Perhaps it is best you got up early today. We'll need to get you to the train station by this early afternoon so that you can be nice and settled back at school."

Harry and Hermione agreed silently and the conversation continued while Mrs. Granger fixed breakfast. After being stuffed with buttered muffins, Hermione left to her room to gather her things and Harry did the same in the living room. He folded up his conspicuously well-made bed and searched the house for his various accoutrements, including cleaning out the hall bathroom of his toiletries.

While Harry was finishing up, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger went back outside to unload their luggage, Hermione innocently called Harry back to her room. Everything in her room was orderly again and he saw when he walked in that any items he had left there, such as books or his wand, were set in a neat little pile by her bed.

Hermione peaked through her bedroom window blinds to make sure her parents were still outside struggling with the remaining luggage in their trunk. Satisfied that they were, she turned to give Harry a relieved smile. "That was so close!"

"Tell me about it," Harry said. "I don't think my heart has ever pounded so fast…..except for yesterday."

Hermione giggled. "You're sweet." Then she paused and stared at Harry, who returned the look. Finally she spoke. "That was wonderful, Harry. All of it."

"It was," Harry said contemplatively. Another pause. Then, "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too, Harry."

Harry reached for her hand and they sat down simultaneously on the corner of her bed. They kissed, a short and sweet message, and then sat holding hands in silence for a while until they heard the front door open and the commotion of Hermione's parents. They dropped their hands away, but it wouldn't be the last time they would sit in loving silence holding hands and kissing, not at all.

The rest of the day came with a grateful amount of normalcy and routine. Harry, Hermione, and her parents lounged and talked for a few hours, laughed and joked. The two young Hogwarts students were cool and casual around each other the whole time, fully relaxed. When the time came, everyone loaded up the car with Hogwarts luggage and piled in for the long trip to the station.

On the road, when Mr. and Mrs. Granger were consumed in the traffic and directions and chatting between themselves, in the backseat Hermione scooted closer to Harry and leaned her head on his shoulder. He looked down and saw that she closed her eyes and sighed, even though she obviously wasn't tired. Harry sighed too and felt a connection. He knew then that yes, she too fell into his mind just as he had fallen into hers at the height of their almost cosmic ecstasy. Wait, perhaps it wasn't that. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that they did in fact become one, their selves merging along with the sensation. And Harry was fine with that, happy and hopeful about it.

At one point, Mrs. Granger looked over her shoulder at the two of them to make sure they were okay in a logic that made sense only to mothers. When she saw them cuddled next to each other, Hermione's head on Harry's shoulder and his head on hers, a vague look of alarm flitted across her face. Harry looked right at her and saw her relax and the ghost of a smile replaced the temporary moment of concern. There was understanding in her eyes. Harry didn't know what kind. Could she tell? How deep is a mother's intuition? She recognized a truth in their sweet, relaxed pose though, and what's more, she accepted it. Whatever she knew, as much or as little, that little part of her that recognized something there was satisfied with it, glad for it even. At least Harry was want to speculate. A smile passed between him and Mrs. Granger and then she faced forward and returned to the traffic and quiet conversation with her husband.

She did see something. Harry felt his own intuition awaken at the knowledge. What was it? A connection. And Harry felt it too, something as old as the stardust and magic that made up his body; older still. Harry smiled, he knew what it was. It was sappy and true and greater than love, it was the deepest of human connections, and he had it now with Hermione; something that could not be lost. He would feel it constantly now. It would be there when they arrived at the train station, when they arrived at Hogwarts, when they would have to temporarily part ways--a true moment of agony it will be--to fill in their respective quarters. It would be the foundation of the young heat that would continue to grow between them as they would plan secret liaisons and hidden kisses. It would be there when they graduated. It would be there when Voldemort came. That dark cloud was not gone but it was no longer so threatening or so terrible. He felt now a power, a strong power, akin to the magic that has protected him all these years, given to him by his mother. A primal love. No matter what happened, no matter what lay ahead in the black times yet to come--and they would come--he would face them with all the confidence and strength in the world because he had Hermione, and she had him. They were one now and always would be.

And that was the most powerful thing in the world.

The End.

Author's Note: The end. Wow, that took longer than it should have. I took a year and a half to write something 39 pages long total, and which I could have started and finished during one feverish weekend. I would like to thank all of you readers, faithful and new, who have complimented and criticized this endeavor. And I'd like to infinitely apologize for taking so long to complete it, especially taking exactly 264 days (1 day shy of a complete year!) to finish this last chapter, which comes to less than five pages. In many ways this venture was very much removed from my usual lifestyle, as those of you know who have actually cared to read my boring author's notes. It was infinitely enjoyable though, and I feel greatly rewarded that I have completed it, given that I am of the type that has trouble finishing things once I start them. Anyway, this was my first Harry Potter fanfic, and quite possibly my last. I have two other story ideas, one that's short enough to possibly churn out in a good day of writing--at least a rough draft. The other, however, is a bigger idea than I have the inspiration for. But who knows; maybe Book 6 will bring it out of me. In either case, this exists and I am happy for it. I hope you have enjoyed this final chapter--as well as the story as a whole--and that the ending satisfies you as it does me. Happy Casting.

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