Time of the Month

kyc639

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 04/05/2004
Last Updated: 10/05/2004
Status: completed

Written in response to a challenge. Hermione is irritable, Ron has foot-in-mouth disease, and Harry is reluctant but ever the hero.

Chapters

1. Part I

2. Part II

3. Part III

1. Part I

A/N: I own nothing but the sarcasm in my head.

Here’s a little short piece to keep you entertained. Should be about three chapters. This was written in response to one of the ‘Hermione has her period’ challenges. Oh, and apologies for the unimaginative title. Enjoy!

That Time of the Month – Part I

“Do you mind?!”

I looked up from my plate of bacon to see Hermione glaring daggers at me. Uh oh, not a good sign. I quickly glanced around, wondering if I had accidentally put my bag on hers or inadvertently covered the book she was reading with a napkin. Nope, no such luck. I braced myself, already wincing. “Excuse me?” I said in my most polite tone.

Hermione shook her head in disgust. “God! Don’t you have any manners?! Is it possible for you to chew any louder? Perhaps I should cast a sonorous on you, would you like that? Would you? Would you?!” she asked a bit manically before poking her head behind her book. Okay, all things considered, that wasn’t so bad. I suppose that last question about the sonorous was one of those rhetorical questions; I dared not answer anyways. I looked over at Ron, who looked a bit shell-shocked, though with a look of relief that he wasn’t hit with any collateral damage from Hermione’s attack. After making sure Hermione’s attention was on the book, we both shrugged and sighed at the same time.

Mistake.

“God! What is it with you two? Sighing and whining like a bunch of little first years!” Hermione stood up abruptly and put her book away in her bag. Then she fixed us with a very scary look. “I’m going to class now, where I can find some peace and quiet!”

After watching Hermione stomp away, I looked over at Ron. “Er, what’s today’s date?”

Ron looked over at Hermione’s Daily Prophet, which she had left behind. “Ummm…uh oh. It’s the 23rd. Duck and cover?”

I nodded. “Duck and cover.” All right, there are many times when I just have to say to myself, I’m glad I’m a guy. Sure, being a girl does have advantages (like skirts in the summer while I gotta wear long pants, and, of course, multiple…well…you knows), but overall, I’m glad I’m a guy. And times like these, I’m super glad that I’m a guy. The one limitation on magic is that it can’t really have any long-lasting effect on biology or anatomy; I mean, I can’t magic myself 20/20 vision, or magic myself taller with more muscles. And, for women, it meant that they couldn’t magic away their monthly period. There were potions that would remove the discomfort, but apparently our fair-tempered Hermione had forgotten to take hers today. Or if she did, she didn’t take enough.

Fortunately, the next class was Advanced Potions, probably the first time I had every put the words ‘fortunate’ and ‘Advanced Potions’ together in one thought. Unlike Defense, Charms, and the other classes, Potions was generally spent in silence, for fear of incurring Snape’s wrath. Ron and I entered the Potions classroom, where we shoved and jostled each other, each trying to get the other to partner with Hermione. Finally, we resorted to ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors,’ which I won twice in a row.

Now, usually I would never, ever do something like this, but admit I used my legilimency ability to ‘see’ what Ron was going to choose ahead of time – desperate times call for desperate measures. It was worth it, though, because I could tell Ron was having a miserable time; apparently he couldn’t breath quietly enough or didn’t react fast enough to Hermione’s prompts. I actually found it all amusing, and for the first time regretted when the final bell rang. Ron was quite in a hurry to escape Hermione’s wrath, and in his rush, he bumped into Draco Malfoy. I sighed, knowing that it was bound to cause another row between the two.

“What did I tell you about sighing?!”

I was so startled that I must’ve jumped a few inches off of the ground. How the hell did Hermione get so close to me? Constant vigilance, Potter! “Sorry,” I mumbled, fighting the urge to roll into a little ball and careful not to make eye contact – no need to tempt fate; she was definitely the Alpha female right now. I heard her huff, and I followed her out of the classroom at a discrete distance. Outside, I was not surprised to see Ron and Malfoy arguing. After seven years, these arguments occurred so frequently that they sometimes became a bit boring. I watched carefully though, just in case wands were drawn.

“…get some new material, you gel-headed freak!” Ron was saying. I suppose Malfoy used the whole ‘your family is poor’ line on Ron again. Seriously, that is getting old after all these years. I was distracted from their argument by some heavy breathing to my side. I looked over, and Hermione looked like she was turning red. She was obviously trying to maintain control by taking deep breaths, but I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. I backed away instinctively, grabbing some poor third year who happened to be passing by as a human shield. Suddenly, she burst.

“God dammit! You two are the most infantile, immature, juvenile little boys that I have ever had the misfortune to meet! Every day it’s the same damn thing over and over again! Yes, Ron’s family is poor. Whoop dee do! And yes, Malfoy is a prejudiced, evil git. Blah blah blah! Get. Over. It. Grow up!” And with that outburst, Hermione stomped away down the hall.

Ron and I (and Malfoy, for that matter) stood around speechless. Thankfully I wasn’t the target that time, but it was still horrible to watch. I mean, it could easily have been me. Ron shook his head slightly as he watched her walk away. “Whoa.”

“No kidding. Must be that time of month,” Malfoy said, still looking down the hallway at Hermione’s retreating back.

“Yeah, that was a bit crazy. We guys gotta stick together…” Ron replied, turning towards Malfoy. All of a sudden, his eyes widened as he realized to whom he was talking to. “God, what am I saying?! Shut the hell up Malfoy!” Ron said and walked away.

“Er, screw you too Weasel!” Malfoy called out after a moment, almost as an afterthought. I looked over at Ron as we walked and grinned.

“So, you and Malfoy good buddies now? Have a little bonding session back there?”

“Shut it, Potter.”

“Suppose we should invite him over to the Burrow for Christmas, then? You two can braid each other’s hair and have a slumber party.

“I said shut it, Potter.”

**************

We caught up with Hermione later at lunch, where she sat silently at the end of the Gryffindor table, spearing her potatoes rather listlessly. Ron and I traded worried looks; this was obviously one of those “are you all right?” moments, but neither one of us wanted to be the one to ask the question, since the response could vary from “I’m fine” to “Sod off you nosey bastard!” But fair is fair – Ron had to partner with Hermione during Potions and then suffered a rather vicious arse-chewing afterwards. Thus, I approached the lunch table with quite a bit of trepidation.

We sat quietly across from her, careful to monitor the noise-level of our breathing. Hermione looked up briefly but made no sound. I pulled a few plates towards me and Ron nudged me, which was my cue to ask the question. “So, er, Hermione. Are you all right?”

Hermione looked up from her uneaten lunch. She stared at me for a second before she suddenly burst into tears and dropped her head into her hands. Ron and I traded alarmed looks, definitely not prepared for this kind of reaction. Throwing caution to the wind, I bravely rushed to the other side of the table to sit beside her. “Hey, hey,” I said softly, awkwardly patting her back. “It’s okay.” I hoped that she would stop crying, since that was basically the extent of my comforting abilities. She leaned into me, which startled me for second, before I put my arm around her shoulders. I looked at Ron, who shrugged helplessly. We looked around for something to help us while Hermione continued to cry softly. Ron hissed to get my attention, and he looked like he had an idea. With a smile, he pushed the pot of tea across the table towards me. Now I remembered why no one ever went to Ron for comfort and understanding.

After a few moments, I was relieved when Hermione stopped crying all on her own. I felt her straighten, so I removed my arm and she sat up, wiping at her eyes with a napkin. She looked at us and laughed softly. “I’m sorry,” she said between sniffles. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional. Thank you for not abandoning me when I’m being so horrible. You guys are wonderful and understanding.”

I gave her my beset reassuring smile and patted her on the back again. “It’s okay, Hermione. We’re your friends; we’ll always be there for you.”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Besides, we know how you get this time of the month.”

I winced and groaned inwardly. I swear, that kid can be such a nincompoop sometimes. I looked at Hermione, and I saw her eyes flash dangerously. She stood up, and I smacked my forehead against the table. We were so close…

“Ronald Bilius Weasley! You are the most insensitive little git I have ever met! It’s no wonder that no one comes to you for comfort and understanding!”

I chuckled a little, because that was exactly what I was thinking a moment ago. Another mistake. “And what are you laughing at?!”

“I...uh…” I decided stammering was the best option; I didn’t want to say anything that would make her use my middle name.

She glared at me so long I think I broke out into a sweat. Finally, she huffed again, and Ron and I watched as she collected her things and stormed off towards the doors of the Great Hall. At that moment, Malfoy was just walking into the Great Hall, talking to Goyle and not really paying attention. I watched with morbid curiosity as Hermione looked like she was just going to bowl over Malfoy. Just seconds before she reached him, Malfoy turned and saw Hermione coming. He yelped (in a rather womanly fashion, I was pleased to notice) and leapt out of the way.

I looked at Ron and shook my head. “Smooth Ron. Real smooth.”

Ron sighed. “I know, I know.”

Lavender came and sat next to Ron. “What did you guys do?” she demanded in an accusatory tone. I just pointed at Ron.

Lavender nodded. “Of course. I should have known.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault if Hermione’s all extra sensitive because she’s having her womanly thingie!”

Lavender scowled. “Merlin! It’s no wonder no one goes to you for comfort and understanding!” She glared at Ron before leaving us.

I chuckled at Ron’s shell-shocked face. “Once again – smooth Ron. Real smooth.”

Ron shook his head. “I’m not talking again for the rest of the day. Hermione’s yours during Care of Magical Creatures - she’ll kill me if we partner again.”

And though I agreed (after all, she probably would kill him), I realized was never more afraid to go to Care of Magical Creatures.

2. Part II

That Time of the Month – Part II

Care of Magical Creatures. Just the mention of that class brings up horrifying images of raging hippograffs, blast-ended skrewts, thestrals, dragons, gigantic spiders and other creatures that would love nothing more than to tear you limb from limb. And today, I would be in close contact with the most terrifying and dangerous magical creature of them all – a thoroughly irritable Hermione Granger. I approached Hagrid’s hut with more than just a hint of trepidation. Hermione was waiting for us, tapping her foot impatiently and generally looking in a surly mood.

“Hi Hermione,” I said in as normal a voice as possible; I think she could smell fear, so no need to provoke her.

“Harry,” she acknowledged me coolly and totally ignored Ron who hid behind me. We waited for class to begin in silence, which, while uncomfortable, was preferable to Hermione yelling. After a few minutes where I stood as still as a statue and breathed as quietly as possible, Hagrid lumbered out of his hut and introduced the class to his latest subject. He was carrying a large cage that seemed to be filled with finches; though they looked harmless enough, I had no doubt they had poisonous talons, needle-sharp feathers, or something else unsavory. Best-case scenario probably involved a lot of mucus.

To my surprise, these birds held no mortal peril for us at all; perhaps Hagrid was having a slow week. Anyways, apparently the birds were very clever, like owls, and could even apparate when frightened, much like Fawkes but without the flash of fire. They weren’t as diligent as owls, so their use as messengers was very rare. Each pair of students was given a bird to examine, and Hermione and I sat down with our bird, scribbling our observations on a parchment while Hagrid walked around the class and answered any questions that came up.

I was pretty proud of myself for finding a spot away from Malfoy; I didn’t want to tempt fate. Unfortunately, I failed to take into account They-Who-Share-But-One-Brain: Crabbe and Goyle were sitting nearby. At first, I was only vaguely aware of their brutish guffaws and grunting conversation. But then, I could tell Hermione was distracted from our bird and kept shooting looks over at the two Slytherins. I wanted to move, to suggest we find another place, but I was too timid to say anything. As far as I could make out, Crabbe and Goyle were attempting to ‘coax’ their bird into apparating, mostly by poking or startling it. They weren’t hurting it, but even under normal circumstances, a defenseless creature being picked on would raise Hermione’s ire. Since she was already in a bad mood, I feared for our lives.

I kept my head down though, scribbling away. Finally, Hermione had had enough.

“Hey! What the bloody hell do you think…” she began, yelling at Crabbe and Goyle. I stopped paying attention to what she was saying though, and instead watched the two Slytherins react. They were surprised and a little fearful, but mostly confused, since Hermione was using words with more than two syllables. I was actually starting to enjoy myself before I was startled by a loud popping sound – our bird had apparated to a nearby tree.

The popping sound derailed Hermione’s outrage, and we both stared at the empty cage. “Oh,” I heard Goyle say in surprise. “Pretty bird go bye-bye.”

Hermione actually looked stricken by the event and was quiet for the remainder of the class period while I tried to get our bird back (I eventually had to summon the thing into my hand and stuff it back in the cage). Finally, Hagrid released us, and I packed away my books, relieved that I had somehow managed to avoid Hermione’s anger. I stood as Ron joined up with us, and then we began walking back towards the castle. After just a few steps, I noticed Hermione wasn’t with us. I stopped and looked back and saw her still sitting on the grass.

“Hey, wait up,” I called to Ron.

Ron stopped and turned. “What’s up?”

I pointed over my shoulder. “Hermione’s not with us.”

Ron looked agitated. “I…uh…guess we should wait, huh?”

I looked at Ron: he was fidgeting nervously and obviously looked like he wanted no part of Hermione. I shook my head. “You go ahead. I’ll find out what’s wrong.”

Ron grinned. “Thanks Harry. I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than one.” I watched until Ron was safely away, and then turned. I squared my shoulders and walked back to Hermione.

*************

I approached Hermione cautiously, knowing that I had to treat her with utmost care. Blast-Ended Skrewts had nothing on Hermione. The worst a skrewt could do is give me third degree burns. Hermione, when riled, could transfigure me into something vile and repulsive, like a spider or Slytherin. And though she looked rather calm at the moment, sitting on the grass, I knew volcanoes could look rather calm just moments before erupting. For my own safety, I probably should just ask if she’s okay, to show that I care, and then skidaddle out of there as soon as possible. I knew she’d probably say she’s okay and tell me to leave her alone.

“Hermione?” I said gently as I neared her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said abruptly, not looking up.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, now leave me alone,” she said quickly, just as I knew she would. I half-turned, but I knew I couldn’t leave her by herself, at least not until I was positive she was going to be fine. She must’ve noticed me walking closer because she quickly averted her face from me, but not before I noticed her wipe at her eyes. She was crying. This was no good; as I previously established, I didn’t know how to comfort crying girls. I was built for fighting evil, killing basilisks, and other manly stuff. I’d rather face Death Eaters than a crying girl. But I couldn’t turn back, and after all, I was a Gryffindor (hmmm…that phrase has gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years). I considered my options: based on prior experience, I could either yell at her to stop crying and lock her in a cupboard, or I could feed her pastries and buy her toys. Neither seemed like a viable option at the moment, and besides, when have I ever planned anything ahead of time?

I sat down beside her gingerly. “Hermione?” I asked softly. No response. “C’mon Hermione,” I pleaded, “talk to me.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing Harry. Just go away.” But she sounded more sad than angry.

“Hermione,” I said reasonably, “have you ever left me alone when I needed someone, when I was sad or depressed or scared?”

There was no response for a minute, and I was afraid that my brilliant streak of logic would go to waste. Finally, though, she said a bit reluctantly, “no.”

I smiled, even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “Then what makes you think I’d leave you alone now? What kind of friend would that make me?”

She turned to look at me, and I saw her cheeks were a little damp from tears. “The best Harry…you’re the best of friends,” she said, smiling a little.

I grinned at her, feeling happy that she was smiling. “Good. Now, what’s the matter?”

She looked down and picked at the hem of her robes. “It really is nothing, Harry. I just get so emotional sometimes, and then when the bird apparated away…”

I just nodded with a sympathetic look on my face, but inside I was searching frantically for words of comfort. But the more I tried to think of something, the more blank my mind became, and I ended up just sitting there, nodding dumbly while she talked. All I could come up with was an “I’m sorry” here and there and a pat on the shoulders. I was getting rather frustrated with myself when I saw her straighten and wince in pain, grabbing at her lower back.

“Does it hurt? Do you want a massage?” I asked without thinking, but as soon as I realized what I had just said, I blushed. Had I really just offered to give Hermione a back rub? I was desperate to do or say anything to make her feel better, and the words just slipped out. True, we were best friends, but wasn’t that crossing some sort of line or something? Ack!

She looked at me for a moment, clearly as surprised as I was by the offer. But then she smiled at me and said, “sure.”

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reviewing. I swear, it’s like a drug! I find myself checking every other minute to see if anyone’s left a review. One part left.

3. Part III

Here’s the last bit. Beware though: this part definitely earns the PG-13 rating.

That Time of the Month – Part III

And with that single word, I broke out into a cold sweat, and I was sure my face was bright red. But since running away like a little girl really wasn’t an option, I tried another tactic: “Erm, maybe a chocolate instead? I’m sure I have some Chocolate Frogs somewhere…” And if I didn’t, I would bribe, cajole, threat, or steal some.

But Hermione just shook her head. “No thanks; a massage is good enough.”

Great. I gulped down my nerves and maneuvered myself so that I was sitting directly behind Hermione. At least she was wearing her thick school robes so it wouldn’t be-

“What are you doing?” I asked, alarmed.

Hermione looked questioningly over her shoulder at me. “Taking off my robe. Why?”

“Er, nothing,” I replied, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. I had, of course, seen Hermione without her robes before; students rarely wore their robes while in the common room, at least not the Gryffindors (those stuffy Ravenclaws were another story). But never before had Hermione sans robes looked so…threatening before. Since it was spring, she wore a thin, white blouse, and I could see the peach of her skin and that thin strip of cloth that ran horizontally across her shoulder blades.

“Harry? Are you all right?”

Oy, I had been caught staring. “Fine…I’m fine,” I said quickly and slowly reached out with my hands until they rested against her lower back, where I had seen her grab before. Taking a deep breath, I began to gently knead her back, making small circles with my thumbs and fingertips. Hermione straightened and lowered her head forward, pressing her lower back into my hands. I took this as a good sign (that and the fact that she wasn’t screaming in pain) and began moving my hands slowly up her back towards her shoulders, gently massaging as they went. Just when I got right below her shoulder blades, it happened - Hermione moaned.

Now, I had heard Hermione moan before, several times in fact. But on those occasions she’d either moaned in fear, desperation, or helplessness. I’d never heard her moan in pleasure before, and it caused all these inappropriate thoughts to race through my head, and blood started traveling to place that should be left well alone at the moment.

“Please,” Hermione said in a husky voice, “don’t stop.” Oh God…what are you doing to me Hermione? Hearing her say that only intensified the feelings that her moan had caused, and I had to take another deep breath before continuing my upward trail. My hands finally reached the top of her shoulders, and by now the moans and pleasant sighs were coming more frequently. I was beginning to feel a little lightheaded, understandable considering all the blood in my body seemed to be concentrated in a certain area.

“Um, does that feel okay?” I asked hesitantly.

“Mmm-hmmm” was her response as her head lolled from side to side. Without knowing what else to do, I started back down again, towards her lower back. My fingers were starting to ache a bit, but they’d have to fall off before I stopped. As my hands reached her lower back again, she leaned her head back until it rested against my shoulder. We were practically cheek-to-cheek, and I felt a fluttering in my chest. She had tied her thick hair into a loose ponytail, so I had a good look at her neck and understood why vampires were into biting necks; Hermione’s neck looked absolutely delectable, it was all I could do to stop myself from nibbling at it.

By this point, I felt that things were definitely getting out of hand, and I knew that the smart thing to do was to end the massage and head back to the castle. It was probably close to dinnertime, and I’m sure Ron was wondering if Hermione had killed me or not. But then my fingers must have hit a particularly sensitive area, because Hermione reached back with her left hand and grasped the back of my neck. I was no longer capable of rational thought, and I gripped the bottom of her blouse and slowly pulled, untucking her shirt from her skirt. Hermione made no sign of protest, so I reached my hands underneath her shirt and began to massage her bare skin.

God, the feeling was absolutely glorious! The skin of her waist was so soft and warm underneath my hands, and when she softly murmured my name, all my reservations and fears were dashed from my mind. Giving in to an impulse, I gently took her earlobe between my lips and began nibbling away, eliciting another gasp from her. What was I doing? The massage was one thing, but this…there was no way this could be possibly explained as friendship. While the massage itself was flirting with that line between friendship and more, this was vaulting right past it. But to be honest, I didn’t really care at the moment. All I cared about was making Hermione moan. I moved away from her ear and began sucking gently at the skin right behind her ear, where her hair met her neck. My hands had stopped massaging her, and instead they circled around her waist and pulled her closer to me, so that her back was firmly pressed against my chest. I kissed the back of her neck for a few moments before she pulled away.

When she pulled away, I was afraid that I had gone to far. That she would turn and ask ‘what the hell are you doing?’ and slap me. That she would have a look of disgust in her eyes, and that I had ruined our friendship beyond repair. But I only thought these things for a fraction of a second, for that’s how long it took her to turn her head and press her lips against mine.

Now, this wasn’t my first kiss. That happened a couple of years ago in the Room of Requirements with Cho Chang, my first crush. I, probably like everyone else out there, always envisioned my first kiss as something special. You know, either fireworks going off and the ground shaking, or a slow, sweet kiss that curls the toes. Instead, when my first kiss did come around, I was almost faint from nervousness, and the girl I was kissing was practically sobbing as she did so. Definitely not the thing of movies.

But this kiss with Hermione…this kiss made up for my kiss with Cho, and so much more. In fact, it seemed to make up for everything: for my parents, for Sirius, for Voldemort. If this kiss was my reward for going through everything in my life, then it was all worth it (okay okay, I suppose one kiss can’t really make up for sixteen years of crap, but it was damn good, let me tell you, and plus, there was the promise of more to come). Unlike with Cho, where I was constantly wondering if I was doing it right, all I could think about was the feeling of Hermione’s lips. As we continued to kiss, she twisted around to face me, and I felt her hands push against my chest. I leaned backwards until I was lying on the grass, Hermione on top of me as our lips met one another in a frenzy.

I honestly don’t know how long we spent kissing each other. But eventually darkness fell and it became obvious that we had been out there for a long time. By some unspoken agreement, we both decided that it was time to get back to the castle. After a few last, lingering kisses, I rolled off of her (somewhere along the line we had rolled over so that I was on top) and helped her to her feet, holding out her robes for her to get back into.

As we walked silently back to the castle, the rational part of my mind returned with full force. What had I just done? What had we just done? What was Hermione thinking at this moment? Did she regret what had just happened? How would this change our relationship? As I started worrying myself to an ulcer, I felt her hand touch mine. I looked down with near-awe and watched as our fingers intertwined, and then looked up to find her smiling warmly at me.

Sometime early on in our friendship, I believe in third year, we had learned to speak without words. A head nod or a look was usually enough to convey what we were thinking to each other. And just now, Hermione was speaking to me without using words. Her smile, her eyes – it was all enough to tell me what she was feeling, to tell me that I needn’t worry about anything. I knew that soon enough we would talk about what had just occurred out there and analyze our changing relationship (it was Hermione, after all), but for now, words weren’t necessary, and frankly would be inadequate (at least any words that I could come up with) to describe how I was feeling at the moment. I matched her warm smile with one of my own, and leaned forward to give her a small kiss on the lips. Hand-in-hand, we walked back to the castle together, a much better ending to the day.

**********

A/N: And so ends another story. Hope you all enjoyed, and thanks to everyone for reviewing! Must write another story so I can get another fix!

Oh, and the offer of chocolate in the first paragraph was inspired by Tiffr’s review. Thanks!

Creepy Susie: Harry was a bit uncomfortable with the idea of a massage because 1) he grew up without any form of physical affection (hugs, pats on the back, etc.) and therefore feels awkward giving/receiving them, and 2) as Harry thought, he feared he was crossing some sort of line.

Davaca: I agree that the “pretty bird…” quote is a bit awkward, but including that line was part of the challenge (though I suspect it was intended to refer to Hermione, not a real bird), as was the getting Harry to give Hermione a massage, the male bonding between Ron and Draco, and Draco yelling like a girl. There was another line I was supposed to add about dancing the can-can, but I just couldn’t.

However, I will disagree about the comparisons…those magical creatures aren’t “evil,” just dangerous if handled incorrectly. I think it aptly describes a sensitized Hermione.