A Darkened Doorway
by cheering charm
*** Chapter 3
Harry shifted the files under his arm and knocked on the door to Hermione's flat.
"Who is it?" he heard her call.
"Harry!"
The door swung open unassisted and Harry entered the empty room. "Hermione?"
"I'm getting dressed. Be out in a sec."
"Don't go to any trouble on my account," Harry said with a grin, placing the stack of files on the kitchen table.
"Ha ha!" she said sarcastically as she walked slowly into the room. Harry rushed over to her side and grabbed her arm for support. Hermione laughed. "My legs are fine, it just feels like my insides are sloshing around every time I move, so I walk slowly."
"Sounds lovely."
"Well, it feels lovely, too. I can't wait to get my hands on Goyle, the bastard," she said viciously.
"Whoa, cabin fever setting in a bit?" Harry said, helping her settle into a chair. Hermione shot him a heated look and he clamped his mouth shut.
"So, what did you bring me today?"
"Lots of reading material. Transcripts of surveillance obtained over the last few days. You might fall asleep from boredom. Crabbe and Goyle aren't very entertaining."
"I'm surprised they have a large enough vocabulary to warrant this much paper," she said, leafing through a thick folder.
"Well, I believe one of the new agents took the directive to 'transcribe everything' literally, so I believe there is a rather graphic sex scene on page 42."
"I'm going to be sick."
"I'm teasing, Hermione. This isn't all Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy is planning something, but it's obvious Crabbe and Goyle don't know any of the details."
Hermione grimaced slightly and shifted in her chair. "Have they mentioned us at all?"
Harry knew what she was referring to without asking. "Yes, they made a couple of jokes about it the week after it happened. I was able to brush it off to Moody as remnants of a Hogwarts grudge. I didn't put anything in the report about it."
"You should have!"
"What?" Harry asked, shocked. "Why?"
"Because, by leaving it out, you're lying!"
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are, and when we do catch them, Crabbe and Goyle will surely mention it, and we will have to lie again," she said exasperated.
"I thought you wouldn't want anyone to know."
"Not the details, of course. But, it is part of our job to blend in to the surroundings. Considering where we were, what we did was appropriate."
"All I remember are the details."
"That's a first," Hermione said teasingly.
Harry tilted his head and looked up in the air thoughtfully. "I do believe that was a thinly veiled insult."
"It wasn't veiled at all," Hermione said with a grin.
"Ouch," Harry said laughing. He moved his chair next to hers and put his arm around her shoulder, kissing her lightly on the cheek. "Besides all the sloshing, how are you feeling?"
"Better now," she said, holding Harry's free hand and leaning her head on his shoulder.
"Glad I can help."
They sat there in silence for a moment, each staring into space, wondering who would bring it up. Harry, as usual, caved first.
"Has he asked you yet?"
"No."
It had been two weeks since Hermione's release from the hospital and each day Harry expected a different scene to play out during his daily visit. So far, Ron had kept to Harry's advice and not asked Hermione to marry him. But, Harry knew that something was going to happen soon; he could feel it. More accurately, he dreaded it.
They hadn't talked about it specifically, but Harry knew that Hermione was waiting to tell Ron until he popped the question. To Harry, this seemed a very cruel thing to do. He knew that he personally would rather be told before he embarrassed himself by professing undying love in the way a marriage proposal implied. Possibly, she was waiting for an opening to broach the subject, although what kind of opening that might be, Harry didn't know. He did know that Ron was being very good to her while she was incapacitated (a fact that set Harry's teeth on edge). Ron's solicitousness surely added to Hermione's guilt. Ron was going to be hurt badly in this and neither of them wanted that to happen.
After their kiss in the hospital, Harry knew that he needed to keep his hands off of Hermione or risk devouring her whole. It was a test of his willpower, to be sure. It had taken him a week to gather the mental strength and courage to hold her hand. Flashes of his dreams would run through his mind, which he quickly pushed away, not only because of the "Ron factor" as he called it, but because of her physical condition as well. He had no idea what the doctor's orders were with regard to sex, and he wasn't about to ask and risk sounding like a sex-crazed maniac, which he admitted secretly that he was when it came to Hermione.
Harry glanced at the clock and asked, "When is Ron coming over?"
"He isn't. He has that business conference, remember? He gets home tomorrow sometime."
"Oh, right. Have a big night out on the town planned?"
"Yeah, I thought I'd go dancing. Do a little stage diving, hang out in a mosh pit. You know, the usual."
"I guess takeaway and watching a film on the sofa sounds boring in comparison."
"Dreadfully. But I'll suffer through," Hermione replied with a smile.
Harry gave her a quick kiss on the nose. "I'll be back straightaway."
**
"Okay, here are your choices," Harry said, holding up three DVD cases. "Middle aged pudgy guy on a deserted island, semi-geek in spandex, or a doomed love story set on a sinking ship."
"I'm not interested in a movie with no dialogue considering I have no dialogue all day, so middle aged pudgy guy is out. Doomed love story hits just a little too close to home right now. So, I guess it is semigeek in spandex."
"Good choice."
Harry worked the controls of the muggle machines until the start screen of the movie was showing. "Be right back," he said, walking into the loo.
Hermione got off the sofa and walked slowly to the sink for a drink of water. She stood there filling up her glass and staring out of the window above the sink. The street below was deserted, with occasional honks from cars on streets further away breaking the silence. She looked absently at the deserted building across the way, which had been under perpetual remodel since she moved into her flat two years ago. She could just see the outline of workbenches and machinery through the window directly across from her. Her brows furrowed as she saw a quick flash of light.
"Hermione!" Harry called, making her jump. "What are you doing?"
"Getting a drink of water," she replied, holding up the glass.
Harry walked up behind her and gently took the glass from her hand. "You should let me do that for you. That's why I'm here."
The flash of light she'd seen earlier fled her mind when she felt his body lightly press against hers as he leaned forward to place the glass in the sink. Her reaction to it was immediate and had nothing to do with her fragile physical condition. "Is that why you are here?" she asked softly.
Harry paused and looked at her, his face inches from hers. "Among other reasons."
"Hmm," she said, her eyes roaming over his face, finally landing on his lips. "Why haven't you kissed me since I've been home?"
"I want to, trust me. I don't want you to regret it. Which you would." She looked away, out the kitchen window. He gently turned her face back to his. "And, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to stop," he said, stroking her face.
She leaned forward and nibbled his ear. "Yes, you would. I trust you," she whispered. "Harry, I've never wanted anyone like I want you."
He pulled her forward, pressing her hips to his, so she felt his erection clearly through their clothes. "Don't do this to me, Hermione," he said hoarsely. "I know I can't have you right now because of your condition and because of Ron. Are you telling me you have decided? That you are going to tell Ron no when he asks you?"
"I'm telling you I have to know what my feelings for you are, and I can't with hand holding and pecks on the cheek."
Harry released her quickly and stepped back. "That's all you are getting until you decide. I'm not going to be a test run. It's called taking a risk, Hermione. Or am I not worth it?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Hermione snapped.
"Then what is it? Why won't you tell Ron?" Harry asked, his voice rising.
"Tell him what? 'Harry and I shared this passionate kiss so I am going to throw our relationship away because I want to sleep with him?'"
"Sounds good to me."
"Don't be daft, Harry. That would destroy him."
"Oh, but it's okay to destroy me?" Harry said sarcastically. "Why is that, Hermione?"
"You're stronger than he is."
"No, I'm not. I'm just better at faking it."
A resounding silence followed this statement, and Hermione realized that she had been overestimating Harry all these years. The difference between Ron and Harry wasn't their strengths, but how they masked their weaknesses. Ron never tried to; Harry had been programmed at an early age to hide his true self or risk the ire of his relatives.
Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Harry's waist, resting her head on his chest. "I'm sorry."
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "Just tell him something. Anything. I can't take this much longer."
"I'll talk to him tomorrow night when he comes by."
"Fair enough."
He pulled her head off his chest and looked down at her, running his fingers through her hair. He sighed heavily and pulled her arms from around his waist.
"Let's watch the film," he said leading her over to the sofa.
Hermione lay down on the sofa while Harry turned off the lights and started the movie. He deposited himself on the floor, leaning up against the sofa close to where her head was, but far enough away for her to be able to see.
"Why don't you get up here with me?" she asked.
"No," Harry replied firmly.
"I'm not going to attack you," Hermione teased.
"Yes, you will. I'm irresistible."
Hermione rolled her eyes behind Harry.
"I saw that!" he said, eyes fixed on the TV.
"What?" Hermione said innocently.
"You rolled your eyes."
"How would you know that?"
He turned his head to look at her. "I know you." He raised his eyebrows, challenging her to deny the eye roll. "You can make it up to me by playing with my hair," he said with a grin.
"Oh, all right," she said in mock irritation. Secretly, she had wanted to run her hands through his hair for a fortnight.
His hair was as she remembered, soft, almost silky running through her fingers. It was so dark; in certain light it seemed almost blue. The light from the TV flickered on Harry's face, alternately casting him in shadow and lighting up the room, which in Hermione's opinion was a rather appropriate way to study such a complex character as Harry Potter.
She could not explain what had happened over the last month. The feeling that her life was spinning out of control had abated somewhat, but only because she was stuck in her flat, completely unable to do anything, relying on others to help her with the most menial tasks. Dormant was the word that came to her mind. Her physical life was dormant.
But her emotional life…that was another story.
When she had been released from St. Mungos a week after coming out of her coma, it was with strict orders to stay in bed: "don't walk too much, no standing on your feet, no heavy lifting, no light lifting, don't sit for too long, lay on your back, not your side or your stomach." The list of things she couldn't do was endless. As she expected, and feared, Ron insisted on moving in temporarily to help her.
Despite the fact they had been together for seven years, she had resisted the idea of living together. Hermione had always held the belief that you didn't live with someone until you were married. Everyone, including Harry, teased her good-naturedly about it, but she stood firm. And with Ron's shop in Hogsmeade and Hermione's job in London, it just didn't seem to make sense.
Ron was being very sweet and overly solicitous to her, helping her with everything, just as the doctor ordered. But it was driving Hermione crazy. Everything about him was driving Hermione crazy. His mere presence was a daily reminder of her betrayal and, unbelievably to her, she began to resent him for it. Matters weren't helped in the least by the fact that she was expecting him to pop the question every time he returned from the other room.
And then there was Harry. Each day, in the late afternoon, he brought files by for her to review. They both knew that this was unnecessary; she was officially on leave and not required or expected to work at all. But this was never mentioned lest their built-in excuse to see each other be taken away.
Hermione had come to view his visits as dates. Their progression certainly reminded her of that. At first, they had been awkward around each other, uncomfortable with and unsure about their relationship. As the days went by, they adjusted to seeing the other in this new light, and his visits became more relaxed and normal, but with an underlying tension that had not been there before. And she loved the tension. Frankly, she couldn't get enough of it, for the tension was like prolonged foreplay, the undercurrents of which held the promise of a divine release.
In short, she anticipated Harry's visits … and dreaded Ron's return home.
And she hated herself for it.
Ron was completely innocent in this doomed situation. He was being the perfect boyfriend and had been the perfect boyfriend for seven years. A month ago she would have told anyone that asked that theirs was the perfect relationship.
How could one kiss destroy that?
"Are you even watching the movie?" Harry asked, turning his eyes to her.
"Yes," she said, looking at the screen for the first time.
"Uh-huh," Harry said skeptically.
Hermione turned her attention to the movie as she continued to stroke Harry's head.
Those glasses are really geeky, she thought vaguely, her eyes drooping closed. Slowly they opened again, as a spider bit poor Peter Parker.
Ron would hate this movie, spiders everywhere, she thought, the sound of the movie becoming more and more distant. She felt her hand fall to her side, and she jerked awake.
"Hey," Harry said softly. "Come here."
He put one arm under her knees and the other under her back and lifted her effortlessly. Exhaustion had overtaken her and her head fell limply on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said weakly.
"Shhh," Harry replied, laying her gently on the bed.
"I need to brush my teeth," she mumbled, pulling the blankets from underneath her with Harry's help.
"I'm sure you can go one night without it. Or will they throw you out of the Children of Dentists Society if you don't?"
Hermione tried to swat him on the arm but couldn't lift hers. Instead she held his hand. "Will you stay tonight?"
"Sure. I'll sleep on thesettee."
"No. Stay in here," she said throwing her hand limply over to the empty part of the bed. Her eyes fluttered closed again, and she forced them open. "Please."
"Sure," Harry said.
Hermione closed her eyes and smiled as she heard Harry taking his shoes and his belt off. She felt the bed give and knew he had lain down. She scooted over until her side was touching his. "I have to lay on my back," she muttered, eyes still closed.
She felt Harry move onto his side and drape his arm across her midriff. She felt his breath on her cheek and smiled, reaching blindly to touch his cheek. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Me, too." A few seconds later he added, "You're beautiful."
"Hmm" was all Hermione could get out, her rebuttal being hijacked by sleep. The sound of Harry's slow, steady breathing lulled her to sleep moments before her subconscious mind heard "I love you."
**
"Crabbe and Goyle are coming toward us."
"Right."
Harry stepped closer to Hermione and felt her breasts press against his chest. Unconsciously, his lips softened and he leaned into her, her body now the only thing he was aware of. She opened her mouth to him and he was struck by how warm, soft and gentle her tongue was. But that soon changed; her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.
When had he ever felt this way? He couldn't think at all, his senses were consumed with her. He could smell the light, slightly citrus aroma of her perfume; he could hear her rapid, shallow breathing. She tasted of mint, and something completely unique, foreign and intoxicating. His hands roamed down her body, exploring as much as possible, pausing on her arse, pulling her closer. He had an insane urge for his body to be fused with Hermione's, like this, forever.
They pulled apart abruptly and were suddenly spinning through a darkened space, landing softly on a bed in the middle of a sunlit meadow.
"Hermione," Harry said, pulling her towards him, wanting to feel her lips on his again. He heard a groan escape from deep within as he felt the physical confirmation of his feelings for her shoot through his body. "I can't get enough of you," he said, kissing her repeatedly. "The way you taste, the way you feel…" he moved his hand up her shirt and captured her breast, gently pinching her nipple and feeling her respond immediately.
"Harry," she said softly, returning his kiss.
"I love you, Hermione. I have to have you."
"Harry, wake up," he heard her say softly, shaking his shoulder gently.
His eyes opened slowly, not wanting to let go of the world he was enveloped in. He was greeted with an eerily similar scene, the sunlit meadow replaced by a room dimly lit by the streetlights outside. Hermione was lying on her back, her head turned toward him, a serious expression on her face. Her hand was gently stroking his face, periodically moving back to run through his hair.
"You were dreaming."
It was then that Harry realized that his hand was on her breast. He slowly moved his hand down, away from her breast, her hardened nipple leaving a trail of sensation down his palm.
"I'm sorry," he said, ashamed and angry at his lack of control, even in sleep. He knew when she asked him to stay that it was a mistake. But lately he seemed wholly unable, or unwilling, to deny her anything. "I really should go."
He moved to sit up and was stopped by Hermione's arm across his chest. "I didn't wake you up for you to leave. I woke you up because I wanted to look you in the eyes and hear you say you love me."
"I was talking in my sleep?"
Hermione nodded her head. She leaned forward and kissed his lips, lingering for a long moment. When she pulled away, her expression had changed from serious, to determined. "Harry, I know this is wrong." She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "But, I can't deny what I feel. I can't deny what I want." She lifted his hand and returned it to her breast, her eyes never leaving his.
Harry looked down at his hand and felt his stomach quiver. He slowly moved the strap of her cotton camisole over her shoulder and down her arm, pushing the material covering her breast aside. His hand returned, gently squeezing and kneading her small, firm breast. He began to slowly trace his fingertips around her nipple, widening and narrowing the circle so her entire breast was attended to. He reluctantly pulled his eyes from her breast and looked at her, her eyes closed, mouth slightly open and her face lax with desire.
He leaned forward, mouth almost touching hers, his eyes fixed on her closed eyelids. "Hermione?"
When her eyes opened and met his he whispered, "I love you."
She closed the distance between their mouths and nipped at his lips, kissing him softly at first before desire overcame their senses. Harry realized that she didn't say "I love you" back to him, but he didn't care at that moment. She wanted him, that was evident, and that was enough for now. Although he knew this could progress only so far tonight, he was determined that what did happen between them would be memorable enough to convince her of her feelings, or at least enough for him to hold in his memory for the rest of his life.
He kissed around her jaw to her ear, whispering endearments as he continued down her neck, repeating his declaration of love for her often to keep her mind focused on him, as opposed to any doubts and regrets that might spring up. He replaced his hand on her breast with his mouth and heard Hermione hum in pleasure as his tongue tickled her nipple. He opened his mouth wide and took her entire breast in, sucking it into his mouth completely. She gasped and pulled his head closer to her body.
He released her breast and kissed her chest, his hand running down her body to rest on her knee. He gently pushed it outward opening her legs as he moved his body over hers. Supporting his weight on his arms to avoid lying directly on top of her, he pushed his pelvis into hers. Despite the fact they were fully clothed, he still felt enough of her through the material that he almost lost control. He stopped and rested his forehead on hers. "Hermione, this is exquisite torture," he said, a pained smile on his face.
"I don't want to torture you," she said, moving her hand to the front of his trousers and beginning to move the zipper down.
"I want to make love to you," Harry replied in a strangled voice.
"Well, I want to kill you!"
Jerked back to reality by the sound of a third voice in the room, they both jumped and looked around.
Standing in the doorway, a rucksack thrown over his shoulder was their best friend, Ron Weasley, his wand pointed directly at them.