Revenge is Sweet, But Kisses Are Sweeter

MPotter77

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 29/06/2004
Last Updated: 29/06/2004
Status: completed

Harry takes Hermione with him to the Dursleys after the final defeat of Voldemort. **Originally submitted for the hphg_ficathon on Livejournal.**

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

This was originally submitted to the HPHG_Ficathon over at Livejournal, in answer to the challenge: Hermione meets the Dursleys for the first time as Harry’s girlfriend/fiancée/wife (Post-Hogwarts). In creating the backstory for this fic, I got bit by the prequel bug, so now I’m working on that, along with all the other stuff I have going.

As always, thanks to Jennifer for all the support, and a big thanks to AnneU for the beta.

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For as many years as Harry had been living on Privet Drive, he couldn’t remember ever feeling so out of place. Of course, he always thought of himself as an outsider, but today was different. If all went as planned, today would be the last time he would ever have to be here again.

Harry really had no idea why he was so nervous about seeing the Dursleys. He wasn’t too keen on going to Number Four in the first place, but Hermione had insisted on it, saying that he at least owed them a goodbye (or good riddance, as Harry had said). Whatever the reason, he just wanted to get this taken care of once and for all. Hermione had made the point that it would help him leave that part of his life behind, and he desperately hoped she was right. Then again, Hermione was almost always right; that’s why he loved her and was going to marry her. She knew what was best for him before he did.

It was the first Saturday after their final departure from Hogwarts, and Harry and Hermione had Apparated to an alley at the end of Privet Drive. Harry had wanted to Apparate directly into Number Four so he could see the look on his Uncle Vernon’s face, but Hermione finally persuaded him against it. They walked down Privet Drive hand in hand, dressed very convincingly as Muggles. In front of Number Eight, Hermione stopped Harry and looked at him questioningly.

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I’m sure they would figure it out for themselves when you didn’t come back,” she said, her right hand reaching up to trace his jaw line.

Harry took her hand and pulled it down as he smiled at her. “No, I think this is something I need to do. I’ve spent my life being dependent on them in some way, and its time that they know that I don’t need them anymore. Voldemort’s gone, so I don’t need that damned blood protection,” he replied, his voice and demeanor remaining calm despite his words. “I’m going to go in there and tell them exactly that—and maybe some other things, too.”

Hermione stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss before they continued on their way to Number Four. She considered telling him she was glad he’d changed his mind about this visit to his aunt and uncle’s, but she decided against it. It was obvious to her that he’d thought about it a lot.

Soon enough they reached the sidewalk leading up to Number Four, and Hermione felt Harry tense up. He gripped her hand almost to the point that it hurt, but she just looked at him with that smile—the one that said everything would be okay.

With a deep breath, he cautiously knocked on the door. He wasn’t sure what to expect; he didn’t even know exactly what he was going to say or how he was going to explain his presence. Most importantly, he was worried about how they would treat Hermione. When he finally decided to go back to the Dursleys’, he had tried to say he should go alone, but she would have nothing of it. He suspected that her curious nature was partly the reason she wanted to go with him, but the thought had also crossed his mind that she wanted the opportunity to give the Dursleys a piece of her mind. With that thought, memories of his fiancée sticking it to Draco Malfoy flittered through his mind, and he couldn’t help but smirk. Oh, if only they knew who they were dealing with, he thought.

Harry could see someone walking toward the door through the window, and his breathing became even more labored. Why was he so nervous about this? It was nothing more than a “See how I turned out despite you?” kind of thing; he didn’t know why he was all of a sudden so panicky. You defeated Voldemort, Potter. The Dursleys should be a piece of cake.

He heard the sound of someone undoing the lock; he couldn’t tell if it was Dudley or Uncle Vernon, but it definitely wasn’t Aunt Petunia. Harry looked quickly over to Hermione, who appeared to be just as nervous as he was, if not more. As the doorknob turned, he muttered, “Here goes nothing.”

~*~*~*~

Harry would never forget the look on his Uncle Vernon’s face for as long as he lived. When the door opened, Harry did his best to smile broadly—the same smile so many people said was infectious. His uncle, on the other hand, looked like he could have gone into cardiac arrest. His face turned a bright shade of red, and he slowly began to back away from the door, as if afraid that Harry or the stranger at his side were going to humiliate them with cheap parlor tricks.

“Now Uncle Vernon, where’s my hug?” Harry asked, using his uncle’s reaction to take control of the situation. He had to admit it felt good to not feel two inches high in this house. He was free of them; he no longer had to worry about doing or saying something that would get him kicked out on his arse. Harry walked through the doorway of the house, gently pulling Hermione behind him.

Harry closed the door behind them. He was completely surprised that his uncle hadn’t yet thrown out some kind of insult about his kind. Usually, they were plentiful, as well as hurtful.

“Vernon, who’s at the door?”

Aunt Petunia walked out of the kitchen into the hallway and almost stopped dead. “Oh, Harry. I’ll be honest and say you’re the last person we expected to show up on our doorstep.” His aunt had always had a snooty quality about her, but it seemed to be at its peak today. “I suspect you’ve finished at that school of yours, haven’t you?”

Harry opened his mouth to answer his aunt’s question when he saw the kitchen door open once again. It could only mean one thing: Dudley. Great, Harry thought, now the real fun begins. Before Dudley opened his mouth, Harry answered the question. “Yes, I finished just last week.”

“Well, then what the hell are you doing here? I thought we’d gotten rid of you for sure,” Dudley said as he joined the rest of them in the hallway. He walked closer to Harry, who was partially shielding Hermione, and snickered evilly. “And I see you brought your little whore--”

Harry grabbed Dudley by the collar before another word could come out of his mouth and slammed him against the wall. Their faces only centimeters apart, Harry stuck his wand against Dudley’s cheek while his other hand went around his neck. Ignoring Hermione’s pleas to let it go, Harry spoke through gritted teeth, yet loud enough for everyone to hear. “It’ll do you good not to speak about my fiancée that way. Her name is Hermione Granger. She’s the daughter of dentists in London, she’s been my best friend since the age of eleven, she was the smartest witch to come out of Hogwarts in one hundred years, she was Prefect and Head Girl, and soon she’ll be my wife. If you know what’s good for you, then you’ll treat her with nothing but respect.”

Everyone in the hallway, including Hermione, looked on in astonishment. Part of her wanted to pull Harry off Dudley and tell him to calm down, but she knew Harry was enjoying this in some way. She instead smiled as she looked around the room at the Dursleys. Vernon was purple in the face with anger, and Petunia was leaning against the wall, looking oddly calm with her arms crossed across her chest. Harry still had Dudley pinned against the wall, an almost crazy look in his eye as he stared down his cousin. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry finally spoke.

“Apologize to her. NOW!”

Hermione slowly stepped forward and touched his arm lightly as she stood next to him. “Harry, it’s okay—“

“No it’s not,” he said, lowering his wand and facing her but keeping his hand around Dudley’s neck. “I won’t stand for this anymore.” He turned back to Dudley and raised his wand again. “What’s that hex Ginny is so good at, Hermione? Is that the Bat Bogey Hex? I can’t ever seem to get it right, you know. I always have it coming out of anywhere but the nose.”

Dudley’s face went white just thinking about it, and he swallowed hard. Harry backed away from him, lowering his wand and putting it back in his pocket. His face softened, and he looked at Hermione. Then, for the first time since he opened the door, Vernon looked at Harry and laughed.

“Oh, Potter, I knew you didn’t have it in you. You’re a pushover just like you’ve always been, and it appears Miss Goody-Two Shoes has you wrapped around her finger.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Before Harry could even think of a comeback, Hermione had her wand pointed right at Vernon’s chest, and her look was as hard and cold as Harry had ever seen.

"Mr. Dursley," she spat, "you best keep quiet about things you don't understand. Harry's been through more in the last seven years than you could even imagine. And before you go spouting off about his lack of backbone,why don't you ask him about what happened to Lord Voldemort? You know, that's the guy that killed his parents." A silence followed where Hermione kept her wand pointed at Vernon's chest and Harry stood there, looking extremely proud. "Go on, Uncle Vernon, ask him."

Vernon looked nervously over to Harry, who was trying hard to look serious over the whole matter, yet failing miserably. He knew the fact that he had killed another person was no laughing matter, but he couldn't help but be delighted at the way Hermione was sticking it to his uncle. Vernon's lips started to move, but nothing came out; it was almost as if he couldn't think of the right way to phrase the question. Then again, maybe part of him already knew the answer, but didn't want to hear it said out loud.

"What did happen to him, Potter?" he finally choked out. Harry gave a serious look to his uncle, as well as his aunt and cousin before noticing that Hermione had turned to look at him, a most delightful smirk on her face. He was truly enjoying this, and made a mental note to thank her profusely later.

In his most nonchalant voice, Harry looked directly at his uncle while reaching a hand around to rub the back of his neck. "Well, I guess you could say that I killed him." He pulled his wand out of his pocket and did his best Gilderoy Lockhart imitation. "Just a flick of the wrist and a couple of words and BAM! he was gone."

His theatrics didn't go unnoticed by anyone, including Hermione. She looked over to him with a huge smile on her face, and then immediately turned back to Vernon, looking as serious as ever. "Catch all that, Vernon?" He nodded, his face white in contrast to the purple it had been just a few minutes ago. "Good, now if you all don't mind, I think Harry just wants to go upstairs and make sure he has all his belongings, and then we'll be off and out of your lives."

Hermione pocketed her wand as she stepped away from Vernon and reached out for Harry's hand. Harry smiled broadly at his only living blood relatives and even gave a small chuckle as they began climbing the stairs up to his old bedroom.

*~*~*~*~

Harry felt like a child as they ran up the stairs, his hand intertwined with Hermione's as he led her into his old bedroom. He immediately shut and locked the door, and when he turned around, he saw Hermione looking around the room in awe. When her eyes fell upon his, he was practically laughing out loud at what had just happened down in the hallway.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked, her hands on her hips as if she was about to yell at him. Harry stood up straight, having been leaning over with his hands on his knees.

"You're funny. Only you could take a horrible experience like the Dursleys and make me laugh like this about it. I've waited seventeen years to make them feel like they've made me feel my whole life."

Hermione's face softened, and she walked over to where Harry was standing. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him softly. "So this is it, huh? Not much to brag about."

"That shouldn't be a surprise," Harry replied. "I told you how I was treated by them." He kissed her softly, and when he pulled away, Hermione's face had changed to that of worry.

"You had me worried for a moment down there. I was starting to think you were really going to do something to Dudley--and I don't mean the Bat Bogey Hex."

Harry broke from her embrace and walked over to the window overlooking Privet Drive on the other side of the room. "I almost did. He had no right to call you that--he doesn't even know you. Do you understand now why coming back here is so difficult for me?”

Hermione walked up behind Harry. She wrapped her arms around him lovingly and rested her head on his back. “Oh, Harry, they’re worse than you led on. I’m having a hard time being in the same house with them for a short period of time. I don’t know how you have stayed sane all these years.”

“I had something to look forward to at the end of the summer,” he said, turning around in her embrace. “There was Ron, and Hogwarts, and Quidditch, and-- ” Hermione slapped him on the arm, and he laughed before continuing, “And if you’d let me finish, you would have heard me say that they all fell a distant second to you.” She smiled, and he kissed her again, this time with more passion than the sweet kisses they had shared earlier. His hands cupped her face, and slowly moved back to tangle in her hair.

Hermione’s hands were doing some wandering of their own. They had started at his shoulder blades, and continued southward as the moment intensified. Eventually her hand found his backside, and they rested there for only a second until she felt his tongue search out hers, to which she gave a not-so-gentle squeeze. At this Harry slowly started walking backward, his hands on her backside as well and not breaking the kiss, until he felt the edge of the bed behind him.

He sat slowly on the bed, finally breaking that first kiss, and looked at Hermione as she straddled his lap. Their hands continued to wander across each other’s bodies, but they merely stared at each other for a moment. During their silence, Harry’s hand ventured underneath Hermione’s pale yellow tank top to reach bare skin, causing her to drop her head on his shoulder.

“Hermione?”

“Hmm?” she replied, her head coming up to look in his eyes once again.

“Did I ever tell you how much I dreamed about this exact situation last summer? You…” he said as he began dropping kisses on her neck, “had me…all messed up…with that…goodbye…you gave me…end of sixth year…”

“You didn’t object.”

“I didn’t know what was happening. You caught me off guard, but then I couldn’t think of anything else all summer.” Harry then leaned forward and kissed her again. “You’re still all I can think about.”

He started kissing her neck again, and his hands once again began to caress the bare skin under her shirt. His hands had found the clasp of her bra, but before he could undo it, Hermione stopped him. “Harry, we can’t. Not here,” she said, in a not so convincing voice.

“Why not? Are you going to deny me my fantasy?” Harry said, sounding disappointed but knowing they should stop.

“This place really does give me the creeps, Harry. If we can get out of here soon I promise I’ll make it up to you once we get home.”

Harry smiled softly as Hermione stood up and sat back down on the bed. “I do have a few things I need to get, though. You might recognize some of it.” He got down on his knees and began to rummage underneath the bed, propping open the loose floorboard and removing a few items. By the time he got back up on his knees and smiled at her, she was very curious as to what he was doing underneath the bed.

“You’re smirking, Harry, which means you’re up to something. What’s going on?”

“Oh, Hermione, I’m not up to anything.” He held out a piece of parchment to her that looked oddly familiar. “I actually forgot that I had hidden this under here until you asked if there was anything here I needed. I’ve been hiding all my really important stuff under here since they moved me in here from the cupboard under the stairs. I’m pretty sure they don’t know this floorboard is loose.”

Hermione reached for the parchment and unrolled it, her eyes widening as Harry continued to look at her with that same smirk. She remained silent while she read the words over to herself, the words she had written to him as their sixth year at Hogwarts drew to a close. “You kept this?” she asked.

Harry stood up and sat next to her on the bed. He took the parchment from her and stared at it for a moment. “Of course I did. Hermione, you kissed me on the Hogwarts Express and just walked out. Two days later I found this letter in the pocket of my jeans, and it changed my life. You said everything I’d wanted to hear, but was too afraid to admit myself. If I thought summers at the Dursleys were bad before, they were nothing compared to that summer. I think someone was torturing me, and doing a mighty fine job.”

“Why on earth would anyone want to torture you?” Hermione asked, her hand mussing his hair and then resting on his cheek. She had also adopted a smirk, as she was enjoying playing with Harry this way.

“You torture me every day, Hermione, and I’m starting to think you know this fact and take advantage of it every chance you get. You drove me crazy after that kiss on the Express, drove me crazy with that letter, and right now you’re driving me crazy just by looking at me that way.” The last of his words came out as something like a whimper, and just then Hermione smashed her lips on his and pushed him back on the bed. She straddled him seductively as he lay flat on the bed, and continued to attack his mouth full force.

Harry fell into her once again as his hands found her bare skin. He couldn’t help but tell himself that she wouldn’t let things get out of hand, but he wasn’t going to say anything until she did. And, he liked it when she lost control every now and then.

Hermione was doing her part to make Harry lose control, whether she was aware of it or not. She had pushed his t-shirt up to his neck, and was running her hands all over his chest while kissing him crazily. He had always suspected that Hermione had a special place in her heart for the mop on the top of his head, but he was absolutely certain of it now. Not that he was complaining; her hands were magical no matter where they were.

She was going to have to stop soon if she was still adamant about them waiting until they got home. Harry felt all his blood swiftly traveling southward and he knew he could be very persuasive if needed. He remained quiet, enjoying Hermione and this little burst of lust she was having. That was, until she brushed up against him in just the right (wrong?) way. She sat up immediately, an odd look in her eyes. Harry looked back at her lovingly, and while part of him wanted to apologize for letting things get a little out of hand after she’d already asserted they should wait until they got home, he reminded himself that she was the one who snogged him senseless. Therefore, he didn’t feel like he was the one who needed to apologize.

“Hermione, you can be such a tease sometimes,” he said, disentangling himself from her and swinging his legs off the side of the bed. They sat silent for a few moments, in which Harry took long deep breaths to get control of himself. He stood up and crossed the room in silence, and when he turned around to face Hermione, she looked almost petrified.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I…”

Seeing her almost in tears because she thought he was upset with her, he crossed the room quickly and pulled her up into his arms. “Hey, Mione, look at me,” he said, pulling her chin up so she was looking him in the eye. “You don’t need to apologize. It certainly wasn’t the first time we’ve gotten carried away like that. Hell, it wasn’t the first time today.” He smiled softly at her, willing her to smile back. When she did, he continued. “I will say this, though. You’ve got your work cut out for you once we get back to the house. I hope you didn’t have any plans for the rest of the day.”

“You’re in luck, my calendar’s clear.”

Harry wanted to kiss her, but was afraid they would never make it home at the rate they were moving. It had been like this ever since he proposed to her during Christmas holidays. If they were left alone for more than five minutes, probability was high that they’d end up in bed, or at least having sex in the absence of a bed. He hoped this “I gotta have you now” stage never died down, and at the rate they were going, that wasn’t likely.

He turned out of her embrace before he got himself in more trouble, and started digging under the bed once more. “Will you at least let me have some fun while we’re here?” he asked as he continued rummaging in the floorboards for an unknown object.

Hermione moved over to the bed and sat on the edge. “What do you have up your sleeve now, Harry?” She should have been shocked when he emerged from under the bed holding them in his hand, but considering all the summers he spent in the company of Fred and George, she wasn’t.

“Just my own personal thank you for the people who took me in out of the goodness of their hearts?”

He was doing it again. He was looking at her with that smile that made her resolve crumble into nothing. She could do nothing but smile back and let him have his fun. “Fine,” she said, “but only because I think they deserve everything you give them.”

~*~*~*~

Hermione rested her head on Harry’s chest and listened to his heartbeat. It was still fast, but slowly returning to normal. They’d been home for almost three hours, but he had held her to her promise to not do anything else for the rest of the day but spend it with him. The promise wasn’t much of a compromise on her part, because she wanted to be with him; that much was evident while they were at the Dursleys.

Hermione propped her chin on his chest and met his eyes. “What exactly did you do to those Dungbombs anyway? I heard you enchanting them somehow, but wasn’t the bomb itself enough?”

Harry chuckled and sat up slightly. “Nothing gets past you, does it? All I did was charm them so that they wouldn’t go off until they were picked up…and then magnified their potency about 15 times.”

She wanted to scold Harry for being downright mean, but didn’t have the heart to do it. She simply smiled back at him instead.

They were quiet for a while longer before Harry turned on his side so they were facing each other on the bed. “Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

“I just wanted to thank you for making me go back there. I really do feel better because of it, and I owe that all to you.” He brushed a stray hair behind her ear and smiled.

“You’re just happy because you got sex out of it,” she replied, trying to sound serious. She failed miserably and laughed at his obviously fake look of hurt on his face.

“If that’s the case, then we’ll have to make weekly trips back to visit. Should I send a message to my aunt and uncle asking to come for a visit next Saturday?” He began to get up from the bed, and Hermione grabbed his arm immediately and stopped him.

“Harry, no!” she laughed. “I absolutely refuse to ever step foot in that house again. It smells like Dungbombs.”

“Well, now it does. And don’t worry, I’m not going there ever again.”