A/N: Here's the next chapter. I was completely blown away by the reviews, so thanks to everyone who reviewed. Hope the outcome of Harry's brilliant plan doesn't come as too much of a shocker ;)
The Best Laid Plans…
Oy vey! Head…hurt…
Once again, history repeats itself, and I found myself in bed with a headache (though not nearly as bad as the first time). I shook my head gently from side-to-side and shut my eyes tightly, trying to get rid of the cobwebs in my brain. A slight shifting of the bed to my right told me that history repeated itself in another way as well. I turned my head to face the now familiar sight of Hermione, lying next to me in bed.
Ah well, so much for being due for a successful plan…planning is over-rated anyways, if you ask me. Besides, one thing I learned from Quidditch - besides the fact that falling hundreds of feet from your broom wasn't quite like a trip to the Honeydukes, or that Ron is a right bastard when he's in charge - is that strategy is one thing, execution is another. I mean, it's not my fault the plan failed because I couldn't keep my hands off Hermione. Er, wait…actually, I guess it is my fault. Whatever.
"Hi," she said, first this time.
"Hi," I replied, just like before. But there was one thing different this morning: Hermione didn't immediately gather her clothing and leave, and I didn't try to fill the silence with some awkward words. Instead, we just stared at each other, letting the situation sink in.
"Well," I said, after a moment, "doesn't seem like my plan worked out very well, did it?"
Hermione chuckled. "No, not quite." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "told you so."
It was odd. I'm sure that we were supposed to be embarrassed at waking up next to each other naked, but I knew I wasn't, and after knowing Hermione for years, I could tell that she wasn't either. Maybe it was because we'd been through this before, but we were both strangely calm. "Hungry?" I asked.
She nodded. "Famished."
I couldn't help it. Probably not the best time to joke, but it slipped out: "Well, I'm sure we did work up an appetite after last night."
To my relief, she chuckled. "Yes, I imagine so."
We continued to look at each other, waiting. Finally, I asked, "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Are you getting out of bed?"
"Me? You first this time."
"Why me?"
"Because you already got a peek the first time."
I laughed nervously and felt my cheeks heat up a bit, but I tried to play the innocent card. "What are you taking about?"
She smirked. "Don't think I didn't catch you trying to get a peek at me last time. You go first this time!"
I put on my 'who, me?' look that I'd perfected after years with the Dursleys. But Hermione wasn't buying, so I sighed and started to get out of bed. Of course, I couldn't leave without a fight.
"Hey!" Hermione shrieked as I started to pull off the blankets with me. "Nice try buster!"
"But I have to cover myself! If I can't peek, neither can you." I protested.
Her response was a pillow that was thrown in my general vicinity - Hermione is horrible at throwing things. "Fine," I grumbled as I bent over to retrieve the pillow and my clothes.
"Woo hoo!" Hermione cheered, and I immediately straightened, grabbing the pillow to cover my delicates. I looked at her in shock, my face no doubt red by now. She just smiled sweetly and giggled.
Okay, let me repeat that, in case anyone missed what just happened: she giggled. Hermione Granger giggled. Hermione never giggles. What on earth was going on here? The whole situation was surreal: not only did we just sleep together (again!), but Hermione gives me a catcall and giggles. For a second I wondered if someone was using Polyjuice, but I dismissed that idea immediately; no one could impersonate my Hermione well enough to trick me. I shook my head in wonder as I left the room.
With a practiced ease, I had breakfast cooking by the time Hermione emerged from the bathroom. If there's one thing that living with the Dursleys ever taught me (and no doubt they would be very disappointed to learn that anything positive came out the experience) is how to cook. In fact, I was a very skilled and versatile cook, if I do say so myself. Uncle Vernon was hardly the gourmet and pretty much liked anything meaty and charred. Dudley enjoyed sweets and pastries, and Aunt Petunia was a bit of a health nut and enjoyed fancier dishes. Thus, I could do anything from grilling a steak to baking a cake to preparing a nice seared salmon. And it's a good thing that I was so good at cooking, because my mind was definitely distracted at the moment.
Because unlike last time, this time I could remember bits and pieces of what happened last night, and I was remembering more and more. I remembered the first few awkward drinks, and then how the night progressed as the alcohol started to take effect. How we were laughing like first years over some little thing, and then how she felt in my arms, her lips, the feeling of her soft hair in my hand, her hips…
I blinked a few times as I tried to focus on the task at hand. I flipped over the omelets and removed the bacon from the frying pan, and then checked how the French toast was coming along.
"Mmmm," Hermione said as she entered the kitchen. "That smells good."
I smiled at her but couldn't help but wonder at the odd scene. It was almost like a normal breakfast together, except that she was wearing the same clothes she had on last night. Where was the awkwardness? Where was the embarrassment? Where were the blushes, the inability to meet each other's eye? Despite the fact that we had just spent a very intimate, though alcohol-induced night together, breakfast was passed as if nothing unusual had just happened. Neither one of us brought up the results of my failed plan and instead dwelled on normal, everyday topics. I was starting to feel agitated - when would she bring it up? We had to talk about it, to make sure it didn't ruin our friendship. I was practically a nervous wreck, but Hermione looked calm and content, just as if she had just learned we would have an exam next week. I knew the right thing to do would be to bring up the subject myself, but honestly, the chances of that ever happening are Flitwick (or, in other words, pretty damn small).
Dragons and Dark Lords? No problem, let me at 'em!
Feelings and awkward situations? I'll wait in the car.
Eventually the food was eaten and the plates cleared, and Hermione went off to start her day, leaving me very, very confused.
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Two weeks later marked a birthday party at the Burrow. I wasn't quite sure whose sprog was having a birthday, since there are so many of the now, but Ron told me it was one of Charlie's. Of course, in once sense it really didn't matter since Hermione always took care of the gifts, and I just chipped in.
Since the 'sequel to the incident,' Hermione and I haven't spent any time alone together, just like before. However, last time was because we were both actively avoiding such situations; this time, it's just how things turned out. And this time was much improved. True, we still haven't discussed or even referred to the incident, but at least there wasn't that sense of awkwardness between us; just a lot of confusion on my part. Our friendship seemed as strong as ever, but somehow I knew it couldn't last. After all, when you keep having images of your best friend in her birthday suit bouncing about in your head (and when I say bouncing, I mean bouncing, if you know what I mean), it's bound to have some impact on the friendship.
But instead, everything seemed back to normal between us. Except for the touching. Damn the touching! No matter what, no matter what I tried, I couldn't help but reach out and touch her - the small of her back, a brush of the hands, it was like an addiction. And frankly, it was quite irritating. Not the touching itself, which was actually very nice. No, the irritating part was that I couldn't stop myself! And I knew, deep inside, that all this touching was a warning sign that the sequel might someday become a trilogy. Now, it's not that I didn't enjoy the first two installments (well, I assume I enjoyed the first one), but this was Hermione. Over the years, her and Ron have been the only two people I could truly count on. That friendship was far more important than a roll in the hay. A few nights of shagging wasn't worth the risk.
So it is with such worries rattling around my brain that I arrived at the Burrow. The backyard was set up for a children's party, and all the Weasley cousins (and Fred and George, who really are children) were playing various games. Most of the adults spent the time indoors, mingling and catching up on news. With six Weasley siblings (or is it eight? I forget) and the seemingly countless little ones running about, it's invariable that someone has something new to share to the group. Add in spouses and cousins and friends and so forth, and the Burrow was bursting to its limits.
Eventually one of the little ones asked me to come outside and play. I followed the little guy, but paused at the entrance to the backyard to take it all it. While the laughter of the children always warmed my heart, there are times when I can't help but compare the scene before me to my own childhood. Birthday parties and games were things I never had, and I mourned my lost childhood. I sighed softly.
"You okay?" Hermione asked, appearing at my side.
I nodded. "Yeah, fine." I tried to sound nonchalant, but I think it came out sounding as forced as it was.
Hermione didn't ask further, respecting my privacy. Plus, I'm sure she knew what I was thinking, and that there really wasn't anything that could be done. So instead, she wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her head against my shoulder, lending me her emotional support.
And for some reason, I think her hug loosened one of those emotional walls I have, because - damn it! - a friggin' tear escaped my eye. Fortunately it was only a single, but still! Grown men do not cry from watching kids play. Next thing you know I'll be curled up on the couch, eating chocolates and watching soap operas with rollers in my hair! I quickly brushed at my cheek to wipe away the offending tear, but despite those famed Seeker reflexes of mine, Hermione noticed. She gently pulled on my arm.
"Come on, let's go somewhere," she said. Not having any other plans at the moment (the child having forgotten me immediately upon setting foot outside…the little punk), I allowed her to pull me through the house until we found a deserted room - Bill's old room, if I'm not mistaken. I was a little nervous when she sat us on the bed together, but to my relief I didn't feel the stirrings of passion…or, to put it more succinctly, I didn't feel the urge to shag her. It really was a relief, since this signified that our friendship was more important to me then sex.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. I looked at her, which caused her to laugh. "Oh, right, sorry," she said. "I forgot that I was talking to Harry Potter, Mr. Repressed Emotions himself."
"Hey! I'm not that bad!" I protested. She gave me a look, which caused me to wilt. "Oh all right. I'll grant that sometimes I tend to keep my feelings to myself."
"Sometimes?" she parroted.
I grinned. "Okay, so always," I said, looking down.
"That's better," she said a bit smugly. And, just like old times, we fell into a companionable silence. It was nice; no pressures of sex or anything, just two friends being together. After a moment I looked up at her, and something clicked. To this day, I'll never understand what happened; it makes no sense to me whatsoever. But one second, we were just like we always were - best friends. But in the space of a millisecond, it changed.
Our mouths were suddenly on each other. She kissed me, or maybe I kissed her; I don't think I'll ever know who initiated it, but I suppose it doesn't really matter. For all of a sudden I couldn't get enough of my best friend. And these weren't the gentle, loving kisses that accompany a slow Barry White song, or the soft, tentative kisses like in the movies. Oh no, these were passionate, dare I say, lustful kisses. This was a 'Me Tarzan, you Jane' moment. Our mouths never stopped, moving from lips to neck and back again. Our hands were pawing at each other's clothes, and at the rate we were going, we would both be in various states of undress in a matter of seconds. Where on earth did this come from? Some part of me was yelling at me to stop, but the other, bigger part of pretty much kicked the crap out of that nerdy first part and stuffed it into a little box. It was only a loud thump on the stairs that broke us out of our lust-induced trance.
We pulled apart at the noise, panting heavily as we looked at each other. God I wanted her so badly at the moment, damn the consequences, but I was a little thankful to whoever made that loud noise, knowing it would bring us back to our senses. I knew we would pull apart, blush, fix our clothing, and go downstairs, and then try to act as if nothing had happened. Instead, Hermione looked at me, and said the four words I never thought I'd ever hear from her: "Your place of mine?" Hesitation wasn't even in my vocabulary by then. Without bothering to waste precious seconds on forming words, I just grabbed her and disapparated us to my bedroom.
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A/N: So, it's a general rule of thumb that if you have to explain a joke, it's probably not that funny. I think I was being too clever for my own good. Anyone catch the real reason why Harry went to the library at the beginning of chapter two? He claims it's work-related, but he's really trying to see if he can get his memory back. Once he finds out that he can't, he abandons his altruistic project for lunch. Funny, right? Right? Hello? Bueller?…..Bueller?
Anyways, a few general comments in response to some reviews:
· Hi Bec and Aly! <throws out new t-shirts to the (ahem) adoring crowd > Bec, I think that maybe you should regulate Aly's caffeine and/or sugar intake, though I do love the exuberance!
· Ron will definitely complicate things, but not in the way you might think. I don't think I'll ever write a jealous Ron, simply because I'd end up writing it like a bad soap opera.
· Sorry, no POV from Hermione or anyone else. I think I can only do justice to Harry, since we share a sarcastic sense of humor (refer to OotP for examples of Harry's sarcasm).
· The story should be six chapters. Next chapter should be up Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. I don't think I'll have time to complete it by Friday, and I can't write on weekends or holidays.
· I may be under forty, but they had Batman on re-runs while I was growing up. I liked it when they had the crossover with the Green Hornet, but seriously! Like Robin stood a chance in hell against Kato!
· Hi CC! I'm such a horrible person for never reviewing, but I love all your fics, even Handholding, which made a little bit of dust get in my eye.
· Thanks for rec Kris! It really means a lot :)
· Write more stories Nelli! I loved Bedside Table
· Hi Umbra_Dea!
· Hi Anasazi! Seriously, if I could apparate, I'd never walk more than 40 yards in a row.
· Oh, and I didn't intend for the title of this chapter to have a double-meaning, but it's kinda cool how it worked out, no?
Thanks for reading! Now, I'm off to do some work before I get fired.