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Chapter Nine -
The Morning After
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He let a smile come to his face.
She was still asleep. The gentle rise and fall of her chest lifted the blankets draped across her naked body, the hair he loved so much spilled about the pillow in soft, frizzy locks. Her face was smooth, unblemished and peaceful. Just the way he liked it. Her face was free of lines of worry and stress, depicting the young, gentle beauty it had always contained. A smile was curling her full lips, a faint dimple imprinted in both cheeks.
She was just as beautiful as he remembered her to be.
Harry sat at the window, faint sunlight streaming through the thin curtains, to give enough light to illuminate the otherwise dark room. He was wearing a thin pair of shorts, the morning air quite warm for that time of year. The snow had started to finally melt, the month sinking into a new season as fast as the weather changed each day. Since he had returned, it had snowed, rained, almost hailed…and now - now the sun was shining brightly in a clear blue sky.
Strange.
As Harry watched Hermione's eyelids flicker with the telltale signs of a dream, he pondered on the night they had shared together. It had been incredible. It had been everything he had imagined it to be and more. Hermione was magnificent. The feelings and thoughts she invoked inside his mind and body was mesmerising. He had nerves tingling where he thought there couldn't be any, and muscles aching in places he didn't think imaginable.
And when they had finally finished their magical night of lovemaking, Harry was left wanting - no needing - more. Hermione was brilliant, breathtaking … and she was lying in front of him; covered with nothing but a sheet.
Life couldn't get much better than this.
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Harry was standing in front of her, wearing nothing but a gorgeous smile. She found her eyes trailing along his sweaty body; his chest and stomach were toned with tight muscles from years of Quidditch; his dark hair strewn across his forehead, falling to just above his eyes … emerald eyes.
They sparkled in joy, happiness and humour, the endless green depths enveloping her - mesmerising her completely. She found her body fluttering with excitement, her heart quickening its pace beneath her ribcage. Heat rose along her skin, followed by tiny beads of sweat. Her breathing grew heavier and quicker. Harry smiled.
"My Hermione," he said, taking a step forward, his eyes never leaving her own. "You're mine. Always." He was so close. She could see specks of dark green in his eyes, mixed with faint signs of gold. She nodded, believing him - needing him.
"Yes," she murmured as his lips parted and moved closer to her mouth, "I'm yours. Forever."
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She awoke with a smile.
Her body ached, and in places was sore, from the exhausting yet enchanting night she had shared with Harry - her Harry. He had been gentle, careful and courteous as always. His hands had been soft as they caressed her skin and ran through her hair.
His body was fantastic: tanned and muscular, smooth, soft and sexy. She had spent most of the night running her fingers along the muscles in his stomach, enjoying the way they pulsed against her touch.
He had made her feel things unimaginable. She could still feel the tingling sensation running through her body, eliciting double heartbeats and muscle spasms. But it felt incredible and she wished it to never stop.
The pillow was soft beneath her head and she didn't want to move from the comfortable position she found herself in. she wondered if Harry was still asleep, so she stretched her hand over to her right, waiting for the touch of his body. It never came.
Moaning, she turned on her side and cracked her eyes open a little; she found the bed empty except for herself. Wondering where Harry had gone, she turned eased back and lifted herself up with her hands.
"Morning, beautiful." Harry was sitting over at the window, his chest and face lit up in the soft light shining through the curtains. Hermione smiled groggily.
"Hello," she said, looking down to see if the sheet was still covering her body. For some reason she felt shy, even after the night before when Harry had seen everything. Everything.
"Did you have a nice sleep?" he asked with a smile and a yawn, standing up and walking back over to the bed. He sat down at the edge, sliding over on his stomach until he was lying at her side, his hand going up to her cheek. He tilted her chin, before leaning up and locking her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.
"Ahh - what was the question again?" she said, looking at him through half-closed eyelids. He gave her a lopsided grin.
"What would everyone say? Hermione Granger forgetting a question asked of her?" Harry said with a mock shake of his head. She swatted at him with her hand, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face.
"They'd say I had a very good excuse for doing so." Hermione said.
"And what would that be?" he asked her with a silly grin.
"I was enchanted by Harry Potter. And everyone knows that's not something that can be broken so easily," she answered with a laugh as Harry shook his head again before moving so Hermione's head was resting against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist.
"I'm sorry." He said after a while, a sad tone in his voice. Her brow furrowed.
"What for?" she asked in confusion.
"For leaving. I shouldn't have left you." He said. Hermione sighed and turned so her body was lying atop his. She placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him tenderly, feeling his hands come to a rest on her hips.
"I know you're sorry, and I forgive you for leaving."
"You do?" he said with puzzlement.
"Yes, I do. But I don't forgive you for staying away for so long. That's a cut that won't heal for a
while." Hermione answered, staring into his eyes, before glancing at his forehead where a lightning shaped mark
was etched. On impulse, she reached up and traced it.
"And when it does, it will leave a scar." Harry said with a deep sigh, placing a hand to her head. He played with a strand of her hair, which had created a curtain around both of their faces, casting them in delicate shadow. "And I'm still sorry."
"And I said I know." Hermione said with a contented sigh, dropping down so her head was nestled beneath his chin. And there they stayed, in their own timeless world, listening to the waking calls of the birds, and the gentle beat of each others hearts, moving as one
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"Do you have to go?" Harry whinged from the bed, wrapped up in white sheet with just his head staying uncovered. Hermione sighed but smiled.
"Yes, I do. I won't be long. I just need to have a meeting with my publisher about my book, and I should be home for Lunch," she said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. She could hear Harry grumbling from his position on the bed, and she couldn't help but laugh. "It's not as though I'm going to be gone for three years, Harry."
Harry looked at her with a hurt expression. "I just want you to stay here, with me," he said with a puppy-dog expression, his emerald eyes wide and pleading. She only grinned and shook her head.
"That's not going to work on me, Mr Potter. You can't control me with your charms!" Hermione said in a singsong voice, as Harry sighed.
"I was hoping it would." He fell back on the bed with a heavy thud. "How long will you be?"
"Only an hour - hour and a half at most. I promise I'll be back for Lunch. Just don't you leave on me!" she said, straightening her thin sweater and sweeping a few stray hairs from the shoulders.
"Promise?" Harry said in a small voice, as if he was a small boy not a twenty-year-old man.
"I promise," she said, walking over to the bed to say goodbye. She wasn't expecting him to jump up and pull her down with him onto the bed. His lips connected with hers, and they kissed passionately for a few minutes before Hermione pulled away. Now she didn't want to go - and Harry knew it. That was his plan all along, the sneaky little bugger, she thought with a grin.
"I really have to go," she said, walking to the door. She looked back to see Harry staring at her with a small smile.
"I know, and I'll be here when you get back," he said. Hermione knew he was being truthful, so it was with a happy heart that she left number Two Rosebud Lane. The sun was in the sky, shining down on the waking town to melt the remaining frost and snow. Even though it was sunny, a cool wind whipped through the streets, confining the occupants to long pants and sweaters.
Hermione wasn't looking forward to meeting Daniel Moore that morning. He would ask where she had been yesterday, and he would know something happened. He always did.
That was one of the reasons she had liked him so much; they shared interests and were both in the same business. They became immediate friends, talking on a regular basis, and not just about her book. They chatted about many things - books, politics, the world and life in general. He was someone she could talk to in her new life, without being reminded of those in her past.
It had been the night her book had been published.
Daniel had thrown a congratulations party for her in the local pub; he had invited many people from town, some she knew and others she didn't. It had started as a great night. It was a way for her to forget everything and just enjoy being young. She had been toasted by many, and that meant more and more drinks.
One led to two - two to three - and so on. It was many hours later and after a large amount of alcohol that Daniel offered to walk her home. At the time, it had been a good idea - she had been so intoxicated that she could have ended up in next town and in another house, thinking it was her own.
And Hermione, being the nice person she was, had invited him in. That was her mistake.
Hermione had always prided being the intelligent one. The one with all the answers. The one who always got her questions correct and always made the right decision.
Well, on that night, she made one incredibly wrong decision.
Daniel had been her friend, that's all. But they had crossed the line between work partners to something more - a line never to be crossed. Afterwards, Hermione felt dirty and utterly miserable. She had disgraced Harry and gotten with someone else. Even though he had left her, and was probably off with another woman, she had promised herself that Harry would be the first one to make love to her.
And she hadn't made love to Daniel Moore - it had been a night fuelled by drunken thoughts and unsteady hands. It had been a mistake. One she would have to live with until she died.
And now she would have to face him after actually making love to Harry - her Harry. Would she be able to pretend nothing happened? That everything was as it had been a week ago?
She couldn't and wouldn't forget what happened between her and Harry. It was something that shouldn't be forgotten - something that was truly right. Something that would never; could never, be a mistake.
A creaking sound met her ears and she looked up to see a sign hanging before a café, swinging in the wind. In there, she would meet Daniel. They would talk about her book; about how many copies were being sold; how much more she had earned. And all the while, she would be thinking about the man at her home - in her bed.
She quickened her pace, wanting to get it over and done with so she could return to Harry just as she had promised. The smell of coffee and freshly baked cakes met her senses. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on a table near the front window. She sighed and walked towards it - and Daniel Moore.
"Hermione!" he said, standing up and hugging her, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. Hermione tensed, but forced a smile onto her face.
"Hello, Daniel," she greeted, slipping down into a chair. He did the same on the opposite side of the table, placing a briefcase down onto the polished, wooden surface. He smiled broadly at her; she returned it vaguely. He sat oblivious.
"I missed you yesterday; what happened?" Ah, she knew he was going to ask that.
"I decided to spend a day in; out of the cold." It wasn't a complete lie, just a twisted version of the truth. He watched her for a second before nodding.
"I thought so," he said with a smile, clipping open his case to pull out a few sheets of paper. "It seems your book is still the number one best seller in bookshops across Britain and Scotland. Even more copies are being ordered and everyone wants an interview with you. I had the Prophet on the Floo again yesterday, wanting to know whether or not you're still doing that interview tomorrow. Are you?"
Hermione had completely forgotten about her meeting with the Daily Prophet, what with Harry's reappearance and all. She hadn't really thought about it.
"I suppose. What time again?" she asked with a frown.
"They moved it down to eleven in the morning. Is that OK?" Daniel asked, looking up from the stack of papers.
"Yes, that's fine." Hermione answered, before accepting a cup of coffee a waitress had offered to her. "Where is it?"
"They wanted to know if they could do it at your place. You know - the source of the magic." Daniel said with a grin and a shake of his head. Hermione froze. The Prophet couldn't possibly go to her home - Harry was there.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," she said with a shake of her head. Daniel's brow knitted with confusion.
"Why not? It would promote more publicity and get the Prophet on more friendly terms," he said while Hermione continued to shake her head.
"Because it wouldn't be a good idea to let them come to my house. It isn't a good time," she said.
"But why?" he asked again. She sighed.
"Because I said so." She knew she was being childish, but she knew Harry wouldn't appreciate it if the Daily Prophet appeared tomorrow morning with cameras and reporters. He would freak out…again.
"That's still not a reason as to why the interview can't be conducted at your house," Daniel said with a frown, "tell me the real reason."
"No." Hermione said. "It's private."
"Fine, I won't press you. I understand your need for privacy. Let's make it in here then. Oh, and on Wednesday next week, the Weekly Clover wants an exclusive. Can you do it?" he asked, as if he really didn't care what the real reason was. But, she knew he desperately wanted to know.
"Yes. Is that all?" Hermione asked, wanting desperately to return to Harry's arms. To run her fingers through his hair, to feel his hands on her skin, to kiss him -
Suddenly, she realised something was dreadfully wrong. Daniel Moore was kissing her and she had kissed him back, thinking him Harry. But he wasn't and she pushed him hastily away.
"What are you doing!" she screeched, standing up. But Daniel wasn't looking at her, as she expected him doing; he was staring amazed and startled at something outside. She turned her head and almost died.
Harry was standing on the sidewalk, staring straight at her.
And he had seen everything.
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Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter and never will.
Hey.
Yes, it's late again. But at least I updated in under a week! I hope you like this, and hated the cliffhanger! LOL. The next chapter is the last one. Then I will wait a week before posting the sequel.
Please review and all that and thanks to those who have so far.
Also, thanks to Yan'weh for Beta-ing!
Later days…
DW
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